#melliwell

@melliwell​ - plotted starter.

she had watched her for some time; familiarity in the aura around the woman had kept luna sitting in the snow as she was, seemingly mesmerized by the presence of the other....with such a similar color around her as luna knew of her own. she had watched her leave her home, she had stayed sitting on the snowy fence when she had returned as well. a day spent traipsing her way through neighboring towns, villages, did often unearth anything all too interesting, a few strays that wanted to scuffle when luna simple wished to pass through or a small flock of birds that made her tail twitch struggling to control impulses to pounce.

it must have been hours before the woman emerged this day and luna didn’t think twice or with hesitation to bound down from the fence to scamper through snow closer, a soft mew leaving her as she neared the woman’s legs and rubbed lightly against her, looking up at her with another soft sound. she knew she wouldn’t wish to intrude upon the woman without revealing herself, it seemed very invasive to consider such a thing, but perhaps a moment of greeting the other witch in this distanced way...was worth the shot. luna rubbed on her legs again, a rolling purr in her throat itching to start that she didn’t even consider the other girl might boot her away. perhaps her senses were as sharp as luna’s were and she would feel threatened? she hadn’t considered the possibility, after all...no one kicked cats, right? she could hear a raven’s call in the sky it warmed her, hopefully she was not about to be kicked. what if she was allergic? 

      she’s not the only one who need a drink. a party rages around them, but the former alpha is not in the mood for dancing, laughing, carousing like nothing in the world is wrong. no, he still mourns the loss of his pack, and he’s still nursing a thousand wounds from damiar. magdalena isn’t even here: was the one person that would make it all worth it.

@melliwell​ sent  ‘ ♗ ’  from the icon meme.

restless, the former alpha prowls the halls of the salvatore school. nights are when he is most alert. the moon sings in his veins, and keeps him from sleep. he’s rarely alone, for there are many in the school who cannot sleep through the night. tonight, however, the other wolves are at rest, and he winds up in the gymnasium alone.

to call it a gymnasium is a stretch, for though it contains plenty of equipment, it’s rather small. it’s not as much space as he would like, but he cannot turn on command anyways. he wants to run in the forest, to feel the squish of the dirt in his paws. now though, he has to settle for some one on one time with the punching bag.