A Ghost of What Could Have Been

 The bay was oppressive.

 From the black sands that spilled out like slick oil against the ground, to the waves that had birthed her to this place and swept away her memory of anything meaningful but for a sense of loss, it made her sick. She had tried to stay there, find a comfortable spot to rest and figure out what was going on, but as the days passed she found no more peace than pain.

 So she had abandoned it, left it to the decorated woman who had swept through and swept away just as quickly.

 Onwards she had drifted, paws leading her through lands that had no meaning for her, no truth. There was no home here and she was in pain constantly - emotional turmoil pulling at her from within. She had no faces in her mind, barely snippets of potential names, only blurry forms through shadows. It was as if she was within the sea still, looking out into the sky that was her life. The water covered her eyes, stinging them, blurring her vision and forcing her to take deep, gasping breaths of nothingness.

 It was in that nothingness she found herself one late evening, the darkness of night surrounding her even as the thick mist settled upon the field, distant trees barely breaking up the silhouette of darkness. She'd come earlier, early enough to watch the sun drift to sleep over the far horizon and the sky above darken into nothingness. Early enough to see the moon in its tiny sliver slip up over the land, mocking her. Early enough to listen to the gophers as they sang their good nights and quieted for the night.

 She sighed and nestled deeper into the crook of a tree, its roots digging into her but she did not care. For at least the pain in her back was real.

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Here, he could smell him. The man who had assisted in bringing him life through a simple well timed donation to his mother - only to leave her to raise him and his brother on her own. His cursed blood ran through Abaddon and Almight's veins, leaving them to deal with the sickly pieces he had left behind to make sense of the world he had brought them into.

Father and son had only met a handful of times before this - the boy's memory was vague on the details but he could remember those eyes, the smell the hulking figure and the carelessness of his existence. 

So he was a ghost, a spectre, a ghoul of a life left long ago - cursed with the desire, the need to drink the blood of his fellow wolves to survive, something he had blamed his father for. In the mist his scent mingled with the air as Abaddon was certain his stomping grounds was near by.

He approached a tree who's roots poked out of the ground, tangling with the air as opposed to being buried deep down into the ground below. As he approached, the young man leapt to lang on one of the tangled roots, his claws digging into its air dried bark as he tried to get some kind of vantage point from here... oblivious to the woman who tried to sleep just inches away from his toes within the crook that offered her shelter.

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 The individual who Alastor could smell was nothing but another nameless, faceless, stink that every so often would drift in. It was distant enough not to worry the twin-tailed woman. This field had no stink of wolf-pack, had no heavy stench that meant it was claimed, that wolves would come to chase her out or eat her.

 Though, was that what packs did? She could remember faintly bits and pieces of packs. No names, somehow, though there were definite multiple entities. Different groups, different beliefs. She remembered white forms rising up, and vanishing, and then fear and pain and panic. The warmth she supposed had to be her parents. They had to be, right? She had to have had parents at some point, though the thought of parents drove a wedge into her throat. What had happened to cause her such discomfort at the thought of parents?

 Suddenly, a form shook her from her foggy thoughts. A white form - that fact sent shivers down her spine. It smelled male and it didn't appear to have noticed her yet. Still, she would not be cornered. “Hey, watch it!” She leaped forward, out of the crook of the tree, and spun around to face him, adrenaline flooding her and sending the world into start relief.

 In the dark, he shone.

 A name spun itself from the mists of her mind - those features were familiar but at the same time not. The white fur and the black streaks around his eyes. She murmured a name, far too soft for any wolf to hear but herself. Osiris.

 This was not Osiris.

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The soft chirping of crickets filled the air in an orchestra of vibration, this place almost felt like a dream if it wasn't filled with such nightmares brought on by the scent that lingered throughout. The last time he had met the man didn't go over all too well. Neither were all too interested in the other which made for it to be rather awkward... not quite the father one would dream of being reunited with.

Only mild shock came from him as something - someone had come out from right underneath his feet and starting barking out at him. Silently he studied her, taking in the strange sight he saw before even thinking about replying in any way. The golden ring from her nose glittered in the dim light, catching his eye and interest to think of how he wanted to just yank it out.

There was a thing around her neck too, a rope though he didn't know the word for what it was called. She was large, and strange from head to toe. “” He finally said with a cracked, crooked smile. Stepping down from his perch to see if he could circle around her just enough to see more of this huge, strange woman. “You are quite the specimen, aren't you?”

Honestly she was probably more manly-looking than Abaddon could ever be with his slender figure and angled appearance. “What do they call you?”

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 The odd pale stranger stared at her and she stared back, unnerved but unwilling to stand down. He had the strangest of eyes. Mostly a deep red, like blood, but shifting into a bright blue at his blacks. She met then warily, watching as his gaze drifted down and seemed to sit on her nose - and she became more aware of her ring than she ever had been. She made sure that while she was not snarling per se, her lips peeled slightly to warn of the threat that he'd be in if he came too close to that shiny little ring.

 She was a freak, sure, but she wouldn't let just anyone say so.

 So, when the white-furred beast who felt familiar but also not spoke and came forward to circle her, she spun with him, leaving no opening for him to dive in and do what it seemed all men wanted. “Excuse me?” she returned, brow creasing down as the rumble in her chest threatened to turn into an audible growl.

 Whether or not he meant it as an insult, she didn't trust just anyone, especially one who rang so true to something she didn't even remember. Had she been looking through that watery surface of her memory at this wolf at the same time as the one from her past, they would have looked nigh identical. He asked for her name, she assumed, and she tried to think quickly on what she might say. Not her real name, no, but what else? Fuck it, screw fakes. She didn't have the brainpower for fake identities right now, not when she felt so lost and confused and, while she hid it well enough behind her soldier-like air, afraid.

 “Why should I tell my name to someone who looks like he wants to cut me open and study me.” Meissa squinted at him. “What do they call you, mystery man?”

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here is a sleepy post for you!

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Already she was furious with him. Spitting back an "excuse me" as he called her a "specimen". Which frankly, was the softest way for him to put it. “Would you rather me be more candid in my approach?” For if she wanted him to lie, well, that wasn't going to happen. Not here, not now at least. The ghoul of a boy wasn't above sprinkling in some lies here and there to spice up either his or someone else's life after all. 

Certainly she would be able to take him. She was much larger than he was and possibly far more aggressive too from the looks of it. Though he would be sure to take that fucking nose ring of hers if they did wind up clashing teeth as his little participation prize.
 
“Now, why would I do that?” Well, she wasn't completely off the mark there. The idea of studying the insides of someone else was an intriguing thought, but perhaps he would do so with a casualty of war, or a mistake should he fuck up biting someone again and drain just a little too much from them. “You are of an unusual type, it would be a waste to destroy such a miraculous looking creature like yourself.” Well, at least he thought he was complimenting her. 

With a shrug he stopped circling her to see more of this giantess as she would not give him the opportunity. Not yet at least. “I go by many names. Ghost-snake, Alastor, Abaddon, Draven, Ghoul — take your pick or make your own.”

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 To that, she did not answer, instead watching him warily. Honestly, she wasn't sure what she would rather or what she wanted at all. Probably not have someone eyeing her up like a piece of meat, she supposed, but whatever. Honestly, had she encountered him in a more reasonable time in her life, she might have been more sociable, but currently she was quite unstable.

 Miraculous?

 She supposed that it was a miracle that she was alive, with the odd memories she had shifting behind the sands of her mind. She eyed him warily anyways, unsure.

 He spoke of names and none of them sounded familiar in the slightest. She figured it was probably safe to say she had never met this particular white wolf before, even if he looked so very familiar. “I'm Meissa.” Of Sicher she almost said, then remembered herself. It had been a long time since she had called that desert her home. It had fallen, been washed away in the sand, long ago. At least... that's what she thought. It felt like a distant memory, a name that tugged at her from the past but would not reach into her present.

 “What is this place?” she asked, shifting the conversation away from herself as she idly shifted away from him, still watching and at the ready in case he decided to attack her. She wasn't in the mood for a fight, honestly, but if he tried to come at her she would have to defend herself. And then run, probably. “Is it always so foggy here?” He'd probably have a bit more experience here than she had, anyways.

 She wondered if these foggy fields and woods could hide her well enough to flee if she needed to. If she lay under bushes, maybe the whites of her pelt could be covered up enough so that she could hide until the sun came and cleared the mist.

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She had every right to side-eye him. To be suspicious of his motives and keep an eye on him at all times. Honestly, if they didn't, if no one was cautious around the ghoul he would probably be feasting every day on their blood. Soaking in it instead of that beautiful perfume permeating his coat. And he would wear the red with absolute pride.

None would die, no. For that would be such a pitiful waste. Even now he mourned every body that fell under his sick perversion being satisfied a little too much. Because if they died - then they would be gone. Forever. Never to be enjoyed by him ever again.

As she moved so did he, mirroring her movements like some kind of waltz to try and get them synchronized if not move in a little closer. Inch by inch as to be careful not to swallow the distance between them too quickly. She seemed skittish, wanting to flee at any second given any sign to her to fear him. But why would she... he was but a friendly ghoul. All he wanted was a closer look.

There was no answer for her question right away as he paused to see if she would clarify what Meissa meant by "here". Here as in the world they found themselves in, or here as in the field of fog that crawled along their fur and around their toes?
 
“I've only been here a handful of times, but each time it has been. So I assume the answer is yes.”

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 Meissa remained on the high alert, moving away even as he moved forward. She could sense him trying to reach closer and she did not wish to allow it, still entirely too distrustful of the man to allow him close enough to even feel her breath. It was not that she feared males, but she had only had bad experiences with them, she felt. Especially, she thought, flashy white ones who definitely had motives that she would probably not be keen on.

 She had no desire to be any man's plaything, not today.

 It was not fear that spilled from her, but distrust.

 Still, she pushed the conversation on, away from herself and on to the surroundings. On to things that she could use, perhaps - things that would benefit her. “Weird.” This was getting no where. “What do ya know about the surrounding areas? Packs, things like that?”

 And even still, she would keep him at a careful distance.

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It was some kind of dance they were performing. Abaddon didn't want her wandering too far away from him, and so he let her remain at a certain distance... but nothing more. He would continue to keep their distance by advancing just enough to keep them tethered comfortably in a conversation, but never encroaching into her personal space more than he already had.

There was no point in frightening her away now after all. 

She continued with her own purpose in this meeting, asking away with her own questions while he simply stood and smiled. Carefully shadowing her movements. “Knowledge id precious, and I'd hate to openly give what I have without anything in return.” He grins. Knowing only a little himself, it was still enough to hold precious and dangle as some kind of bait to see if he can earn her trust. Even just a little sliver of it by bargaining. 
 
“Do you know much of these lands to share, I'm quite flexible with what I am willing to take in exchange for my knowledge.”

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 The man was a snake. He unnerved her.

 The discomfort, terror, and plain distrust flared within her and she stilled, eyes clasping onto the man with sharp focus. He spoke of taking, of exchange, and she knew what boundaries she was comfortable in crossing, and whatever the man had in mind, she wasn't about it. Her tails curled up behind her and she spoke evenly, “I'm not prepared to give anything, so this meeting is done.”

 She was tired and she did not feel like this little game with this stranger, this man. Had he been female, this entire situation would have gone differently. The mere fact that he was male meant that he was inherently dangerous to her and it meant that from the moment they interacted, he was a potential threat. No matter that she was twice his size and heavier still, that she could likely crush him if she wished to.

 He was a man.

 No.

 One mistake meant that he could take what he wanted.

 “Good luck but don't follow me.” She spoke as a soldier now, standing tall and staring the man down. He would undoubtedly not care a whiff about what she had to say, but she was in no mood for anything from this man, be it flirtation or a flight or something else. His speak of exchange had triggered something within her, a special place of righteous anger.

 She longed to flee into the woods, to find a real place to hide. These mists would not do, she had to go further, further. South? Perhaps. Somewhere beyond this man's hunting grounds, somewhere she would not be a target. She would never be this man's whore.

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