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Username: KaenIttou
Name: Ezekiel Rayne
Nickname: Zeke
Age: Relative – 24, Literal – 160
Race: Lycan
Appearance: Humanoid, Wolf
Occupation: Mechanic, Various Odd-jobs, General Fix-it Guy
Place in Pack: Lone Wolf (by circumstance)
Personality: Zeke is a cautious person. Having seen many die in his long lifetime, he distances himself from lasting relationships with people so that it hurts him less if something were to happen to them. Though he may seem stand-offish and snappy at times, he can also be extremely warm and accommodating. He is bright and cheerful around those he likes, and can be downright vile to those he takes a disliking to. He also has a short temper when it comes to—he thinks—small and silly things; he is annoyed with those who are taller than him, he gets angry when others meet his gaze and linger, and he hates being startled.
Bio: Zeke was savaged by a rogue, moonstruck were when he was a child. Discovered barely alive by a passing stranger, he was sent to the nearest hospital; they could find no record of any relatives and he was given to an orphanage for safekeeping. By no means an ugly child, he was adopted almost immediately. His adoptive parents awoke in the night of their son’s first full moon since the attack to agonized, animalistic screams. Upon rushing to his room, they were astounded by his slow, painful transformation from a human child to an exhausted wolf pup. Though surprised, and quite confused, they were open minded people and accepted the anomaly with little fuss.

Without guidance from his sire or an alpha, Zeke was an unruly youngster. Since he was unable to conquer his inner wolf, his parents had a hard time keeping their boy out of trouble. They were a quick study, however, and soon balanced their affection for their son with enough discipline to keep him from harming himself and others. As he aged he was able to wrestle control from the wolf, and acquired a precarious hold on the power and instincts of the beast. After his adoptive parents passed away, leaving him with little structure in his life, he almost lost his mind. Before he did, luckily, he came across a stray. Just out of puppy-hood, it cowered in an alleyway just past the store Zeke did his routine shopping at. He took the abused creature home with him, and was able to grasp the bare minimum concepts of pack hierarchy from his interaction with the animal. When his dog, affectionately dubbed ‘Garou’, had to be put to sleep due to an illness, Zeke had grown enough that his companion’s death did not affect him as his parent’s had.

Growing up immersed in city life, he is comforted by the sounds and the hustle and bustle of large towns and is uncomfortable in the quiet of the countryside. Thus, he has never had contact with another lycanthrope since childhood and has little experience with things pertaining to his wolf side. Though he lived near large cities, and does well blending in seamlessly in the crowds, he has had to move periodically because people begin noticing that he doesn’t seem to age. When he was small, he grew extremely fast, and seemed older than he really was. Once he hit thirteen, however, his growth suddenly slowed until he seemed to stop growing altogether. At age twenty-two, he appeared no older than sixteen. At forty, he looked as if he could barely pass for nineteen. Even now, though he is over one hundred years old, he looks not a day over twenty-four. After a few moves, he began to stop trying overtly to make friends; finding it hard to sever all connections with them every time he had to move, for their safety as well as his own. He made a living by fixing things for people, though he did various odd-jobs for those who asked. These ‘odd-jobs’ being things usually dangerous and under the table.

Around his nineties, he was noticed by some government officials, and eventually caught. After several years of experimentation and abuse, he let his wolf completely take over and awoke several hours later outside the complex in an exhausted and bloodied heap. He has spent the time between then and presently being more cautious and wary, as well as moving more often and farther distances.

Recently, he has discovered RSfG, and—being tired of having to constantly look over his shoulder and be on the move— has decided that it would be in his benefit to enroll.
Extra Info: Though not frightened of his wolf—he has lived too long with it for that—he is wary of his wild side, and keeps it under tight reign. Every now and again his iron control over the beast cracks, and he loses himself to it. The blanks in his memory are worrying, but after it happens he keeps an eye on police reports and has yet to have found anyone harmed by his lapses; although he cannot be sure about when he escaped the government containment facility.
Abilities: Zeke has enhanced senses of sight and smell as well as a certain intuition that borders upon instinctual. He has increased strength and speed, and is very flexible. Though not impervious to sickness and disease, he is down for shorter times than in normal and can rid himself of illnesses that are normally fatal to humans. Though tougher than a human, he is still able to be quite easily injured by tooth, claw, and weapon. He heals extremely fast, and is able to survive grievous wounds, but is prone to lethargy during his recovery period. He is able to shift forms at will, but has little practice with the maneuver since he likes to blend with people. His time spent captured changed this little, since he is very stubborn and defied his captors at every instance. It is possible for him to become moonstruck if he stares directly at the moon for long enough, which forces the change upon him. And on the night of the full moon, he will be forced into the change by just being touched by the moon’s light.



Ezekiel drove up the precarious dirt path towards the campus, wincing with each uneven bump and reverberating scrape that damaged his vehicle as it cautiously wove its way through the surrounding forest of the school. Even with headphones on to partially cover the sounds of the bumps burdening his shocks and scrapes scratching off paint, he could faintly hear the screech and groans of his baby. His hands tightened worriedly on the steering wheel and he hoped to reach the campus soon—orchestral music can only block so much. He gave a gusty sigh of relief as he finally exited the forest and finished his journey to the campus that was to be his new home, raising an eyebrow at the small, empty parking lot. He was sure that the path was relatively well traveled by vehicles only slightly smaller than his own, else he wouldn’t have had the heart to bring it, sanity or not. ‘Maybe there’s a small bus that drops kids off here, or something…’ He mused, parking haphazardly across several lanes and taking up almost half the space in the lot. He mentally shrugged, not like anyone was using the space anyways.

Taking a deep breath and building his courage to note the damages, he undid his seatbelt with unsteady hands and shakily walked down the steps to jump lightly to the concrete outside the transporter. He stepped back a few paces and gasped in horror, almost tripping over himself as he scrambled around the vehicle completely before stopping on the other side and dropping to his knees in a grieving heap. “WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YA, DARLIN’?” He howled in misery, pawing sadly at the wicked scratches left by brush and gravel. He didn’t even want to think about what was done to the top of the transporter from overhanging branches, or about what all those bumps did to the machinery on the underbelly of the vehicle. The grime wasn’t a problem and could be taken care of with a quick wash and maybe a waxing, but scratches and dents and difficulties due to debris could leave the large carrier scarred for life.

Trying not to hyperventilate, he held his breath until he was bright red in the face—cheeks enlarged like an enraged chipmunk. He let out the breath in an explosive gust riddled with a small cough or two as he fell backwards to stare up woefully at the sky, spread eagled. He was certain the cargo was fine—he had made sure to chain everyone down securely and to drape them with canvas in case any dust or small debris managed to trickle in from outside the carrier, but he worried that his trusty transporter would never be the same. “My baaaaaaaaaaby…” He moaned listlessly, glaring at the passing clouds as if they had wronged him personally. He knew that he ought to make his way to the front office and sign in, get his room key and tour the grounds—all that jazz, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so just at the moment. Feeling more than happy to just lie like a dead thing in the parking lot and wallow in self pity.




Viola jumped at the sounds of weeping coming from what she assumed was the entrance. She decided to investigate, she came upon a boy weeping over a large wrecked vehicle.

Strange what people worship in this land.

Viola began slowly toward him, fearing that the distruction of his "baby" had made his violent.

When she was close enough she said softly, "Hello, what happend to your...'baby'"




Still lying on his back, Zeke raised his arms spontaneously and wailed, “They ruined ‘er. RUINED!” His words were slightly accented—there being a heaviness to the ru, belaying just how stressed he was over the damage. Besides this outburst, he didn’t seem to acknowledge the other’s presence, instead continuing to stare at the sky in pained outrage. He mumbled a few choice curse words under his breath as he let his arms cross like a petulant child’s across his chest.



Damian walked over to the weeping man then at the other. "Um hello." Damian said taking glances at the weeping man.



Viola knealt over the weeping man. "I'm sorry whats ruined?" she asked very confused, she then noticed another walked over to help the clearly delusional man. "Hello, I can't seem to make sense of him, apperantly his large metal beast is ruined. Maybe you can help him." Viola said waving the man over to see if he understood the weeping mans turmoil.



Damian poked the machine with his staff and uttered some arcane words and the 'Baby' put itself back together. "I think it will work again." Damian said walking off.



Clunk Clunk Viola pounded on the side with her fist. "What is this anyway?" She asked the boy who had fixed it, "He knelt by it like it was a god or something, do your people pray to large metal beasts?" Viola looked it up and down seeing that it seemed to have an inside and tapped it lightly with her very black coffin boots seeing if it would let her inside, it only clunked again and she jumped back slightly.

After a moment of silence she realized the boy had disappeared leaving her with the weeping boy. Viola knealt over the man again blinking her cat-like sapphire blue eyes at him wondering if his hands had fused to his face. She scratched at her slitchly torn and very fitted black pants that were tucked into her knee high coffin boots. She then plopped next to him and her bottom fidgeting with the buttons on her large grey peacoat.



Zeke sobbed into his palms, though there were no actual tears he continued to wail softly as if he were a wounded animal. ‘Years it took to get ‘er working. Years!’ As he mentally shook his fist up at the heartless gods he heard people talking nearby. Unnoticed now by his audience who had turned their sights to his carrier, he flipped to a low crouch, mortified that he had been caught with his vulnerable belly wide open by mere strangers. Eyes wide as saucers and mouth partly open in protest, he watched as they went about poking his transporter with long sticks and—asdlfkjh was that woman kicking…?! He fought down an open snarl—that these unknown presences would touch his property!—and turned it into a strangled sigh. Not much more could be done to harm the thing more than it was already, and he was aware that he would have time to fix it before he ever needed to leave the school grounds with all his equipment in tow. Also, though the vehicle and its contents belonged to him, he was on unfamiliar territory and was unused to the rules and regulations thereof.

He wrestled his impulses of violence and bloodshed to the back of his mind with ease, as he had these sort of feelings all the time and was used to keeping himself under control, and relaxed from his crouch to land with a soft “oof” on his behind on the pavement of the parking lot. While the boy had seemed quite disinterested—how dare he, his wolf muttered, the girl promptly sat beside him and fiddled with her clothing, seemingly not noticing that he had indeed awoken from his grief-induced stupor and was watching her warily. He blinked, and when the girl seemed to not be intent on moving any time soon he opened his mouth to gently reprimand her about further abusing his child, “It’s not polite ter go ‘round kickin’ other people’s things, don’tch ya know. It might’ve been damagin’ to whatever tis yer kickin’.”

He stood up with a soft grunt and walked around to the back of the vehicle, flicking a few catches and pulling out a rather large set of keys—one of which he fitted into the handle upon the door to the carrier. Hearing the satisfying catch, he gently pushed the door up a few feet before crawling through the small space into the darkness of the carrier to check on his other vehicles. His eyes dilated and seemed to glow softly—though the effect was only from the reflective nature of his eyes, much like a cat’s—as he quickly adjusted to the lighting change, and he began shifting the large layers of canvas make sure everyone was alright, kicking a few heavy coils of chain out of his way as he worked.



Viola heard the boy scold her as he stood, she then rolled onto her back and up into a handstand then lowering her feet to the ground in a soft cat-like manner. "If I Kicked it thats hard you would have noticed, I only tapped it a little. Your metal god is very strange she said following behind him and again examining the "baby". She then stripped off her Jacket revealing a small Grey tank top and arms covered in tattoos and scars, throwing her jacket over her shoulder she reached a hand toward the boy, "I'm Viola, Viola Blacks" she said in her soft dark voice waiting with hand stretched for a reply.



Zeke turned back, seeing her form outlined against the brightness outside the carrier. His silhouette and the glow from his eyes were a bit eerie as he approached the opening, having decided that—since neither his motorcycle nor two of his cars had been damaged—the other vehicles would be fine as well. He crouched under the overhanging door to the transporter, his face deadpan as he reached out and shook her offered hand, guessing that that’s why she had it stretched out like that. He raised an eyebrow elegantly as he dropped her hand, his arm mimicking the other by resting on his thighs as he sat back on his haunches. “Tis no higher entity, luv; that there’s one o’ my childe. No physical harm mighn’ta come from yer tussling, but ‘m sure she was right offended. Ah believe she deserves an apology.” He winked at her before grinning rakishly, eye still closed, as he introduced himself, “Pleasure’s mine miss Viola, I’m Ezekiel—but please, don’t go ‘round sayin’ that, just Zeke’s fine.” He hopped off the transporter, landing soundlessly before turning to jump for the handle, pulling it down and locking it. He put away the key ring into some inner reccesses of his coat as he spun on his heel and made his way towards the school, the wounds of his carrier no longer a distraction. He rested his hands behind his head, leaning back a bit as he walked. On arm raised in a wave as he called back lazily, “Ah’ll be headin’ down to get mahself situated, girl. Don’t go givin’ the trans any more trouble, y’hear?”



Viola watched the boys hand fall from hers her large sapphire eyes situated on where it landed."Zeke, interesting name, Nice to meet you. An apology....hmmm...." Viola paced up and down the side of the metal being before situating at what she perceived to be the face and patted it, "Sorry 'bout that friend, hope you feel better now." Petting it almost as if it were a pet dog. She saw him walk away hearing him mutter something about her being trouble.
Trouble? oh great, I'm already a negative...
Viola decided to wander again hoping not to meet anymore metal obsessed boys, they seemed to find her unpleasant.



Zeke walked at a leisurely pace towards campus, turning this way and that to take in his surroundings lazily, the layout storing itself prettily in some corner of his mind without any effort. He curled his lip back slightly with distaste at the lack of people around, as well as the quietness of the grounds. He did not like all the greenery, and the pureness of the air stung his nose slightly, not to mention the sun… he stuck his tongue out childishly, wondering how long it’d take to fix his carrier and get out of here. It wasn’t that he had anything against the school or whoever went there, sans the two he’d met in the parking lot: he was just used to the city. Lots of people, lots of noise, tall buildings blocking the majority of the sun, slight smog blanketing everything like a welcoming embrace… all this forest and openness crap was getting on his nerves. Not to mention that his inner wolf was practically bouncing with glee, which could never be anything good… it had been a slight more subdued since arriving, and he was unsure of thinking too deeply of actually leaving outside of jest. He had the feeling it would violently object, and he really didn’t want to wake up naked somewhere, covered in grime and frightened about what he may or may not have done whilst unconscious.

Strolling into the building and walking up to the front desk he was surprised to note that there was, well, no one there. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his duster, he leaned conspicuously over the counter, eyes squinty, lips pursed, and eyebrow raised suspiciously. Expression smoothing out, he glanced quickly—almost spastically, up and down the hall, looking just a bit suspicious himself while doing so. When no one came immediately to grovel before him for wasting his time waiting for their inhospitable asses, he got fed up and pulled his hands impatiently out of his pockets to place them solidly on the counter. Shoving himself up, though he had the strength and prowess to be graceful and silent about it, he made a nuisance of himself by scrambling noisily over the desk, knocking things off and scattering papers about before he rolled off the other side to land with an unsophisticated “oof” on his a** on the other side. Popping up in a split second, an ‘I meant to do that’ air about him, he dusted himself off before making himself obvious by making more noise and increasing the disaster zone behind the desk, making a mess as he raided cabinets and drawers.

“Ha!” he suddenly exclaimed triumphantly, righting in an eerie jerk—almost like a puppet suddenly pulled upright by strings, in a way that would have broken a few bones or perhaps crippled a lesser man. He smirked wolfishly at what he grasped in his palm, bringing the room key up in front of his nose to smirk at as streamers of ripped paper rained down around him gently from his ravaging of files. He didn’t notice as a few small pieces of paper made themselves at home in the ruffled mess of his hair, and in fact he looked a mite ridiculous standing, a bit mussed, in the ruins behind the desk; holding a small glint of metal close to his face with unnatural, and just a bit voracious, glee.

Still not noticing the mass of ripped paper nestled in the mane of his hair, some of it clinging to his shoulders and upper arms, Zeke shoved the key into one of his coat’s inner pockets with a grin, his expression softening from feral to bemused. Now making use of his natural grace, he flipped noiselessly back over the desk, a few small pieces of paper dislodged from him by the movement and fluttered about him as he made his way away from his stress relieving play with the front counter’s possessions silently. Kicking the front doors open with a satisfied grunt, hands back in his duster’s pockets, he began to walk back towards the parking lot, his intention to grab what he could that belonged in his room and not sweltering outdoors in the back of his carrier.

A certain tree caught his attention, however, and he stopped, a foot still raised comically, to gape. It was huge. He’d never seen a tree of that size before, not even in the preserves he escaped to during the peak of his cycle. Lowering his wayward appendage, he made as if to turn back towards the lot, but hesitated with a glance at the tree once more. Well, it wasn’t like he’d seen anybody about, no one would notice if he just… He suddenly bounded towards the massive trunk, ignoring his inner wolf’s excitement as his own nearly had him buzzing with a curious energy enough to down an elephant. Stopping right in front of the thing, he hopped lightly from one foot to the other like a happy puppy. He looped around the trunk, breathing hard and making a small huffing noise when he returned to his original position, a smile on his face so large it felt he’d crack his face in two if he beamed any harder.

Not caring that he was out in the open instead of the relative safety of his swiped room, he flopped down against the tree. Again, he hadn’t seen anybody around, and he felt strangely isolated and alone this far from the city, and he irrationally felt like no one would discover him if he just… curled up at the base of the tree. Forgetting where he was, and how anyone could stumble across him—because really, the largest tree in sight? Kind of silly to nap by what very well might be one of the main hangout spots for the school—he closed his eyes with a gentle sigh and slept, dreaming of wolves running through ancient forests and the comforting noises and smells of the city.



Junoe, with the calm intent of simply wandering today, left her room towards evening and headed straight for the forest, feeling a bit more at peace simply for being alone. Though, she was prepared for any encounter right now, whether it be Zen, or Sentail, or even Johnny.

But, then again, she wasn't quite prepared for running into a newcomer such as this one.

Upon coming up to the huge tree that just happened to be where she was going to enter the forest as she normally did, she looked down, blinking, as she saw the figure presumably sleeping at the base of it. She was tempted to poke him with the tip of her foot, and after a pause of reflection on it, did so anyway. Junoe was the type that just couldn't help herself.



Having passed the stage where his dreams were lucid, Zeke was deep in slumber and didn’t react to the stranger’s approach. He would twitch slightly, like a sleeping dog who dreamt it was chasing something, but besides that was still.

At the sudden assault of his person he startled awake with an embarrassingly girlish yelp of surprise, flipping to all fours and scuttling a few yards away like a skittish cat before turning to land on his butt to stare at his attacker with wide eyes, chest heaving and hair bristling a bit. “O-oi! Don’t go givin’ a guy a scare like that! Goin’ ‘round kickin’ people when they’re tryin’ ta have a nap all natural like…” his offended yell tapered off into a sulking mutter before trailing into an accusing silence, under which he took the opportunity to turn his stare into a heated glare—okay so he was still quite ruffled and had pieces or paper clinging to his shoulders and nestled into his hair, he wouldn’t be more intimidating even had he of had a weapon on hand and brandished with violent intent, but he didn’t know of this.

His inner wolf sat up and quirked it’s head curiously, before stiffening and rising to all fours to growl threateningly, pushing against the forefront of his thoughts with anger. He unknowingly curled his lip slightly to show a hint of a snarl, fang peeking through, before the pressure pounding in his head forced him to shake his head and bring up a hand to massage his sinuses with a weary sigh. His instincts shouted ‘threat! Threat!’ but he pushed the primal urge to tackle the girl who awoke him in a display of… wait what?—Dominance perhaps?—to the back of his mind with an impatient mental shove. It wasn’t enough that his wolf wanted to chase squirrels, cars, and other moving objects when he lived in cities, now it wanted to tackle people just for waking him up, typical.

Shaking his head one more time for good measure, he stood slowly and brushed himself off, not paying attention to the flutters of white in his peripheral vision that indicated a few more dislodged paper shreds. Shoving his hands into his duster pockets with a pout, lower lip even giving a sad little quibble, he once more addressed the one who woke him, “so… any reason ya decided ta wake me, or do ya just get yer rocks off by prodding innocent bystanders?” though his tone was given gravely, there was no real underlying bitterness to indicate that he meant it.



She smirked slightly and resisted snickering when she watched the man jump and scamper away. The temptation to laugh at him became greater as she listened to him ramble, and then as his words petered off and settled into a glare. Her wolf ears were flat to her head, and she stood quite simply with her arms folded over her chest and her head tilted to the side slightly in what might have been confusion. She was simply having trouble keeping form laughing at him for now, and she appreciated this in some twisted way, though she had woken him up. Then again, it wasn't her fault he'd overreacted.

But when she felt his power rise and take a more dominant presence in his mind and energy, she stiffened, and her eyes narrowed at him. She could smell the musk of wolf on him, and his wolf was making her own wolf instincts flare up a bit. Her ears perked into clear view, and her tail was out in a dominant way. She'd just like to see him try and actually dominate her. She could use the challenge. She noticed the fangs, and what immediately became clear was that he was not a shapeshifter, and if he smelled so heavily of wolf, not a vampire to have fangs: werewolf was the option left to her, on this more obvious list of thing he could be.

When he calmed, however, she did as well, at least as much as he did. Without saying anything in response, she stared at him for a minute or so, then walked forward carefully, tugged the last two bits of paper from his hair , and took a step back again. She looked at them, then let them flutter to the ground. She shrugged then. "Honestly? You were there. I was bored. And curious. It happens." She ran a hand through her own long, silver blonde hair. "And for future reference, it's hard to do the threatening look with paper in your hair."



Zeke felt like the girl was silently laughing at him, and he fought the urge to stick his tongue out at her childishly. As he was contemplating his next form of petty counters, she suddenly straightened and… ‘HOSHI—those don’t belong thar…’ eyes unnaturally wide, mouth slightly hanging open and once more showing his slightly elongated canines—always apparent, although more like puppy fangs in humanoid than the pinky long fangs of his wolf, he gaped at the girl’s mixed features unabashedly. He didn’t even flinch back warily as she stepped into his personal space to pick off something from his hair and… his eyes snapped to follow the movement of the gently falling paper and he was able to wrestle his turmoiled thoughts into a semblance of order.

He scented her discreetly and tuned his head slightly to the side, one eye squinted in exaggerated suspicion at her given motive. He could smell wolf on her, but it felt… layered. The scent of the person in front of him seeming slightly transparent in a way, it hurt his head. He took a double take at her and looked properly scandalized as he placed a hand dramatically on his chest and intoned, “Ah can so be threatening, stuff in mah hair oah not.” He couldn’t manage to keep her gaze; his eyes trailed down her form to latch on her tail, gaze a bit perturbed as his eyes followed its movements. City bred and raised, this was NOT what he was used to or expecting when talking to someone… Sometimes he would catch himself watching the expressive waving of people’s hands while they talked about something or other with a detail that was almost predatory—he felt kind of like that now as he tried to rip his line of sight back up to the girl’s face and failed.

Closing his eyes shut tight, ignoring the instinct not to let the girl out of his sight, ‘threat’ whispered in his ear again… “Er, he mumbled, uncomfortable. M’name’s Ezekiel,” he blushed, turning so that his hair hid the fact that he refused to reopen his eyes, “sorry ta snap at ya, I was startled.”



Now, normally when people stared at her they didn't stare at her.. legs? Hips? Her tail was more likely, it just wasn't the first thing that came to her mind. Her expression went a bit slack. It was obvious by his expression that he found her to be an oddity he'd probably never seen before. Not that she was something one would see everyday, certainly. But junoe had no motive, as he may have thought while glaring at her singularly as though in an attempt to force the information of what she was plotting from her by sheer will alone. It was the way his eyes flicked back and forth occasionally that made her finally realize he must be staring at her appendage, and not her body.

When he apologized, she snorted for emphasis, and shrugged. "I don't care. Being snapped at in that way is extremely mild compared to the rest of my week." She hadn't checked, but she feared perhaps the bruising on her neck still hadn't quite gone away. Either way, she'd taken to keeping her hair around her neck area to try and hide it as well as her face, the way he was doing now to hide his eyes from her. It was probably a bad move on his part, because her wolf side told her he was gesturing to her in a submissive way by avoiding her eyes, and reason didn't work on the wolf part of her instincts any more than self-sacrifice worked on her vampiric instincts.



Closing his eyes was one thing, but turning to shield them in a way that slightly exposed his neck made the wolf in Zeke heave to its hind legs in fury. He didn’t really hear her reply as his eyes snapped open and he almost buckled, grimacing in pain as he staggered sideways, a small hysterical gurgling noise coming from deep in his chest at such a low frequency as to be out of the hearing range of humans. He shoved a leg to the side and partly back to catch his balance, widening his stance and bringing the palms of his hands to the sides of his head with a frustrated grunt, all but ignoring her for a few crucial seconds as he frantically tried to quell his second half’s rage. Although… not paying attention to the stranger was the main reason why his wolf was almost frothing, and the contradictories in him felt like they were ripping his head in two until he gathered his will and desperately pushed his wolf back, back, far back into a mental cage and locked the gate.

Blinking repeatedly—why was his vision so blurry?—and ignoring the dampness on his cheek and the trembling of his limbs, his thoughts unnaturally quiet without the wolf—he felt dead inside, dead, where was the other, where was, why was there pain, where, confusion, pain, silence, silence—he glanced at her with a distracted half smile and mumbled a half-assed excuse as he turned to stumble further into the woods. All he wanted at the moment was to get back to his carrier and to curl up in the backseat of one of his cars, but he doubted he’d make it—the silence, the silence. Not getting very far, he leaned backwards into a tree and shakily sat, knees up and slightly spread with his arms lying limply between his legs as he stared forward unblinkingly, mind blank.



Junoe honestly didn't know enough about werewolves and lycanthropes of any kind to realize what had just happened, but it worried her on many levels to watch it, bringing up her alarms and automatic defenses. This Ezekiel seemed to have some major issues, internally, and she didn't trust it.

But Junoe's nature was an odd, morbid kind of curiosity that caused her to eventually follow him. She stopped when she saw him, but instead of trying to approach him as she was, she decided she'd maybe try to appeal to another side of him. Flitting to a hidden area, she stripped from her clothing and shifted for the first time since coming to this particular school. It had been too long, she was sure of that much.

She padded out silently, a large, pure white wolf, tinted here and there with fur the color of her hair. She looked like an image of purity, or even a ghost in her white furred form. She came up to him quietly, slowly, and very carefully, before sitting just beside him.



Zeke, feeling a little lost, looked internally and tried to coax the feeling of his wolf back to the front of his mind without letting it out of the tight mental coil he had around it, only to have the headache begin to return with a vengeance as the wolf wreaked havoc in its confinement, most likely harming itself in the process—thus the pain in his head. He had never had it so close to the front of his mind in his entire life as in these past few days after he accepted enrollment unto the strange school when he decided it was time to actually learn about it instead of push it away, and that he still refused to listen, refused to acknowledge it’s very existence, frustrated his wolf to the brink of sanity. He whimpered lightly, eyes empty as something large, white, and fluffy padded up to his side. He turned his head, a bit of clarity finally coming to his eyes as he stared unblinkingly—and maybe slightly to the side almost as if he didn’t see her at all, at the bright wolf beside him.

He tried to think. Without that constant mental presence it was unbelievably hard—living over 150 years with it could do that to someone and, had he had the mental capacity at the moment he would have worried about this dependence a bit. He thought grasped onto an idea and held on firmly, thinking of the only way he might appease his mind-partner… he looked past the wolf beside him, staring over her shoulder with a growing frustration as he tried to get his thoughts moving with more speed and consistency than syrup. Trying to think of how he was supposed to go about this since it was in the middle of the bloody day. Maybe if he… turning his line of sight by scant millimeters and losing his train of thought, he caught the wolf’s gaze and held it, suddenly thinking—quite irrationally—that her eyes were intense. Quite mesmerizing in their luminosity actually, almost like— He snapped his eyes shut with a sensual full body shudder as he envisioned the moon in his mind and held onto that feeling—held it, and embraced it.

He fell to the side, a noise of mixed pain and relief escaping his throat as his vision went dark. The sickening crunch of bones breaking filled their part of the forest, along with a muffled squelching noise that indicated internal organs relocating themselves. He convulsed upon the forest floor, mouth open in a silent scream of horror and ecstasy. There was on terrible moment where it was obvious that his back was broken, but that was quickly rectified as he gained new vertebrae, his neck and back elongating along with the acquisition of a tail. His ears pointed and shifted up and back on his lengthening skull, the sounds of his growing muzzle muffled by the rips of his clothing as his limbs shifted and he gained substantial mass. He writhed helplessly as the change continued to swipe across his frame, silver/black-fur sprouting across his shoulders and chest before spreading explosively to the rest of his body as he began kicking off the clothing that was beginning to entangle him, his limbs also lengthening as well as acquiring pure muscle mass and deadly claws.

As the change was completed and he escaped the last remains of his ruined clothing, the lycan rose ungainly to its shaky legs with an open snarl in her direction. Being suddenly ripped from his confinement and shoved into the literal world confused it to no end, and it backed a few steps from the other wolf warily, overwhelmed by the sudden sights and sounds and smells of the real world.



Junoe was only slightly surprised by the initial eye contact and reaction it caused, but she was stoic after he fully began this painful process. She'd never had to go through anything even remotely like this. Rare as they were now, true shapeshifters were never human, and shifted with a kind of ease into multiple forms - usually - most lycanthropes would only ever be able to dream about. As she watched, one thought predominant in her mind was whether or not he'd intended to do that, or if she'd brought on the change just by looking at him like that with her bright golden wolf eyes.

As was the case in most lycans, however, she lacked his immense size. This wolf was not only ten times more dangerous than she was, a more natural wolf than he would ever be, but twenty times her height and weight, more like the size of a small pony than a wolf. Shapeshifters shifted as second nature - but in exchange for this, most weren't able to change the natural form of an animal's body. Junoe had an advantage, but she kept it to herself.

Junoe watched him more cautiously now that he was in his actual wolf form, the more primitive part of him on the outside and therefore much harder to control for him, she knew. She was herself no matter what she looked like; him.. not so much. She stood, tail in the air, and held her ground firmly, ears up and pointed straight at him. She wasn't snarling as he had at her, but she wasn't going to take s**t from him even if he was larger.



Zeke tried to hold on as the change gripped him, but his vision had already blacked, and he could feel himself slipping farther and farther back, his wolf taking the fore with ample surprise. He could only hope that the fact that the wolf was out in the daytime, not to mention that it had company, would keep it from descending into bloodlust and have it running off to attack something… oh god the students. Now that he was thinking straight, and had no control—he cursed—he worried about his decision to try what he had known was possible yet not verily much practiced outside of being forced. He could only trust that his wolf was not in its own territory and that it was daytime and not alone, and hope that those reasons alone were enough to keep it from hurting anyone. He tried to send it a plea but failed to do more than fade into unconsciousness with an airy, mental sigh—one of his blackouts, he would not be aware of himself until after the change back.

The lycan, getting its bearings—though the brightness stung his sensitive eyes, as lycanthropes are largely nocturnal for obvious reasons—blinked down at the small wolf standing before him defiantly. Though the sight tried to bring him amusement, all he felt was anger. For she was the reason that he was—no, no, not the cage, small, helpless, terror, hurt. He sneered down at her, eyes tingeing red with the surge of remembered fury. He brought his head back, chest expanding as he sucking in a large lungful of air and roared at her, showing extremely long fangs and dripping a small bit of saliva as displaced air cracked around them. Not at all a canine sound, this challenge brought the instinctive terror of larger than life lizards more massive than buildings who at the dawn of time snapped up terrified prey in gaping maws with primal violence.

The lycan was tense as a violin string, his muscles trembling with the strain of holding his position when all he wanted to do was destroy—rip, maim, tear, maul, rape, mangle, kill. but… her stance in the face of his adversity reminded him of—an image flashed through his mind, dispelling some of his anger: a beaten, battered were. Layered with bruises and lacerations, whip marks overlaying back and flank as he snarled defiantly at his captors through his muzzle… joined in body and mind with his second as they gave their captors the metaphorical finger, and refused to be used… his lips lowered slightly, covering half of his razor teeth as he actually considered the female before him, willing to stand to his greater size and power by sheer will. He began to twitch his muscles of their strain slightly, still tense, but not overtly so. He warily began to approach her, moving slowly but with curiosity, not violence.



Junoe had fought lycans before, and though she didn't want to have to so again, she absolutely refused to back down in front of him. She always got hurt when she fought the much bigger wolves. But her stubborn, dominant nature made a her a stupid, powerful force. She would not back down without a very good reason for doing so, and she never let anyone bigger than her push her around simply because they thought 'bigger was better'. She had raised her head to look at him, her teeth bared as he bared his, but only after he had threatened her with the roar, the snarls. Her instinct told her she was stupid, but at the same time, she'd rather die fighting than give up before trying.

She did not know why, but he calmed, and in a domino reaction of tension and scent on the air, she calmed as well. Her once firmly raised hackles, in their feeble attempt to make her look, bigger, lowered slowly, but not entirely, back to between her shoulders flatly. Her ears, once pressed to her skull rigidly, relaxed, and her tail stayed straight out and up slightly. She brought her head up from a defensive position to a curious, suspicious one, her chest out and her head back a bit. His suddenly decision to not rip her apart had obviously surprised her, but she was still vigilant.



The lycan approached the other wolf with caution, throat tight with subvocal growling vibration. He could feel the fury boiling beneath the surface of his curiosity, and tread lightly on massive paws as he neared her, silent but for the small rustle that could not be avoided from his claws gently snagging on grounded foliage. He would hold himself back from outright assaulting her because of the similarity he could see from her standing ground against a force stronger than she, but he would not hesitate to go for her throat should she aggravate or startle him. It was not in his nature to be accommodating but—although inexperienced in things pertaining to the outside world even in all this time—he was old for a modern lycan, who are routinely hunted and killed as soon as discovered by ignorant humans. Although his human denied his existence and thought otherwise, the lycan could think when not connected to his counterpart… if he felt like it. Stopping just out of reach of his muscular forelegs, one forelimb raised as if to take another step loser, he hesitated as if to show her that he could back off if she was uncomfortable. Narrowing his eyes, he eased the ache of his throat by slightly vocalizing the growl before cutting it off abruptly to show that, however, he would not tolerate insolence.

Now closer, and due to the pause in his gait, it was easy to see that this was, really, no mere wolf, but something earlier than wolf—more ancient and primal. His canines were elongated so that they would probably hang to the sides slightly even when he closed his jaws completely, like a sabretooth’s. His muzzle was shorter and more wide than a normal wolf’s, his ears smaller and more pointed, though they seemed to have a bit of a greater range of movement. His chest and limbs more muscular, for taking down large, heavy, strong prey that no longer existed in modern times. His back legs shorter, and more stocky than his forelimbs, allowing him to stand upright if he so pleased—freeing this formidable front claws for combat. His fur shorter than the average wolf’s, the only exceptions being a slight mane, his chest tuft, and his tail—a bit shorter than a wolf’s, but thicker, like a fox’s brush. His paws, as stated before, were massive—larger in proportion to his body than a normal wolf’s. The dangling paw he had raised as he hesitated showed that he had an extra digit to the side of his paw, reminiscent of an opposable thumb—this creature had no useless dewclaw. And there was a small hint of flesh atop his deadly, curved weapons, implying that the claws were retractable… Most who were ever close enough to note these differences were immediately disemboweled or decapitated; those far enough to catch sight of lycanthropes and be relatively out of harm’s way too far to observe the pure physical uniqueness of the dwindling species.

He closed the space between them, watching her watch him suspiciously. Tension so thick in the air between them as to be cut with a knife, the lycan leaned in close to the other wolf, gentle puffs of air shifting some of her fur as he scented her. Finally closing his maw all the way to show that, yes, his canines did indeed poke out the sides of his mouth like a sabretooth’s. He stepped back a length to circle her contemplatively, stopping just to the side of where he stood at first when assessing her, not completely in front. He tilted his head, a puppyish movement that seemed almost awkward for the large beast to do, the fading pinkish tinge to his eyes finally vanishing completely to be replaced with a strange, unidentifiable expression. Leaning forward once more, hesitating again with the same underlying message, he opened his large mouth and tentatively, oh so gently encased the tip of her muzzle in his. The soft caress of his breath rustling the fur around her face as he stood watching her watch him, unmoving—his grip loose so that she could pull away any way she wanted, his fangs barely touching her narrower muzzle so that no matter how she pulled away, be it violently or no, she could not cut herself on his teeth. He seemed to be waiting, for her reaction perhaps, or maybe something else entirely.



Junoe had seen lycanthropes in detail, and what she saw now was not entirely surprising, though she'd never taken the time to look at all the details in the past. Junoe was older than he, and had lived in a time when these lycans were much more common. They hadn't seemed to like her very much, specifically due to her bloodline, which was both vampire and shapeshifter, two things they tended not to have very good relations with. Junoe was a conventional wolf besides her color and possibly size. Her claws were black and non-retractable, her body in proportion to everything else about her. Even though he was showing her a dominant role on his part, her tail was in the air still and she was not yet willing to back down. But at the same time... she didn't want to start a fight. If fighting could be avoided, it was for the best.

She watched him carefully as he came nearer to her, twice her height, which made her have to look up to keep eye contact. She didn't make any sound at all, not sure what kind of sound would set him off, or give him the wrong idea about her intentions. But when he lowered his muzzle to hers and dominantly took the end of hers in his mouth, she had to try hard to resist growling at him. When she pulled away, not violently but forcefully, she couldn't help it any longer, and growled subtly at him. Her instincts told her he was trying to dominate her, and she wouldn't doubt that was true. And she really didn't like it. She packed up a few steps, saying that she didn't want to fight, but she wasn't about to be dominated into a submissive 'pack' status.



As she stepped away, the lycan closed its jaws with a dull click, eyes narrowing slightly as she refused to back down. He bared his teeth and growled a low warning in response to her higher pitched but no less threatening growl, but otherwise made no move to approach her again. He had a sudden wave of a shudder go down his length, his muscles twitching in concert as he relaxed them systematically, his ears still perked forward as his tail lowered to half-mast. He no longer seemed intent on harming her or trying to force her to cower, something of her reaction seeming to satisfy what he had been waiting for.

He shook his head, like a dog flicking water off, and snorted, taking a step sideways as if intending to leave and pausing to give her an almost disappointed stare. He was still not pleased with her, or his human—or maybe because of, and he let her know it. Deliberately turning around, his tail flicking up for a moment before lowering as he did so, and beginning to walk away, he not so subtly insulted her. As if to say, ‘I no longer find you a threat enough to keep you in my line of vision.’ Flaunting how he felt he was superior by giving her a vulnerable view of his backside—although the slightly curved line of his back and how he kept his ears flicked back towards her said he did not completely dismiss her, and was keeping track of her movements.

He padded further into the woods, thinking that the encounter was over and the other would now leave him alone, as most creatures that got anywhere up close and personal with a one of his kind were wont to do. Still keeping the majority of his attention on the sounds behind him, in case she took his insult to heart and stupidly attacked him, he turned the rest of his attention to how different things were during the day. The noises were different and, though the smells were similar to smells at night, there was missing some sense of darkness to everything—in fact, he had to pause and blink rapidly as he murmured in disgust, pressure building behind his sensitive eyes from the brightness of the world around him.



She was surprised slightly to see him relax more after her growl, though the returning growl she'd just been assuming would come, so it hadn't bothered her. It was a dangerous game she was playing with him now, obviously, but she couldn't help herself: life or death scenario as it seemed to be, it was the most fun she'd had in a long time. And for that reason, she wasn't ready to stop playing with him. Just because he was a lycanthrope and not a shapeshifter or natural wolf didn't mean that he wasn't still in general a wolf.

And Junoe did in fact take his insulting mannerisms to heart, but in a very different way. Curiosity was her downfall but she gave into it nonetheless when it rose in her. Thus, as he started to walk off, she nearly silently padded after him, though she new he was still paying attention to her movements. When he, however, would turn to look at her again, she planned to quickly sit and stare at him, each and every time, occasionally tilting her head as though curious, but usually only staring him down with those intensely golden eyes of hers. She was playing a game - a dangerous game, mayhap - but a game.



The lycan could hear the soft footfalls behind him, and his hackles rose slightly, uncomfortable having his back to her now that she wasn’t actually going away. He’d pause and glance over his shoulder, metaphorical eyebrow raised quizzically. She’d confuse him by sitting, as if waiting for him to keep moving just so she could continue following… He’d turn with either a soft snort or a short headshake before moving forward for a few moments more, then stopping to look over his shoulder again. And she’d just sit once more, sometimes giving him a damnable head tilt. After a few minutes of this, he half turned and his upper lip twitched, as if wanting to rise in warning but not. A soft growl bubbled from his chest, light and airy. Not a warning or a threat, but more of a confused sound. Why wasn’t she going away?

After fighting his other half for so long, only to be released suddenly and enter into a tense standoff with another wolf, he was too emotionally tired to work up the energy to get angry at her. Instead, the amusement that her defiant stance had attempted to bring him earlier started appearing now. A humorous light entering his eyes as he half turned to growl at her airily again and, instead of a confused tinge to the sound, it lilted a bit this time. Having a short memory and attention span when it suited him, for the moment he practically forgot he had just a while ago been furious with this creature following him. And, though he couldn’t see her as pack—probably couldn’t ever see anyone besides his human as pack, for the moment he didn’t see her as enemy either.

Finally, after a few minutes of this new interaction, his tail wagged for a moment as he walked; the movement belaying mischief. The only warning before he flipped back upon himself, the graceful movement seeming too flexible for his bulk, yet he managed it. Facing the opposite direction now, he lunged back towards her, where she had once more taken a patient seat. He then halted right before her, snapping his jaws lightly mere inches from her nose in play. A second after the soft click of his deadly fangs so close to her face, he turned and bounced—yes, bounced—between the trees, making a soft wuffing noise in canine laughter.



In fact, as it started to get to this point when he was finding it amusing, she was going even further, giving him wolfish grins, toothy but not threatening, posing innocently as though she could just smile up at him irritatingly and wasn't doing anything wrong at all. Of course she wasn't, after all, she was just sitting there. As well as following him and purposefully being a pain in the a**, but other than that....

She finally noticed the fact that he was finding it funny a little too late, as she'd taken his airy growling as him simply growing used to her actions and accepting it as meaning he wasn't going to get rid of her so easily. When he spun around, he was too quick for her to really keep track of as she'd have liked to. Her eyes widened and her ears flattened in surprise as she leaned back instinctively. She'd been not expecting that so greatly that she hadn't even reacted in a normal way, in other words, she hadn't yelped and tried to run. She had however nearly fallen flat on her back trying to lean away, but as soon as he bounded away she huffed, straightened herself indignantly, and started after him, more at a trot now. She snapped at the tip of his tail, playing back with him now, knowing she wasn't going to hurt him, and assuming he knew she wouldn't as well, in the process not hurting her.



The lycan loped through the forest underbrush, having to shoulder aside thick foliage as he ran due to his massive bulk. He had his head partly turned, to be able to see in front of him and watch the following wolf with his peripheral vision at once. Tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in a rakish grin, he flicked his tail a few inches further out of her reach. She was having an easier time following him than he had avoiding her because of her size, but at times he was able to bulldoze through branches and vines that she was forced to crawl under or swerve around. He was still snickering internally at her initial reaction, the surprised look on her face and the way she leaned back in slight alarm fueling his mischievous nature and the urge to have fun.

Usually, it was a race against time, this freedom. Once the moon’s light dissipated as the sun rose he would be forced back into the tight reigns of control… but now, now there was no moonlight to dance in, no breaking dawn to fear; his race not against time but against another wolf in play.

Running through underbrush dappled with the light he normally so hated, with what before he had instinctively seen as an enemy and a threat to his human counterpart trotting at his heels without any ill will towards him, he felt a strong surge of joy that he had not experienced since before his human had learned to cage him. He barked happily, the sound extraordinarily deep and strafed to avoid another tree, jumping over a fallen log and immediately skirting a boulder in a movement unnatural to a normal wolf, able to find better purchase because of his physique. He fought the urge to howl, worried that he’d accidently kill some of the local animals out of pure terror from the primal, ancient sound. Unlike his challenge roar, which was more intense but only lasted in the immediate area, his howl—also an olde sound of the monsters from the past—could easily travel miles.

He was beginning to feel a little restless, however; running not enough to exhaust his playful energy. He wanted, greatly, to wrestle with the other wolf, but feared harming her because of their differences in size and physical strength. So instead, he turned to grin at her over his shoulder before putting on a burst of speed and, having seen it earlier before he had circled around, he tensed, crouched—thick muscles sliding under his pelt to gather for the exertion, and leapt, latching onto the side of a large tree with his retractable claws like a feline instead of the wolfish ancestor he was, and almost ran up the side to a sturdy branch to lay on, which he did. Panting slightly, he let his front right limb dangle as he basked in the pleasant burn of his exercised muscles. His tail flicked behind him in good humor and he looked down, having lost track of the other wolf in his bid to get rid of some of the extra energy in a way that didn’t involve tackling her to the ground playfully and possibly breaking her back in the process.

Continued here.