Fic: Lives Are For Living. (20/40)
Oct. 20th, 2013 11:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silver_sunTitle Lives Are For Living. (20/40)
Fandoms Torchwood/Being Human crossover fic.
Characters/pairings Andy Davidson/Tom McNair. Other Torchwood and Being Human characters will appear later on.
Word count: This part 2650 (Total posted 47,200 /90,000)
Rating This part pg (adult over all)
Contains Mentions of depression/anxiety. Mentions of past canon major character death. Mention of minor character death – not canon. In later parts canon level violence, graphic sex, Andy's homophobic mother. Spoilers for Being Human (UK version) up to series 5 episode 3, and for Torchwood up to Children of Earth.
A/N: Crossover with Being Human. Technically a CoE fix it as it's set in the same 'verse as Finding Ways To Smile Again (although that isn't apparent until about 2/3 the way through the story). Follows on from Break and Breakaway from Tom McNair's POV – which is where it breaks from Being Human canon.
Summary
After being pushed out of the police force following the events of Children of Earth, Andy Davidson tries to build a new life for himself in the deep in the Welsh countryside.
Tom McNair walked out off his old life after realising it wasn't what he needed.
A chance meeting would take their lives in directions that they had never expected and bring them love that they'd not thought they'd find.
Starts here: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/214504.html
The farmers market had tailed off around half past two and Tom felt more than a little guilty about having given Andy that as an excuse as to why he couldn't go with him to Cardiff. The truth though, that in about four an a half hours time he'd be decidedly hairy and running across the moorland chasing sheep and rabbits, really hadn't been an option.
It was rotten timing for a full moon, Tom thought as he walked back through Rhayader. Although he was glad that he hadn't been on his birthday, that really would have been rubbish. He'd tell Andy soon, he told himself, he'd just get Christmas out of the way first, as with next full moon after tonight being just a couple of weeks before it didn't seem fair to spring it on him then. Before the January full moon though, before the weather got really, really bad he tell him, he definitely do it then.
There was a definite autumnal feel now, the cool, damp air scented with wood smoke, newly ploughed fields, mouldering leaves and fungi. The sounds had changed too, bird song was muted now and the animals that would sleep the winter away were scurrying about trying to eat enough to see them through hibernation, while those that didn't were hoarding nuts and berries.
The unmistakable stink of vampire mingling with the smells of autumn was startling and Tom stopped and looked around. The scent was faint and if the full moon hadn't been just a few hours away Tom was sure he would have missed it. Strange and familiar at the same time it was definitely the same unidentified vampire's scent that he'd come across back on his first visit into Rhayader months earlier. He'd not detected even a trace of vampire since that day and Tom regretted the fact that he no longer carried a stake tucked inside his coat as routine – it had seemed unnecessary and would have raised questions from Andy that he was in no way ready to answer.
He looked at his watch. There was plenty of time to check out the trail and get out to somewhere remote to transform. If he did run into the vampire he would give them a choice, leave Rhayader, never come back and tell its friends that no vampire would ever be welcome there or if they weren't inclined to take the warning then he could improving a stake and that would be that. Either way, Rhayader would be vampire free.
Rhayader on a damp November afternoon was nearly deserted once you got away from the three main shopping streets and Tom had little trouble following the trail to the same pub car park that it had ended in before. This time the car park wasn't deserted. Parked on the far side of it was a works van, building trade by the things piled into the back of it, the two seats in the front were unoccupied and Tom turned his attention to the other vehicle.
Parked by the wall that ran at the edge of the car park, spotting potentially pissed patrons from wandering down and falling into the river Wye, was a vintage Triumph motorbike. Sitting on the wall next to it, dressed in equally vintage looking biker leathers was a woman. Smoking a cigarette and talking on a mobile phone, her long blonde hair, blowing in the wind, she was doing a very good impression of alluring bad girl. All Tom could see though was vampire.
Noticing him, she quickly ended her phone call and then, sticking her fingers in her mouth she whistled to him. When Tom didn't move, she clicked her fingers instead. “Here boy. I thought dogs had good hearing.”
“I can hear yer,” Tom said walking over to her. “I can smell yer an' all.”
“Really?” She took a drag on her cigarette, then leaning towards him, blew the smoke in his face. “Because all I smell is wet dog.” She wrinkled her nose. “And it's disgusting.”
“You ain't wanted here,” Tom said, knowing that she was trying to get a reaction out of him. You get angry, you get careless, his dad had warned him. You're better than them, he'd said, all of them. Never forget it.
“You think the people here would want you around if they knew what you are?” She flicked ash at him. “They are nothing but sheep, cattle, and you know what creatures like that think of wolves, don't you?”
It was too close to his own fears for comfort and Tom glared at her, defiant hoping that she wouldn't realise. Never let a vampire into your head. That had been another of his dad's pieces of advice, along with things like 'be nice, polite and always have the material to make a bomb.' Part of him wanted to just call her a bad name, but his dad hadn't like that, especially not about ladies, even vampire ones. So he decided to try and stare her down. “You lot only call us wolves when you know you've lost the argument. 'cause if you'd said dogs like you normally do then I could've said that people like dogs, even sheep like sheep dogs. So I know you ain't right.”
She laughed, mocking more than amused. “You've got a lot to say for yourself, haven't you?” Getting down from the wall she moved to stand uncomfortably close to him. “Are you trying to impress me? Is that it? Is the little puppy dog lonely?”
Tom stepped back. “My dad warned me about people like you.”
“What women who know their own mind?”
“No.” Tom took another step back. “Vampires. You'll do anything to get your own way. So I'll tell yer, I ain't interested, and even if you weren't a blood sucking vampire, I've got a boyfriend, so you're right out of luck.”
She stared at him for a moment and then started laughing. “Brings a whole new meaning to doggy style. Honestly though pup, I wouldn't do you if you were the last creature on Earth.” She smiled showing fangs this time. “We all play a look. You pretend to be this little helpless puppy dog, all big eyes and baggy clothes, but I know that you could break my neck and stake me without feeling the tiniest bit of guilt.” She took another drag on her cigarette, the white paper burning down to near the orange filter end. “I give sad, pathetic guys the woman of their wet little fantasies for one night. And if they don't like the price...”She shrugged. “Well I've never had one that complained.”
Tom looked at the tree overhanging the edge of the car park. He was fairly sure that he could have broken off a branch and staked her before she had time to start the bike and get away. The reappearance of the two men from the works van however prevented that really being an option. The average normal person probably wouldn't stand idly by while a scruffy bloke shoved a lump of tree through a pretty lady or anyone else for that matter.
“I wouldn't try it,” she said picking up her crash helmet from where it had been hung on the handlebars of the bike. “You see those apes over there?” She nodded towards where the two men were leant against the side of their van eating chips out greasy paper wrappers. “Best case scenario for you is I knock you on your arse and they laugh at you. At worse, well worse for you any way, they decided I need rescuing, you get the shit kicked out of you. Maybe you end up in hospital. You transform. There'd be bits of doctors and nurse everywhere.” Her eyes turned black and she leant in close to him. “Every way this plays out you lose, dog boy, got it?”
She was right, as much as he hated to admit it. “I could've staked you though, you just know that. You where the one who got lucky with them being there, not me. I've killed more vampire than you've killed werewolves, I'll bet you that for nowt.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. A moment later she laughed. “A little lost wolf cub in Wales. You're Mad Dog McNair's boy, aren't you?”
“Don't you even say his name!” Tom snapped.
“Yappy little thing, aren't you?” she said putting her crash helmet on. “All I was going to say was I was impressed by him. I saw him fight a couple of times. It must have been twenty years apart. Won both times. Do you know how rare it is for a wolf to live that long?”
“Stop it!” Tom snapped again, his resolve not to stake her and deal with the consequences later slipping. “Just stop it.”
“What is it normally? Two or three years from first transformation until...” she drew a finger across her throat. “I never understood how you people could let your whole lives fall apart because of six hours a month. It's pathetic really, when you think about it.”
“Do you really want to fight that much?” Tom said taking off his backpack that contained the few carvings that he'd not sold at the market. “'Cause if you do, we can find somewhere and it's only gonna be me leaving the place.”
She looked over his shoulder. “It's time I was going. I've got better things to be doing that listen to you yap and whine.”
Tom turned to see the two men from the van walking over to them.
She revved the bike's engine. “Maybe I'll see you around some time. See if there's as much fight in the pup as the old dog.” Snapping the visor closed, she gave the one more rev of the engine before roaring out of the car park.
“She was way out of your league,” said the older of the two men in a heavy Welsh accent, before eating another one of his chips.
“I weren't interested in her like that,” Tom said wishing he'd thought to get her name or the number plate of her bike. He have to ask Hal about her, find out if she was mixed up in dog fights as anything more than an avid spectator.
“Didn't look like that to me,” the younger of the two workmen said, “Looked like yous were getting right pissed off because she weren't putting out.”
“I weren't,” Tom said irritably, wanting to get away before he said something stupid. “I told her as much. I've got a boyfriend an'...”
The younger one started laughing then nudged his workmate with his elbow. “It'd bin like a fish with a bicycle that, if she'd said yes. Still mate, leaves more for us normal blokes.”
“I'm going home,” Tom said picking up his bag, not wanting them to see how much what they had said hurt. “You should just be glad she's gone. She'd have sucked you dry and left yer for dead, an' that would've be if you were lucky.”
“She could've sucked me any time.” Tom heard the young workman say, followed by his friend laughing and playfully punching on on the arm. “Too right, boyo. Now get them chips down you. That driveway ain't going to pave itself.”
Once he was round the corner and out of sight of them, Tom broke into a run, wanting to put as much distance between himself and them as possible.
Out of breath, heart pounding, Tom only stopped once he was on the steeply rising track that lead back up to Cwm Elan Farm. Angry now as much at himself and the men and the vampire, Tom sat down on the low wall that ran along the edge of the narrow road.
He could have... no, should have, he thought angry at his own weakness, he should have called him on them making fun of him and Andy being together. They'd had no right to do that to him or to anyone. Yet the first thing that had come into his head when they had called themselves normal was that he couldn't challenge them, that he had no right to reply that he was – being a werewolf meant he had lost that right a very long time ago.
Tom leant forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands tight to his head, feeling the thick scar that ran across his scalp. The vampire woman, whoever she'd been had been right - all people would see was a monster. It was why she'd also been right about most wolves not living beyond a couple of years from their first transformation. They hit the same spiral that Larry had, that his dad had before he'd come into his life.
It was different for him, Tom told himself. He'd not really had a life before he'd become a werewolf, he had no memory of what he'd lost so it shouldn't matter. He looked up and out at the valley, the misty tree covered slopes, the dismal afternoon blurring as his eyes began to sting.
Closing his eyes, Tom let his other wolf-heightened scenes take over, letting them connect him back to the land. He was part of it, part of the ancient landscape, he wasn't wrong, he was more a part of the place than those would fear him because of what he was. Opening them again, he got up and without a second look back down the valley to Rhayader, Tom continued on his way back to the farm.
The house felt empty without Andy there and Tom paused only to swap his bag from the market with one he'd packed earlier that day with spare clothes and a couple of blankets before leaving again.
Travelling at a slow jog, a compromise between the distance and time to cover it he had available, Tom followed the paths away from the farm, down past the dam at Caban Coch and out to the bleak and empty landscape of the Claerwen valley on the other side of the reservoirs.
There was already frost forming on the ground and he climbed higher onto the slopes above Claerwen, the withered grass crunching in the dark underfoot, while the trickling streams were still, the water turned to ice on the where they once ran down the still hillsides. The world was silent apart from the occasional bleat of a sheep somewhere in the valley below, everything fading to muted greys as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Striping off when temperatures where hovering around zero was never any fun, Tom thought as he shoved his clothes into his bag. He'd hung on as long as he could though, the pain of the transformation combined with the cold would have made his fingers too clumsy and numb to manage zips of buttons if he'd waited much longer. The little hollow in the hills barely gave any protection from the weather, but with the transformation already well underway, there was little more he could do that bear it the best he could. With one of the blankets he'd brought with him spread out on the frozen ground, Tom covered himself with the second, before curling into a ball in an attempt to minimise the pain and cold seeping into every part of him.
The sky had cleared as the temperature had continued to drop and as the bright, silvery light glinted on the frosty ground as the moon, full and bright rose. Under the blanket the wolf stirred, its breath clouds of steam in the chill air. Turning its shaggy head to the moon it howled, then scented the air, ready for the hunt.
TBC. I'll say Sunday next week (27th) as between a manky sore throat, cough, what's beginning to look like conjunctivitis in my right eye and being stupidly busy at work Wednesday posting probably won't happen. But who knows.
Fandoms Torchwood/Being Human crossover fic.
Characters/pairings Andy Davidson/Tom McNair. Other Torchwood and Being Human characters will appear later on.
Word count: This part 2650 (Total posted 47,200 /90,000)
Rating This part pg (adult over all)
Contains Mentions of depression/anxiety. Mentions of past canon major character death. Mention of minor character death – not canon. In later parts canon level violence, graphic sex, Andy's homophobic mother. Spoilers for Being Human (UK version) up to series 5 episode 3, and for Torchwood up to Children of Earth.
A/N: Crossover with Being Human. Technically a CoE fix it as it's set in the same 'verse as Finding Ways To Smile Again (although that isn't apparent until about 2/3 the way through the story). Follows on from Break and Breakaway from Tom McNair's POV – which is where it breaks from Being Human canon.
Summary
After being pushed out of the police force following the events of Children of Earth, Andy Davidson tries to build a new life for himself in the deep in the Welsh countryside.
Tom McNair walked out off his old life after realising it wasn't what he needed.
A chance meeting would take their lives in directions that they had never expected and bring them love that they'd not thought they'd find.
Starts here: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/214504.html
The farmers market had tailed off around half past two and Tom felt more than a little guilty about having given Andy that as an excuse as to why he couldn't go with him to Cardiff. The truth though, that in about four an a half hours time he'd be decidedly hairy and running across the moorland chasing sheep and rabbits, really hadn't been an option.
It was rotten timing for a full moon, Tom thought as he walked back through Rhayader. Although he was glad that he hadn't been on his birthday, that really would have been rubbish. He'd tell Andy soon, he told himself, he'd just get Christmas out of the way first, as with next full moon after tonight being just a couple of weeks before it didn't seem fair to spring it on him then. Before the January full moon though, before the weather got really, really bad he tell him, he definitely do it then.
There was a definite autumnal feel now, the cool, damp air scented with wood smoke, newly ploughed fields, mouldering leaves and fungi. The sounds had changed too, bird song was muted now and the animals that would sleep the winter away were scurrying about trying to eat enough to see them through hibernation, while those that didn't were hoarding nuts and berries.
The unmistakable stink of vampire mingling with the smells of autumn was startling and Tom stopped and looked around. The scent was faint and if the full moon hadn't been just a few hours away Tom was sure he would have missed it. Strange and familiar at the same time it was definitely the same unidentified vampire's scent that he'd come across back on his first visit into Rhayader months earlier. He'd not detected even a trace of vampire since that day and Tom regretted the fact that he no longer carried a stake tucked inside his coat as routine – it had seemed unnecessary and would have raised questions from Andy that he was in no way ready to answer.
He looked at his watch. There was plenty of time to check out the trail and get out to somewhere remote to transform. If he did run into the vampire he would give them a choice, leave Rhayader, never come back and tell its friends that no vampire would ever be welcome there or if they weren't inclined to take the warning then he could improving a stake and that would be that. Either way, Rhayader would be vampire free.
Rhayader on a damp November afternoon was nearly deserted once you got away from the three main shopping streets and Tom had little trouble following the trail to the same pub car park that it had ended in before. This time the car park wasn't deserted. Parked on the far side of it was a works van, building trade by the things piled into the back of it, the two seats in the front were unoccupied and Tom turned his attention to the other vehicle.
Parked by the wall that ran at the edge of the car park, spotting potentially pissed patrons from wandering down and falling into the river Wye, was a vintage Triumph motorbike. Sitting on the wall next to it, dressed in equally vintage looking biker leathers was a woman. Smoking a cigarette and talking on a mobile phone, her long blonde hair, blowing in the wind, she was doing a very good impression of alluring bad girl. All Tom could see though was vampire.
Noticing him, she quickly ended her phone call and then, sticking her fingers in her mouth she whistled to him. When Tom didn't move, she clicked her fingers instead. “Here boy. I thought dogs had good hearing.”
“I can hear yer,” Tom said walking over to her. “I can smell yer an' all.”
“Really?” She took a drag on her cigarette, then leaning towards him, blew the smoke in his face. “Because all I smell is wet dog.” She wrinkled her nose. “And it's disgusting.”
“You ain't wanted here,” Tom said, knowing that she was trying to get a reaction out of him. You get angry, you get careless, his dad had warned him. You're better than them, he'd said, all of them. Never forget it.
“You think the people here would want you around if they knew what you are?” She flicked ash at him. “They are nothing but sheep, cattle, and you know what creatures like that think of wolves, don't you?”
It was too close to his own fears for comfort and Tom glared at her, defiant hoping that she wouldn't realise. Never let a vampire into your head. That had been another of his dad's pieces of advice, along with things like 'be nice, polite and always have the material to make a bomb.' Part of him wanted to just call her a bad name, but his dad hadn't like that, especially not about ladies, even vampire ones. So he decided to try and stare her down. “You lot only call us wolves when you know you've lost the argument. 'cause if you'd said dogs like you normally do then I could've said that people like dogs, even sheep like sheep dogs. So I know you ain't right.”
She laughed, mocking more than amused. “You've got a lot to say for yourself, haven't you?” Getting down from the wall she moved to stand uncomfortably close to him. “Are you trying to impress me? Is that it? Is the little puppy dog lonely?”
Tom stepped back. “My dad warned me about people like you.”
“What women who know their own mind?”
“No.” Tom took another step back. “Vampires. You'll do anything to get your own way. So I'll tell yer, I ain't interested, and even if you weren't a blood sucking vampire, I've got a boyfriend, so you're right out of luck.”
She stared at him for a moment and then started laughing. “Brings a whole new meaning to doggy style. Honestly though pup, I wouldn't do you if you were the last creature on Earth.” She smiled showing fangs this time. “We all play a look. You pretend to be this little helpless puppy dog, all big eyes and baggy clothes, but I know that you could break my neck and stake me without feeling the tiniest bit of guilt.” She took another drag on her cigarette, the white paper burning down to near the orange filter end. “I give sad, pathetic guys the woman of their wet little fantasies for one night. And if they don't like the price...”She shrugged. “Well I've never had one that complained.”
Tom looked at the tree overhanging the edge of the car park. He was fairly sure that he could have broken off a branch and staked her before she had time to start the bike and get away. The reappearance of the two men from the works van however prevented that really being an option. The average normal person probably wouldn't stand idly by while a scruffy bloke shoved a lump of tree through a pretty lady or anyone else for that matter.
“I wouldn't try it,” she said picking up her crash helmet from where it had been hung on the handlebars of the bike. “You see those apes over there?” She nodded towards where the two men were leant against the side of their van eating chips out greasy paper wrappers. “Best case scenario for you is I knock you on your arse and they laugh at you. At worse, well worse for you any way, they decided I need rescuing, you get the shit kicked out of you. Maybe you end up in hospital. You transform. There'd be bits of doctors and nurse everywhere.” Her eyes turned black and she leant in close to him. “Every way this plays out you lose, dog boy, got it?”
She was right, as much as he hated to admit it. “I could've staked you though, you just know that. You where the one who got lucky with them being there, not me. I've killed more vampire than you've killed werewolves, I'll bet you that for nowt.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. A moment later she laughed. “A little lost wolf cub in Wales. You're Mad Dog McNair's boy, aren't you?”
“Don't you even say his name!” Tom snapped.
“Yappy little thing, aren't you?” she said putting her crash helmet on. “All I was going to say was I was impressed by him. I saw him fight a couple of times. It must have been twenty years apart. Won both times. Do you know how rare it is for a wolf to live that long?”
“Stop it!” Tom snapped again, his resolve not to stake her and deal with the consequences later slipping. “Just stop it.”
“What is it normally? Two or three years from first transformation until...” she drew a finger across her throat. “I never understood how you people could let your whole lives fall apart because of six hours a month. It's pathetic really, when you think about it.”
“Do you really want to fight that much?” Tom said taking off his backpack that contained the few carvings that he'd not sold at the market. “'Cause if you do, we can find somewhere and it's only gonna be me leaving the place.”
She looked over his shoulder. “It's time I was going. I've got better things to be doing that listen to you yap and whine.”
Tom turned to see the two men from the van walking over to them.
She revved the bike's engine. “Maybe I'll see you around some time. See if there's as much fight in the pup as the old dog.” Snapping the visor closed, she gave the one more rev of the engine before roaring out of the car park.
“She was way out of your league,” said the older of the two men in a heavy Welsh accent, before eating another one of his chips.
“I weren't interested in her like that,” Tom said wishing he'd thought to get her name or the number plate of her bike. He have to ask Hal about her, find out if she was mixed up in dog fights as anything more than an avid spectator.
“Didn't look like that to me,” the younger of the two workmen said, “Looked like yous were getting right pissed off because she weren't putting out.”
“I weren't,” Tom said irritably, wanting to get away before he said something stupid. “I told her as much. I've got a boyfriend an'...”
The younger one started laughing then nudged his workmate with his elbow. “It'd bin like a fish with a bicycle that, if she'd said yes. Still mate, leaves more for us normal blokes.”
“I'm going home,” Tom said picking up his bag, not wanting them to see how much what they had said hurt. “You should just be glad she's gone. She'd have sucked you dry and left yer for dead, an' that would've be if you were lucky.”
“She could've sucked me any time.” Tom heard the young workman say, followed by his friend laughing and playfully punching on on the arm. “Too right, boyo. Now get them chips down you. That driveway ain't going to pave itself.”
Once he was round the corner and out of sight of them, Tom broke into a run, wanting to put as much distance between himself and them as possible.
Out of breath, heart pounding, Tom only stopped once he was on the steeply rising track that lead back up to Cwm Elan Farm. Angry now as much at himself and the men and the vampire, Tom sat down on the low wall that ran along the edge of the narrow road.
He could have... no, should have, he thought angry at his own weakness, he should have called him on them making fun of him and Andy being together. They'd had no right to do that to him or to anyone. Yet the first thing that had come into his head when they had called themselves normal was that he couldn't challenge them, that he had no right to reply that he was – being a werewolf meant he had lost that right a very long time ago.
Tom leant forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands tight to his head, feeling the thick scar that ran across his scalp. The vampire woman, whoever she'd been had been right - all people would see was a monster. It was why she'd also been right about most wolves not living beyond a couple of years from their first transformation. They hit the same spiral that Larry had, that his dad had before he'd come into his life.
It was different for him, Tom told himself. He'd not really had a life before he'd become a werewolf, he had no memory of what he'd lost so it shouldn't matter. He looked up and out at the valley, the misty tree covered slopes, the dismal afternoon blurring as his eyes began to sting.
Closing his eyes, Tom let his other wolf-heightened scenes take over, letting them connect him back to the land. He was part of it, part of the ancient landscape, he wasn't wrong, he was more a part of the place than those would fear him because of what he was. Opening them again, he got up and without a second look back down the valley to Rhayader, Tom continued on his way back to the farm.
The house felt empty without Andy there and Tom paused only to swap his bag from the market with one he'd packed earlier that day with spare clothes and a couple of blankets before leaving again.
Travelling at a slow jog, a compromise between the distance and time to cover it he had available, Tom followed the paths away from the farm, down past the dam at Caban Coch and out to the bleak and empty landscape of the Claerwen valley on the other side of the reservoirs.
There was already frost forming on the ground and he climbed higher onto the slopes above Claerwen, the withered grass crunching in the dark underfoot, while the trickling streams were still, the water turned to ice on the where they once ran down the still hillsides. The world was silent apart from the occasional bleat of a sheep somewhere in the valley below, everything fading to muted greys as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Striping off when temperatures where hovering around zero was never any fun, Tom thought as he shoved his clothes into his bag. He'd hung on as long as he could though, the pain of the transformation combined with the cold would have made his fingers too clumsy and numb to manage zips of buttons if he'd waited much longer. The little hollow in the hills barely gave any protection from the weather, but with the transformation already well underway, there was little more he could do that bear it the best he could. With one of the blankets he'd brought with him spread out on the frozen ground, Tom covered himself with the second, before curling into a ball in an attempt to minimise the pain and cold seeping into every part of him.
The sky had cleared as the temperature had continued to drop and as the bright, silvery light glinted on the frosty ground as the moon, full and bright rose. Under the blanket the wolf stirred, its breath clouds of steam in the chill air. Turning its shaggy head to the moon it howled, then scented the air, ready for the hunt.
TBC. I'll say Sunday next week (27th) as between a manky sore throat, cough, what's beginning to look like conjunctivitis in my right eye and being stupidly busy at work Wednesday posting probably won't happen. But who knows.
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Date: 2013-10-21 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-21 07:02 am (UTC)I hope you feel better soon and look after yourself *hugs you*