IT HURTS!!

She stops, going through some wrecked shelf like a nosey, annoying little creature, and turns to look at August. "Like, just a little though. You guys who can just pop off with he wolf freak me out a bit. Maybe not whiskey, maybe we get Arte started with like... some Baileys or something."

"Should eat that 'fore it gets cold," she adds, putting something knocked over on the shelf back upright, and turning with a smile, as if the act has been a great deal of help.

She crawls up on the back of his couch and sits there, drumming her hands in between her legs as she kicks her boots off to the floor - so as not to put 'em on the couch - apartment's wrecked but no reason to add to it.

"I move around. Used to be lookin' for some people but I don't know. Just... movin' around. Hard to stay in one spot sometimes, what with the werewolf stuff. People get to close or... things get too hairy. Heh. Hairy, 'cause like, ya know." She gestures between the two of them. "Because wolves."

She's dragging (somehow) another thing of food from her jacket as he asks her name, and there's a pop as she opens a bag of cheese puffs to dig into for lunch. "Aw, shit, fuck me, sorry." She laughs at herself. "Millie. 'Name's Millie."

She looks around the apartment. "So y'all just... don't go out ever? Don't you get bored or whatever?"

“I’m not sure Arte would react well to alcohol. Please don’t traumatize them, they have enough problems plaguing them already.” He tells her, opening the bag and starting to eat. He’s been hungrier lately, more ravenous. Has eyed the steaks Rose brings, thought of tearing into them with blunt teeth. Cooking not required. Instead he tears into the taco, a food he doesn’t usually enjoy too much, more of a pizza guy honestly. But it feels like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. The thing is gone in moments and he is opening the soda.

“So you are turned?” he asks, with the state of his apartment, that girl Autumn had been right, he had no room to talk. He watches her right the small pot, give him a look like she’d accomplished something otherworldly. He gives her a tired smile back before taking a gulp of the Mountain Dew, wiping his mouth. He’s a mess, his place is a mess, his mind is a mess. Most manners are forgotten, he doesn’t have the capacity to feel humility.

Rose licked her lips as she pulled the ice cream cone away from her face. She had been trying to eat it with some poise and manners, but it was awfully hard to eat an ice cream cone properly without dripping it everywhere. She'd decided to treat herself, as she rarely did that lately. It was one of the things that was discussed when she was in the hospital. She needed to find time to appreciate life, even the smallest of things.

"Would you like some?" Rose asked as she smiled up at August, holding the ice cream towards him. "Vanilla and strawberry swirl with sprinkles. It's good."

It almost feels normal, enjoying a street fair together, their free hands tangled together. August is perusing a shelf of used books while his girlfriend enjoys her ice cream. He isn’t sure if he is actually going to buy anything; his mind is tired, hard to focus on any one thing. At her voice, he makes a sound of realization, looking over and offering a smile.

"If you're going to get mad, then get fucking mad."

He snatches the stupid rock from her and she doesn't really fight it. He goes off on the same kind of talk she's heard from others, about how it's all nobility and breaking chains and answering to nobody. It's not the first time she's heard herself talked about as if she's unwanted or a mongrel or some sort of ... burdened thing, lucky to be alive, lucky to be tolerated. Like she's supposed to be grateful.

She decides, in that moment, that she doesn't care about any of this pack shit. True born whatever or bitten on a full moon; It's trading one kind of invisible for another. One kind of lesser for another. It's a power trip, and nothing else, whatever actual differences there might be. She eats people. This guy probably eats people. Hell has room for both of them.

"PFt." She scoffs at his apology. What's he apologizing for? He doesn't know her. She doesn't know him. "Seen a sports car do pretty good damage to a werewolf," she says.

She mentions the state of his apartment, compares it to what she’s experiencing. The words he, himself, is trying to unlearn make him bristle again. He centers himself, thumb running over the stone now in his hand. The tempers are increasing. The wolf’s hold is getting stronger. “Yes, well, my current situation is a bit…delicate. Normally, I have a lot better control of my emotions.”

Calm August, calm

he reminds himself, compartmentalize. Put the beast away. “You don’t need to understand my ailments. And a car does damage to most anyone. We just heal a bit faster. I am sorry I got so worked up, it’s something I’m dealing with. A separate infliction.” He moves to sit in his chair again, space is needed. Space is best.

“I am serious about forgetting obedience, though. And not just because you are a wolf. It’s because people shouldn’t be obedient in general.” Not the most groundbreaking notion, but he honestly doesn’t feel like yelling in her face was very good form.

A long, low whistle escapes puckered lips as she surveys the state of the place. "Pal you've got troubles."

She turns around to look up at him, and then, like a lightbulb, "Oh! Shit!" A finger lifts briefly into the air and then she reaches into her coat's inner pocket and pulls out the aforementioned Mountain Dew. "Fresh from the vending machine at Palmer's."

He takes the bag still surveying the other as she ducks under his other arm. He is past being embarrassed by the state of his apartment, he’ll have to dig into money he doesn’t like to touch to get out of things. If he ever has a reason to, that is. He lets out a humorless chuckle, “An understatement,” he replies, closing the door, pausing in his turn to her, only to take the soda. Not his drink of choice, but it’ll do.

And then this guy hands her, what, his worry stone? She turns it over in her hand, her angered, heavy breathing slowed to a settle. Part of her wants to throw it across the room, storm out.

But she has eyes, ears - and now, scents. She's not about to evoke anything, or pull stupid moves here - not with somebody who might help, or who might just not know what she's asking - hell, she doesn't even really understand what she's going to get out of any of this. People keep saying stuff about packs, and instincts, and she's still at.. what?

He lets her pretend she’s even listening, he can smell her anger and frustration still. He doesn’t know what to do with a turned wolf. She’s weaker, she is incomplete and wrong. A freak of nature. She doesn’t belong. Isn’t meant to exist. Just a frail human cursed with a disease that his kind carries. She doesn’t understand the prestige of being a wolf. Of what it means. What an honor it means to be of nature. He can’t help it, he growls. Low, dangerous, a call to the beast within her.

“Don’t mock me.” he bites out. “If you want to be angry, then be fucking angry. You are a wolf now. We do not work to appease anyone, but an alpha and you are a lone wolf. You speak to no one, you are in charge.” he near growls, voice rough. His hand covers hers and pries her fingers from the stone.

“We are a noble species, Autumn. And maybe we are the monsters that tear and rip, but it is our right. If you keep thinking like a human you won’t make it. You are not a simple human anymore. I can see the obedience beat into you. Forget it. It will get you killed or worse in our world. You might feel strong and dangerous, but in our world, you are considered low. You will not let anyone see you that way though. Everything I’ve been taught tells me to turn you away, I’ve been taught your type is beneath me. Do you understand that? Your self-worth is needed more than ever. As a born wolf I am telling you to stand up for yourself. Treat this as a gift. You are strong enough to make sure no one mistreats you again.” he lets out a breath and steps out of her space.

who: @moonpains

Does she need to pick the lock to get in? No, certainly definitely not; but man she gets a little bump of dopamine when she feels the clicks click just right - there's an artistry to it, a tenderness. Millie has, for a long time, been really deft with her hands, really good at the gentle touch.

Up the steps she goes and then down the hall. Boom Bom Boomp on August Choi's door. "Hey, wake up, or open up, or what the hell ever. I've got tacos and churros and one of them red mountain dews and I'm supposed to be checking in on you."

Millie looks at the bag and wonders if that was smart. She doesn't know August Choi, not really. What if he's vegan?

"Heh." She laughs. More for her if he is.

He’s patching a wound to his arm, and without being able to escape the wolf has taken to damaging itself, hungry and vicious with its increasing anger, when he hears the knock and a familiar voice. Teeth tear the strip free from the roll and he stands tugging on a tank top. He looks worse for wear, knuckles busted from an angered fit versus his bathroom mirror an hour before as he was cleaning off from the shift. Soft feet pad for the door and he opens it with a weary grin.

“Was wondering who Arte would send today.” He’s embarrassed when he opens the door fully to the other, stomach growling when he smells the food brought. “Sorry, it’s getting…well you can see” he sighs, closing the door behind the other wolf. He barely knows her. But did he really know any of the babysitters that have been sent to check in on him?

Matteo feared this has been another choice he couldn't fight. Staying away from him— a choice, he'd be right to pick.

"Kid—" he began, on instinct, then closed his mouth and reminded himself, he couldn't stop the younger wolf. What were you going to say? Is there anything you could say at all, to keep him? "Please, sit down. Stay. Finish your dinner, at least." Right. He said he wasn't hungry.

A heavy kind of silence filled the space between them.

Then he spoke again, not bearing the weight of it. "Talk to me, August." a request, a plea, a fatherly demand.

He tenses at the words, at the ’Kid’ he knows it wouldn’t usually bother him, but with the wolf stirring, waking as the sun gets closer to sleeping for the evening. At his fraying mind knowing he’ll have to run home. Will have to escape the moon and the danger it brings. That if he doesn’t make it before it’s woken fully he could hurt someone. That it craves Rose, that she won’t hurt him even if he becomes a risk. That he may not be hungry but his wolf craves meat, blood, prey.

His hand balls into a fist at his knee. What does he want him to say? His teeth grit, his gums already ache, teeth creak as he squeezes his eyes closed. Quelling the anger that is building at having another wolf so close. His body hunches, breathing coming out in huffs through his nose. He’s so angry. He’s pissed. All his failures. All the damage that he has caused.

This fucking curse that has been plaguing him. That has stripped his pride from him. That has made him a danger to those around him. That took his family from him. His fist raises and then comes down pounding into his knee. The fits have been getting worse.

“Shut the fuck up” he bites out in Korean. It’s laced in venom, in a way Matteo will know the words are not kind. He feels like a pup, like Liam or even that girl Autumn. Like he can't control his emotions. “You know nothing  Matteo, so stop treating me like your fucking kid, and let me GO !” English this time as he stands, his teeth grind harder as he starts pacing as he grabs at his hair and yanks. Pain, focus on the pain. Calm down.

Tilting their head when August says his girlfriend isn't a wolf, Arte's throat tightens when he says that she's a hunter. They thought maybe a human, or a vampire if it was especially unconventional, but a hunter?

They want to believe him. Maybe she has changed. Maybe she wouldn't hurt the pack, but it means she has hurt people like them before. Maybe even knew the people who had hunted their pack. It's unlikely, but the spiral continues and they play with a stray thread on the edge of their flannel. August is happy. That much is clear, and he doesn't need their permission to do anything, even if they might disagree.

He can feel it, smell it, the tense energy. The unsure aura, he feels it often around Arte. He doesn’t know their story, not fully. They are new, Arte doesn’t know his story either. They are both broken in their own ways. The most August knows is that the redhead lost their pack, though in what capacity August is at a loss for. All he knows, with his own losses, is that he doesn’t want to lose his friend. That he doesn’t want to have to run again.

Arte and Rose, reasons to stay.

People who have become close to him in such a short amount of time already. He cares for Matteo too, but things are difficult and complicated when it comes to the older wolf. His pride is hurt by the way he treats him as less than equal and treats him like a child when he is a grown man with plenty of experiences to not leave him incapable and naive.

Dark eyes focus back on Arte, they aren’t looking at him, fidgeting. He knows the news wasn’t something expected, that it puts them on edge. He can understand. Knowing Rose was a hunter put him on edge too, but the connection and the way she treats him have put that away. He wants to express how she’d him for what he was and didn’t shy away. Didn’t try to put him down. How he’d been naked, injured, easy prey and her only thought was to take care of him. Tell them how she holds his face and insists he is no monster. That their broken pieces call to one another.

"How?" She asks. How do you let your mind relax? The only thing she's known since twelve is that happiness and comfort are fleeting and discomfort and misery are the baseline - she'd managed to fool herself that this had changed for a few sweet weeks. Stupid.

It might be unclear if she's laughing or sobbing for all the way the two sounds mingle - and she can't bring herself to sit or drink tea, and before long she just can't help but need to vent it further.

" I came here looking for answers but I didn't even know what to ask, I still don't. I killed somebody, yeah, whatever, that's my fucking business, but... I can't sleep without my mind taking me back to it and reminding me that I fucking liked it, that it felt so, so RIGHT to do. It was the most fucking satisfied I've ever felt in my life and then I woke up and all that was gone and I couldn't chase off this little inkling in the back of my mind that just wants more and it just keeps getting louder again. I can't give it that?"

"That's insane! And I've killed or chased off or what-the-fuck ever the only other person in my life that can even start to understand that or help me figure it out."

He lets it happen, lets her burst at the edges, lets her get out the thoughts and emotions. The scent cloying, similar to one of Rose’s panicked frenzies, and altogether unique. He tries to keep himself neutral as his own wolf bristles at the scent of her, something familiar and yet new. Normally another wolf wouldn’t cause alarm, but as his beast grows stronger he finds that even Arte’s scent has been setting him off. As she continues to vent, to rant, he can sense the beast residing in her bones. He presses himself down further and can feel the want to snarl vibrate in his own chest.

“It is natural for our kind to kill. It is the way of a carnivore. Of a hunter. To kill, to eat. Most things to our minds, when the beast takes hold, are prey. The hunger, even for the most trained can be consuming. And for turned wolves, your type has even less control. My father told me it is because the human mind does not know how to connect to the wolf. It wasn’t made to coexist. I’m not quite sure what I believe.” his voice dies down, eyebrows pinching together as she slumps to the couch's arm.

“We are monsters. I will not lie to you. We are killers. We feast on the weak and the only hope for some semblance of peace is to come to terms with that. You are now considered to be part of the top of the food chain.” he runs a hand through his hair. “Fighting it will only make things harder.” His lips press into a thin line, he doesn’t feel like he is being much use. Standing he sets his mug down on the table and looks at her seriously.

She doesn't ask though - she knows the answer. She realizes that this might have been stupid - what is she gonna ask this guy, how to fucking howl at the moon? How you avoid waking up naked and afraid? She feels her pulse in her cheeks and a nervous finger scrapes against the denim of her jeans, still gritty with the same soil used to bury her mother.

"I've got so little gas in my tank right now it's hard to justify not just turning the keys off," she says. "Look around, look at this place - I mean you know about this stuff and look at it in here, it's a fricking mess. Is it even worth getting help?"

Coward, something issues the judgement in the space between her thoughts. Weak little thing.

Her comment about gas and a car, but figures it’s some American saying he hasn’t become familiar with, piecing it together in context. When she mentions the state of his apartment he sighs. No, he isn’t doing well, but he can smell the panic building in the room and the vibration of unease. Can see the spiraling. He’s never witnessed a turned wolf struggling, has never bared them much mind, he feels sorry for her, to be something for so long and then suddenly having that control ripped away. He knows what it means to not be comfortable in your own skin.

It takes her a while to sit, too nervous to do so the second August is gone, and she's staring at the floor into nothing when he returns. "Yeah." she offers uselessly in return. Yeah, it is my first full moon turning into a wolf and trying to kill everything.

Worst timeline.

His posture relaxes at the revelation, it wasn’t him. He was warded and locked in an old out of use butcher’s freezer. But then who? That didn’t really matter. He cradles his mug between his hands as he looks her over.

“I am. Yes. I never thought it, my writing, would have someone seek me out. Most just think it’s a fantasy, that I’m creating fiction on old tales. It’s a good ploy to…keep people from realizing the reality. There is that saying.” he pauses as he racks his mind for a second. “Hidden in plain sight.” he lets out a humorless chuckle.

He didn't know what to say to him that wouldn't paint August in the same light, as the older wolf. Matteo felt like looking into a mirror, taking him years back, when he was August' age; quietly suffering away, without letting a single soul close. Only his mother, at the time. She didn't want anything to do with him now. Keep him close, he thought, create a safe place for him to open up. Because for weeks, Matteo hasn't seen the younger man. The last time he heard from him, he was lost in a blind rage, and the conversation was entirely lost; a memory, he couldn't recall, like a nightmare he had dreamed.

They sat across from each other now; two plates of burgers on the table and something playing on the screen, that was only background noise to Matteo.

"You haven't touched your dinner." he said, softly as if not to startle him too much. He didn't know how to be around him. Afraid, that every word he spoke was the wrong one. There were so many questions he wanted to ask — Where have you been? Do you still trust me? He swallowed all of them down. Don't do this. Don't suffocate the boy.

But he couldn't help but worry.

"I can make something else, kid. Whatever you'd like."

He hasn’t left his home in weeks, except to go to the meat locker in the old warehouse, it wasn’t safe until Cham found a solution. And his daylight hours were spent as much as they could be with Rose. He wanted to be able to take her out on dates, not worry her by the state of his slipping humanity. Slowly becoming more beast than man. The wolfsbane tea at least kept things somewhat at bay, that and the sunlight. Which has him distracted, it was getting close to sunset.

He feels bad about worrying Matteo, but this mess of his had already affected so many people in his life. He didn’t want to burden the older wolf as well. The sound of his voice shakes him from his thoughts The blank stare as he zoned out, it happens occasionally and he can barely ever remember what had been on his mind 

Autumn looks down the hall, both ways, before she follows him in. She's nervous, if only because this is still all so insane to her. It's been almost a handful of days since all of it. She's dirty, positively filthy and she knows August can smell it on her because she can smell it on herself - the lingering filth of that first night, bloody hands scrubbed somewhat but not nearly clean enough, the first on her shoes and hands from a half-dug hole... she needs to grab a shower because she's not sure how long she can dodge A.J. before he comes looking and there is just still so much to hide.

"I'm sorry to bo..." Whatever she'd been about to say dies on her throat as she sees the state of things. Her memories are hazed out, but Aria's apartment comes flickering back - static on a blurry screen.

He had never expected this. She’s weary, nervous, scared. It’s enough to cloy in his nose even more so than the filth and dried blood and earth. He’s trained enough to not make a face, years of being told it’d be a sign of disrespect to show just how well-trained his nose is. His father had called it a gift, August saw it as more of a nuisance. “So you are fresh…” he near murmurs, he knows she’ll be able to hear him.

“Go, sit. I’ll make tea. We can talk after that. You look cold and I can smell the fear coming off of you. I promise the place looks worse than it should. I’m sure it isn’t helping your nerves. You’re safe here, as long as the sun is up there is nothing to worry about.” he tells her before disappearing into the kitchen to start the electric kettle.

Once it and the tea are ready he comes out with two steaming, mismatched mugs and sets one on the table in the living room he has had to repair an annoying amount of times now. “From the state of you, I’m going to guess this was your first full moon?” He asks while settling into his favorite chair and cuddling back into it.

She hummed at his words, filing it in her mind so that she could think on it later. A curse... perhaps. Truthfully, she didn't really know what could be causing this issue. She was completely out of practice when it came to the supernatural creatures in this world. "Or... some internal conflict between you and the wolf." She suggested. "Something that hasn't been resolved."

Rose nodded at his words as she continued to comfort him with her hands. Or, she tried to. She wasn't quite sure if it was helping. She let out a breath as his hand moved to her hip and then, he was pushing through her grasp; nuzzling into her neck. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, warmth spreading just below her abdomen. "I'm okay. A bit... ah-- dulled out from the medications." She admitted as her arms wrapped around his neck. "I haven't showered yet. I haven't even been home yet. I wanted to see you first. To thank you." She pressed her lips to his cheek.

He knows logically she can take care of herself, that Rose is capable of holding her own, even if out of the world of hunting, the tattoo alone adds strength to his girlfriend. And he is sure the training she’s gone through her entire life helps as well, even out of practice, he, himself was able to hold his own after all. “I know…” he breathes, pressing a kiss to her palm, body falling into her own. She fits into his slim frame so comfortably. His hands squeeze at her hips, still sniffing at her skin, taking her in deeper, the smell of her beneath the sterile scent of the hospital she left behind.

“You can shower here, we have a few hours before sunset.” he sighs against her neck and when she kisses his cheek he shifts to look into her eyes. Even tired and weary, he will always find comfort in those eyes.

“I can tell you something we do agree on,” his cheeks heat slightly. “we both want you. It won’t stop…I don’t know its intentions, but it’s become concerning how clearly he wants you. The time you found me wasn’t the first time I had woken up in your area…I think he’s been tracking you.” He shivers, eyes looking worried.