one step closer to the edge. open

[looksinead]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/9vjr75.gif] . can't take the kid from the fight take the fight from the kid It was one thing after another; it was always one thing after another when it came to Sinead. It was something that seemed to happen to her so often that it was never odd, it was just something that happened and she couldn’t do anything about it. Most of the time, the girl was helpless when it came to these sorts of things, but she always seemed to pull through somehow. Sinead was the type of person that just locked all the bad things away, all of the anger and rage, all of the disappointment and the bad type of sadness but recently everything seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Parts of what she had locked away started to seep out through small cracks in the wall of the safe. In some cases she thought it was something to do with the fact that she had reached maximum capacity, but then she realized that couldn’t have been the case. Nothing had changed in the seventeen years that she had been alive, and subsequently dead. Well there was one thing but she didn’t think it all that important, but maybe it was. Or maybe she was just one of those unfortunate people that, shattered and bloody, walk away from the train wreck, scarred; changed. So it wasn’t enough her to but hunted by the people back home that wanted wolves out of Bucharest, the last home of the wolves, but to be hunted here? So close to where life seemed to have started to again? Sinead didn’t know what to think about this at all, and now with the Headmaster saying that he sided with the Minister, nothing was safe anymore, nowhere was safe. For the most part, Sinead had taken to her place with the Centaurs, believing that they were at least safe for the moment. She couldn’t go much anywhere else since the school was a no apparition zone, which was no good for escapes. The brunette felt so much like a trapped dog that it didn’t seem right. Nothing about this seemed right at all, Thought itself seemed uncomforting but what she was strangely comfortable with was all of this. Sinead stood in the center of it all. It was a crime scene or something like that, maybe massacre was a better word for it. Blood was plastered all around the streets, down the front of her trench and around her maw. Sighing, she licked at her lips, wiping what she could from her mouth and chin. The wolf found it odd that she could have even been capable of this but that was just it, she didn’t know what she was capable of anymore, she was charged – far different from what she once was. There was no pang of fear or guilt in her system, she just knew that this was survival, and she knew that they knew what they were getting into when signed up for this – they had to. Her fingers itched around her wand stowed away in her pocket but there was no use for it now, the three of them were dead. They were as dead as dead could come, but that was what they were expected wasn’t it? That was all part of the job. But she supposed that they would have never expected death to smile at them first. Turning her darkened eyes away from the street fight, she pulled a cig from her pocket. Lighting it magically, she took a quick puff – the nicotine quickly spreading through her being, she exhaled rings. This time, there was no one to protect her. She’d have to save herself all on her own.

[vika4]

It's empty in the valley of your heart. The sun, it rises slowly as you walk Away from all the fears And all the faults you've left behind. The harvest left no food for you to eat, You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see. But I have seen the same, I know the shame in your defeat.

Klaas wasn’t supposed to be in Diagon Alley, but hey, no one knew his face anyway. People had heard of his name more than anything and that name was dead now. He’d carefully made himself a plan, which was as flawless, ingenious, cruel and functional as everything else about him. To the rest of the world, Klaas van der Laan, werewolf, killer, con artist and bastard, was long gone. He´d spent months preparing for it, tapping his own blood and saving it in tubes, which was rather distasteful. Eventually, he’d gathered a little over a litre, which was enough to come off as real. Finding a decently sized wolf was hard enough, the critters were rare nowadays. Killing it had been even harder, for he had given Klaas a good fight. However, at the end of the day, he’d managed to drag – read: apparate – the corps to the forbidden forest, sprinkle him with his own blood, set him on fire and extinguish it with some more of his own blood. Disgusting? Yes. Effective? Very much so. The entire operation depended on whether Sinead would find him or not and he had dared to take that chance. The girl would inevitably find his scent, approach and reveal to the world that he had died. She would be the key to his ultimate freedom.

Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Apparently, the urge to disappear from the surface of this world had never been this strong. Desperate times inspired him to come up with genius measures, if he dared say so himself. It was even hilarious, in an ironical way. The girl wanted him, the girl liked him, but it couldn’t ever have been her intention to set him free like that. He had just proven what a stupid thing she was: she claimed she wanted him to be happy, yet, now she had done just that, he didn’t think she’d be pleased about it herself. Oh, what a guy he was. What a genius. What an amazing fellow. What a –

His self-loving was disturbed harshly by an intoxicating scent. He reacted to it in the exact same way a junk would react to the foresight of a new dose of dope; he dropped the bag in his hands and fastened his pace. The words pulsed in his head, vibrating until he could feel his muscles tensioning familiarly. Wolf and blood. Lots of both. He had smelled both what seemed a million times before; to him, blood was as familiar as the back of his wanking hand, whereas her scent had been so stained with his own, that he’d even recognise it underwater. The aromas were pitch black blotches in an other than that civilised society, which made him smirk. He took the blame for ruining the world, bit by bit. To put it correctly – he took the credits for doing so.

His curiosity got the best of him and he turned the corner, not considering the fact he was dead to the girl. Dead people didn’t pop up, smirking as if nothing happened, which was what he just did. His need to know what had happened was stronger than anything now, and who was he to deny his own needs? They were the only thing in the universe that mattered a bit. Scanning the bloodbath, the walls, the splashes on her clothes and skin, he didn’t need much time to realise what she’d done. He immediately considered leaving again, without as much as saying a word, but Klaas wouldn’t be his soulless self if he didn’t need to know for sure. Wiping the nearest wall with his index finger, he brought some quickly clotting blood to his lips and licked it off, tasting who the victim had been. It wasn’t anyone he’d met, sadly enough. He’d have taken sick pleasure in visiting their family, to let them know what a werewolf had done. In any case, he decided to finish off his magical reappearance in silence. Smirking at her just once more, he turned, ready to walk off forever again. His curiosity was satisfied, he needn’t anything more right now. Justifying his actions or – God forbid – apologising just wasn’t his cup of tea.

[looksinead]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/9vjr75.gif] . can't take the kid from the fight take the fight from the kid And there was that taste again, that hateful taste that was left in her mouth. It always seemed to resurface when she had done something like this, but then again not something like this. It was a different case this time but something close. It was like the hunts back in Romania but not. It was a taste that she wouldn’t soon forget, even in her limited experience. So this was it, she had made her decision even if it wasn’t the best one in the world. It was really the only one that she could think of that wasn’t death, though she would have welcomed it all the same. Death was an option but that would be devaluing a life that she had no control over – she didn’t think that Callomine would have been too happy about that one. Instead, she put that thought into the back of her mind because she couldn’t deal with the thought any longer. She just turned her head back to the streets. The mixing of scents seemed to send her head spinning into overdrive, the thoughts in her mind firing over and over and over again, coated in the thickness of the sweet smell of blood and the smoke and… no, it couldn’t be. Of all the thinks she knew him to be dead or at least from what she had seen and smelled. For a moment, she thought it might have just been his scent imprinted onto hers—out of her own hubris—but no, it was much stronger than that; more intoxicating than the blood and even more infuriating. Then again, maybe it was just one of those trollops, then again, it wouldn’t have been so strong. The scent was even more hateful than the taste in her mouth, especially since it brought the wolf out of her so easily. But he was dead now right? Right… but. No buts. Sinead growled slightly, at the thought. She was obviously not pleased by the state in which she found him, but it was his choice, wasn’t it? She cursed herself for caring even the slightest bit about him, he had warned her not to but she just couldn’t stop – through no fault of her own – and then there was this. All that was left was a dead wolf and blood… she hated blood and she should have saw it coming. Sinead should have been wiser to the truth because she knew, even from the few times they had met, how he was. It wasn’t exactly that hard to figure out to be honest but she had tried her best to push it out of her mind. Sin just wanted to fool herself for just one moment but he was a bastard; that pulă. There was about a thousand little phrases and swears that she could have shouted out at that moment, but instead she just flicked the butt of the cigarette away, not even bothering to crush it under her heel. It was then that she realized that the scent had pulled away, fading slightly from the immediate surroundings. He had to be alive and at that point all Sinead could think about was all the ways that she could actually kill him at this point because she was fairly pissed off at this point, but that was what he ignited in her so it was only right that she turned her anger onto him. HONESTLY, who the hell did he think he was just showing up after all of this? He had to reappear at the worst time on the face of the planet, just like he disappeared. Either his cruel, criminal clock was ringing or the universe (see: Vikah) hated her. She was counting on both. It didn’t really even matter all that much though, she just followed the scent, her anger starting to churn in the pit of her stomach. Sinead felt it bubble and start to rise out of her, searching for words to say to him but her lacklustre composition of words got the best of her, "You're kidding me right, after all this time... you just show up. Dead man walking? Really? Futu-ti mortii mati." she hissed out at him, keeping her voice low enough for him to hear. What, did he think for one second that she was going to go smell him? That she wasn’t going to follow the scent even though she knew him to be dead? What an idiot.

[vika4]

It's empty in the valley of your heart. The sun, it rises slowly as you walk Away from all the fears And all the faults you've left behind. The harvest left no food for you to eat, You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see. But I have seen the same, I know the shame in your defeat.

She would have felt him coming, that much was obvious. His presence was about as easy to miss as a punch to the face, thrown by a heavy-weight champion. There was his scent, which must be as intoxicating as heroine to her. He liked to think that he had marked her, taken her innocence and replaced it with his own, vile genitals self. Other than that, he was hard to miss because of his posture. He had been born a werewolf, so he hadn’t ever known how it felt to be skinny, short or scrawny. For as long as he could remember, Klaas had looked like a half-giant. Not in height, but in width. His shoulders had always been squared, his chest was broad, built to take heavy blows and breathe deeply to regulate his low voice. Even right now, when he wasn’t doing anything meant to be particularly impressive, he took up most of the room in the alley. If he would spread out his arms, he would touch both walls.

So no. There was no way in hell that Sinead could miss him, that wasn’t the point, either. His faked death hadn’t had hurting or avoiding her as a purpose. God forbid that Klaas would ever put that much effort into a woman, no, a girl, and one who had no money to offer, at that. Unless he could strip a trophy wife of her belongings and ditch her with her raging husband, Klaas very rarely bothered to interchange more than three words with a female. She’d been an exception to that rule, but only because she was a wolf. That didn’t count. He still didn’t give a fuck.

The blood off the wall tasted familiar, metallic and arousing. He was sick like that, scraping parts of human beings, almost like himself, and sticking it in his mouth. Death meant very little to him, since he hardly valued others’ lives. Cannibalism was one step too far, but he didn’t do it out of moral restrictions: he simply realised that killing humans so often would draw attention to him, and he didn’t like that. Looking at the girl, he waited for some kind of response. He expected shock, at first. Hysteria would be a close second and finally, she was supposed to collapse on the ground, cradle his feet and beg him to never, ever leave again so he could do just that. That was the plan and he stuck to it – why didn’t she? All he got was naked aggression, which was as amusing as it was annoying. ”I’m not kidding anyone.” he raised one hand defensively, trying to shut her up with that gesture alone. A certain Moses had made an entire sea rise with that, so why couldn’t he stop a raging, hormonal mess? ”Godverdomme, you’re not the only one who can curse in foreign languages. Did you miss me that much, eh?” it ended with a self-satisfied smirk.

[looksinead]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/9vjr75.gif] . can't take the kid from the fight take the fight from the kid Sinead was a person that tended to miss everything when she was paying attention but when it came to wolves, that was a different story. More often than not she was more attentive and paranoid around them, more so than normal. T was s a little strange, sure but she just attributed it to her senses which were why she often finished off her prey quickly; the less sound the better. That being said, she didn’t exactly know why she was so drawn to the unnamed wolf, it had just been a simple action but she had crawled back to him wanting more out of her sheer curiosity. Sinead was just a child but being that he was her first taste of the actual outside world, maybe that was why she did what she did. The brunette hadn’t even considered it to be something as trivial as love though they were the romantic sort, no, even for a person like her love was just a bit too much for whatever this was. It was more the intoxication of it all and the normal skin to skin contact that she craved with other people – she had almost forgotten what it was actually like. She chased after him, her head muddled and messed from the scent, processing everything that had had just happened and the bitter taste in her mouth that seemed to spread though her body like a cancerous cell. Generally, the brunette was a sweetheart, such a soft-hearted child that never did much anything wrong, though she was a nosy sort of person as her curiosity got the best of her. She was also very compliant with everything that someone wanted her to do, seeing as how she never thought to argue about the trivial things. It just seemed to waste her time if she did and god, she was lazy most of the time, which is why she usually just bottled up her small out bursts. Even with Klaas, she was compliant, though slightly more disobedient when he got her blood to boil the way he did, exploding one bottle after another. She was even stupid enough to instigate a fight with him, which only landed her in a field of pain – which she liked, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he always seemed to send her into a spiral, flipping her true nature on like a switch, jamming it up like no one else’s business. It drove her insane; much like it would drive anyone insane if they were set into a state of aggression. Faking his death, which she had come to the conclusion of previously, was something that did hurt, yes. It made her hurt in the sense that it happened simultaneous to her professor protecting her, adding to the grief but that was it. Other than that, it just pissed her off. She had come to know him in the last few months and nothing but this emotion seemed proper for this occasion (this was just because she only had the capacity for one emotion at a time). He was flippant and blunt to such a casual degree that nothing she did would make seem worth it. “Are you sure about that?” she growled at him, her rage starting to edge out at the seams. He could hardly shut her up now, though she was constantly aware enough to keep her voice low. “If by ‘miss’ you mean ‘bring you back so that I could kill you myself’, yes.” her anger started to seep out of her, as she moved closer to him. She was visible shaking with it; it was that sort of quiet anger that was dangerous and not all that friendly at the end of things. “Missed you lots.” she returned his smirk with one of her own, tilting her head to look up at him with darkening eyes.

[vika4]

It's empty in the valley of your heart. The sun, it rises slowly as you walk Away from all the fears And all the faults you've left behind. The harvest left no food for you to eat, You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see. But I have seen the same, I know the shame in your defeat.

Sick. It was an adjective that had been used numerous times to describe Klaas. Whenever wealthy ladies figured out they had been wasting precious time and money on an actor, realising he hadn’t ever loved them and that their efforts were abused in vain – he was called sick. Whenever people walked in on him eating an animal alive, when his hunger was so strong right after the full moon that he couldn’t be bothered snapping the deer’s neck before biting chunks out of it, much like an actual wolf – he was called sick. So now, as he had crossed paths with the girl he’d intentionally been avoiding, he expected an outburst. He waited – rather patiently, for his being – for her to start yelling at him, or crying, or threatening to kill him. It were all typical female emotional outbursts which he’d seen a million times before, he kept the firm believe that nothing she could do could ever surprise him. He was twice her age, she’d need to live another twenty years, give or take, in order to even come close to understanding him. And even then, he would remain superior.

Yes, in his sick mind, Klaas was perfectly healthy. This little encounter with Sinead was irrelevant. As long as she didn’t betray the fact he was alive to others – and honestly, who would believe a filth-blooded wolf girl nowadays? – she couldn’t possibly do him any harm. That was the only thing that mattered to him, preventing harm. Maybe that self-defensive thought had caused him to give up emotions halfway through his puberty or maybe it was his rational side that had taken control over his soul, but whatever the case, he hardly felt anything when he looked at her. It was all fine. She could either prove to be amusing, or he’d leave again. The world was a painfully simple place when you didn’t pay attention to the feelings of others.

She looked beautiful, though. Klaas brushed his lower lip with his thumb, out of habit, taking in the new burst of his own scent in order to distract himself from her rage. Wolf girls were most appealing when angry, everyone knew that. The thought that he could put all that aggression to a use and take physical advantage of her was enough to send tingles down his chest. ”Ja.” he felt like rebelling, bugging her even more. Not speaking English all the time was a result of that. ”Ja, ja, zal wel.” Whatever. She wasn’t even worth arguing with – all her words were wasted on him. Insults, he wouldn’t accept. Begging or compliments, he’d only ignore. Trying to get a human reaction out of the monster van der Laan was as easy as convincing an armoured wall to move on its own. He let her come at him, anticipating an attack. Maybe physical violence could entertain him for now.

[looksinead]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/9vjr75.gif] . can't take the kid from the fight take the fight from the kid Anger was never something that Sinead every found to be useful, other than to conquer fear. Anger always conquered fear. Sinead never found it necessary to get angry about anything, least of all someone like this wolf before her. She always found it to be a losing battle if she got angry about something; she had liked to give up more so than deal with a problem head on. The pup had never found it useful to argue with people, it just ended up being a pitiful round of who’s right and that just annoyed her more than the actual getting angry bit. No, if anything Sinead was calm – overly calm, oddly so. Sure, she was prone to freaking out sometimes, but that was only when people touched her (people, not wolves). The brunette was at peace with herself, and often distant and dreamy, she had always been called bizarre by her peers and there was no mistaking it really. Outbursts were hardly her thing, yet she was shaking with anger now, on the verge of tears because it had gotten her so wound up and emotional. Merlin, he was so difficult and annoying. He was everything that she had never dealt with in the world, never really cared for and yet she was so drawn to him, even now – she couldn’t even hate him. She tried her calm herself down, take in calculated breaths – praying to whatever she believed in (which was nothing) that she could just calm down and walk away from this, but she couldn’t. She could never walk away from him, even when demanded it. She was stubborn and far too idiotic to care what he thought half the time. Even so, he had pretty much gutted her, which wasn’t really a surprise to her. She had been setting herself up to fail all of this time. Sinead couldn’t use her mind all the well anyway but that was hardly an excuse now. Perhaps it was just the cravings that she had, the need to feel something that was outside of her reach, even though it was so close now. The teen was so close that she was nearly drowning in it, but she wasn’t allowed any of it, not a touch or a taste. It had been easy to convince herself that she could never love a person such as him, it was hardly even a second though that passed in her mind, because she didn’t know what love was to any outer extent and she really didn’t want it either. She had enough things clouding her judgment as it was. Her rage started to consume her, darkening her eyes even more than before – though her thoughts were clear as day in her mind. She had never really felt anything like this before but that was no matter. Little Miss Sykes could hardly care about that, it honestly just got her adrenaline pumping more, trying to ease whatever pain she felt from the previous battle, let’s call it. “Should have expected you to be lazy.” she observed, listening to the Dutchman’s heavy accent hang dead in the air, causing her to move forward until she was standing right in front of him, his scent now covering her; the strong musk was like a drug but it didn’t shift her emotions for a second. “Oh, how they’ll scream when they find out you’re alive…” she muttered, walking passed to circle around him like she had done once before – though this time she didn’t eye him quite as much. For the moment she was gauging whether or not to attack him. It was rather tempting actually, but she kept herself in check, she had to… lest the whole neighbour hear two wolves in an alley.

[vika4]

It's empty in the valley of your heart. The sun, it rises slowly as you walk Away from all the fears And all the faults you've left behind. The harvest left no food for you to eat, You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see. But I have seen the same, I know the shame in your defeat.

Resisting a cigarette after sex was easier than resisting her scent. Klaas was a typical psychopath: he was superficially harming, deceptive, manipulative when it could benefit him and he literally lived off of others, like the predator he was. His behavioural problems had arisen early, his irresponsible behaviour and impulsive lifestyle had made a juvenile delinquent out of him, and he would’ve been shot off a long time ago if it wasn’t for that one strength he had: intelligence. Although being a psychopath meant that he had the inability to say ‘no’ to anything that seemed appealing, he stood still. He had hardly any self-control, so it was a miracle that he hadn’t crossed that tiny distance between them to grab her already, and that miracle could only be explained by intelligence. It would be irrational to approach her now, because her behaviour was getting unpredictable. All the pheromones he smelled, the hormonal mess that she was, it all betrayed that she was a ticking time bomb. He was too arrogant to believe she could actually beat him in a heads-on fight, but you never knew how much damage a hurt female werewolf could do and he didn’t want to risk his balls just for that. Cautious had kept him alive and out of the ministry’s hands up to now, caution would help him deal with her.

Still, he wanted to touch her. Badly. His good memory proved to be a curse now, because he remembered every single detail of having sex her, from the stench of their sweat to every little sigh and shriek. His muscles flexed noticeably just when he thought of ruining her against a wall again, for old time’s sake, since it reminded him of his own ultimate superiority. She could scream and protest, cry and whine, rage and fight all she wanted, but all the world would always know that Klaas was her superior. He believed to be better in age, in gender, in brilliance, in personality, in physical strength, in taste, in ruthlessness and most importantly, he thought of himself as the better wolf. Still, even his sick brain gave her credit for being what she was: good enough. Ignoring the ‘insult’ – he was lazy as long as he didn’t care, that was common knowledge to anyone who was clever enough to open their eyes and see a monster when it was in front of them, he shrugged. ”Good luck finding someone who will believe you. You’re a delusional little girl and they have my corpse.” His plan was too good to be messed up by her right now. Glaring at her from underneath his furrowed eyebrows, wrinkling the entire upper half of his face, he mentally repeated that she’d better shut up about it, shut that trap, because he swore to Himself he’d kill her if she ruined his ingeniousness.

There was nothing he adored as much as she scent of anger. Knowing no guilt made it very easy to only spot the erotic, addictive bit that came with being angry. So before he knew it, he’d dropped his usual mask of humanity and growled out, callously. ”I want to fuck you right now.” It was entirely inappropriate and it would probably push her that one step further, making her snap entirely, so he prepared himself to catch a hysterical wolf girl. Whether she liked it or not, she’d gotten him in the mood, so he’d have it right now. Unwillingness on the female’s part was not something he’d ever had to deal with, not with his looks, body and air of bestial sex appeal, but apparently, it was something he was willing to put aside when it bothered him.

[looksinead]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/9vjr75.gif] . can't take the kid from the fight take the fight from the kid He was just a god damn mother fucking wolf, nothing more. The man standing in front of her was the most arrogant, self-serving bastard that she had ever met in her life – well, maybe that was a bit a reach, but honestly one of the more bastard-y ones? Was that even a word? No, that wasn’t the point. She bit back every little urge she had to shout at him just then, mostly because she never shouted, and partly because he was ridiculous. What was the point of showing himself to her now, he could have just left and never been found again – though only in the faintest of scents. He could have just left, if not for his pride, she supposed. Pride had everything to do with… well everything and that was the most irrational thing, she thought even so, she held back every little urge and twitch she had from wanting to lunge at him to cutting off his balls. Sinead never found threats very appealing, mostly because she was a timid creature when it came to most people and she stayed one for the most part – aside from now. All she wanted to do now was to get rid of him – or that was what she wanted to do at the front of her mind. In the back, well all she wanted was something that she was never going to get from him. There was just no way that she was ever going to get it from him she pushed it further back. Sinead watched the wolf carefully. She could see how large he was compared to her, ever little detail expanding in her mind from what she remembered of him; she even noticed the subtle twitches and ticks he had – the slight flex of his muscles as he thought. Normally she wasn’t so observant but this wasn’t any normal day for her. Even so, none of this was glorious; it really just left a sour taste in her mouth as she stopped in front of him, leaning in slightly. She never thought of herself as better than anyone, if anything she always thought she was worse – in every, and all ways. The brunette never gave any credit to herself and she supposed that was why her self-esteem was in the tanks most of the time. And yet, she was oddly comfortable with it, she didn’t have much pride in anything let along bravery or courage – it was all the wolf. “They’re all mad men, though could always think of something.” she said in a bland tone of voice. It wasn’t a threat at all, just stating the common as he glared at her. The wolf never shut up, it only fanned the flames to let them dance her way to the grave. At his words she narrowed her eyes, leaning in and up a little closer to shrink the clear gap between them. She glanced up, rubbing up against him. “There’s nothing stopping you…” she whispered in her ever sweet tone of voice. Sinead was a foolish pup letting her anger and fear lead her thoughts, but nevertheless – strangely – always willing.

[vika4]

It's empty in the valley of your heart. The sun, it rises slowly as you walk Away from all the fears And all the faults you've left behind. The harvest left no food for you to eat, You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see. But I have seen the same, I know the shame in your defeat.

Klaas wouldn’t ever settle for a woman, let alone a girl. He’d always known that bit about himself, still he’d never even considered questioning that fact. Normal people got a job, got married and had a couple of kids, a decent supply of floo powder and a family owl. Now, he wasn’t like them by default, if only because of his chosen profession. Or better even – the lack thereof. Still, he’d even heard of criminals who had found their counter-part, who did everything in a pair and loved one woman above all others, who even had kids, which they did their best to raise. It made him think, if only for a split second. Maybe it was the fact that Sinead was still a kid, maybe it was her maddening scent which reminded him of sex, in either case, he thought of babies. Did he want offspring? Probably not, any human woman that got pregnant with him would be abandoned, left to her fate with the child. Now he put it like that, it was more than likely that he had a couple of half-breed pups out there already. He mentally snickered at the idea of a muggle woman giving birth to a magical half-wolf. She’d get the surprise of her life – much like his own mother had once gotten, when she’d found out that her darling baby’s daddy had been nothing but a despicable dog. So if he didn’t want the responsibility that came with kids, why on earth would he settle down?

Maybe he’d consider it once he’d found the right bitch. Sadly enough, no wolf lady would ever be able to accept him. He wouldn’t ever be faithful or loyal, he’d only protect her when his own priorities were in danger and he wouldn’t give a single flying fuck about her opinion or wishes. Someone who could accept all of that, be obedient and fuck him whenever he told her to, simply didn’t exist. Right? He snapped at Sinead’s lame threat, showing his canines by curling his lip up in quite the inhumane manner, then it hit him. Mentally, obviously, but it still did. Her reply summarised everything he’d considered impossible, so he instantly changed his idea, unwilling to be wrong: finding the perfect, obedient bitch washard, not impossible. Of course, out of all the wolves in the world, he was the one who could find such a treat.

Her body was rubbing up against his already, which was more of an invitation than he needed, and then there was the verbal approval, too. In a split second, his muscles had jerked – he raised his hand to grab the back of her neck, tugging on her hair in the process, although he couldn’t possibly care about that. Holding her unlovingly like that, he tugged her up, forcing her to face him as much as she could. The last time he’d touched a female like that, she’d stammered, stood on her tip-toes and cried out, but he expected a much better reaction from her. Sinead was better anyway, she’d taken a good hit from him before and instead of curling up and crying, she’d aroused him by fighting back.

Good enough. He decided this was good enough. Like all brilliant decisions in his life – doing a guy, doing drugs, leaving the country, picking a victim – this one had been taken in a split second. His instincts had taken over and made it for him. Whereas sane people needed some time to consider taking such a step, Klaas merely needed an impulse, a tingle in his abdominal muscles. She’d given him just that and so the thirty-two year old criminal decided to take in and kidnap the girl. ”Exactly. I’m taking you with me.” He had no idea where he was going, but he was taking her, in all meanings of the word. Although he phrased it like a statement, it was more of a question. Whether she’d reply properly or not would decide whether he’d take her by force or leave her once more. His mind wasn’t as clear as he expected it to be, some things were muddying his waters. He needed to paraphrase it for himself: he was getting the puppy girl, but seeing that she’d only be a bother if she’d kick and scream all the time, he was giving her the option to stay behind. It was probably the kindest thing he’d done the last month.

the fuck you doing Klaas o.o apparently he’d suggesting she should elope with him.

[looksinead]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=background,http://i39.tinypic.com/9vjr75.gif] . can't take the kid from the fight take the fight from the kid What did he really mean to her? That was a question that seemed to sift through her mind time after time which was more than she could say about most things in her mind. It was a persistent thought that could only be answered by her but she hadn’t drawn a conclusion yet. She hadn’t thought of anything that would possible make her life a little bit better than it really was. Sure, he didn’t mean nothing to her, which was obvious because she had grown to care about him a great deal, especially with the sorry excuse for a war that was starting to brew. Most found it to be a war, anyway, Sinead thought it was more of a farce. It was more of an onslaught, to say it was war was to say that both sides had an equal shot at winning and honestly, there wasn’t. Everyone was in it for themselves and maybe she was just sick of it by now because there was nothing that she could do, that and she knew what her elders would say if she had gotten involved. The truth was though; she had gotten involved by the time that she had watched someone be killed before her eyes and then turning and killing the three on her own. It wasn’t a comforting thing but it was truer than the sun rising. Perhaps they were right, her mind was a mess and more so, Klaas was right – despite the lack of name – he was right about her just being a hormonal mess with nothing ot show for herself bit inexperience. But then there was running, which she didn’t think all that possible because of the fact that running was dangerous and hiding was pointless. It was probably because she was still just a child but she never thought that running was really worth much of anything to her. In her mind, running always seemed to lead to a chase and when the chase got bigger, there was nowhere to hide, especially when they could smell you, or at least track you more easily. That was what always happened on hunts, it was about the only thing that happened really, the prey never really had a chance. Not one chance a frozen hell. But then didn’t he run as well, well not so much run as fake his death but that was sort of like running but with less of a run more of a disappearance. He had been plotting it from so time, she supposed and that was probably why it played out so well. And yet, running was the only solution now. It had come down to this since no place was safe, not from anyone. It wasn’t until he had grabbed her that she let out a soft whine. It was more the initial shock that got her as he raised her up to face him. In all of her discomfort, she managed to look at him not letting out a single cry after her whine. All she did was let out a cloud of breath, staring at him with her rather large eyes, confused by the whole situation. “Take… me with you?” she murmured, really to herself but at the close proximity he could hear it too. She balanced herself carefully on her tip-toes, trying to make up for the height. She wanted to ask why, but she doubted that he would have given her an answer. Was he really thinking of spiriting her away? That seemed useless didn’t it? Furrowing her brow, she continued to stare intently at him before quickly coming to a conclusion. “Fine, go ahead.” she sighed. It wasn’t so much permission as it was the fact that there would be no questioned asked, it was just this.

[vika4]

It's empty in the valley of your heart. The sun, it rises slowly as you walk Away from all the fears And all the faults you've left behind. The harvest left no food for you to eat, You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see. But I have seen the same, I know the shame in your defeat.

The more he thought about it, the more brilliant the plan seemed. Dear lord, did he love himself. What kind of genius did you need to be to think of such an ingenious, perfectly selfish plan, in less than a minute? He deserved the anti-Nobel prize for peace, he deserved to have a jail named after him. As far as Klaas was concerned, he was the most wonderful villain in history, one that was proud of its wicked ways rather than ashamed. His life was good as it was, despite the constant running. He could get used to adrenaline kick that came with constantly changing places, moving from one forest to another, apparating and running, rather than kicking back and chilling. It wasn’t the life he had had mind upon moving, but it sufficed. He was easily pleased with anything, as long as he had been the one to think of it. However, there was one downside to living like a new-age rogue: human contact was hard to get. It didn’t necessarily make him lonely, he ran into the occasional vampire or pack of wolves, which kept him company. However, it did make him sexually frustrated. So the perfect deal would be this.

He could take the girl with him and use her as a sex doll. That was all there was to his proposal, or actually, his promise. There was no positivity involved for her, apart from the occasional lay, but he didn’t suppose it would make much of a difference. Her life must suck already. Being in a castle and simply waiting to be snatched seemed like a worse plan than being dragged along and used by a mighty werewolf such as himself. He didn’t pay much attention to what he could offer her, he was much more interested in what he could get from her. Not only was she young, pretty and pleasantly obedient, she was also a werewolf. This meant she could cope with whatever physical damage he dealt out to her on a bad day, and it made her a ‘back-up’ of his own senses. If he trusted her to guard their little camp, he could finally take a nap in peace. Now that was a nice foresight, for a lazy, sleepy individual such as himself.

However, all that brilliance would be meaningless if she didn’t agree. If she whined or refused to come along, he wouldn’t make her. No one could guarantee him that she’d learn to love him because of the Stockholm syndrome if he kidnapped her, and a wolf that tried to escape the entire time couldn’t be trusted. He didn’t need another problem like that, he wanted a trustworthy pet, a companion puppy. Her face was close enough to his to see every reaction, from the initial yelp of surprise, to the deeper confusion that came with his proposal. Klaas would rather kill off a kindergarten than admit the following, but something inside of him jumped a little when she agreed so easily. He told himself it was his stoked ego, or the relief of the tiny bit of tension that had been building up, but truth was, he just couldn’t place the sensation. Instead, he decided to elaborate on his plan. If she were to be useful, she needed to be informed, to a certain degree. ”I’ll keep you fed and more or less sheltered. In return, you’ll guard whatever I tell you to guard when I’m gone, and you’ll be fucked. Questions?” he was being an absolute dear, even allowing her to ask something.


wtf puppies.