#marshall 01

August’s eyes had moved languidly over the flesh of one dancer in particular, he’d been here for over an hour and while the booze was good, the moves were too familiar. August was getting bored, the blood moon was approaching and there was a charge that had started to fill the air as people began to filter out. August tilted his head and whispered something before he slipped another bill in between the bronzed skin and thin material. His eyes slipped towards a door near the back before he took another drink and moved from his seat, another bill exchanged hands after August went through the door and shortly after that he was down the stairs in The Pit. 

The roaring crowd brought a smile to the corner of his mouth, the cheering, the applause, the stench of blood and sinew and whatever else had been strewn across what acted as a stage. August cheered before he found a place in the stands, beer in hand he recognized a few faces from around town, people he knew, people he’d worked with, people he didn’t want to run into and those he’d yet to.  The first fight in and his ears started to burn at the name that came boom across the speaker. It was all very ironic, if there was any asshole that deserved to be here, it was Marshall. Though the werewolf would probably have said the same thing about him,

He smiled as the bell dinged and immediately started to push closer so he could get a better view of what was happening in the ring. In truth, August should have taken up safety at Harmony’s Table already, he could see it in the eyes of every wolf in this place. Things were heating up, he’d only been back from the faerielands for a day, and already he was treading in hot water. He could hear fists connecting and smiled reflexively, only catching a few glimpses of what was actually going on, he was ringside before the ringside bell went off for what would be the final round. Torn flesh and broken bones were something of a signature of his friend, August cheered from the side of the ring as Marshall’s hand went up, the obvious victor.

“Fucking hell man, how are you feeling after that?;” August laughed, almost jealous in a way, “when the fuck did you get to Ashbourne?”