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Things that go bump in the night
And the things that bump back
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15th-Sep-2005 11:18 am
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16th-Jul-2006 02:25 am (UTC)
(( Brilliant. I hit tab and enter at the same time. not even a chance to spellcheck. ahh well carrying on))

She went to school typical enough. Not quite a part of the normal social crowd, still current enough in her attitudes not to be distinctly outcasted. She spent most of her afterschool times within the countryside she loved so much, or stealing rides from boys with motorcycles to felt he wind in her hair and forget aobut her school obligations. Life was simple.

It was not until the later years of school that things changed. unexpectedly and without answers. At sixteen she came home from school and the house was silent, as it never was. She waited for her family to come home, worried. he waited for her father to return from work. She waited into the night, next day, and following. She waited weeks but they would never come. Suddenly orphaned and old enough to know what that truly meant, left with no home after the estate was found dry and not a caring relative to think of, the silence she once loved now deafening as voices raged through her bewilderment. She was carted off into dublin; into a small welfare house just a step up from an orphanage. Into a thick city living as sharp as it could be cold and dangerous and she did what every bannister would suspect in every sterotypical judgment set against her in later years. She found the streets. She found hard times. She found drugs. She found pain. At twenty one with her back against the wall outside Trinity college, mind in a fog from her latest trip she can swear she heard something she had heard in her childhood. And she followed it, some kind of wisful breath of a song once murmmered in the country she lingered in her youth, clearly an induced illusion of the drugs today. It did not matter. She followed it. Hours later, her body thrown over a tombstone in a cemetery not very far from old-town Dublin and every bit afraid; she could not know how her life had changed and why. She would never remember what happened that night; what she had followed, how it had taken her across the paths of Lycans and who had bit her. Even when the howling rage takes her at the glimmer of the full moon and memories rage fiercer then they ever had, she never would remember what happend.

She would remember him though. Not quite a lord, but clearly a leader. His old house and the many others hiding in there waiting for the moonlight to grow full, feeding off of their own memories and the heat of wild blood. It was within fighting part of what she became that she found strenght again. Something aobut it make her reconcile with her family's death and take on old strength. She went back to school, of sorts. took on knowledge and protection with a fervor, fought everything aobut her that had taken to vice with the leader of this packs fair eye willing her on. And then when had taken her farther then she ever thought she would go, english barrister at 31. Strong protecting member of the pack and highly regarded as the second behind him, she finally learned to let go and be on her own again. The leader gave her a ticket to New York and sent her on her way; for no other reason then for her to learn how to be as magnificently strong as her heart was.

So she came to New York with elegant connections, neither part of a pack nor truly on her own. She found herself a nice brownstone near the heart of central park. She walked the streets alone, listening silently to the people around her, a small smile on her lips as if trying to train away who she was for the sake of their voices. She remained an ordinary person in an ordinary life again, and yet under all of that was the secret and the promise that all that strong rebellion that had gotten her here, would be brought to use again on her next step in life....

LJ Name for the character: Kerys_gharen

((Posting again))
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