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[ragedagainst]

IC INBOX text / voicemail / emails / pack telepathy"Yeah. It's Ren. Text me. Don't fucking call, y'weirdo."Ren Rages-Against-The-Odds O'Neill Homid Fianna Ahroun - Adren (31) Guardian of the Sept of the Relentless Beat Alpha of the Never Say Die Pack Child of Coyote art credit code credit

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voice.

[damnedest]

[ It's some days after her broadcasted offer for those to see the ones they miss the most, in which Lestat lapsed back into silence, indecisive as to what, actually, would make him feel better.

And then, a little like he is continuing the conversation; ]

I have decided on my own who I wish to see.

[ragedagainst]

Fucking hell, man.

[ She startles. While Ren has been used to people in her head since she was a teen - thanks pack telepathy - it takes some getting used to when she's drunk. ]

What? Run that back again?

[damnedest]

Oh, only you are allowed to whisper sweet nothings into the minds of your good friends?

[ Gamely sharp, but amused, a cat batting at passing movement. ]

You made an offer the other day.

[ragedagainst]

Nothin' sweet about me at the minute, love.

[ No. She's fucking sour and bitter and rotten with anger. Enough that she's barely containing her rage. ]

What'd I say?

[damnedest]

You offered to us use of your magical item that allows us to see someone from home.

[ He could push the point, but first— ]

It has not helped you very much, by the sounds of things. I don't think it would be of much use to me either.

[ragedagainst]

It's Yule. I'm allowed to be fuckin' morose during midwinter. S'my Gaia given right as a Fianna.

[ Drunk as she is, Ren's filter is lacking. What did it matter if everyone knew she was a werewolf anyway? She'd gone to few pains to hide it. It wasn't as if the sharpness of a her claws or strength of her jaw might change anything. ]

I realised th'other day-- I realised that she's been without me longer'n she actually knew me. That's fucked up. I promised myself-

I promised her I wassn't goin' t'be like that. That I'd be 'round for her. And whoop-- dint have a fuckin' choice anyway.

[damnedest]

Time is fucked up.

[ There are words in there he doesn't understand, but files away regardless. Little glimmers of a world different from his own. ]

Bad enough without this place's interference, its fragmentations. But you know, it is not only Yule, but also Christmas. The sadness must be gluttonous. And set to music.