#sehicks

Originally written: March 09, 2014

-S.E. Hicks

A painful howl echoed through the alleyways of Warcrypt; the massive desert city humming with life long after sunset. It went unnoticed, however, and the Tiberius collapsed into its own growing pool of blood which trickled out to join with other pools across the uneven cobblestone.

The nightlife continued to barter and laugh and work uninterrupted. High above, dark clouds drifted past a full moon, birthing inky shadows that slowly oozed over streets and buildings before continuing on to pepper the sand dunes beyond the city’s great walls.

Rane stood among the slaughtered Tiberius pack, watching the silvery moon’s reflection ripple and glint in the dark blood running through the grout and slithering into the drain at the end of the alley. He examined the stains on his claws with a scowl.

What a mess.

The Lycan flicked most of the blood back onto the body of the largest beast (a stubborn bastard with a missing eye and one hell-of-a bite radius) before walking deeper into the complicated system of back alleys without a backwards glance. Let the mutants clean it up; he couldn’t be bothered.

Rane navigated the dark expertly, his gold eyes far superior to that of anything else in the wild. He was an apex predator after all; there were none that could compare…but that rogue band of Tiberius had put up a pretty good fight, he grudgingly admitted, ignoring the urge to limp on his swelling ankle. Damn mutts…

A few rats scattered from around a trashcan as he brushed past them and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. This whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth. What were a band of Tiberius doing in Warcrypt? They usually stuck to the deserts to scratch out a miserable existence, picking off smugglers and each other; how had they made it so far past The Walls?

A left and then three rights and he ended up back on the main street, blending in seamlessly with the crowds. He was good at that; the best. While the rest of society whirled by, human and Cryptid alike, Rane walked in their shadows; biding his time, a silent observer.

But there was no comfort in the shadows tonight. This was the third Tiberius pack they’d found this month. Mindless beasts weren’t going to breech The Walls without help.

There was something competing for the darkness he called home.

The wolf leered at nothing and everything.

Whatever it was…it wouldn’t survive long with him around.

His phone went off and he fished it free from his pocket without missing a step.

“ What?” He all but snarled. The voice on the other end sounded pleasant enough, but he knew better than to trust Liam’s bedside manner. Something was up, and it was going down at The Manor. The mage told him, in no uncertain terms, that he wouldn’t want to miss a damn thing and to get his sorry ass over there ASAP.

Not one to take lip, the werewolf hung up on him mid-rant and changed direction, pushing whoever was so unfortunate to be in his way out of the way.

That vampire-brat better have had a good reason for calling Phellan over to their territory like a trained dog.

Oh boy...I've been absolutely smashed under the weight of my stress and anxiety for the last few months...but I've managed to dredge myself up to writing this little thingy. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Beach 

  She had always found the beach to be relaxing, but she hated the continual breeze that always pulled at her hair and cloths and stole the heat rising from out of the sand cluttered with shells and kelp and the occasional cigarette butt.

Her small feet and little toes disappeared under a small sand mound; she was oddly embarrassed by how short and square her toes were and the wicked tan ending just above her ankle from countless morning walks that left her poor little feet too pale.

The constant whistle of the wind was mildly distracting, though the ebb, build, crash, and flow of the waves soothed her strained eyes and fried nerves.

The beach was her favorite location to recharge; there was something so safe about it that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Her friends played along the shore, throwing each other into the cold waves and laughing in the light of the setting sun. She'd volunteered to stay behind and watch their nest of beach towels, blankets, bags of food and supplies and clothes shed in haste.

A few of the other girls were sunning behind her, hoping to soak up the last rays of the failing day before they'd find comfort from the cool night in their coverups and jackets.

She worried about her bikini bottoms, now a smidge too small for her, but the only bathing suit she could squeeze into anymore. Though she wouldn't dare complain about her weight; she fought for every pound that she gained and only lamented the slightness of her wallet.

Not much for swimming, she contented herself with observing the quickly approaching twilight glancing blue and indigo off of the rolling waves with easing serenity.

Her friends, smiling and laughing and wet with ocean spray, raced back to their beach-nest. A few immediately dove onto towels and blankest while others shimmied into dry clothes.

A blanket, unfolded and warmed by faded sunlight, completely draped over her from behind. She swam her way out of the heavy wool just as someone swam into it and settled beside her.

His smile was broad and his hair was slick with water and his eyes were dark. Her bright eyes, heavy with melancholy and sleepless nights, lightened was a smile of her own; small and embarrassed like her feet buried in the sand and the rest of her swallowed up by the blanket. He'd caught her off guard and she almost scolded him for it, but that smile could disarm even her quick tongue and she resolved to shyly watch the waves again.

They kept chatting with passing friends to a minimum, and only when spoken to first, and shared a laugh or two when a couple down the way stumbled over each other in the flickering lights of the fire pits dotting the beach but they were otherwise silent; enjoying their ocean view.

The continual breeze gusted fiercely and shoved her against his side. Their shoulders brushed, much to her horrified excitement, and she righted herself awkwardly while the others carried on building the fire pit to a warm glow.

Her hear thrummed loud in her ears.

The blanket, pooling in her lap, was pulled back over her bare arms and tucked up around her throat by large hands; never clumsy or careless, they treated her tenderly yet always kept a proper distance.

She sometimes wished his hands would betray their owner's possible ambition and linger a breath too long on her arm or at the small of her back or on the palms of her own hands... but then she'd remember all of her flaws and stretchmarks and oddly embarrassing tan lines and toes and try to abandon the idea...like now, for example.

She never really knew what to do around him, but like the ebb and flow of the waves she'd let the fear and giddiness gently sooth away the embarrassment and wash her along with the tide; recharging that puzzling place within all women where all of their silly little hopes and dreams and passions live and die.

He rocked from side-to-side, knocking his knees against hers under their blanket and smiling broadly down at her in the firelight.