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Post by kieran finn o'malley on Sept 4, 2009 16:33:53 GMT -5
 INTO THE LIGHT OF A BRIDGE THAT BURNS,
AS I DRIVE FROM THE CITYinto the black starless sky ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It wasn't unusual to find Kieran at the bookstore. While most people would have thought, judging by his exterior that was hard, frosty and somewhat dark, he didn't seem like the type of person you would find browsing the shelves of waterstones. What you did expect to see him doing was charming a girl into offering up her life, or beating down the world with his darkness and unaproachable attitude. But no. The main point here was that, while you didn't expect to see someone like Kieran browsing amongst the bookshelves, it wasn't rare to see Kieran himself doing just that. he often explored the shop, wallet at the reader and buying almost £100 worth of books in one go. having grown tired of the library a long time ago, he'd grown acustomed to matriculating round the various bookstores available to him. He was an avid reader, he'd read almost everybook in the entire Dublin library, even the ones that weren't in his own language. Apparently being dark and destructful wasn't his only talent, reading and speaking several different lanugages also proved to be a big talent of his. Most people marvelled at that, even the pack. Because really, did someone as harsh and void of emotion like Kieran look like the type of person to speak french, italian, spanish, english, and chinese? No, he really didn't. None the less he did, and he found that often any literature written by an english author failed to live up to parr. For example; Harry Potter? Kieran felt insulted by this jk rowling and her take on wolves. Not only that, but wizards? Kieran raised his eyebrow slightly as he shook his head, plucking a book from the shelf and examining it in his hand as he thought about it. Humans went mad for Harry Potter, but Kieran failed to see the attraction, afterall, to him it just seemed like some poorly written novel with the most epic failure of an epilouge. Albus Severus? Kieran severly hoped that boy got bullied. He shook his head again a little, then sighed, flicking through some of the pages of La Regenta, in english, the regents wife. It was the story of ana, marries the former prime magistrate of the city, Víctor Quintanar, a kind but fussy man much older than her. Feeling sentimentally abandoned by her husband, Ana lets herself fall to the charms of the casanova, Álvaro Mesía. It was a tale of love, passion, hypocrisy and to some extents, vulgarity. Overall, it had become one of his favourties, yet he had never come to possess his own copy.
He closed the book, keeping it clasped firmly in his large rough hand. He favoured spanish literature, since it reminded him so much of being in spain. A sombre mood overcame him slightly, and frowning slightly he moved away from the shelf, toward a large comfy looking armchair placed in the centre of the aisle of shelves, no doubt to entice customers to sit down and read the first few pages of a book, where they would get hooked, and just have to buy the book. Kieran himself normally fell charms to the chair, it was the one area where he was so easy to sway, and he often got looks from the rest of the pack when he walked into their home, carrying bags upon bags of books to add to their already over extensive collection of books. The rest of the packs weren't good readers, with the exception of Jacob, but he tended to keep to his own books, which weren't many. Kieran often found himself judging the small collection of books the outcast wolf had. They didn't seem at all very challenging novels, and judging by Jacobs small brain to accompany it, he didn't hold anything the boy did in high regards. Though, some things had changed since he'd first came into the pack. Kieran and Jacob, while they would never be friends, had moved to some sort of higher ground of understanding with each other. Kieran had even calmed down his violence towards the boy. He only beat him every two hours as opposed to every two seconds nowadays. It was a refreshing change, and surprinsgly left some spare time for Kieran to have to himself. Which was why he was here at waterstones. The more time he had to himself, the more time he had to catch up on his reading, which had seemingly taken a backseat thanks to all the drama that had taken place with the cullens arrival and the movement of the galloway clan. But now, Kieran was trying in all vanity to revive the past time that he so greatly loved. He got up from the chair which he had sat in, and moved towards a further shelf, which was a little away from the front of the shop, and quite shadowy. It was a quiet day, rained poured down outside, and the streets were virtually empty, just like the store. It was one thing Kieran was thankful for.
"Do you need any help sir?" Kieran paused a moment looking at a shelf, then turning slightly he set eyes upon a slight girl. She had long brown hair that reached to her shoulders, and bright green eyes and her skin was pale, like the right sort of pale for an irish girl. It wasn't vampire pale, that was obvious. He looked closer, and for a moment, he saw a hint of grace in her, there was something about her bone structure and her bright eyes that mimicked his lost loves, and his breath caught in his throat a little. She smiled at him, and he found himself unlikely, smiling back. "I'm molly...is there anything I can do for you?" Kieran felt a little dry throated, and shaking his head slightly he moved forward. She was tiny, thin and almost barely there, and extending his hand a little, Kieran felt as if he wanted to touch her face, carress her cheek and feel the warmth of her skin against his own burning palm. And as his hand got closer, so did she, moving forward toward him in some sort of acceptance of the touch. She wanted him to touch her, as much as he himself wanted too. She bit her lip, and Kieran frowned. It was such a simple action that reminded Kieran that the girl in front of him wasn't grace. grace never would have bitten her lip, ever. She just didn't do that sort of thing. Frowning a little he pulled away, and the girl in front of him stammered a little. "I don't need any help." He spoke, flat and void, and the girl automatically got the hint, all feelings of wanting him to touch her gone now. She hurried away, leaving Kieran alone once more. Silence hung in the air, and sighing, Kieran pushed his hand through his dark hair, growling a little low in his throat and falling back into the armchair once more, spreading his long legs out in front of him. He let his head fall back in exasperation, and sighing again once more, he stared bored eyed at the cieling. "Fuck.." was all he muttered.
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Post by heather serena nolan on Sept 5, 2009 12:39:48 GMT -5
* [/color] AND JUST FAKE IT, IF YOU'RE OUT OF DIRECTION;[/center] Fake it, if you don't belong here.
Fake it, if you feel like infection.
Woah, You're such a fuckin' hypocrite. [/color] The pack house was a place that in the last year, Heather had come to view as a second home. Or... possibly a third, or a fourth, if you counted the studio apartment, her sister's house, and the abandoned lakeside cabin that she had made into a little den of sorts. The pack's house would probably rate about... second her list of favorites, depending exactly on her mood and just how much of a disaster the house was, which varied greatly on factors such as how much time the other pack mates had spent there, whether or not Kieran had gotten on any of them to actually tidy up, and whether it was what she had come to call the packs' hibernation periods... what most people might call lazy days, to the pack equalled something of a dogpile (no pun intended... all right, maybe a little) in the living room in front of movies, or the latest shoot-'em-'up video game, surrounded by bags and bags of junk food, take out chinese food, or delivery pizza and pyramids of two-liters.
Now, it was not so much that Heather was offended by, or minded, the lazy days, in fact there were times whens she could think of nothing better than curled up on the arm of the couch, tossing popcorn at the losing parties of a four-way wii war, and cheering vivaciously when what was meant to be an every man for himself turf war turned into everyone gang up on one random person instead. It was nice, at times, to luxuriate in the feeling of home, and family that the 'adopted' brothers in the pack offered her.
But, like any family, there were times when she just needed space, needed time to breathe, or... in this case, study. Research, actually. Despite the fact that she was one of the younger members of the pack, she was already a good portion of the way through her first year at the Dublin University, and while not having yet declared her major, she was piling on as many courses as she could squeeze into her schedule -- partly in some nagging worry that the administrators would somehow discover that her mother's signature on her early admission papers were forged, and thus boot her out until she got a legit signature, or had to wait until she turned legal, or wage war with the courts for emancipation... and last time she checked, generally assanine behavior and drunkardness was not overwhelming support for divorcing one's parents. Not to count, she and her sister were barely scraping the funds together to cover the costs that her partial scholarship didn't, trying to come up with even a retainer fee for a lawyer made Heather blanche.
She had escaped the rucuss of the pack house earlier in the day, not having found any of the particular reference material she needed in the loose stacks of books that populated the place almost as much as the boys' discarded shoes and clothes, or the bookshelves that lined the upper part of most of the wall space, she had fled with her backpack to make her way to the supplier that she knew Kieran went to when he needed his 'fix'. Despite her congenial and carefree attitude towards the pack and the shift and changes in her life that she had experienced a little over a year ago, there were some aspects of this new life that she hadn't quite gotten a toe-hold on yet, and surprise, surprise... Kieran was one of those.
Despite the fact that he was alpha of the ragamuffin arrangement of members, he was as prone to disappear without warning about as often as the estranged and warily trusted Jacob Black, only Kieran's disappearances were far more noted, as was his... distance, at times, from the rest of the pack. He didn't seem to care for the rough housing, the games and pranks that the others would engage in, bringing a more somber and serious tone to the affair than she had expected, though one should, really, if gauging by looks alone. Even when the pack shifted together, for fun, or hunting, or tracking the scents of those that came and went from their territory, his thoughts even seemed a little more distant than the others.
She had to wonder, if this was an instinctive reaction because of his role as alpha, or if it was a choice, a conscious decision to keep himself aloof, and if it was the latter... why. He was as prone to mood shifts and fits of temper as Jacob was... well, or really any of them, she had to admit, but he didn't seem as easily ready to switch to 'chipper' as she was, at least. Even still, it managed to surprise her when he lashed out without anything that she could determine as an actual 'button'. Everyone had them, the flashing neon red signs that say 'don't push' that friends and family learn to avoid (most times), but she hadn't been able to place much in the way of specifics of Kieran's buttons, yet still, managed to push them with relative ease, it seemed...
And so, it seemed, did the clerk who had offered assistance a moment ago. Heather hadn't meant to intrude, or spy, really, it was just one of those other things that she had noticed in the last year... the pack just seemed naturally to gravitate towards each other, circling around each other and especially Kieran, without really noticing it until they were suddenly there, in each other's space without ever intending to. She had ended up at the end of the aisle just shy of where Kieran and the clerk had confronted each other, not making much notice of the two until the low rumble, the slightest and most human version of the growl that she had come to know all too well raised the hackles...or in this case, the tiny little hairs at the nape of her neck, standing up on end and drawing her gaze instantly away from the row of historical references at the end of the aisle and up to seek the source of the sound.
Her nose wrinkled, ever so slightly, at the tail end of the interaction that she caught, a moment's curiosity at the moment of tenderness that devolved instantly into that of frustration, her lips pursing into the smallest frown as the clerk scurries, flees away, the green-eyed girl casting something between a scowl and a look of utter confusion towards the slouching figure before disappearing back behind the magazine racks.
"You know... if you were going to bite her head off, you could have done her the favor of making it literal, then, and saving her the embarassment of having to say hello next time you come wandering in." Heather says, her tone that of dry amusement, as she slides around the corner of the shelf, a trio of random books that reference the rise of the Ottoman Empire tucked under one elbow, her leather backpack slung loosely over the opposite shoulder as she wanders closer, tilting herself forward just enough to enter his field of vision where he slouches, staring up towards the ceiling.
"So, if I was to ask you what the matter was, I would get ...." She lets the question slash comment hang in the air, as she offers him an easy and slightly wolfish grin, letting her weight shift, and drop into one of the settees beside his chair, the bag dropping off of her shoulder to clunk into her lap, thrust then off of her lap and to the floor as she curls her feet beneath her, not the least bit shy about making herself comfortable, or apparently, intruding into his space and conversation.
I can fake with the best of anyone.
I can fake with the best of 'em all.
I can fake with the best of anyone.
I can fake it all.
Who's to know if your soul will fade at all,
The one you sold to fool the world.
You lost your self esteem along the way.
Yeah. ------------------------------------------------------------- tagged: kieran! | status: complete | word count: 1322 | outfit | lyrics: fake it by seether [/center] |
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Post by kieran finn o'malley on Sept 6, 2009 11:51:49 GMT -5
INTO THE LIGHT OF A BRIDGE THAT BURNS,
AS I DRIVE FROM THE CITYinto the black starless sky ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There were things Kieran never told the pack. This, was obvious. They each knew without doubt and without question that he was never telling them the entire truth about himself to the rest of the wolves. Most of the pack were greatly intrigued by him, afterall, they knew so little about him, and wasn't in any hurry to change that. But sometimes, he wished maybe he could bring himself to divulge some sort of information towards them, so he could talk about it with them. But he was a closed book, through and through, and if he ever did want to talk about something, he seemed to lock those feelings away, like he did with his entire being. He felt a distinct guilt in his stomach as he watched the store girl from the corner of his eye, and how she cast him a look back every now and then half expecting Kieran to jump from his chair and rip her throat out. Kieran felt sorry for her, and for a brief moment his brow furrowed in sadness that she took him for being so unapproachable and cruel. The feeling quickly subsided, and reminded himself silently that that was exactly what he was. He was cruel, and he was tragically unapproachable. He was cold like ice and empty like a cave. He sighed a little, and when he looked up again, he noticed a familiar figure. He greeted heather with a blank and dead stare, and listened but didn't really care much for what she said as some form of greeting. "You know... if you were going to bite her head off, you could have done her the favor of making it literal, then, and saving her the embarassment of having to say hello next time you come wandering in." Kieran scoffed a little, lifting his head up for a moment then letting it rest back down.
His face was drawn, as if he hadn't eaten in days, and his skin instead of being it's normal tan and olive sort of color was now lifeless and somewhat grey, as if he'd been hiding inside for days, never seeing the light of the outdoors. In truth, that was just what had happened. Kieran felt himself getting weaker and unable to cope more and more these passed few days, and he put it down to the fact that the anniversary of graces death, and his own 28th birthday were fastly approaching. Niether excited him, and both left him with a feeling of remorse and bitter exile from the world. He wished that both days would just cease to exsist, but, alas they did not comply with his wishes. He spoke, in a flat and monotone voice which croaked slightly through thirst as he addressed Heathers sarcastic comment. He sometimes wandered why the pack insisted on testing him with saracasm, they knew where it would get them, even heather who he had no inhibitions on beating like the rest of the boys. It seemed to him, that the pack just needed something to do. Still, he spoke none the less. "It isn't my fault if she chooses to be embarresed." That's right, nothing was EVER kierans fault. he was..faultless. "Perhaps it wasn't me who embaressed her. Did you ever think maybe it was your presence and your eaves dropping that made her embarresed?" He didn't even bother to look at heather as he turned the blame onto her. He just sat there with his head leaning back, his dark eyes staring flatly towards the cieling. He noticed a cobweb and some dust floating around, and for a moment he felt crabby and uncomfortable at the sight. he was afterall, a complete clean freak. He then let his gaze wander from it, and shifting a little languidly on the armchair he looked across at Heather as she made herself comfortable. Not only did kieran feel irked that she would just make herself comfortable like that, but he also felt annoyed that she had no respect for his personal private time. What had been a planned and peaceful trip the bookstore had now turned into an intruded upon time, and Kieran felt annoyance ripple through him. He needed some time away from the pack, from everyone, and yet he couldn't seem to be able to do that for even a second. He thought about how wonderful it would be to not be alpha anymore, how much time he would have to himself, entirely alone. It was a refreshing and beautiful dream, but he was too loyal, too hot headed to relinquish his post as alpha to anyone else, especially since his options were so limited. Who could he leave the alpha role too? Certainly not heather, and his brother would be useless in the role aswell. He was sure that ian and hugh would be terrible alphas, and that only left Jacob as an option. Kieran bristled for a moment involuntarily. He would rather be dead and cold before he would give up his post to black.
"So, if I was to ask you what the matter was, I would get ...." Kieran looked across at heather again as she spoke once more, and searching her face, kieran noted that she was graced with an expression of curiosity. He thought back to how much of a mystery and a closed book that he was to the pack, and for a moment he felt as if he wanted to let heather in, to change that. But he cleared his throat, and left her question unanswered for what seemed like forever. The silence was deadly, and when Kieran did speak in that dark and smooth voice, it was almost a shock, like some sort of shout. Though it wasn't, it was just a great volume compared to the harsh silence. "I just have things on my mind. Things you probably couldn't begin to comprehend. And the more you try, the more you'll be giving us both a headache." The short and curt answer was Kierans way of telling her to leave it, that he didn't want to talk about it. Not now, and probably not ever. There was another silence, and then sighing lightly, he stared blankly again at the cieling. "It's my birthday in two days. It's odd to think I'll get a year older, but won't age much. Sometimes I feel unnatural that I don't look how old I really am. It's odd you see..." He scoffed, bitterly. This happened, days before his birthday and what would be the seventh year anniversary of graces death, he got colder than normal, and often found himself cursing what he was. He thought that had he not been a wolf, then he could have spent more time with grace, he would have been able to be with her as a human, as something real and natural. It was in the few days that approached the joint anniversaries, that his self hatred was at it's peak. And that showed when he spoke, in a bitter and hurt voice. Though his dead expression didn't show it. "I'll be 28. I'm almost thirty, and I look the same as I did when I was twenty." He scoffed again, and then closing his eyes, he let a silence overcome the small area heather and he shared. Again, it was deadly, and thick. Then he spoke again, in a flat voice once more, replacing the hurt one he had spoken in only moments ago. "What are you doing here Heather?" He interegated, as if insulted that she would even venture out without his permission. Really, he was just annoyed about his life in general, while it was nothing personal against heather, he just didn't feel the most cordial right now. But then, when did he ever?
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Post by heather serena nolan on Sept 6, 2009 18:51:24 GMT -5
* [/color] AND JUST FAKE IT, IF YOU'RE OUT OF DIRECTION;[/center] Fake it, if you don't belong here.
Fake it, if you feel like infection.
Woah, You're such a fuckin' hypocrite. [/color] Heather did her best to strike a casual repose, maybe even doing her best attempt at not outright throwing a silent challenge into her posture, as best as she knew how, as she settled into the seat, her book selection set aside on the end table between their chairs as she watched him, watching her. She could see the play of mixed emotions over his features as he stared at her, she knew enough of him to see that there was some sort of inner dialogue going on behind the dark, brooding eyes, but even when the pack was shifted, and their thoughts flowing back and forth like sand through an hourglass there was some part of him that he held back, and it was that part that was the equivalent of a key to the legend of the map of Kieran.
And without it, it was anyone's guess what they'd get. Still, it hadn't stopped her from every trying before, and it likely wouldn't ever in the future, despite the bruises she might have suffered for it. They healed, and pain was just a temporary thing, and really, there was nothing that he'd dealt out thus far that even compared to the heavy hand her father had thrown around without a second thought.
Besides, as much as she'd pummel anyone else in the pack for saying so, she was the only girl, it was her job to kind of play mediator or advice columnist, at least when it suited her. Today, apparently, was one of those times. Thus, his initial reaction, the slight shift of his head and gaze, the scoff of disdain at her comments, received only an impish glare, and his words were received with about as personal affect as hers had to him.
"No, of course not, you can't be blamed for her reactions, but you can be blamed for what you said, and how you said it, and she didn't even know I was there. She was too busy staring into those dark brooding pits of emotional turmoil that everyone else calls eyes to notice I was poking around." She pointed out bluntly. She had learned some time ago that things such as diplomacy and subtlety were often lost on the other wolves, especially when one of them sank into a fugue. And this, was definitely a fugue, she thought, as she studied Kieran a little more closely. He didn't look his best, that was for certain, he looked a little bit like death warmed over. Maybe this was what the leeches looked like, she mused, with a moment of a curious expression flickering over her features, though passing easily.
She hadn't met any of the vampires face to face, only having seen what the other pack mates had, for whatever reasons Kieran had felt it best to try and limit the exposure between wolves and vampires, though she found that all a little... condescending, perhaps. All right, so some might call it cautious, but caution had never been her strong suit. Obviously.
"And I wasn't eavesdropping. I was spying, there's a distinct difference, you know." She pointed out. She moved, again, her legs shifting to curl over the arm of the lounge chair closest to Kieran, letting her body relax across the main part of the chair, her head cradled in the corner of where the opposite arm met the back, her hands interlocked and flung behind her head as she continued to watch him, awaiting his reply to her inquiry.
She was fairly confident that she would get some sort of reply; whether it would be one that was useful or not was anyone's guess, but the pack had learned that if you poked the bear long enough it was likely to give you something in return, which was better than the hours of silence that Kieran could otherwise offer. When he did finally reply, she turned her gaze back to him, rather than letting it wander without real purpose over the store, idly studying the titles of the books on the shelves behind and beside him, making a mental catalog of which ones she'd read already and which ones sounded good, and which ones she was pretty sure she'd seen lying around the pack house.
His initial reply would've caused her fur to bristle, if she'd been in wolf form, as it was, she had to fight the urge as her lips curled up, an instinctive, if brief, baring of teeth as her fingers tightened against the nape of her neck. Out of all the things that he might choose to insult, he had to go for the brains, and really, out of anything that she had to offer it was those. His tone didn't help much, it was the equivalent of the rough brogue-littered screaming that her father had favored, but she forced a slow swallow, pushing the prickling anger back down. The last thing they needed now was reports of a 'wild animal attack' in a local bookstore, or however the poor onlookers would try and quantify such a thing. Besides, if this last year had taught her anything, it was the importance of self-control.
"Ahh. Birthday blues." She says, her tone mild, her head tilting to the side to bring him more directly into her focus as he speaks again, her words just ever so slightly clipped and forced to a neutral pitch. She weighed his next words, the fact that they wouldn't age at a normal rate was one of the perks in her opinion, but she hadn't had to think of it from any other perspective, really, so she took a moment to do so now, her expression drawn slightly somber. "At least we age at all," She points out, finally, not sure what exactly it was that had him upset about the lack of aging process, and never having considered herself much of the eternal optimist, tried to offer what she could in the form of helpful advice. "I mean, you won't look this way forever, right? It's just going to take a little longer, and that's mostly a good thing, isn't it? The more books to read, songs to listen to, people to meet, learn from?"
How long since he'd eaten, or shaved? She had to wonder, as she studied him still. His color was off, and his skin seemed almost sallow, sunken beneath his eyes and at the slight hollow at the peak of his cheekbones, what in a human she would guess to be someone who hadn't had a meal in a week, or two, but for them and their peaked metabolism meant at least... a day or two, three or four maybe, and the thought brought a frown to her lips.
"I've got a report due this Thursday on the fall of the Ottoman Empire for Professor Beckman. I didn't have enough sources, so I needed to get a few more books to flesh out the citations, I always prefer to have one or two more than he asked for in case he finds fault with any of them -- which he's done more than once this semester." All of which he would have known if he'd been around at all this last week, she refrained from pointing out... "I figured if this place was where you went, and the university library failed me, and the public one might as well not exist, then it was worth trying for something other than recreational use." She also bit back the comment about marking territory so she would know where she wasn't welcome, doing her best to keep the conversation mild-mannered, while at the same time trying to come up with ways to lure him out, and at the very least somewhere to eat.
I can fake with the best of anyone.
I can fake with the best of 'em all.
I can fake with the best of anyone.
I can fake it all.
Who's to know if your soul will fade at all,
The one you sold to fool the world.
You lost your self esteem along the way.
Yeah. ------------------------------------------------------------- [/center] tagged: kieran! | status: complete | word count: 1289 | outfit | lyrics: fake it by seether |
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