Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

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 [Closed] Strictly Business

[Closed] Strictly Business

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[Closed] Strictly Business

Peyton Marx | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Mon Jun 01, 2015 3:14 pm

Thread Details

Peyton's House | overcast | 9:07 a.m.

OOC Message
This post is backdated to early May.
Part 1 of 2 (because I needed a break and  it wouldn't let me draft)

Everyone had secrets. Some were pretty big and others were so insignificant that you wondered why people even gave a shit about keeping in quiet in the first place. I knew this first hand because I'd spent plenty of time in people's heads hearing that kinda thing cross their minds. Some creep having an affair and plotting out an excuse for his wife, cliche crap about fake a business trip. Or a teenager worrying about whether their parents would notice the alcohol she'd pilfered from the liquor cabinet. I'd heard so much boring crap like that when I'd been practicing with my gift, it'd been a necessary evil to make sure I could use it to it's full ability. I sure as hell hadn't done it because I wanted to hear about people's bullshit. At least I never really had to do that any more seeing as I rarely went fucking with people's heads unless I could help it. 

But I'd be lying if I said I'd never used my gift for my own benefit. Not exactly personal gain or anything monetary, even though I probably could if I tried. There were a shit tonne of ways to scam money but I wasn't interested in that kinda shit. Nah, usually I just used it for revenge if someone pissed be off. Maybe that was petty but it wasn't like I gave a fuck. If someone acted like an asshole then I didn't see why I should take the moral high ground or whatever. 

My asshole neighbor was one of those people I'd been using it on for less than nice reasons. He was some stupid stoner who hadn't been able to move on from the the college lifestyle, something made clear by the blaring of shitty techno music and four in the morning and stupid crap he wore. It started with his idiot friends throwing empty beer cans on my lawn but over time it had definitely escalated until we were pretty much at war. Sure, calling the cops and making a complaint would've been easier but painting a big ol' dick on his door had been way more fun. He knew it was me too seeing as the house on the other side of him was owned by some old broad but he had no way of proving it. And over time I'd 'eavesdropped' on him enough to have crucial ammunition stored away. Like the pot he was growing in his garage. Pot I was going to give some special 'medicine' since technically he wasn't about to get in that much trouble for it here in Washington. 

Fast-acting weed killer was the plan of action. Idiot never remembered to looked the side door to his garage and I was about to take advantage of that fact. I knew from his thoughts that they were nowhere near grown enough for him to try smoke so it wasn't like I was crossing the line and trying to kill him or anything. Just kill his plants and piss him off. Pretty innocent really. Unlike him leaving fucking roadkill on my porch. So I waited until he left for his shitty check-out boy job and grabbed the container before slipping out the front door and heading for the fencing that separated our properties. I dropped the container over, having to reach up since it was a few inches taller than I was. I hoisted myself up and just as I was about to drop down the other side I heard the sound of nearby footsteps and for an irrational moment my brain decided it must be him. I jolted, losing my balance and toppling right back into my own yard, jarring my shoulder painfully. 

The stream of curses that left my mouth after that would probably make a nun faint and I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so pissed off at myself. Especially now that I could tell the footsteps were coming from my own front lawn. Why the fuck would it be him and even if it had why the fuck would I give a shit? I hauled myself to my feet, rubbing my shoulder and storming around the side of my house to see who the fuck had cause my moment of stupidity. No way was it my fault alone. I cleared the corner just as the mailman was bending down to slide my post through the letterbox. Fuck, I wanted to punch him right then. Or myself. Just punching something in general would make feel a shitload better. I cleared my throat loudly, feeling a brief flicker of satisfaction when he jumped, his hand flying up to his chest as he turned to me. "Oh, hello. Don't worry I'm not trying to break in, just delivering the mail." He was obviously trying to make a joke, but I was in no mood for that crap. I crossed my arms and arched my brow, waiting. He must have realized I wasn't going to reply because he cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. "I'll just be going then." I rolled my eyes and watched him until he was back on the street heading for my neighbors house. Maybe he'd done me a favor after all. Falling on my ass was better than being caught breaking and entering.

I headed for the door, pulling it open and grabbing the mail from the floor and stood in the doorway. I was expecting a payoff for an off the books job I'd done the week before and I figured I might as well make check for it while I waited long enough to be sure the mailman was done with next door before going back to finish what I'd started. I almost thought about just grabbing the weed killer and forget the rest of the plan but then the memory of the smell off that dead animal came back and I clench my jaw. Yeah, that was so not fucking happening. I was definitely not one of those 'turn the other cheek' people. The only time you'd ever catch me letting someone hit me was so I'd have the self defense claim when I knocked them the hell out. 

The next letter shook my focus away from my thoughts, my eyes focusing on my handwritten name on the envelope. I didn't want to admit it but I recognized the handwriting. Why was I getting a fucking letter, what was wrong with using a goddamned phone? What was this, some 'letters from a nobody'-type shit. Or had I traveled back in time without fucking realizing it. The memory of the last time I'd talked to him surfaced and I sneered down at it. I was already feeling pissed off over the whole falling off a fence issue, I sure as hell didn't need something adding to that. Especially since it had to be pack business. That was the deal after all, no talking about anything if it wasn't strictly business. Not that I was in any fucking bothered by that. Why would I be? You had to give a shit in the first place for something to bother you. Whatever the hell it was it could damn well wait, I had far more enjoyable things to be doing with my time then reading some stupid fucking letter. I dropped my mail back inside and closed the front door.

#Closed #Solo

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Re: [Closed] Strictly Business

Peyton Marx | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Mon Jun 01, 2015 5:49 pm

OOC Message
Part 2 of 2

It didn't take long at all to accomplish my task, and thankfully I made it over and back without falling again. I'd stashed the empty container under a seat in my truck and had actually experienced a few minutes of a post-revenge high. That was until I'd gone back inside and noticed the pile of envelopes I'd left there. That was all it took for my good mood to evaporate. I scowled down at them for a minute before resigning myself to the fact that I'd have to read it eventually. If it was pack business then I had a responsibility as warlord to deal with it. Not that that meant I had to fucking like it.

With a frustrated groan and swooped down and grabbed my mail again, storming into my living room and throwing myself on to the couch. I separated the cause of my irritation from the rest of the mail and just stared at it. Again I ended up dwelling of the fact that it was a damn letter. Had he gone all fucking paranoid worrying that the packs phones were being tapped? I couldn't fucking figure out what other reason there was for not just using the goddamn phone. I knew that there was a possibility I was being a tad too annoyed about all this but I couldn't help it. Something was just... off about this, even if I couldn't pt my finger on it. Sending a letter was fucking weird. Weird enough that I was reluctant to open the damn thing and find out what it contained. Ugh, now I was being paranoid myself. My brow creased in a frown and for the second time that day I was mad at myself for being stupid. I sighed and forced myself to relax before I turned the letter over in my hands and opened it. I pulled out the paper within and unfolded it. At first I felt relieved, seeing that the letter wasn't that long, no more than a few lines really.

But then I actually started reading it. At first I was just confused, like my brain wasn't actually able to take in the words I was reading. Like I was reading them in order but they were getting all jumbled up in my head, making no sense to me at all. A temporary leave from duty? Was that even something that he could do? Just up and leave the pack without it's alpha? I'd never heard of something like that being done before and there was no way that it would go down well. This was bad, really fucking bad.

Of course it just got fucking worse as I read on and the full impact of what was happening hit me. He was... he was leaving me in charge? I had to act as a temporary alpha in his place. My fists clenched so tightly that the letter I was holding ripped and I barely noticed. Was this what being in shock felt like. I stared wide-eyed at the two pieces of paper, willing what they'd said to magically fucking change and just somehow not be true. This was so fucking awful. There was no way the pack was going to accept this. Well, they'd have to but not without making my life as miserable as they fucking could. They act out even more and- just- fucking hell I'd thought things were bad being a female warlord. But a female alpha, temporary or not, that just had trouble written all fucking over it. What the hell was I supposed to do? My head went from blank with shock to suddenly buzzing with a million thoughts at once. Was it up to me to inform the pack of all this shit? What, was I supposed to send out a fucking email? Couldn't he have left a bit more fucking instruction for me rather than just... this? The whole thing was basically just a giant 'fuck you'. Or at least that was how it felt.

My feelings had gradually morphed into anger again and I flung the pieces of paper away from me like I couldn't bear touching them any longer. I sat there, totally unmoving and staring at the wall as I seethed over the situation. That absolute fucker. He had to have fucking known that he was literally throwing me to fucking dogs. Not a word about how long he would be gone for. Had he even had the decency to say why he needed this leave from duty? Nope, no that thought had obviously not crossed his mind. It was like he'd been all 'How about I go take a fucking holiday and Peyton can deal with the shitstorm I leave behind. Because I'm a FUCKING ASSHOLE.' Yeah, yeah... sounded about right.

I sprang up from the couch and looked around the room, passing from angry straight into full on murderous. My eyes had started glowing and I could feel a tremor starting to run up my spine and for a second I was sure I was about to lose it and shift right there in my fucking living room. I was just so furious at the thought of him basically sending me out shit creek without a paddle or whatever that stupid goddamn saying was. Was I so low in his regard? So fucking beneath him in his opinion that I deserved this? Was I so obviously fucking undeserving of any sort or respect from him? Because that was the only thing I could think of that made sense. Doing this with no warning and not leaving me even a whisper of help or explanation. I kept thinking about it, over and over, my hands clenching into fists so tight that I could feel my nails digging in, breaking skin. There was a small part of my brain that knew I was reacting like this because I was panicking, because I didn't want to have to take on the role I'd been thrown into. But then again that part of my brain could shut the fuck up because knowing that shit didn't fucking help.

But some of that logic must have stuck because I managed to take a deep breath, my body growing still until I was sure I wasn't about to wolf out in my house. Knowing my luck it would happen just as someone decided to spy through my window or some shit. I was still angry but a little more clear-headed too. There was no point dwelling on the why's and how's because what was done was done and there was nothing I could do but try to clean up the mess that all of the was going to create. I had to find out if the pack had been informed yet and I had to talk with Ghost about all this shit. She was the other pack leader and maybe she could help. I fucking hoped she could anyway. I wanted to tell myself I was blowing this outta proportion but I knew I wasn't. A large portion of the pack already hated that I'd been given the rank I had and I really didn't see this helping matters.

Fuck it, I needed a drink. The last thing I cared about right then was how early it was or how bad it was to go to alcohol, I just headed straight for the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. It was as I pulled it out that I realized my hands were actually shaking. I fucking hated this, hated being in a position where I had to feel nervous. It was just the idea of have to step in a role that carried so much fucking more responsibility when I was just about getting used to the own I'd only recently gotten. It was just too much too fast and he had to fucking know that when he left. Now that I was a little calmer I actually took a second to think that maybe he did have a good reason for it and for not giving me any warning. Maybe it was something to do with all the crazy shit that had happened? He'd actually seemed scared when I'd brought it up and now I wondered if he'd just... run away. There was a part of me that couldn't blame him for that, but a bigger part of me was heading straight back to pissed off at him.

Suddenly beer just didn't seem like it was going to cut it anymore and I all but threw the bottle back into the fridge before slamming the door closed. I turned and pulled out a bottle of scotch from a cupboard and grabbed a glass from the draining board, pouring it in straight and knocking it back, my hands still just fucking shaking the whole time. It was a physical sign of how much this shit was getting to me and I hated it, just really fucking hated it. I lifted the bottle again to pour another glass, then another and I downed that one too. If ever there was a time I needed some dutch courage it was right then. Honestly I would've preferred to drink myself to oblivion and pretend that I'd imagined... everything. But I knew I couldn't do that either. I raised the bottle, intending to drink straight from it but the sound of glass shattering tore through the quiet of my house and I froze, instantly on alert. Was I already drunk and somehow managed to break something. No, the bottle was still in my hand and the glass was on the counter were I'd left it. I put the bottle down too and left the kitchen to investigate. I didn't have to got far to find out what had happened. Shards of broken glass littered the floor of my hall, the broken window beside my front door showing where they'd come from and a fucking rock in the middle of the mess was the obvious cause. I knew my neighbor was still at work so there was no way he'd done it as retribution for his pot, plus he wouldn't have the balls to take it this far.But at least this meant that there was one thing I could strike off my to-do list. 

Some of the pack obviously already knew about the change in leadership. And somehow I just didn't think they approved.

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