#abattre

mean girl here to laugh at you 

though vexatious sits only a few feet away from them, on the other side of a roaring, yellow-orange fire, he could be a million miles away. their oddly colored eyes are on the flames, flickering light dancing in deep, black pupils, and theo studies them studying the bonfire he'd built.

the desire to submit to introspection before a crackling fire is a habit he is familiar with. something about the temporary heat and force of the flame, theo thinks, or how the background fades out in the wake of such a scorching light. the dead, dark trees around them could be nothing more than cardboard standees, props lined up and down the aisles of a department store to be purchased as halloween draws ever closer.

theo is loathe to disturb their thoughts, vexatious clearly deep in the grip of some pressing reflection — but they'd hiked out here with him and built the bonfire for a reason. to make the interruption gentle, theo first stretches his legs out, rattling crisp, brown leaves and then dips down to catch vexatious's eyes.

“ i'm not sure how many bonfires you've been to, but most people tell scary stories at them. roast marshmallows, drink beer. ” theo flashes a small, amused smile, catching the reflection of the flames off their teeth in the jagged light patterns it makes across vexatious's chest. he leans over to the bag at his side, flipping the top open and pulling out a bag of marshmallows with raised brows. “ want to give it a try? ”

the din of the crowd around them is deafening, harsh, rattling in their skull and grinding their molars together. their least favorite part of any fight is the break in between rounds, wolves shuffling to their respective corners to be cleaned up and prepare for the next bout of ordained violence. for their opponents, it makes sense; they are quick, strong, immediately singling out weak points and striking mercilessly for them.

for theo, it doesn't matter. they don't have a coach, and they don't need the rest. they need to feel a sure victory, blood bursting like crushed berries between their teeth and bones cracking with the strength of their mighty jaw. iron is swept up to their wrists, bruises purpling across their knuckles.

it will be over soon.

something — someone — cuts through the fog of brutality. theo lifts their head, blinking through sweat to study the man cutting smoothly between loud men exchanging bills and shoves. they stand just as he meets the edge of the ring, wolf's eyes glowing beneath lowered eyelids. their nostrils flare, theo scenting mildew, the sick-sweet smell of death.

“ fighter, or observer? ” theo asks, lifting a hand to rub away the blood dribbling down from a small cut through their brow. bleeding on the fans is rude, they've heard. “ don't read too much into this, but i hope it's the latter. ” they flash teeth in a wary grin. “ i wouldn't want to fight a creature i don't recognize. ”