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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 [Private] Lighting Cigarettes in your Name - Page 2

[Private] Lighting Cigarettes in your Name

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Re: [Private] Lighting Cigarettes in your Name

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Tue May 09, 2017 3:02 pm

If she wasn't a smoker, then I sure as fuck wasn't either.

I felt like there were connections to be made, but the only connection on my mind was that of her cigarette being lit on mine. I guess I was more trashed than I thought I was. That moment stuck out to me like a sore thumb. I was drunk, but even the drink couldn't ignore the fact that it was strange. Why talk? We seem to do better when we don't. It was true. Why not just let this night go on the way it was. I was beat, tired, my body worn, and too trashed to find the energy to have yet another argument with her, and we both knew that's where talking would lead us. Then again maybe I was wrong, and what she said meant something completely different. But with her, I couldn't imagine it meaning anything else.

I don't know... Are they? I asked in reference to her tits, looking at them and wondering. Could wolves even get implants? I couldn't imagine they'd look too fucking awesome when in wolf form. Just two lumps of jelly filled bags drooping below their bellies like utters on a cow. Yeah, that. I added, now staring at it more closely. Something about it was off, but something about this entire encounter was off so I didn't think much of it. Maybe it was time to switch to rum. Whiskey was making shit all kinds of weird. I hadn't thought about it... But maybe that's because it'd been so long since I'd downed an entire bottle, and not just a few glasses at one shot with the pack... Or a few guzzles of moonshine with wolves at the den. Fuck... History really did repeat itself. But this wasn't quite the same, now was it?

Kinda like mine? I asked, cocking a brow, trying to avoid eye contact because I didn't know if it was the whiskey making her look like a skeleton in withdrawal or if she really did look that way. Either way, nothing about her was the same, not the way she talked, and not the way she looked. Too bad, she couldn't have both at once... Hot before, but a bitch that put catty schoolgirls to shame... Not hot now, but also not doing my head in. I guess you really couldn't have it all... My burn? I asked, looking to the area she gestured, but fuck if I knew. It was a wide gesture, and I wasn't exactly in short supply on scars. No one said you couldn't stop. Just because she was a warlord, didn't mean she needed to train twenty four seven. There was no way of avoiding battle wounds in training, but there was such thing as taking a break.

Yummy dreams... Whatever the fuck that meant. I pulled the smoke from my lips, and slowly blew it out into the air, watching it twirl aimlessly into the breeze I didn't even know was there, it was so light. But my eyes finally locked on hers, my brows lowering and pushing in as my gaze traveled to her hands on my arm. Yeah, something wasn't right. It's not. I said calmly, breaking contact as I slipped my arm out of my sleeve to reveal my shoulder. See? It's a burn. I stared at it, my eyes moving between the scratches on her chest and the burn on my shoulder. You're high, Luxx. I laughed, looking at my hand and wondering where my smoke disappeared to.

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Re: [Private] Lighting Cigarettes in your Name

Lilith Alysbury | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Thu May 11, 2017 12:41 am

Had there been much talking in any other dream? Hmmm. Good point dream Onyx. Good point. He’d growled. Moaned. Very little speaking had been involved. Usually it anything was said it was wrapped all up in a groan or snarled in a rage right up until I won him over. Fuck my dreams were cruel. At first I had been utterly disgusted in them. Knowing they were a product of the Fanger Blood but also being horrified that of all wolves to cast in the role it had been him my mind had adopted. Over time, yeah well. It’s not like I hadn’t noticed how hot Onyx was before but a pretty face had never been a catalyst for making my panties wet. If I was as simple minded as that then I would have fucked my way through the entire number of the Pacific, just spread over multiple packs from all over the country. Everything was shit when I was awake. Little things helped me get through the days that bled into one another but nothing worked as definitively as waking up from an actual sleep and a roll in the forest with the Alpha.

An endless list of pornographic responses to my apparent new tits came to mind but none found there was from brain to mouth. Since he was undressing and also laughing. Both of those things were pretty high on my favorites right about now. ”Don’t just stop at an arm. If this was a strip show that wouldn’t even warrant a dollar.” Wait. This dream had important information for once. Aside from what Onyx potentially tasted like and what kind of facial expressions he made when he came. “Ummm, actually hold on one teeny tiny second.” I peered really hard at the burn mark that shouldn’t be there. Eyes blinking rapidly. In every dream that symbol had been on him clear as crystal. Always glowing and smoking like the cigarette in my hand. Taking another puff I tilted my head side to side, slowly, pondering, trying to get my brain to work properly. Eyes wandering away from the burn mark, having to be reeled in over and over again. “That’s not right.” I reached over and put my hand over the burn scar. The demented artwork on my chest began to ache. “Nooooo” Removing my limb, though running my fingertips lightly over the scar while I did I sat back completely painted with confusion. “That wasn’t there before. It was that thingy. You know the one. From whatshisfaces book.” Could see what I was talking about in my head. Knew that symbol inside and out though couldn’t remember what it meant. Onyx had told me I think? Or I had found out? I felt like it was important but what seemed more glaringly obvious was Onyx’s skin. “I like it better as a burn.” The symbol worried me. No wrong word. It terrified me. The scar was nicer.

“Drunk. I’m drunk.” Maybe a little high. Had taken some blood before leaving ‘home’ since I hadn’t brought any with me. Drinking the stuff here would be sullying memories but I guess that vial was enough to bring on erotic fantasies regardless. “You’re also drunk.” Happily stating facts I snapped a hand into his lap. He’d dropped his cigarette. “Drunk enough you might have set fire to your junk.” Unashamedly copped a feel of his thigh, pretending it had more to do with the vodka and whiskey in my system not allowing me to pick up something so little. Little as in the cigarette not his junk. “Totally reminds me of something Dominion used to say. You’re drunk if you fall on the floor. Not drunk enough if you can lay there without holding on.” Putting his smoke back into his mouth I tossed what was left of mine into the night and crawled over to the bottles arranged not far away. Awkwardly wobbling back on my knees carrying one of each. Fuck it felt like there was nothing but skin and bone, nothing to cushion against the harsh surface of the concrete. “Here. Seals still on. I’m not an asshole like those Sequoia dicks, no poison in that, just whiskey.”

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Re: [Private] Lighting Cigarettes in your Name

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Thu May 11, 2017 11:54 am

Of all the scenarios my sober mind could have concocted, this encounter with Luxx didn't even make the list. Was I just that drunk, or was I still plagued with two miniature angelic versions of Port and Pixi on my shoulder, screaming the word ''acceptance'' into my ear? There wasn't even a devil on the other side... No, on the other side was an angelic version of Thera, whispering southern sayings that more or less translated to the same message Port and Pixi were trying to send. I wonder how she was doing anyway... Fuck... I even wondered how Rider was doing... And the rest? Had they made it to where they wanted to be? Were they safe? I shook my head, no, I had a very real problem to deal with, and she was sitting right in front of me. I could worry about them later. I always did.

Yeah... You're definitely high. I replied with narrow eyes. As far back as I could remember, she'd never talked to me that way. Not even I was drunk enough see past her sunken cheeks, and how her eyes had magically grown even larger than they normally were (which I didn't think was possible). Like a grey alien in Luxx skin, she didn't even act like she was supposed to, and it was strange that I found myself preferring her true self. I guess everyone would? When people acted so strangely, it came with a wave of unease that not even a man as drunk as I could ignore.

I had begun to pull my sleeve back on, not wanting to give her anymore fuel to make strip show comments. But I froze as she concentrated so hard on my shoulder I swear two laser beams shot out of her eyes. I could practically feel them singeing my burn scar and I flinched. I even slightly recoiled when she reached for it, but froze after, staring down at her hand and then looking back to her face, rapid eye movements accompanied by a slowly dropping jaw and mouth breathing. What's not right? I asked, glaring at how stupid the question was. Of course that wasn't right, none of this was right. Knowing my luck... One of those potholes I'd stepped into had sucked me into another dimension, where up was down and left was right, and Luxx was... This.

I looked at her, returning her expression of confusion with one of my own. But my face quickly went flat. I didn't rage, I just wobbly leaned forward with widened eyes. The kind of look you'd give someone if they'd torn off their skin and revealed a new face underneath. How do you know about that? I asked with a tone of complete bewilderment. My eyes slowly began to narrow from the weight of my eyebrows, curling in and lowering above my eyes so drastically my vision began to blur. My drunken mind had pieced together a few explanations. The most obvious was the scrying bowl. A shameful memory that not a soul would even share with themselves let alone another, but one we shared regardless. I pulled away, my stomach sinking, which I assumed was from the thoughts swirling around in my head, but it was likely from the liquor swirling around my gut.

Her comment of liking it better as a burn did nothing to settle that rising nauseous feeling inside. I knew it was important for me to push her on the topic, but I couldn't quite figure out why? I'd even begun feeling distracted by the rocking feeling in my body. I felt like I was back to balancing on that boat, trying with all my might to keep from falling over and sinking into the cement. Is that why you're here? I asked, swallowing down a glob of saliva in an attempt to keep the vomit at bay. Drunk Luxx fantasizing about a different life where she was a pro skateboarder? I teased, even laughing at the image of her rolling around on a skateboard and doing tricks I didn't even know the names of.

My soul is far more flammable... I commented, sullen and assured at the same time. A twisted thought to be accompanied by the feeling of a chicks hand lazily flopping about my lap like a slowly dying fish out of water. I didn't recoil, I just stared down at it, pretending it was first-person RPG and I was too drunk to aim her hand towards the smoke burning a hole in my pants... I listened to the quote that followed too, distracted by it enough to not even register the weirdness of her excessive groping... If that's even what you wanted to call it... I liked the quote too, but for some mysterious reason I felt compelled to keep my mouth shut about it. Which was easier now that I had something to chew on, the filter of the cigarette she placed back between my lips now squished down between my teeth.

My eyes still traveled to less honorable locations when she started to crawl. A chick could be twelve pounds, or twelve-hundred pounds and my eyes would still be drawn to her ass if it was put on display. Wasn't that the reason they wore short, shorts? I couldn't imagine another reason why. The real kicker came when they bitched at you for looking at something they put out there to begin with. If you don't wanna be looked at, then don't give me something to look at. Controlling my eyes was just as hard as controlling my thoughts... Impossible.

I inhaled so deeply on my smoke that my cheeks sunk in, nearly burning it down to the filter. I stared at the bottle with a wide childish grin spreading across my face, the smoke sticking to my bottom lip like it was coated in a thick adhesive ointment. Smoke bellowed out of my nostrils as I reached for it. Not that it'd make a difference. I muttered, breaking the seal and breathing in the scent of liquor like it was a batch of freshly baked muffins. I didn't even put out my smoke, just spat it off to the side and watched it roll until it fell into a crack in the cement. My eyes stayed on it as I guzzled from the opening, drunkenly wiping my mouth with the back of my hand after.

I didn't know what caused the question to form. I didn't even remember thinking of it before voicing it. But it came out regardless. Involuntary word vomit that teased less than the real vomit I felt rising up my pipes. No, it didn't tease at all. It just came out...

What made you change?

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Re: [Private] Lighting Cigarettes in your Name

Lilith Alysbury | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Sun May 14, 2017 6:45 am

What’s not right? Well shit that list was endless. Before he had returned it had all started to feel normal. Numbed to the perversion of it all. Maybe that was why I had felt empty when I had looked at him. Seeing his face reminded me how fucked up everything was. How I wasn’t handling it. Just lying to myself that I was. Outwardly showing that so that no-one else knew it felt like my spirit was being shattered. Wasn’t even the fact that around every corner I knew there was at least one wolf who would be glad if I just keeled over. That I couldn’t sleep properly, or eat. Fanger blood becoming more of a common dietary supplement than even liquor. That I had needed music. Needed it more than I ever had before. Still texting X trying my best to dodge around the obvious to keep Sona alive. That I had to watch the un-pack fight amongst themselves because it was a better distraction than I could have ever offered them. Even being haunted. Feeling hunted. In my sleep, in my waking hours. It was all a component but it wasn’t the cause of my unrest.  

“How do I know about what?” Off in a different universe where questions without answers existed in abundance I bit my bottom lip. My eyes took a journey over Onyx’s frame, though the expression on my face didn’t exactly match the thoughts running through my head. Lie. They did in some respects because my fucked brain was taking sections of my scrying nightmare and connecting dots to scenes from my other pornographic dreams. “The glowing tattoo? Saw that the first night I was back.” Could have waffled on about how I’d seen it on the cliffs too. All over the walls of that prison he had been encased in. It was all so depressing though. Didn’t remember exactly why that was but I didn’t feel like getting all Sad Sally when this was not meant to go down like that. Was so not going to ruin this. “See lots of weird shit other people can’t when I use my wolf ability. Liiiike…” Unscrewing the cap on my vodka I drank back a mouthful, hiccupping shortly afterwards. “…there’s this fucking creepy woman. Guess you could call her that. Just a shadow.” Shrugging off the comment before I could conjure an image of that thing in my head. Onyx helped, by inserting a more laughable snapshot.

“Fuck I’d be an epic skateboarder. Though…not like this.” Still didn’t understand why I looked the way I did in this dream. Wasn’t I meant to see myself in a way that I wanted to? That’s how this shit worked right? “But no, that’s not why I’m here. I just like this place. A lot.” Not the whole truth but also not a lie. Omitting certain things, not elaborating, to me was so not the same thing. Didn’t matter if I said what was real anyways. Not before, not now, not ever. Could have said that I had taken up rollerblading for funsies and he probably would take it with the same pinch of chili salt as everything I said. This was dream Onyx though. He was different. He didn’t act like everything I said and did was out to fool him in some way. Dream Onyx had a one track mind. He was simple. Not this time around though…..why?

This shit was deep. Too deep for the kiddies paddling pool that I was currently working with. I just wanted to touch him and he was talking about souls. “That’s okay. I’ll keep a fire extinguisher handy. Mines on fire but there’s no point in putting it out” Really the analogy was both a good thing and a bad thing. Obviously having a slowly burning spirit would be terrible but that’s what had been happening to mine from the moment I’d left my pack. Now I had a blow torch directed upon it. Funny that I’d said I’d be his fire brigade. When I actually needed him to be mine. Having an ignited soul though also sounded intense. I’d managed to fight through constant pain both physical and mental to still be alive today. Don’t think I could have done it if my spirit hadn’t been raging.

Tipping back the bottle of vodka I began suckling on it like it was a baby’s bottle. I’d drunk far too much already but I didn’t have to worry about it. I’d already passed out. Dream booze wouldn’t fuck my liver. Not that it mattered anyway it was already rotting while I was still using it. Freezing mid guzzle a trickle of translucent liquid dribbled down my cheek. Now that was a question that had a shit load of answers. It kinda depended on what he was talking about. My new look? Why I wasn’t tearing him down? Why I was thinking the things I was thinking? He was a part of my head as this was a dream so he had to know I wanted to join the pack. Wanted him to accept me in. Putting down the bottle, rubbing the vodka from my cheek with a thumb I began removing my/his jacket. The idea was that if I was already naked then I only had to get his clothes off. Didn’t matter if he was asking about my appearance, why I wasn’t currently an asshole, why I was now going back on everything I’d previously snarled at him with conviction. The answer was all the same.


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Re: [Private] Lighting Cigarettes in your Name

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Tue May 16, 2017 2:51 pm

My drunken eyes narrowed, but I didn't imagine it was noticeable. Digging my inebriated brain for pieces to a puzzle that didn't exist was like shoving my hand into a jar full of barbed wire. All I received was horrific flashes. Images from an old film reel of a solitary man in a chair. A white room, splashed with red as it exploded out of my eyes and nose. Hot iron in a cement cellar, fangs protruding from my mouth. The pain on the side of my arm. The smell of singed flesh. Thin wire, glowing red hot, holding me down. The symbol, drawn in black ink onto the center of Sona's forehead. Blood gushing out of her eyes and nose now. More and more red, bleeding trees, crystal rivers turning crimson.

No... That wasn't right... Was it?

It's a brand... I whispered, wondering why I felt compelled to inform and correct her. Probably because my mind was occupied with scenes that fit better in films like Hostel. I hadn't even realized I was gripping the burn scar, like if I didn't it'd peel itself right off my skin and run away. I blinked, realizing my trip down memory lane hadn't even come close to answering my question. I guess that was the problem with not knowing exactly what she'd seen. Her answer did nothing to satisfy me. It only inspired more questions. It glows? It was kind of answered, I guess. Maybe her ability didn't work like Jeannie, arms crossed parallel followed by a dramatic blink making the world shift timelines instantly. I guess I'd never know what kind of experiences she had when she was running backwards on that clock of hers.

The words that followed made me uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable, actually. I felt the remains from my earlier drinks threatening to ride up that elevator of my esophagus again. Stop Luxx, I don't wanna hear anymore... I wasn't angry, I just turned my head as a sign that I didn't want to have this conversation, and more importantly, that I wouldn't. Remember what she just said, Byrne. Remember it. No matter how much I repeated it to myself, I knew that the memory wouldn't stick. It'd either find itself tangled into that jar of barbed wire, mixed in with other horrific memories where it didn't belong... Or true darkness would claim it, the empty void of a blackout.

I bet I'd be better. Admittedly it took no effort for me to fall into the topic change. Though trying to compete with this fantasy life by imagining myself better than her on a skateboard wasn't quite as easy. For some reason, the image of me on a skateboard always ended with my face in the dirt and scraped knees. I even fucking sucked in fantasies. Now that was sad. Because no one comes here? I asked, but what I'd meant to say was ''because wolves don't come here.''

When I finally turned to look back at her, I had a bottle to my lips. I still wasn't used to this new look of hers, every time I looked away then looked back she seemed to appear even more unfamiliar. I even had to convince myself her name was Luxx, because it wasn't just the way she looked that was different. She was a stranger, a completely different person. Spontaneous combustion... There's no point in putting out either fire, they'll just reignite. I guess dousing our souls in flammable liquids wasn't helping, but if there was anything I knew I excelled at, feeding a fire was at the top of my list.

I was transfixed, skin was being exposed. I stared at her shoulders as she had stared at mine. Maybe somewhere inside, there was a sober version of myself, telling me it was important for me to find out. Did she carry a brand like I did? Not that I could tell. All I saw was a pattern of decorative ink stretching from one end of her arm, to the other. I observed it like it was a painting. Lines blending into shapes with no sense or reason to it other than the way it had caught my attention. I guess that was the point of a tattoo when you got right down to it. To make people look.

My lazy eyes met hers again, and I stared at her face like it too was a painting. One I didn't understand because I wasn't ''artistic'' enough to understand composition. Me. I meant for it to come out like a question, but instead there was no tone to it that indicated anything. I guess that's only fair. I tore my eyes from hers, suddenly finding more comfort in the bottle she'd given me than the answer to the question I'd asked. This moment proved more to me than anything had in the past few months. This moment was one I feared I would remember. Because she had changed. Because if she'd asked the same question to me, I'd have told a lie.

Now... Which of us was the piece of shit again?

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