When a [bullet] passes t h r o u g h;; (boundaries of the U N D E R W O R L D)

"Agh!"

((Sorry for the crap post, I've never been shot, couldn't relate ;)))

Slowly, droopily, her eyes peeked open, slicing through the dark that was her cave, or room, in the den of the Courroucé. There was an apartment that held her belongings, which was basically clothes and music, but it had been too difficult to find the night, or early morning beforehand. The late night/early morning before had been full of wild partying, drinking, and lines of cocaine. The nightclub was always packed with the same people – normal humans that soon became strippers powered by booze, boys that acted like players, the movement of vampires just looking for a good time, lycans doing the same, and just a variety of people that ranged from the local cheerleader types, jocks, preps, punks, Goths, artists, and just the crazy people that loved to party. That werewolf could be labeled as some of the last ones, but that didn’t really matter. She always hung around the same crowds – when the night began, the people by the bar as she took down a shot or two and a beer, after that the people in the back lounge where she smoke the marijuana or snorted the lines or white powder, and then later out on the dance floor until she left, bumping, grinding, and sweating to the beat.

The dark in the room had something to do with the general whereabouts of the room, but it also had a little something to do with the fact that Danica had put black fabric all around the small room that she claimed as her own. If somebody entered, she’d be able to smell when she stopped by. She was more of a rogue within the pack, but still took their hospitality as it came. All that she gave a damn about was herself, but that wasn’t all too entirely shocking. The only things in this room were a mattress on the floor and clothes spewed about, not to mention some blankets. She lay sprawled out on the mattress in nothing but a hot pink bra and black boxer underwear with the blanket twisted around her body. Her head hurt, but that was normal for her really, it was just like every other day. She had become immune to this pain, a little bit of Advil, which probably wasn’t smart on a stomach of curdled alcohol, and things would be fine. Of course her head hurt, she mixed drugs with alcohol. It was a surprise she hadn’t been kidnapped by now.

What time was it and was it day or night? Well, it didn’t really matter. Getting up slowly, stretching those powerful muscles, accompanied by a yawn, she crawled around on the floor to find her clothes. Finally finding them, they were put on one at a time. First the black tights, next the shorter-then-short shorts, and then a simple white shirt that formed too tightly to her body, revealing the neon colored bra. Finally digging around for the shoes, she came to the conclusion that she only had one of the pearly white high-heeled shoes. Not wanting to really walk around without shoes, Dani scrounged around some more and found a pair of pale pink Eskimo looking boots and pulled them on. Matching in clothes wasn’t really something she came to do. It was part of her style really. Already she had in her bullring nose ring, a silver hoop in one of the holes in her lips, different, bright-colored studs in both ears, dangly bracelets of multitudes of neon colors and even a piece of blue string wrapped around her wrist several times, and an obsidian black heart necklace the formed to the crevice of her cleavage. Feeling her breath was a little rotten, she found a pair of jeans and searched them for something in particular – gum! Finding a pack, a stick was soon shoved into her mouth. The blonde and deep red hair probably looked a mess, but the good way anyway, like she had just rolled out of bed…which she had.

Getting out of the stuffy room, eyes adjusting to the light, and headed out, passing the warehouse. Taking in a big whiff of the briny air, which shouldn’t have been possible since they weren’t near a sea, she smelt blood, a lot of it, and a werewolf in distress. Taking off at a run, she quickly entered the warehouse, moving through crates and other crap to find the source of it. It was her own; that much was certain, she was on their territory. Not bothering for introductions, Miss Caprice stooped down onto her knees, blood soaking into the tights, and examined the damage. It was a regular bullet, but if never pulled out, it could eat away at her companion’s flesh. Looking around, she found a leather strap that looked like it belonged to a harness, passing it along to the injured woman, her orange nail polish reflecting on its own accord. ”This is gonna hurt.” She wasn’t one to help anybody unless in dire situations – this proved to be dire. As soon as she had that strap in her mouth, Danica grabbed a towel, anything really, and sopped up as much blood as possible, trying to clear her sight from the red liquid, not having an urge to eat it, even though her kind were prone to eating their injured. It had shattered the bone, but the werewolf body should be able to repair that if set right, but there was a chance she’d have a limp for a few days, maybe even weeks, it’d go away with time though. Not bothering with the tweezers, she plunged her petite, nimble fingers in, searching for the bullet, listening for the screams. It wasn’t comforting to have a human hands moving through your body. The horror of this didn’t bother the bitch at all. Her fingers soon clung to a bullet, the other hand holding the body down, and pulled it out, hands pooling with blood. ”Out, but I should probably stitch you up to stop the bleeding.” Oh, what good news, yes?

"Thanks.."

”Out, but I should probably stitch you up to stop the bleeding.”

"I'm guessing your kind of stitching would not involve any medical disolvable string, but simple cotton? Fun."

There had been things in her past that had and hadn’t really prepared her for things like this – bullet wounds and all that jazz. Killing had toughened her up, the stench, sight, and taste of blood became most familiar in the long days of booze and drugs. Sticking her hand through a leg into blood didn’t bother her, besides, once upon a time, there had been quite the fascination for the anatomy of a body – for studying, not feeling up. Bones, intestines, blood and guts were just things that thoroughly made her happy, in an emotional sense. Not much anymore though, it just wasn’t passionate as it once was. Shooting off guns helped her know the projectiles way, the distance it could travel, and what being shot felt like. But there hadn’t been anything that would prepare her for surgery. She didn’t even really know how to sew, but Danica felt that she shouldn’t be explaining that to her fellow wolf. It probably wouldn’t really go over well and more panic would ensue, not that she was really panicking at all. There were days she never went outside and only watched TV, so she’d seen enough doctor shows to know what to do. Plus, it was a certain instinct one knew.

”No trouble for me.” The tone was flat, like she was trying to concentrate hard on something. Looking around, she threw the bullet on the floor. If the woman, whom she knew as Isis, wanted it, she could go crawling around for it, but it probably wasn’t a token that she desired. If she wanted one that badly then another fight would follow with a gun. Being shot wasn’t anything new anymore for their kind. However, Dani had made sure to not be hit by such a flying object, just shoot them off herself. Really, she was looking for something that might be proved useful patching up the wolf in front of her. It would be a shitty, rushed job, but that was better then nothing. Really though, shouldn’t she have been shaking or feeling sick from the hangover of both coke and beer? Probably, but it was the fast-pace stuff that really made her calm and collected, unless she desired to be wild and rowdy. Anything would be better then nothing for stitching this bitch up.

”It’s gonna hurt either way, really,” she said some what sympathetically, which was a leap from the normal bitchy tone. Looking around, she found a piece of thin, flexible wire that looked like it belonged in the filament of a light bulb. Looking at the injured woman, she only shrugged as if to say ‘sorry about this, but brace yourself because this won’t be feeling good.’ Quickly, she formed what looked like a knot at the end of the wire. Holding down her foot, she used those oddly colored fingernails to start poking the wire through the skin, and Danica didn’t even bother trying to be gentle about it either. Through one side, out the other, through the side, out the other trying to get as close as possible. It took about maybe ten minutes and sometimes she had to pull the wire out because it had gotten to close to the edge of the skin so it had just broke right away. Finding some wire cutters, she snipped off the rest of the wiring, hitting her thighs with her hands. Now her knees were numb and soaked with blood, but she could only imagine how Isis was feeling. ”Good as I can do.” It looked all red and not fun. She was so happy that it wasn’t her in this situation.

”Good as I can do.”

"Much better than I could have done.."

"Probably would have passed out half way through.. Stupid vampires.."

"How're you here? Most people are out now.."

"Had food?"

In all actuality, as strong as Danica was, she wasn’t as strong as Isis. Half the time when she got shot she was so high that her body was already numbed up from the drugs. So, needless to say when she went poking around for the shrapnel, nothing could really be felt except the feeling that there was a giant worm wriggling its way through the flesh. It was kind of cool, but then again, being stoned made people think the stupidest things. Sometimes the room would spin or people would talk in a monotone voice. On the other occasion she got shot and wasn’t stoned, the supposedly ‘bad ass’ werewolf cried digging out the metal and patching it up, but then again the stitching wouldn’t involve wire but string. Talk about feeling out done though. Isis didn’t even shed a tear, mostly just screamed a lot, but that was making her feel very out done. There was the half-hearted urge to just find a sledgehammer and take it to her kneecaps, leave her there to bleed out, and then come back and bandage her up again just close to death. That, however, was the crazy psychotic side of her that only came out when she hadn’t fed in awhile. She fed several times the night before so there were no worries.

Much better? It was a whole hell of a lot easier to ‘perform’ something on somebody else then your own person mostly because it wasn’t you that had to experience the pain. Of course, there was the weak person that had a heart feeling so bad for doing it that they just couldn’t do it or were shakier then the person they were ‘performing’ on. It also helped that this bitch didn’t really care if her actions caused pain to others. While she could be physically numb, thanks to a little catalyst, her mind and emotional status was virtually numb. There hadn’t really been any training for this, Danica just seemed to be born with this feature. It wasn’t her fault, but this little detail came quite in handy when feeding or when fighting somebody. Oh, sweet fighting, that was where the fun truly lied, well, part of it. The simple things that heightened the pleasures were all she really needed.

Getting up, she listened to the mumbling, not really bothering trying to catch what she was saying. The best bet was that some vampire did this. Those vermin really should have been destroyed, but there wasn’t much part in worrying about it, there was a joy in chasing after them and fighting them, even if you limped away worse then them. Odds were good that the injured wolf in front of her hadn’t left the vampire perfectly spotless. Standing up to her petite form, Dani stretch out her legs, both her butt and legs pricking with the sensation of falling asleep. Her knees were stiff from being crouched on the cement floor for so long. The blood in the threads of her tights stuck dried to her knees, but they didn’t look completely weird, the crimson liquid merely making the black of the tights darker. Why was she here? She held back the look of disgust, as if a vampire sat in front of her. Few people pried into her personal life, but she figured it wasn’t going to kill anything. Plus, she had just kind of helped her out. ”I just woke up.” The way she said it was in the tone as if it was the most simplest answer out there. Her REM was the most messed up.

In a quiet whisper, her stomach growled. Contrary to her size, the woman ate a lot and was hungry almost twenty-four seven, and not always for blood and meat from a human. ”Not recently, no. But are you really in the shape for getting food?” Rather it was some greasy slop from a diner or a frolicking Parisian man, she didn’t think Isis was all that qualified to go out. ”I mean, can you even stand?” she asked matter of factly. Lie she had proved her point, her arms crossed in front of her chest. It was said in a not too warmly of a tone and it really made sense. If Dani were nice, she’d offer to go pick up something since Isis would need food to build up the strength in her body to produce more hemoglobin. But she wasn’t nice, was she?

"Probably not.."

"But I can try, right?"

"And even if I can't get anything particularly good, at least I'll have had something.."

"If you aren't coming I'll go alone, I don't really care.."

"Much better,"

"So are you coming, yes or no?"

((This is a crappy post. I used a lot of ‘she’ and ‘her’ and I’m always self-conscious about those.))

Of course a person, be it some sort of dysfunctional one with wolf or bat DNA, could certainly try, just like she could certainly try not being the way she was. Then again, the person that she was and the person now were two different people, and the one that was there was the one well liked for her. The one that partied, did the drugs, listened to the rock n roll much too loudly, and drank a little too much. Until that lifestyle became too old for her, then things weren’t going to be changing much. Imagine all the people that she could be – an artist, a cop, a poet, or a bartender, but leave it to Danica to choose the drunken whore. It was in her genes from the beginning with her father being the way he was. After her mother died, he went back to his roots; performing in rock bands, bringing home random girls, enjoyed using roofies on himself, and was just a reckless, fun mess that blew their mother’s insurance money and drugs. It was no wonder she turned out the way she was. It was true – like father like daughter. So much time had passed it seemed that she had even though of remembering her mother. The image of the mother figure wasn’t seared into her brain anymore. Heartache was felt for Mom.

Drawing attention to the now standing Isis, a mere head nod followed to the statement of eating little would be better than nothing. It was true, but the not was mostly for her own benefit since she had gotten trapped in old memories and the wide-eyed doe expression was not becoming upon those delicate features. There were many moments in soberness that memories caught up with her and Dani didn’t like it one bit. It was just all the reminders that were telling her of how much of screw up she really was and how Julie/Mom would not be proud of her daughter. But shouldn’t have good ole Mom realize that Daddy dearest might actually play some sort of fucked up roll in their daughter’s life? Hadn’t she once loved him in the state of complete drunkenness? These thoughts, unfortunately, roamed through the brain like a herd of bison. This only propelled the drinking – to get rid of all of those unfortunate thoughts. There were no more images of Dad doing it on the couch with a joint in his mouth. God, life had sucked for her. Depressing over it wasn’t going to get her anywhere. What was Dad up to anyway? Was he even alive? Perhaps she had better call at some point, but who the hell knew where he’d be. Ireland? Russia? Scotland? Canada? The man moved more than tumbleweed.

Caught up again, ember eyes fell upon the form of the wolf of Isis. It wasn’t a shock, just unawareness that made her forget what was going on. Bison. That was what her lust for blood was after, but getting it in France was like getting a penguin in the Serengeti Desert. Shaking her head in much of a bramble of a nod and a shake – up and down, side to side. This made her look like a fool, but did that matter? Uh…no. Even though her pack mate spoke in a growl, there was the ability to still communicate. They were both dogs after all. ”No, I’ll go. I’m starving.” Quickly, Dani changed in front of the other wolf’s eyes. The fur was not pink or black or blue or any other color her hair was usually. It was a common misconception really. In fact, the pelt was a nice off set shade of gray. It even looked quite glossy. Wolf form was smart for the injured since it was easier to limp on four, or three, then two, or one. Taking initiative, the gray wolf took off out the warehouse into the air, not bothering to slow down…at least too much. ”Where to?” This started as a low growl into a bark. Talking dog was just so fun and odd, just like grey wolf.

((Me too, but the post is fine, better than the ones I write :)))

"Does it matter? Just keep walking until we hit a town.."

”Okay.” It didn’t really matter, but she thought that she would at least try to be considerate. Apparently it wasn’t her thing. Perhaps there had been a place Isis liked to particularly hunt or if she just wanted to limp somewhere to take down easy prey. Town was fine though. There was much more variety on who to choose – some brightly clothed hippy chick with bongos on her back or a dark clothed man with a canvas in front of him that would soon hold a new painting of spilt blood. Their cove seemed to be wonderfully placed right next to the newly made lake where people often came. It was fun chasing down pray in the sand, but she only did it to be cruel. Dani would just snarl at whoever was around until they went off running down shore where she’d follow, but act like a happy little puppy, tongue out, ears flopping everywhere, and her paws in the surf. If she wasn’t a wolf, there was much of her that would like to be part fish, a mermaid so to speak. She always had loved water. It was just a nice perk to live next to it, especially when the moonbeams hit the luminescent water in a dark night.

Night had always pushed something into her blood system that made her happy and alive, pumped and ready to live. Then again, night seemed to be the staple of all life, even to those vampire bastards. Nights of the full moon had once provided the werewolves that came before the right to live in their so called ‘true state’ and nights were the time of day where vampires could come out and reek havoc on all those that were around. It was no wonder that their kind enjoyed the cloak of shadows. Hell, even humans enjoyed mistress moon. The shadows allowed a sense of serenity, a kind of can’t-see-evil-can’t-know-its-there. Sure, the darkness spooked them, but why not? Beasts and murderers looked there, waiting for the opportune time to strike. Once upon a time, when Danica was normal, not the drug-hounding alcoholic seen now, she loved to sit out on top of her roof to watch the stars and listened to the crickets. That was back in Virginia, back before the Caprice family moved off to the Big Apple, the place that probably screwed her over the most.

Isis’s plan was as good as any, and not truly being a leader or a follower, the gray wolf pretty much kept up with the brown wolf’s pace. It didn’t matter when they got there; she had all the time in the world, but she would make sure that she didn’t walk too fast or too slow. It might have been compassion to make her do this, but it was just the way she was walking really. Her normally somewhat slow place was able to stay even with her companions’. Even in human form her place was slow and melancholy. It wasn’t like she had deadlines to make with anything or that people were expecting the woman to be anywhere. There weren’t any obligations for her in her life. Sometimes Dani went around wishing that there were, but too much excitement would lead to other things. What those things were she didn’t know, but it didn’t quite matter. Really, her life was quite dull, but that was her choice right? Maybe, just for experiments sake, she’d try to make friends or…something from her pack. Who knew what’d happen? That was a long ways off.

The silence between them wasn’t unbearable, actually quite peaceful for her. Besides, she was concentrating on smelling out some prey or listening for anything around. Occasionally, her tongue would lap out into the air to pick up particles of all different sorts. There would be moss, sand, salt, bark, and even the faint taste of ash from a bonfire off in the distance. It was rather quite fun to go hunting right in the middle of the city. So much unexpected business could happen! Who knew what the night would bring for the somewhat friendly strangers?

snap

When one has been transforming here and there since birth, becoming, what was in essence their true state, a werewolf was practically a way of life. As a child, it was easy to customize to the form of a wolf since you were already short enough to not exactly be bothered with the lack of length in human form. Besides, you had just come out of a state on all fours, why not go back into one, but with much more power? Since birth, her mother and father had appointed themselves in teaching their daughter of what she truly was straight off. By five she had mastered transforming. The hunting became a problem since there was always a curiosity in going after a human, but Mom and Dad didn’t want any of that happening. They had kept her mundane, hunting animals with four legs as well. It was the ‘food chain’. Wolves didn’t attack humans often, so they stuck with what wolves did attack. It was Virginia, so there were plenty of four-legged things hopping or galloping around. Of course they made her start off with small game, but she was only so young. Perhaps it would have been easier to wait until she was older, but they were able to manage.

After the town started getting suspicious, they moved to New York City. That had to have been the place that truly screwed her up. When she became a teenager, drugs and booze entered into her life, as well as men of all different ages. But what virtually pushed her over the edge was her mother’s death and a father that believed grief was going back to the old life style that involved women, drugs, alcohol, and rock n roll. He left her on her own, traveling wherever his heart so desired; Romania, Russia, Scotland, Canada, and anywhere that he could get to. Loving dad went to dead-beat dad, but that was probably for the best since Dani didn’t want him seeing what she was doing. While dead-beat dad still-hunted animals, she took to tasting, occasionally, a humans’ flesh. A human was the best prey of all since they could really put up a fight. If any of the wolves weren’t wolves, would they be so damn bloodthirsty? Same with the vampires, but they weren’t mortal anymore. It seemed that the name transformed them into more than bat or wolf.

Even as wolf, she was ultimately slow in pace, but it wasn’t that she was that far behind or trying to watch Isis’s tail wag back and forth. Paying keen attention, eyes traveled to where her hunting companion and looked. There he was; a slow one that would do her well. In the briefest of seconds, she looked for her own target as Isis took off after the man, sending people scattering and screaming. Looking for a fighter, she caught sight of a man jogging in perfect proportion in the fastest of ways. The gray wolf took off after him, feeling the adrenaline pound through all four of her feet. Each time she hunted, the flashback of killing a friend settled heavily into her mind. No, she didn’t blame herself or the alcohol and drugs ingested the day it happened. The brunt of the blame fell upon her parents. If they had just let Danica hunt humans when she wanted to, she wouldn’t have been so tempted to show off in wolf form, ultimately killing a friend. Her parents, both dead to her, had enabled her to kill a human now so she wouldn’t kill somebody that meant something to her later.

Gaining speed, which wasn’t hard at all being what she was, it was simple to catch up to the jogger, but being cruel and heartless, she slowed so no distance was gained between them. It was fun to scare them a little bit. Besides, he was now going in the general direction where nobody was. That made her mind up, when they were alone, because she’d easily go off and find somebody else to bring down. Gaining speed again, wanting to feed, she tackled him ever so gracefully, like a moving piece of art. In the matter of seconds, Danica had him down, mouth biting his neck giving it a nice snap. She was not in the mood to let one suffer tonight. Sometimes feeding just made her sick, but it was just so fun! Claiming her prize, she got a good grip on him and dragged him out of sight, back in the direction of a buildings shadow, beginning bite into the flesh. She wasn’t worried about Isis, wolves were independent so they could find each other if they so wished. One knew not to interrupt a werewolf while eating.

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