August Choi

Hearing August say her name -- her real name -- felt weird. Maybe it was because he knew her in her other persona. Her other life that she'd created for herself, away from the hunt she'd grown up in. Or maybe it was because it meant that they truly were strangers. Their lives, which had been intertwined not too long ago, vanishing into the air between them. As if it had never existed in the first place.

And maybe it hadn't. Maybe it had been a dream. A facade. The two of them mingling with one another in their fake lives they'd both created; hiding from what they could never outrun.

At the mention of circus life he tilts his head, piecing the idea together. Something he is unfamiliar with. "That is the thing with clowns?" He asks, because it is partially coming to him. And he flushes slightly at his own confusion before clearing his throat.

"I've been getting a series of interesting and cryptic videos. An unknown viewer. I haven't shown her them yet, but I'm thinking of getting a second set of eyes on them. Some are just a bit — disturbing." A sigh as he runs his hand over his face. "But sometimes that just comes with things I handle. It could just be an elaborate hoax." He waves off his misstep.

He flinches as his upper arm is grabbed, he isn't weak by any means, but the other wolf takes to them gym. He knows that. Knows that he works there. And August hasn't trained in far to long. He is easily shoved out of the room, still refusing to fight. Still refusing to impose and force himself as he is pressed out into the hall, Liam standing solid in the door frame.

"I believe you." He says, because though he can smell and hear the anxiety coming off of her, he feels like ( even with pieces missing ) that she isn't lying to him. If anything that makes him all the more curious. Playing through the different creatures, both visible and not, that could be plaguing this area. It wouldn't be a stretch. Port Liery is a supernatural magnet. The residents are enough proof of that, himself included. She knows more than she's letting on, but is candid about her knowledge regarding blood. He wonders if this Holly is always so forth coming.

"Right, we should probably get rid of him first then." He surmises. His eyes look over her a moment, she still looks — well, small, but he supposes if she can't keep up he'll just have her stay somewhere safe until he is finished. He gives a nod, she has a shovel and that solves another problem. It's her next question that makes him pause. Monsters, she knows. Though he wonders what all she knows about. His answer is vague as he regards her.

There's the matter of cleaning off the van, too - it's not the first time she's done that either, nor - if she were to guess - the first time for August either. Her mind races as they clean - vampire, werewolf, witch? They're all apparently real after all, but like he'd said; sometimes, not knowing is better, and she's not one to push - not when the person warning her's done her a solid already.

Her lips twisted upwards but she said nothing. Belle wasn't sure if she'd want to take care of him again. If she'd want him to take care of her. While it had helped her in the past, it had also enabled her in thinking that others could fix her. When in reality, it had been the opposite. She'd given herself to others -- cared for them for so long -- that she'd completely lost herself. She stopped trusting that she could help herself. She'd been weak.

"So Annabelle," He adds, tasting the name on his tongue, if it is what she prefers he will accept it. Will do his best to learn this woman in front of him. A familiar stranger. He doesn't say as much but he is relieved that she doesn't need him as a crutch. That he knows she won't suggest such things as bringing him livestock as prey. Like a rabid mutt that doesn't know any better. He is the thing she hunts once more, and she doesn't even realize they hunt the same beast. It'd been clear, the bodies that had been found, through research and more of them now. Wolves. He's been eating his own. Bitten to be exact.

Does she? No. She's not having this talk again. Not with herself and not with this guy.

"Oh, haha. I know." She says, as if it's a normal thing to know the obstinacy of blood. "Not my first mess." She says with a wide-smiling laugh before she realizes this likely doesn't help her case in any given direction. Holly's head shakes. "I can trudge up trails with the best of them." Sometimes it's a must for good reception.

"I believe you." He says, because though he can smell and hear the anxiety coming off of her, he feels like ( even with pieces missing ) that she isn't lying to him. If anything that makes him all the more curious. Playing through the different creatures, both visible and not, that could be plaguing this area. It wouldn't be a stretch. Port Liery is a supernatural magnet. The residents are enough proof of that, himself included. She knows more than she's letting on, but is candid about her knowledge regarding blood. He wonders if this Holly is always so forth coming.

"Right, we should probably get rid of him first then." He surmises. His eyes look over her a moment, she still looks — well, small, but he supposes if she can't keep up he'll just have her stay somewhere safe until he is finished. He gives a nod, she has a shovel and that solves another problem. It's her next question that makes him pause. Monsters, she knows. Though he wonders what all she knows about. His answer is vague as he regards her.

As he sat again, she reached forward and wrapped her fingers around the warm cup. A hum escaped her lips as she pulled it forward, lowered her face to the rim, and took a sip. The black liquid immediately burnt her tongue.

You smell different. She pressed her lips into a thin line as her eyes lifted to meet his. Annabelle sat up again, pushing her back against the seat. "I'm back to doing what I used to. When I was younger." It was enough information that August could make an educated assumption. "That might be why." Then she shrugged, because maybe it wasn't. She had no idea.

Finally he takes a drink, liquid hot, but cooled just enough to be bearable. She tells him she is back to hunting without the explicit words and he gives a single nod. The tattoo then. The magic stronger. The sight of her, the posture. She could most likely take him down now. It wasn't just words to console him. To alleviate his worry for him. He hopes the woman across from him would have no hesitation. When she says she isn't the same he wants to tell her that he knows. He can smell the nerves, the chemical reaction within her body that signals it. But she looks more composed despite them. She doesn't give off the scent of morose anxiety, of desperation, of despair. The way she used to. The way he had been familiar with.

Her eyes bug wide, and she shakes her head. "Uhm. There are... things with me that uh, that tend to happen."

She doesn't really know how to explain this. Somebody being surprisingly fine with murder is one thing, but it's a long shot between that and being comfortable with somebody telling them the skinless man chasing them is what made it happen.

"Sometimes I have these - er- you know - episodes. Like I black out." It's a lie, that. "Then I come to and boom. He's Jason Voorhees at the end of Final Chapter."

"Should we put this inside? Dry blood is harder to clean. And so is gore." He offers, and adjusts the VCR in his arm, freehand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "I know a place. It's a bit far, and then a lot of it is a bit of a hike. If you don't mind it? I could carry him through the wooded parts. I promise anyone with a brain stays clear." He tells her.

She winces as the sound of a joint's rigor morits giving way, tendons popping like rubber bands. "Uh. I'm... fine." She looks him over; he's so casual right now, she's not sure if she's dreaming again. The man's upper half, concealed by a big trash bag now starting to puff from gasses releasing from it's smashed contents, sit still in the back of her van, making her glad she'd ripped the old shag out of it a year ago

"TV fell on his head." She says. It's technically what happened. She makes a box with her tiny arms. "Big uh, CRT one." A nervous laugh. "Smashed his whole egg in, like, completely."

Then another beat. "Why aren't you like, freaking out?"

It was clear she was leaving out bits and pieces, if this was fully an accident, why wouldn't she call the police? Not that he himself trusted them, but still, Holly was human. Didn't most of them trust brutes with a gun? Why was she trying to get rid of him in such a chaotic fashion? Beyond that, how had she even managed to carry him this far? Honestly that fact was pretty impressive.

He gives a small shrug of his shoulder. "It isn't anything I'm not accustomed to." He answers, moving back to pick up the discarded electronic. "I'm guessing he is the one who caused the…*mess*? Like I said, I don't mind helping with cleanup. A bit of gore and blood doesn't bother me. Should probably get rid of him too before something rips and the stink starts to seep even more."

"During the break up." She wasn't going to shy away from that. It wasn't her proudest moment, telling August that she needed a break -- that she needed to be alone. But she'd done what she thought was best for her, at the time. "There's no need to apologize. It's understandable."

"Alright, I'll be back." He stands in a fluid motion, standing a bit taller than he would have in the past. Something about accepting what he has becoming, connecting him to a feral beast. He wasn't a danger to anyone here. And with the morning light, he knew there wouldn't be any accidental casualties. Moving to the counter he orders both of their drinks. Hers black, bitter. And his with far too many sugars. Getting the croissant, he has it warmed and comes back to set both things in front of her before settling back across from her.

Little accident, she thinks. The man in the back of her van's head is crushed from a skull into something jagged and floppy and loose - it's no irony that his smile seems to have persisted though everything above the lips is destroyed, the brain pearing out of the skull like a huge, swollen eye - a carrion cyclops that stares at the ceiling of her van.

"Did…someone do this?" He glances back at the store front with scrutiny. And then she's going at her door again. There is a sickening popping noise followed by a wet crack and finally he leans slightly to the left, getting sight of a boot. Wait — the stagnant stench of death. He swallows, not scared, he could handle himself. Just surprised he supposes. Holly isn't exactly large and by the size of that boot, now dangling, whoever was in there had been.

She smiles, the singular word hanging in the air around them. In some ways, August reminds her of Emilio; eager to please, eager to find their place. She will show it to him.

Still, any wolf has teeth, and anything with teeth will bite in it's desperation. August has passed one of what will be many tests to come, because loyalty is no longer a given, given Anish's designs.

Maybe it won't come, his inevitable betrayal, but Yuisa looks at August like an ace in the hole; a joker to be played from the sleeve, should her lieutenant or any other packling get out of line.

He flinches as his upper arm is grabbed, he isn't weak by any means, but the other wolf takes to them gym. He knows that. Knows that he works there. And August hasn't trained in far to long. He is easily shoved out of the room, still refusing to fight. Still refusing to impose and force himself as he is pressed out into the hall, Liam standing solid in the door frame.

She waits.

Waits some more. The phone rings sometimes. She's so fired.

The thudding's stopped for an non-descript amount of time when she realizes she's been staring at the unfolded boxes under the counter for who-knew-how-long. "You done?" She asks again.

...

Nothin'.

The door cracks open so quiet and so slow and only just so far. She doesn't see fur, doesn't hear growling, so she opens it up a bit more until she can confirm that it's a person sprawled on the floor.

Freddie stands there, unsure of what to do for a solid minute before an idea lights over her head.

She is undefeated. She cannot conceive of living in any other state.

Yuisa downs the rest of her drink and sets it down. "One of my closest Lieutenants is dead. Stricken by a curse, too." She moves back to her bureau and leans against it, folding her arms as she regards August with a critical eye.

"You'll kill on command. That's good." Whether or not he kills without hesitation is useless - something's rendered this proud true-blood into something ravening and uncontrollable; in this he's a strange reflection of Matteo's affliction. She toys with the idea of dangling a search for a panacea - a ticket out of what's wrong with him - but not yet, he's way too valuable as a liability, especially with Teo's loss and Anish getting uppity.

Lieutenant he frowns down at the glass. Matteo, the reason he is here. She hadn't been able to cure the man he considered — no — considers, a brother. But being here, in his own twisted thoughts, feels like he is maybe honoring him. Keeping him close to his heart. Further becoming closer in the late man's family. He looks up when she utters that he will kill for her, and the pleased tone tells him she is, in fact, happy with him in this moment. He is useful, and thus he can stay. And perhaps that means a fix to this curse. A relief from the monster he is becoming beneath every moon. The scrambling of his brain. And the ever blurring line between man and beast.

Over the months, she learned how to put herself first. She handled her problems all on her own -- with the help of the Brotherhood -- and now, she was stronger than she had been in years. Part of her wondered if her parents would be proud of her. The other part was trying not to care.

She sucked in a deep breath and then let it out slowly as she sat in the cafe. Annabelle had no idea how she'd feel when seeing August again. Relief? Heartbreak? Excited? Uncomfortable? She shifted in her seat, eyes flickering down at her fingers that were clasped in her lap.

When she heard him, she looked up. He was the same and yet, not. His physical appearance having changed somewhat. Although, her's had too. She no longer had her hair long -- having cut it short, just above her shoulders, a couple of months prior. No longer wore brighter colors.

"Hey." She said back. She debated on whether she felt comfortable enough to get up and hug him. It only took a moment to decide that she didn't. Annabelle motioned towards the seat across from her. "I haven't ordered yet. I wasn't sure what you wanted."

"You look good." He offers her conversationally. "I like your hair. It suites you." He tells her, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "It's alright, others paying for me still isn't my favorite." He lets her know, hand coming back to run against his jaw before it falls back to his lap.

How much of this is coming out of her check? Maybe she should let the thing eat her and save herself the humiliation of calling her mom for rent, but just like that, it seems to stop suddenly, and silence hangs in the pizzeria. Fred's head turns towards the door behind her and she calls out. "I don't know how you got in here, but you aren't getting out of there til the sun's up."

Do werewolves understand words? She wracks her mind; does she understand words?