Feet in the Sand (open)

[* Barret Drystan]

The middle of the week seemed to kill activity in most places not full of office buildings and factories. Workers hurried away from their warm homes and gentle families at this point in the calender, rushing mindlessly to a place they'd rather not go, off to do things they'd rather not do only to receive money they'd rather get more of. And at the end of it all, they return, tired and exhausted with little to show for it and no smile upon their face.

Bland, bored, unhappy. Why is it this is what life must hand us all? Why is it that all attempt to be happy, to be pleased, are either ignored or consider of lesser importance? Who can function while they are unhappy?

A rhetorical question.

Though the lycan in the sand let his mind wander innocently off, his train of thought made him guilty for a moment. After all, he was no different from the business man down the beach, who hurried into his fancy car (a Bentley, the barefoot mechanic noted, even from a distance) which was parked in a motel parking lot. Though he rushed nowhere, and appeared to be wasting time in the early morning sunshine, dressed haphazardly without much care in his head, he shuffled his feet nervously. His hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of a tan set of overalls he wore over a white and blue shirt, delving so far down into the fabric crevice that his elbows were straight at his sides. A very tense stance to take when poised on a flawless and generally empty beach at the start of what promises to be a beautiful day.

Hazel gaze was focused relentlessly upon the grains of sand he shifted about with his toes, digging divots with his nails only to fill them back in repeatedly, as though fascinated but truly distracted. He was waiting for someone. Not a family member nor friend nor companion. Someone who appeared to leave the young mechanic very tense and stoic, his expression blank, hinting slightly at boredom. Even as the waves lapped gently upon the sand and the sea gulls cawed the world awake, the werewolf stood blank, desperate to avoid something... or rather, someone, in this case.

Down the beach, the silver Bentley started up with a growling hum, announcing its owner's departure before whisking the man down the road and off beyond the city-made horizon. Off to his job that he hated, to the place he probably hated to be, to work with people he likely did not approve of, leaving the werewolf on the beach alone with himself and the foot prints of passing joggers.

Where his "job" was... at least for this morning.

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Post Status: Complete
Word Count: 449
Muse Status: Poor
Summary: Drystan is standing on the beach at early morning/sunrise, looking very tense. He has no shoes on his feet and a man is leaving for work somewhere in the background.

Comments: Horrible post. But I totally suck at opening threads that have no plot behind them. :/ I promise, after the first reply, this gets a lot better. I'm much better at working with the presence of other characters than I am pulling out motivation from hammer space. x3

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,300,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=c6c7c3] New Orleans, a place whose unfamiliarity would generally breed contempt from the she-wolf but this particular day it bred...something different. It was the beginning of another year, a fact that the lupine within her found no interest in but the human Sombra was another story. She reminisced over what had happened during the year, growing nostalgic and down in her own house where she sat in a state near vegetative for a couple hours. This particular fact was what had brought her to the beach. It was early in the morning, some day that ended in "y" but she doubted it was the weekend. The place was albeit deserted...and the alpha liked it. Every now and then there was an absolute necessity for solitude. At least for Sombra that seemed to be a fundamental knowledge. The wolf occasionally required that she seclude herself...and I say "occasionally" loosely simply because there were not many days when the wolf did not find herself very much alone. She expected very much the same routine this morning. However, there seemed to be more bitterness this morning. The lupine was annoyed - annoyed at the human for its sensitivity and foolish emotions. She'd spent the night surrounded by gears, and various car parts grease covered and glinting in the light of her shop. The Beamer had put up a fight but she'd managed to detect the issue and had it prepared for its owner. The one condition was he fork over the cash before she returned his car and so she'd driven it to her lockup - she had quite a few automobiles personally and so it had grown quite lost to the naked eye in that vast menagerie of chrome. It was restlessness that had driven her to venture out, traveling from California to Louisiana no less. The night air had been welcoming as she stepped out of her home, glancing towards the Audi that laid in wait to be driven and yet...it seemed fine weather to simply...run. And so she had, with that ridiculous werewolf speed she'd run all night and this is where she'd found herself in the morning. She'd packed clothing and now wore a pair of jeans, and a plain navy long sleeved shirt. Her feet were bare and her pants rolled up as she stood in the surf. Yes every time she came to the sea this was the position most might view her in: knee deep in surf. There was no point in coming to the beach unless you planned on experiencing it as it should be. It had occurred to the she-wolf that there would be someone else on the scene, and in fact there was. The Alpha was very much aware of the fellow lupine nearby and then occurrence of joggers as they puffed by in their ridiculous shorts. Sombra's sole response to any such thing was the slow turn of her features in the general direction of the stranger, the ascent of those fierce eyes a slow, methodic albeit feral one. It was the briefest of glances before her stare was focused on the pier further down the beach and then back out to sea. Okay...so she wasn't the most social of dominants. She wasn't the most social anything. She simply...was. -------------------------------------------------- count: 562 outfit: Eh, I'll do it later.. comments: They get longer with interaction. Promise. x]

[* Barret Drystan]

Growing bored with his wiggling toes, the young man on the beach let his gaze drift elsewhere, following his bored and painfully idle mind. There are few things more painful to the energetic werewolf than being forced to be stationary and completely inactive, and one of them was a root canal, impossible to find on a beach. Or so he assumed. Hazel colored attention followed a passing jogger, attracted only to the movement and nothing more. But as she drew past, heaving as she dragged herself along the sinking holes in the sand, another figure caught the lycan's attention from afar.

A woman stood in the waves off shore, unassuming to the eye of a mortal. But her movements were more fluid than the water that wafted around her calves, no matter how discrete, and her gaze held a fiery fierceness that the fellow werewolf could not simply ignore. Though the dark hue of her eyes made them difficult to read, even the brainless and half blind Lousiana native could not mistake it. Those eyes mirrored his own, the wild sight of a wolf.

Immediately intrigued, the brunette mechanic failed to notice he was staring at this poor unassuming stranger until it had already been a few awkward moments. Hastily realizing his foolishness, he quickly averted his attention elsewhere, his calloused hands shuffling around in his pockets as though searching for something while his own brilliant gaze wandered away from the female in the waves. He focused on the sand instead, daring to glance up once or twice as he tried desperately to appear unassuming after his awkward staring. However, after a moment or two of casual fidgeting, his attention returned to the only other stationary figure at the beach this day and, after a moment of deliberation, the overall-clad mechanic made the decision to stride over.

His bare feet glided effortlessly through the gentle sands as he descended an extremely gently sloping hill, the loose grains giving beneath his weight, leaving divots in the ground in a trail behind him. As he reached the soaked sand at the water's edge, he drew to a stop slowly, casually, hands still dug into his pockets and his arm's still held tense at his sides, but his stubble-clad face was drawn up in a gentle smile, hoping to draw the she-wolf toward him without being forced to soak his overalls in salt water. A small amount of surf rolled over his feet where he stood, tickling the top of his feet with grains of sand dragged up from the depths of the sea, but it did not venture above his ankles and was quickly dragged out again by the tide before it could damage any of the fabric.

Not that his clothes were worth much. Even he would admit that his overalls were tacky, a khaki sort of tan color with a button missing on the right side, creating a lop sided look with only one strap fastened (the other was left hanging from the junction at his back). His t-shirt was bright and new in appearance, but was nothing more than a simple baseball type top: mostly white with blue sleeves, matching the worn blue and white trucker's cap nested in his chestnut hair. Hardly the world's most valuable array of clothing.

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Post Status: Complete
Word Count: 547
Muse Status: Average
Summary: Drystan notices Sombra standing farther away from him and, after staring a little awkwardly, he decides to walk over. He doesn't want to wade out into the water so he waits for her a little closer to shore, hoping she'd be willing to talk.

Comments: none

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,300,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=c6c7c3] Sombra was no stranger to being stared at, though such liberties were rarely gifted any sort of response beyond the quick narrowing of her stare that warned whomever it was that there attention was unwelcome and had better come to an end before it got ugly. Yes, you deduce correctly – the she wolf was prone to violent behavior, an attribute she was notorious for. Then again weren’t most dominant females overcompensating for not being male? They are generally to the point, no nonsense sorts whose thoughts on reality were just below par. They were filled with disillusion and daddy issues and wanted no part in functional relationships. That or it was just Sombra who suffered from that particular concoction. Whatever the case may be she was definitely wrought with animosity towards…everything. There was the rare occasion where she thought of the Mercers and quietly longed for family, but the will to create one was not there. Neither was there a want to pursue a pack. Should one accumulate she would naturally accommodate their needs but searching for potential members did not fit her schedule of apathy. The fact that she disliked scrutiny was nonsense – she could take the pressure of assessment, it was when that look over was not professional that she took issue. There was no reason for anyone to offer even the most inquisitive looks because without a glance Sombra could say she was no interested. And today she was particularly unsocial. Why? Well…it seemed a good day to be nostalgic and in such a vulnerable mood she was in no shape to handle the onslaught of a social situation. She had caught the friendly aura about the wolf and the easy going way about him and that was quite enough to calm her into not being absolutely aggressive. Still, the mood had not changed on her end. She was in a thoughtful, sentimental mood and to disturb these rare myths was nothing short of a sin. Yet it would seem this particular individual and his overalls had every intention of becoming the sinner. The sound of sand granules crunching beneath his bare feet was enough to alert her to his approach, an act that she did not directly respond to for some time. Not until he had stopped and was assumedly staring there like a whelp did she find the hair upon the back of her neck prickling her senses and disturbing her thoughts far too much for her to focus on the tender comforts of Mike and Melanie’s faces floating in her head. And so with a dutiful sigh she turned slowly around, fingertips trailing through the surf in a thoughtful fashion. Her stare had grown no less serious and in fact seemed untouched by his welcoming smile. Wouldn’t it have been nice if he’d stumbled upon an equally amiable mutt? That way they could prance and frolic like young and eager deer. Alright, so that sounded odd but you get the drift. Everything about the way he stood, was dressed and smiled screamed…Louisiana hick. The alpha blinked slowly, stomaching the appearance for a moment. Slob. Breathing yet another soft sigh, she folded her arms neatly over her chest and arched a brow. Of course, Sombra went off the presumption that he wanted something and did not mean to stand there and stare for the foreseeable future. If that had been his intention..well…she’d saved him from a painful fate. ”Well?” Perhaps not the most inviting word but it was not exactly unfriendly was it? Baby steps, Som. -------------------------------------------------- count: 591 outfit: Eh, I'll do it later.. comments: Sorry for the wait. <3

[* Barret Drystan]

It was toe wiggling time once again for the antsy mechanic, forced to mind his manners in silence for what felt like way too long. The she wolf in the surf paid him no mind at all at first, leaving him to his own devices and making it clear she was either deaf or uninterested. Though any normal individual would find this sort of greeting a bit of a put off, this particular lycan was not so bright and, instead, he occupied himself idly, waiting patiently for his presence to either annoy the other creature into attacking him, or sink in enough for her to strike up conversation. Either outcome would've worked in his favor. He was not too keen on standing alone on the beach all morning. At least in a fight, he wouldn't technically be alone.

Childishly watching the shapes made out of the salty sea foam as the water rushed in and out and in once again, the young brunette didn't really notice his chosen companion turning to face him, her slow movements escaping his painfully short attention span with no noise or abrupt movements to accompany them. She was so fluid, she seemed to melt into the flooded background of the ocean waves. That is until she decided to forcefully call forth his attention.

Her harsh acknowledgment caused the werewolf's head to snap upward abruptly, startled but not fearful. With a deceptively simple mind, he was so unpracticed in the art of anticipating people who were not like him. Usually, he expected a warm smile, maybe a handshake or a gentle wave to open the floor to conversation, but this woman's choice of words and very hostile stance, arms crossed and gaze glaring, left the normally friendly of the two drawing a blank. He kind of stood there a moment, his hazel eyes wandering as he searched his skull for response, but, as always, he was able to find one in the honesty section.

"Sorry ma'am. Didn't mean to bother you or nuthin'. Ya' just looked kinda lonely out here all by yourself."

He paused, feeling a little awkward beneath her harsh stare. She intimidated him, for reasons the packless wolf could only speculate. Whether it was the tense way she stood or the sharp edge to her eyes, her presence was strong, commanding respect. And the malleable, ultimately submissive mechanic was willing to give it to her. Raising one hand from his pocket, he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, his short chestnut hair dodging this way and that to avoid his prying fingers.

After a moment or two of this, he finally gained up the gal to say something else and redirected his gaze toward her once again, having let it drift a bit in his nervousness.

"What are ya' doin' out 'ere in the water anyway? Thinkin' or somethin?"

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Post Status: Complete
Word Count: 471
Muse Status: Average
Summary: Drystan feels instinctively intimidated by Sombra's presence, but, being naturally social and noticeably uneasy about something, strikes up conversation with her anyway.

Comments: Haha. No worries. :3

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,300,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=c6c7c3] It was not in Sombra’s nature to be warm or welcoming, neither was it natural for her to be well mannered. The she-wolf was albeit feral, a wild thing that generally refused to cater to the social etiquettes that society was so bent on enforcing. They could go get bent for all she cared. The sound of sand being disheveled filled her lobes, though the sea worked to drown out any such hint. Fortunately when focusing on a certain noise it was easy to hold onto once you found it. At least that was what the case was in Sombra’s experience. The alpha shifted in placed, the granules of sand beneath the water rubbing against her legs and effectively helping her exfoliate. Still, sometimes the salt chapped her skin and for this reason she was mindful about how long she spent standing there. Clearly the woman’s choice word had made her counterpart uncomfortable. Good, perhaps this meeting would be short and she could spend the rest of her day in solitude as she had planned. As it so happened there was no work to be done at her own shop and so she had a play day all to herself. At least, she had had one. The almost empty gaze of the wolf that stared in every which direction seemed to be lacking in intellect, something she took note of with grim recognition but without any sort of compassion. She was annoyed and suddenly a bit sleepy and that made for a cranky Sombra. There was no expectation for him now – no set mold she expected him to fit in because to be honest she rarely dealt with the pathologically stupid. This had the capacity to be a good thing or a bad thing depending on which way it all went. The sound of his accented voice grated on her lobes as he spoke, and it was that that coaxed her absolute attention. Sorry ma’am. Didn’t mean to bother you or nuthin’. Ya’ just looked kinda lonely out here all by yourself.” Breathing a slow sigh, she resisted the urge to make a crack about idiots and their assumptions. The submission in that slightly odd gaze. He was quite aware of what her aura stated quite plainly. She was the boss dog in a place not so far away. Though unfortunately his words were followed by silence. She was most definitely not lonely, not at all but for some reason she could not really formulate in her head she would not bring herself to simply state that. She did not come here seeking a fight so she did not start one, not to begin with anyway. What are you doing out ‘ere in the water anyway? Again, the words grated on her nerves. However, she did speak this time. ”Thinking.” It was stated in a quick, to the point fashion. Breathing a slow, drawn out side meant to calm herself and her nerves if she got lucky. ”What are you doing out here? It’s the middle of the week…don’t you have a job?” Now if you asked a vampire that question you’d be completely ridiculous but werewolves were usually more practical creatures and kept up realistic lifestyles. This she said as a generalization that happened to skip her. That was alright. A brow ascended slowly as she awaited a response of some sort. Well, ya hick, speak! -------------------------------------------------- count: 567 outfit: later.. comments: Shooort

[* Barret Drystan]

Thinking. The mechanic had figured as much. He couldn't hazard a guess as to any other reason for an otherwise totally unassuming young lady to plop herself out in the ocean... Well he could hazard a guess. He'd kind of been hoping she was fishing for something; crabs maybe, or maybe the fish that sometimes get hung up on the rocks nearby. Though he tried not to be so simple minded, he really did like fish, tasty little creatures they are. Plus it would've given him something to do, something he could help her with, had that been the case. But, unfortunately, thinking was not his strong point. Even if the woman had wanted his help he wouldn't be much use to her unless she was thinking about a car... or fishing.

Averting his gaze to the sand off to one side of him, the lycan let his hand fall slowly from where he'd been scratching the back of his head, letting a finger tail through his hair for a moment as though to test a particular lock's attachment to his scalp. The movement offset the hat he had perched up there, lurching it forward just enough to appear lop-sided, the faded blue brim tilting to one side while a deep brown strand of hair popped out of its former confinement on the other side. But the shift was too subtle for the mindless redneck to notice. Instead he brought his hand down to his side and looped his thumb through the belt loop of his overalls casually, bringing his attention back up from the sand with a bit of noticeable surprise.

As it had been before, the she-wolf's response was rather unexpected on the receiving end. He hadn't been expecting a question to be embedded in it, something that actually facilitated further conversation. Up until then, his companion had seemed very much against their little meeting. Then again, the mechanic hadn't been planning on letting up, despite that. At least, not until she made her intolerance clear. He was always one to abuse the tolerance of others in the interest of social interaction. Shrugging his shoulders, he spoke casually through a half smile more lop sided than his hat.

"Yeah, but that's what I'm 'ere for. I'm supposed ta' be meetin' somebody."

He trailed off in thought, trying to find the right words to describe his situation without revealing too much. He was under strict and very consistent orders not to reveal anything about his assignment and had to keep a tight leash on his normally indiscriminate honesty

"Ya know, 'see a man about a dog' type a' deal. He's apparently got somethin' one a' my buddies needs or whatever, so they sent me ta' go get it from 'em... But I don't even know this guy. Real shady stuff."

Gesturing with his free hand as he explained, as though to show his frustration, the Louisiana werewolf was quick to silence himself. Not cut himself off, per say, as that would've been a little suspicious, but he did keep himself was blabbering this poor woman's ear off. The last thing he wanted to do was scare or annoy her off with a drawn out explanation of things she probably had no concern for. Allowing a moment of silence, he watched a jogger pass out of the corner of his eye, temped to turn to look but feeling that would be rude in some way, eventually punctuating his response with a small sigh and the scratching of his chest through his t-shirt.

"I dunno. I guess I'm jus' tired a' waitin' for 'em."

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Post Status: Complete
Word Count: 595
Muse Status: Average
Summary: Drystan is encouraged by Sombra's (probably faked) curiosity in his business at the beach, and very happily explains what he is doing there. He tries to keep his activities vague, but fails pretty badly at being inconspicuous. He is really bad at keeping secrets.

Comments: Pfffft. Was longer than my last one. x3

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,300,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=c6c7c3] Sombra wasn’t your average soul – she wasn’t particularly comfortable in social settings and that was probably due to the fact that she hardly ever sought out such things. Why would she? There were just too many variables to be found in the company of such dynamic creatures as humanoids. Well, granted not all were human but they were damn close. Unfortunately for her there was a problem with werewolves – they had this nasty habit of being…well, stupid. Shifting thoughtfully in her stance, her weight going back and forth between sides. A deep sigh rolled past her lips, dark eyes vague and disenchanted with what they caught upon. The dominant was accustomed to her gaze not being met, in fact Josef had proven good practice in the fact that he rarely returned her stare and now the fact that this overall wearing lunatic was staring off into space didn’t particularly bother her. She found herself amused by it, perhaps, but there was nothing even vaguely tempting about wiping the floor with an ignoramus. It was like beating a child – it offered no particular satisfaction. Punishing someone was only fun if they knew what they’d done wrong otherwise it was a waste of time and energy. I’m supposed to be meeting someone. She arched a brow, skeptical of the idea – she highly suspected he’d been doped into coming or the like. How could someone employ another with such limited skills? She certainly could not be caught dead in such a position. Blinking slowly, the she-wolf processed the sight of him and his awkward mannerisms. Like a poor mongrel. At that thought she smirked, entertained. ”You came without understanding everything about what you were going to do?” A small snort sounded as she disclosed her amusement – he could very well be aiding and abetting murderers though at this point in her life she knew there were worse things. Shady stuff? She pondered the idea while she watched him gesture about like some strange primate. Tipping her head without enthusiasm or a change in expression she watched him for several more seconds, seemingly a blank slate. But what was there to say except “Are you kidding me?” She was frowning now, that dark pensive look she got when she was considering things that annoyed her. Then again no one would know that was what she was doing simply because no one knew her. Running her articulations through her naturally wavy hair, her lips pursed and she considered the options. Tired of waiting? Her palms balled reticently into fists as the she-wolf pondered. He was being interesting…or not. He really wasn’t particularly fun to listen to and he wasn’t physically appealing, not at all. Still he was a homey sort, not many had she encountered such as this. Let’s not get carried away though – he wasn’t a diamond in the rough, that’d be the same as saying that Sombra was a darling sweet creature. That only used to be true, she was something of substance at one time, something worth being engaged in. Now? Sombra was a shell, just a ghost of what she might have been. Oh well – could have, would have, should have. -------------------------------------------------- count: 530 outfit: later.. comments: Shooort

[* Barret Drystan]

The southerner simply tipped his head to the side like a curious canine, as one would expect from someone of his species. His hazel eyes were narrowed slightly, not angrily, contemplative, an expression that looked strange on his normally blank or clueless face. But he couldn't help it much. This she wolf confused him with her completely different, almost opposing, mannerisms. He was pleased that she had been amused by some part of his explanation, but he wasn't sure what it was or why it'd been found funny. After all, he didn't see much humor in standing around like a dead tree in the middle of a beach.

"Well yeah. I dunno if ya noticed or not, but I ain't exactly the type a' guy to really think things through all the time."

Modest as always, he turned his gaze away from her almost sheepishly, as though silently apologizing for his short comings. He would neither deny his lack of intelligence nor try to hide it. It wasn't worth the time or effort any how. It always found a way to slip through one way or another.

"But it didn't sound like that big a' deal, ya know? Jus' go out an' meet this feller an' that would be that. Didn't think I'd be out 'ere all day. Would'a brought a book or somethin'."

Still feeling apologetic, the young mechanic idly used one of his toes to draw squiggles in the sand, keeping his attention downward as he spoke, hiding beneath the brim of his hat almost. He didn't really have much excuse, no one else to blame for his boredom other than himself, which was suddenly made clear to him over the course of the conversation. But the clueless male was not the type of individual to dwell and, after a moment of amusing himself with wacky designs drawn in the surface of the sands, he peered upwards again, his sheepishness seeming to vanish suddenly and his warm welcoming demeanor returning in the warm hue of his eyes. He pleasantly tipped his hat up and adjusted it so it no longer blocked his view, smiling casually across the short waves gently lapping at the space between himself and his chosen companion for the moment.

"So what 'bout you, ma'am? What are ya'll doin' out 'ere in these parts? Can't say I've seen ya around before."

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Post Status: Complete
Word Count: 391
Muse Status: Terrible
Summary: Drystan sheepishly admits that he had no plan or thought process surrounding his decision to come to the beach, the realization making him feel like a bit of a idiot. But he shrugs it off after only a moment and happily attempts to get some information out of the she wolf beside him.

Comments: Oh my heavens, is that the worst post you've ever read or what? >< My focus is like... dead right now. idk. I apologize for this crappy post. We've got to make something happen or something.

[Josef Ibn-Abad]

His yellow eyes watched from a distance as a man and woman conversed. His body was rigid, stiff and on alert. He did not like Louisiana. People with horrible accents, lots of guns and completely ignorant of other cultures. A sneer formed within his lips as he saw the man seemingly getting more comfortable in converse, trying to find the right words to say. He could already smell it; the beginnings of bad flirting - or so Josef assumed. Lousiana stunk. In his opinion, the people smelled like sweaty feet. All they seemed to eat was gumbo and with the incredible lack of intelligence most of the swamp junkies held, it astounding the Alpha that they were even able to go on with their daily lives. Darwins theory of evolution stated that people like this should have been killed off from their own stupidity.

That was why he remained in his wolvin form. The Alpha of New York, a mix of greys and browns did not look like the typical were. He was more... native in appearance. His ears flicked as his continued to pick up their occasional converse though he held his ground, even as his sneer remained. A male was near a female but not any ordinary female. Sombra Delgadillo. The last time Josef had seen Sombra had when she left New York. The two had a turbulent history and it seemed as though every time they started getting close, that feelings began to occur in some fashion between the two, both fled. It was irritating and frustrating. In so many ways Sombra and Josef were parallels of one another. They sync'd almost perfectly on every plane yet perhaps that was what scared the two wolves the most.

It has been two, possibly three months since their last encounter in New York. When Sombra had saved the life of the Alpha. She had experienced the politics of Wolf Packs of the North East United States first hand. She had met with the Oneida Tribe of Native Americans and more specifically their own pack of wolves. She had seen into Josefs life and she had not fled. On the counter, Josef had learned of Sombra and her ways of wandering. She was not happy settled down and explored anywhere she damn well pleased. Most men would have been sent running at such an independent woman and given the Syrians heritage, he should have been too yet... that impulse never occurred. Both Alpha's had been drawn one another and at the same time both Alpha's had grown uneasy with the developments between them. After the meeting with the Alpha's of New York neither Sombra nor Josef had been in the others presence, much less communicated... until now.

He'd been sitting on his hide, his ears down, the fur ready to stand. He wanted to bark, to let out some low noise to alert Sombra but the Syrian knew better. If Sombra did not know Josef was here, she would soon. Very soon. The breeze was no longer in Josefs favor, it was shifting and his scent would be sent her way, across her nose. His fur stood as he thought of another male near the Alphess, near Sombra. Yet where as inexperienced Male wolves may have lashed out, Josef not only understood himself and what he was. He understood Sombra. He understood what she expected of a wolf of Josefs caliber, her equal. Josef had gotten to Sombra.

With the utmost dignity, Josef continued to sit his eyes locked on the two wolves. Emotion had gotten the best of the two Alpha's the last time they were in the same presence. Emotion would not be a hinderance this time.

[*sombra delgadillo]

[atrb=width,300,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=c6c7c3] I ain’t exactly the type to think things through. Sombra’s immediate thought was; obviously. The she-wolf shifted quietly, staring with a skeptical expression at the werewolf that was before her. Really? It was what she kept thinking to herself, over and over and over again. Degadillo was not made to reek of elegance, smiles and warmth, she was not molded like many other women. In fact, she lacked a great many traits that made the “fairer sex” so appealing to men. It was that security that made her so near invincible. She was absolutely beyond permeation by sweet emotions and all pain that came with them. Unless you happened to be a Mercer. She’d carefully blocked out any thoughts of New York and those who lived there. She was her own soul, and the wolf was painfully aware of how attached the human had grown to the alpha there. It was one of the few things that made the animal want to bolt. There was nothing logical about emotion, no golden formula that would guarantee she would escape things unscathed. Perhaps that made her a coward, but first and foremost Sombra was a survivor. A warrior who’d seen her share of battles, sported her scars and her independence like a weapon. They were always there, these things, and they could not be taken from her. Well, independence could literally be stolen but figuratively? Her soul belonged to herself. No amount of torture or pain could coax her to surrender that power. Maybe that was penance for her incapacity to harbor your generic emotion. Maybe I’m making excuses for her shortcomings, or perhaps she’d grown accustomed to her flaws. Yes, Sombra knew she had faults, flaws…things that made her like a leper in so many situations on so many days and in so many instances. And there had been a time when she cursed this predicament she found herself in. Now? Now she could not make herself care any longer. She was what she was. Would’a brought a book or somethin’. She scowled, her temper so barely harnessed that the tearing of the shackles was audible in her lobes as her brows knit together – watching him make his idiotic shapes in the sand as if that settled the awkwardness of his presence. It didn’t. He was just being foolish. Could he really be so ignorant? So dumb? Or was he just uneducated? The lack of schooling was fixable, but stupidness? An incurable disease. Her voice had failed her for the most part thus far, but now it was time to respond. And she didn’t disappoint. ”I’m taking a vacation which would explain why you don’t know me. Now, is the fact that you’ve been here all day the only issue you take with your job?” Really?! She was frustrated, eyeing him like a gnat that had been buzzing around her head for the past hour when in reality she’d probably had this headache for a day or two now. But for a moment she would be distracted, or really the grizzly female was being prodded from a different side. Someone was watching her – that prickling sensation tickled her neck and her head snapped to the side, pupils narrowing further even in the luminous light of day. What she saw was unexpected, and she wasn’t entirely certain she knew what she was looking at in the beginning. Could just be a dog right? But the scent on the breeze crushed such hopes – the wolf’s hopes, but the woman? She probably could have cried with relief. She was starved for human socializing and Josef was an intelligent soul. And he looked prickly. A brow ticked towards the New York Alpha, the woman’s lips tugging back into a firmer frown as she breathed a slow sigh. Staring down at the sand for a moment, the breeze filled with the spiced scent of the familiar rolling through her crimson tendrils and teasing them up gently. Finally her gaze slanted towards Barret, skull tipping as she eyed him. ”If you think I’m intimidating then I suggest you steel yourself for this.” It was said shortly and she then allowed her stare to pivot back to the expectant alpha. She wasn’t moving. ”Well? Are you going to sit and stare all day?” It was said with the same frustration as she’d had with Barret for most of the conversation and she wasn’t misplacing her irritation. There was more than enough to go around. -------------------------------------------------- count: 746 outfit: later.. comments: Better.

[Josef Ibn-Abad]

Sombra was direct and blunt, the same woman Josef easily remembered from New York. Two months had been too long and if he had to put his finger or this case, paw upon it, he caught her off guard. The man's scent reeked, though that could have been personal judgment and not so much the scent of his musk on the air. Ibn-Abad was a highly territorial man who ruled New York City with an Iron Fist. Alphas not just in the United States but on other continents knew that when you stepped onto New York City's urban streets, you were in a Syrians domain. You were Josefs play thing should you break his laws.

”Well? Are you going to sit and stare all day?”

Did he pick up frustration on her voice? Josef learned two things about Sombra on their two separate but equally important encounters. She seemed to be at war within herself. She fully accepted being a were, as he did, but she struggled with her human side. She was not a orator, Josef was which often made their discussion lop-sided but not dull. If Sombra was not in the mood to listen to the thick accented Syrian voice of the man, she would bluntly say so. One of the many traits he admired of the Alphess.

The last six months had been a right -bitch to Josef. He had been nearly killed on three separate occasions by some twat of a Vampress. His house nearly burned down, the Federal Bureau of Investigation now had him under Surveillance and the majority of his old pack seemed to just have upped and left when things got too hot to handle. 'Cowards.' the wolf thought internally. It was one thing to run like Mercer did, in order to protect his sister. It was a completely different thing to run cause you were scared like the others. Ibn-Abad had instituted a harsh new rule on New Yorks streets, 'Any Wolf or Vampire seen frolicking with former Pack members of Josefs would be fed upon by Josef himself.'

Still within the last six months, Sombra had entered his life and quite frankly... she was a Godsend.

The wolf still sat, unmoving. His eyes remained locked on Sombra as thoughts continued to roll through his frontal lobe. He had just found her but she was sitting next to another male, a male on a lower part of the totem pole to be precise.

His lip curled again as a growl rumbled in his throat. He did not know this man, the man that sat next to his Sombra but the Syrian already did not like him. Josef would remain where he was, watching. Should the man try and get too friendly with Sombra, hell would break loose.

Oh yes.

There are reasons to fear an Arab and not just for what is shown on FoxNews and CNN.