#diosasbody

      she’s recounting a story on the phone while riding the marta train, and he’s listening, but the headphones seem to say otherwise. baby is silent, the rhythms of jimi hendrix’s all along the watchtower drowning out the internal noise of his head, and he sees out of the corner of his eyes she’s hung up.

     IT’S BEEN A WEEK since it happened. You know, the whole werewolf thing. Everything about that night feels like a blur--- he remembers walking back from the subway, remembers showing up at Halley’s apartment the next morning, but everything in between? Gone. It only comes back to him when he sleeps, when he can let his subconscious take over, and every time he wakes up in a cold sweat. For the first time in a while, Rian’s scared, and he doesn’t know who to turn to.

                 ❛     -––– is that real blood or just                  silly ornamentation ?      ❜

     and when you’re on a walk in the middle of the night, you mind the pair of eyes peering back at you from the side of the trail. they’re a glassy shade of sea-green ( not just the irises -- the whole damn eye ), and when dale tilts his head, glint reflectively. in a best case scenario, they belong to a doe.

     and in a worst case scenario, a bear.

     he removes the flashlight from his belt and clicks it on, pointing it where the animal’s feet would hypothetically be. he expects hooves and paws and claws, but is taken aback to find only a smart pair of women’s shoes -- and, when he moves his flashlight beam up, the woman they belong to.

     dale exhales shortly, in such a way it sounds like a hybrid between a staccato laugh and relieved sigh, and smiles. his unoccupied hand raises in a friendly wave.

     “ there’s nothing quite like a brisk walk on a summer’s evening, is there? ”