loch | txt me maybe

SENT: 05:15 AM
I don't want to be protected.
I want to protect you.

That's what instinct tells me.

Edited 2013-10-27 22:57 (UTC)

SENT: 05:16 AM
i dont need protection

[ it is not the first and not the last time that chuck has confused needs for wants ]

SENT: 05:17 AM
You need me.

[ no reply comes. not by text, at any rate.

chuck throws his phone on a bellowed i don't need anyone. he isn't in hiding thereafter, but his avoidance is marked enough. ]

[ What people read in the magazines and see in the movies is bullshit. Shedding human skin for a wolf's fur isn't easy. It isn't romantic or glorious or even enjoyable. It's painful, like you're tearing out of your own body, like there's part of you that you can't wait to get rid of, and the only thing that's waiting for you on the other side is cold air in your lungs and blood.

Still when Mako comes looking for Chuck it's not with soft eyes and a girl mouth. It's with pale white fur, matted down with blood, and large eyes the color of jasper. ]

[ chuck has always thrived in that climate. one of violent upheaval. of change that claws and bites and drags. he defines himself only by what he can fist his hands in, or fit his jaws around- what pushes and pulls and tears. he knows mako will come, will seek him out, and when the white wolf comes to him, chuck keeps his human shape. turns his gaze on her without hesitation. ]

[ They sit on opposite ends of the spectrum so it's a wonder that they were able to meet on some kind of middle ground ever at all, even as children. Chuck clings to his wolf, to the gnashing of teeth and the snapping of jaws, while Mako stands with face turns towards her own humanity, looking upon it with a kind of forelorn lovesickness that's half nostalgia and half resentment.

He doesn't know what to do with her when she comes to him with wet eyes and her shiny black hair. Her human body is too transient, too breakable, too moral and Chuck only knows how to break things, how smash them to pieces and grind them into dust.

Like this, Mako stronger than him and like this he can't ruin her. That doesn't make her any happier about it but they understood each other once, when they were still cubs.

Blinking at him slowly she pads forward, the pink slice of her tongue licking her ruddied maw. ]

[ it's easy to listen to her. to her whispered words and to the lines of the wolf's body. they are equal forces in a way chuck can't explain but knows (knows) because it's the same pull his old man has. one that chuck follows even when he doesn't want to. one he bends to like the tide to the pull of the moon.

she thinks he must hate it, their humanity. their naked shoulders and small jaws and tapered fingers. that he must look at it the way becket does- down his nose and far away- the more distance, the better. but the truth is that chuck grew up as much a wolf as he did a boy- skinned his knees as often as he'd run on all fours. he doesn't hate his human form, and he doesn't hate the wolf- but they hold one another in a precarious balance.

and chuck can't belong to either one of them. (who is more to blame? the human for it's collapsed ribs and short stride? or the wolf, who couldn't protect his pack, his mate?) whatever he may have been as a pup, has changed. he isn't strong or full or wise- he doesn't look like mori or his father or becket. chuck never quite grows into his legs (they're too long) or his coat (an uneven smattering of color) and his tail is lean and narrow. something that survives but doesn't live.

he's all wrong.

the white wolf cleans her jaws and closes the distance. chuck turns his head away and avoids her gaze. ]

[ They would run together when they were young, nails clicking against the cement floors of the shatterdome, bare toes sinking into the soft earth on the rare occasion that their fathers would lead them away from the urban sprawl and out into the wild. When she was a girl Mako didn't like her wolf form; she hated the way it felt to change and the smell of blood would make her human form sick, a scrawny thing with milkpale limbs curled up and gagging amidst a ruin of animal skin. She would hide whenever she donned it, saving that lithe silhouette for moonlit nights and for behind closed doors. Chuck made it easier, of course, because Chuck made everything easier for her back then. (Not like now, when everything is tooth and nail. Blood from a stone. You, not us.)

Chuck looks away and Mako growls at him. (Growls like look at me. Growls like touch me.) As he turns, the line of the back of his neck sharpens along his shoulder and she feels the urge to bound upwards and sink her teeth in and never let go.

(Maybe he's right, maybe he's all wrong but Mako doesn't care and never has. She wouldn't be a wolf at all if it wasn't for him.

That makes her his, whether he likes it or not.
That makes him hers, too.) ]

[ chuck doesn't look back at her (despite the prickle that lifts up his spine, the one where his tail would stiffen and his ears would flicker forward) because he knows that's what she's telling him to do. he feels the naked bow of this throat when his attention moves away. the place where her jaw should come down and clamp closed- taste his life in her mouth.

he can't beat her and he isn't stupid enough to think otherwise.
so chuck avoids her because its the only other alternative. because if he's perfected nothing else- then its knowing what someone wants, and refusing to give it to them. ]

I said no.

txt me maybe

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