#wolfskrieger

starter for @wolfskrieger

Its the perfect day to go outside. The sun not trying to bleed itself into the side walk, and the winds off the ocean not trying to blow you away. A perfect in between. And like many New Yorkers today, Sasha decided today was the day for a outing. So Pooka's harness is found, treats and his water bowl attached because if he's coming he's going to be responsible for his own things. That is how it works. For animals and people alike. Something that has two water bottles and and snack for herself packed into a small sling bag. One that finds rest on her shoulder as she clips the leash to Pooka's harness.

"Okay you, time to go see babushka i dedushka."

She smiles at the way Pooka's tale instantly fires up like a whirly gig. It makes her giggle in the wake of the front door closing and her keys tinkling to lock it. And off they went into the bright mid morning. The trip to her parents' house only taking two bus rides and a fifteen minute walk. Her parents of course trying to feed her and make her stay for longer but that's just how they were. And maybe she'd stayed an extra hour longer than intended but well no harm came of it. Wouldn't anyway. They were her parents. Even if the elephantty in the room was still there. Her ever absence elder sibling that most of the time just--didn't have time for family affairs these days. But maybe she understood why more than her parents. Not that she would ever tell.

That had been two hours ago. Now her and her trusty best friend were walking lazily through the afternoon market. Fruits and vegetables she will need for tonights dinner, purchased and tucked away in her bag. A brief pause at a stall selling sweets and pasteries. And while she could make the latter fairly easy--she buys a couple anyway. Because someimes even chefs take the easy way out. But only when cooking for themselves. Never anyone else. And she'd just taken the bag of afformentioned assorted candies when--

The sound hits her first it always does. Rakes through her like its her that's experiencing the horror that unfolds before her minds eye. Screaming metal crunching bone ripping flesh. The gut wrenching sound nearly turns her stomach. Would if her self wasn't entirely frozen in place, at the complete mercy of the future fated to happen in the next five minutes.

A red light entirely disregarded. A sleek black beauty of a bike that quite certainly outshines the fixer upper her brother left to rot in their parents garage. The rider thrown like a ragdoll for as not small as the man--clearly a man--is. Into the windshield of the traffic violater's SUV. Then up and over only to hit pavement and--

Bright blue eyes squeeze shut like she can block it out. The horrid sound of a person being run over. The blood--christ's cross she's never seen without seeing so much of it. And the bag of candies is fisted. She forgets entirely her manners and leaves the shop keep holding his payment while following the blonde and blue jean blur she's become down the side walk.

She's got time. She's got time. She just has to find---corner of seventh and eighth. She snags the information from the vision she plays back over and over again. She has to get the location right. There isn't enough time to be wrong. And she almost misses the turn if Pooka hadn't accidently tripped her. A scrapped knee and torn jean leg for her trouble she gets back up and bolts again. Sneakers tearing up concrete and body weaving between people. She would never normally do this and the people she accidently clips are offered all she can give them. A half yelled half squeaked

"Sorry!"

Eventually she comes to a skidding halt. The few people waiting on the crosswalk not even bothering to look up from their phones and then...then she hears it. Echoing over the traffic noise and bustling people. The unmistakeable sound of a finely tuned motorbike engine. She has seconds...fifteen at most and blue tears towards the direction she knows the soon to me vehicular manslaughterer is coming from. And maybe right then everything slows down. Moves like the air's thickness just grew expoentially. Yet she herself remains uneffected. Just like always. And in the interveneing seconds that stretch into the eternity she's only ever heard her brother be able to put into words--

Sasha lets go of Pooka's leash. Runs out across the barren crosswalk and stops dead center of the oncoming lane. Eyes that squeeze shut tighter than she's ever asked of them in her life. Hands that come up against her ears and ball into fists. She won't die. The SUV will stop. Her choice has changed the future and she can see clear as day---

Tires screech on asphalt. A horn begins to blare after it. And all she can do is remain. Quietly singing the only thing that comes to mind. The one thing that always makes her feel better. The lullaby her mother used to sing to her and her brother when they were little. And so it trickles out of her quiet and probably not loud enough for anyone to hear or so she assumes.

"Baju-bajuški-baju, Nie ložisia na kraju..." [ Bayu-bayushki-bayu, Don't lie on the edge ]

One heart beat.

Two.

Oh please don't let anything else have changed. Please don't let her blind spot that everyone has be the reason Pooka will have to watch his mom learn how to fly and come crashing back down like a some failed kind of pigeon.

@wolfskrieger said - don’t say a word .

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, doing a great impression of a fish out of the water, before finally closing her mouth with a sigh. “I wasn’t going to,” she argued seconds later, which was a blatant lie. He wouldn’t have told her to keep her mouth shut if he truly didn’t expect her to have an opinion on the matter.

Dammit.

This complicated things, didn’t it?

It seemed despite her best efforts the ugliness she dealt with at home had followed her to work finally. She hadn’t wanted Leon or anyone else to know how bad things were, but things had escalated to the point she couldn’t hide it anymore. Her boyfriend was an abusive piece of shit and controlled every aspect of her life; the only freedom she had was when she was at the club.

IT'S ALL going wrong . it's all going fucking wrong . the only good part of this whole fucked plan is that the other mutants were already out , hopefully getting to her contact that would take them to their underground network. but that didn't exactly help HER , right here , right now .

she stays crouched behind the wall , but she can hear the boots of the men around the corner . she's got six , maybe eight seconds before they round it and discover her . she counts in her head how many she thinks she can take down before the bullets become too many for her body to handle . she breathes slowly . once . twice .

alice had ended up running around the same time, and occasionally the same route with someone else. which might freak her out otherwise, but she'd been the one to initiate them running together a few times. he didn't give her bad vibes, and she ran armed, so alice wasn't concerned at all. he made a good companion though. one thing though, she was always the first to head home or tap out. she didn't get it. "dude, do you ever run out of steam?" alice asked, slowing down underneath a street lamp. she was breathing heavily, but looking up at leon expectantly. "how many miles have you run today? tell me. i gotta know."

⁀⋆✴︎˚｡⋆   𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑.   (   accepting!   )  | | |   ⤷   :   @wolfskrieger   +   jia

𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐢𝐬  𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠  behind  jia's  legs.  the  little  boy  has  known  leon  for  long  enough,  but  the  drawing  he  made  in  his  hand  had  suddenly  turned  him  bashful.  ❝   go  on,  ash.  show  him  your  drawing.  i'm  sure  he  would  love  to  see  it,  right  leon?   ❞

there's a lazy nod in response, taking another drag from the cigarette & exhaling slowly before dark eyes flicker to the stranger. though his frame takes up a good portion of the alley, she doesn't feel threatened by him, more curious ; the city is slower at 3 in the morning, it's why Sam doesn't mind the closing shift at the bar, never expecting another person to even acknowledge her existence when she takes her ' rough - night ' cigarette after throwing out the trash. " i promise i can take care of myself, " a truth that's etched into her skin.

She huffs quietly, her arms crossing over her chest as she stops before the path waiting patiently until the sound of footsteps causes her to finally speak her peace.

"You know most gods don't exactly take to their curses being WORKED around or messed with lightly..."

SHE TURNS, blinking with clear lack of amusement crossing her features before she finally speaks again.

Plotted starter for @wolfskrieger ( let the games begin )

     THERE WERE TIMES,     when she truly hated her damn life. and this was one of them. the lull in activity. the moment when she had nothing else to do but sit around and wait. which for someone with adhd. was not the best thing. yet there truly was nothing for her to do. she'd recorded the vocals she could for now, and had to wait. wait till her other band members [ ... ] finished their parts and she could go again. thus she was bored. and that was never a good thing. her bored, always led to her getting into shit, that her PR officer hated. which was normally her drunk off her ass and falling out of a club. or starting a bar brawl or five. ( she was creative like that !   )    this time though, she was at least in her room. buried deep within the rented house they were staying in. so her PR officer couldn't bitch too much about that. but obviously just because she was staying in. didn't mean she was behaving.   

  something that was proven    ━   with a few quick phone calls.   and before long she had her tattooed fingers, on enough booze to kill her liver. as well as a good handful of edibles, that meant she was spending the rest of the night. not worrying about a damn thing. it was the price of fame, she had people on hand to get her whatever she wanted. and they didn't care [ ... ] for she was simply giving them money. and who cared what she did with them. she sure as shit didn't. nor did she care what they did with the money she handed over. (    it wasn't her issue anymore !    )    though the combination, of the two. had her taking a good handful of pictures, that really would cause a stir if ever released. but she didn't care. nor did she care as her finger hovered over, the number of her recent fuck buddy. well, what she thought was his number. when she got it, she was more than a good handful of drinks deep. AND A FEW TOKES TOO. but either way, she had faith it was the right number. and with a simple hum, she types out the message. smirking softly to herself, as she already hears the long ass lecture. that was going to come her way. but fuck it, she was bored.