Word Count: 1,566 words of introspective angst follow
Suddenly: darkness. Darkness everywhere.
Alright, not quite darkness, but the sun was certainly setting – and was certainly seeing quite a bit of cloud coverage this evening. The obstructions turned pink as if abashed by their actions but, like a mob, they congregated about the fiery orb as if with the pretense to snuff it out for good. The sun raged blood red war, but lower it sank until within minutes it was nothing but an orange rim. Above, the sky darkened in sorrow for the end of another day. Not even stars came out in mourning, so thick were those not-so-nebulous puffs.
Under this setting sat a wolf, or at least until she decided to stand. A second figure was lying down near her, deep asleep with dreams only God knew. Even if the night was not already beginning to settle, though, one could not easily glimpse into the first wolf’s face, for her hood darkened her countenance and her mask covered what was left. Two yellow eyes, almost glowing in the twilight, checked the surrounding areas; neither showed signs of being tired.
No-one else was near them. They had found a patch of solitude in the midst of a forest, with a stump being their only company. No birdsong touched the night, no wind disturbed the leaves above or below: everything felt like it was at an impasse, waiting for something to break the suffocating air of silence.
Restlessly, Gabrielle’s tail twitched.
She couldn’t sleep, not well at least. Every passing day they drew nearer to The Order of the Rose, the she-wolf felt her nerves getting jitterier. Kerai, her companion, could support her as much as he liked, but still the nervous butterflies frolicked in her stomach. Every day she revisited the old fears as if they were new, nothing but bright light in her sight: not the kind that was gentle, but the harsh divider of darkness, that exposed all things within her for others to see and mock.
Look at Gabrielle’s hypocrisy, how she keeps company with a slave and derives pleasure from it, how she protects the creature that won’t protect itself. Gaze upon her broken family, the sisters that ran away, the lazy brother who fancies himself a lady killer, the king’s personal target practice dummy who is all brawn and no brains, the mother that never achieved her ambitions and desires and who now snapped at all whilst she brooded in the dark, the father that never cared and seduced under false pretenses. Marvel at her gluttony and lust with Hades, her lack of foresight to see how she had been used by him and the scars she now wore from their last encounter, her sorrow at the realization of miscarriage, her inability to remember what it meant to be of the Reign of Terror, her utter, utter lack of friends.
Watch the one who thinks a hood and a mask can cover the burden of ugliness.
Trembling. Gabrielle let her paws do the thinking and walked. She had no fear for Kerai for an inexplicable reason: maybe his submissive behavior would permeate the air about him, presenting a lamb-like quality that not even a lynx would mar. Once again it was all about her. It had to be about her. Nobody else cared enough.
Did Kerai? Possibly. But not as much as she had come to care for him.
As if that amounted to something. Hah!
The more she sat and thought, the worse those thoughts became, until it was painful to think at all. It was then that Gabrielle stood and, silent as a mouse, crept away from her companion, her friend, her would-be lover, to busy herself a different way.
There were longings. Whether or not Kerai reciprocated these, she didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. But Gabby’s own pangs were growing, fueled by her nervousness and vanity and selfish wants. Just one wolf, she thought. One wolf, one more and that’s all. I won’t ever ask again unless I find true love. It was wrong, she knew, but . . . God already saw her as a minor abomination anyway, no? Another sin or two wouldn’t place her any lower in Hell.
Do a deed in the dark of the night, and it was like it never happened, right?
The night slept, oddly enough. Whatever nocturnal creatures should have been out were apparently having business elsewhere. A river burbled somewhere off to her side, but that wouldn’t slake her thirst tonight. The feeling of grass beneath her paws was one of the few sensations that reminded Gabrielle that this was all quite real.
How long she walked, the Lady didn’t know. Time felt like it was on hold beneath the lopsided Cheshire grin of the moon, which was nice for once. No onward rushing, not sense of purpose pushing her headlong – for once, she was not going to please someone else, but herself; if the other wolf was pleased, it was a side effect and nothing more.
Sex was a means of feeling loved. That much she had learned with her short time with Hades. Maybe it was the only way she could feel loved.
Some nights Gabrielle could still hear his bone-rattling hiss in her ear, like a ghost that wouldn’t leave her be. Come closer, my little angel. Come closer, my wingless phoenix. Death and life are as nothing between us. I am of it, and you defy it; but you cannot defy me.
In retrospect, the Lord’s whispers were haunting rather than melodic, poetic, and, well, stimulating. Haunting, and longing, and utterly possessive. Sometimes she could barely leave him for a day before he forced her back to his den, wanting more. For a wolf that prided himself on being independent, Hades had quite the craving for sex, like within him coiled an instinctual monster that unleashed itself upon her with every rough thrust, claiming her as its prize with wanton glee.
And to be honest, for that time, she was. A trophy wife without the bindings of actual marriage or mating – or even any of the perks that would come with that status, like actually being shown about as the male’s pride. But . . . Gabrielle had not minded this arrangement so much back then. She would swallow her pride and come crawling back, wanting to feel invigorated, wanting to be wanted: wanting to be loved, in her delusion. No-one treated her like Hades did; not her mother, not her siblings, not her sole confidant or the new friend she had made before leaving. And especially not her father, the deadbeat, the manipulator, the silver tongued snake that had ruined her mother.
That had made her.
A soft breeze broke the silence of the night at last, bringing to her the smell of some hope. Young, male, not far away, possibly by the river. Good. She didn’t want to leave Kerai for too long after all. That would just be irresponsible.
Why was she still going on about her father? Caydenn had never been part of the picture past conception, gone like a thief in the night with Liriel’s virginity. Why prattle on like he was the sole reason she was out here in the middle of a very different yet similar night, looking for sex?
Gabby was honest with herself: because it was easier. For so long she had played victim to her broken family that to face up to her own actions’ consequences was beyond her grasp. It was easier to say, “I’m like this because of my damn father. It’s his fault for never supporting me,” and then go out and do as she pleased free of guilt.
Maybe it was, partially, Caydenn’s fault. But not on the whole. Gabrielle knew better than that.
Yet her paws continued onward regardless.
She knew, too, that it was frustration with her failure at relationships. Was that her father’s fault too? Probably not. But it wasn’t as if Gabby made much effort to try and extend beyond her extremely small social circle (count: two at best) for that matter. No, all she had done was be exactly like Hades when it came to Kerai: selfish, possessive, and even patronizing. Why did she want him? He was beautiful, submissive, and willing to please. Why did she save him from Clooney’s violent jaws? Because she wanted him all to herself.
But no sex. No sex at all. She couldn’t bring herself to open up like that to the one wolf that had seen her before the mask and hood came on. She couldn’t . . .
Hushed voices ahead. She was right, they were by the river.
She couldn’t.
Laughter. Two males testing themselves against the elements, pleased with their progress.
She could stop. Honestly, she could. That’s what she told herself anyway. All it would take is two steps back and a clearer head. Think about it. Decide to be better.
The problem was, thinking hurt right now.
Gabby finally understood why some committed themselves to sin in their every day lives: because the temptation, the justification, the gratification, all it was just easier.
Just one bite of the apple. All she wanted.
Whatever conscience she had now slept, and the very air itself almost seemed to part for the feathered femme as she trotted to her one night stand.
