A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Something Wild | October 31, 2010

Something wild, this way comes.

A shape shifter.

Looking rather pleased with himself and somewhat hungry all the same. And I don’t think it’s food he’s after. He gives off a certain appeal of assured confidence in how he knows, he turns heads.

Something wild this way comes.

Swagger and swing in his walk and eyes that haven’t left mine. He dances up to me, picks me up and spins me around in a tight hug. My red cape flying out around us. I’m dressed as a take on Red Riding Hood you could say – I’m a redhot Hoodlum.

My red and black ensamble consists of a Red hooded cape, red top, skirt with toy gun strapped to my thigh. Utility belt with some other toy weaponry on it. My hugger, is dressed as John Constantine, from the Hellblazer comics. Only he’s chosen to go the Keanu Reevesmovie version.

Black pants, black jacket, white shirt and tie. If you could call that a costume, makes me think he’s going to church, puts me back down and leans in to kiss me. I turn my head so he gets my cheek instead of my mouth and smile back at him.

Mike would fit right in on the land doing manual labor. Like he’d be equally as in place, modeling in a magazine. Scruffy blonde hair, baby blue eyes and a hint of stubble, seems like the lazy man’s signature in un-groomed, cool.

“Mikey, you’re the only guy I know who would dare do that, to an Alpha wolves’ pack mate.”
Mike looks around us quickly.
Alpha? You’re guy is an Alpha werewolf?” He says sounding a little nervous, his eyes wide.

I laugh. “Yeah, and leader of the Manhattan Pack.”
Mike looks like he’s going to pale or something. He wipes a hand over his mouth.
“Shit. Seriously, you never told me that. Is he here? Is he going to kill me?”

But he’s smiling brightly at me. Of course he dares. He’s a shape shifter, not a werewolf. He isn’t governed by our rules. He doesn’t go for all that structure either.

I laugh back at him.

I met Mikey when we were both twenty one. Holidaying with friends, I ended up at some dank and drug fucked party in the countryside that I couldn’t wait to get away from. But my friends weren’t having any of it, they wanted to stay and try things out. So I was stuck with no way to go back to our lodgings without a massive walk ahead of me.

I figured I was werewolf enough to walk the distance back to our accommodation. What would try and mess with a werewolf?

Only something completely stupid.
So off I went.

I’d barely gotten half way down the first road, when a pick up truck pulled up beside me, offering me a lift back into town. Mikey at the driving wheel. One look and sniff at the scrawny shape shifter, and I figured I had more than a fighting chance if things went wrong. We talked the whole way into town, he walked me to my accommodation, even after the curfew had locked up. Made them open up and made sure I got to my room okay.

After that, we remained friends.

“Seriously babe, you wolves have got to loosen up on the whole, territorial thing. Greeting’s just a greeting. Us shifters do not have such airs and graces.”

I raise my eyebrow at his remark.

“The way you greet women Mikey has been known to be taken as a first, second and last date, all in one. I’m fairly certain you’ve told me numerous stories how much trouble you’ve gotten into over, your…friendliness to the fairer sex.”

Mike scratches his chin and grins back at me, frowning slightly.

“I may have told you one too many stories, when I was drunk. And perhaps, not correctly, I’m not such a bad guy. So uh, where’s this guy you’ve barely told me anything about?”

“He’s parking the car.” I reply.

It has been a long time since we saw each other. And let me tell you, time just agrees more and more with this shape shifter. He might look a little older, but the body has filled out more, the shoulders are broad and strong, he looks content with himself. Not so ill at ease, like he was when we first met, years ago. Before me now is a man that’s more than mother nature intended.

“Parking around here is crap.”

“So shifters are what, better than wolves because you’re what, less restrictive when it comes to greeting old friends, is that what you’re saying?” I ask knowing where I’m leading him with this argument. It’s fun. Like sparring.

“What do you know about shape shifters and their uh,” he waves his hands around searching for a word.
“Culture?” I suggest.
“Lifestyle.” He replies.
“You tried to kiss me on the mouth Michael.”
“Oh, no, you called me Michael, am I in trouble here?” He laughs. “Really didn’t mean to offend. Just wanted a kiss. On the lips.”
“You always want a kiss and that’s what all the other women in here, are for. Besides, we’re too good friends for me to be offended by your flirting.”

He shrugs his shoulders loosely and glances about the place. “Maybe it’s the shape shifter way. To flirt so much. A bit like you wolves and the sex thing.”

“The sex thing?” My eyebrows shoot up again.
He tilts his head down and stares hard at me. “Oh come on, you’re not going to seriously try and deny the whole, sex thing you furballs have going on. How many times have you told me about those Partys and lunar week antics I think you get more than most people get in their lifetime.”
“Hmmm, maybe you don’t quite get it. What it’s like, what it’s about.”
“Well, shifters aren’t like wolves. We’re freer than you guys will ever be.” He smirks and starts guiding me over to the drinks.

“How so?” I ask curiously. He looks at me and purses his lips together before saying “What do you know about shape shifters?” again, cautiously.
“Nothing more than you’ve ever told me really.”
“And right there, should be you’re first clue.” He says as we side up to the bar and grab three drinks. Paris is still, yet to walk into the party.

“What’s that? Don’t believe a word my good friend tells me?”
“No of course not. I tell you stuff, bits of stuff. But not a lot. Nothing major. Cause that’s the shape shifter way. We’re pretty secretive. Helps with the being wild and free.”
“I think you’d be wild, no matter what species you were Mikey.” I laugh, glancing past him, towards the front of the Party.

Paris walks in.

“You know it.” Mike says turning around, following my line of sight.

We both watch Paris stride towards us. Hypnotized by his movement, drawn by his presence, locked by his look. Paris’s garners looks from those around him. It’s like drawing a crowd, without intention. He looks like a regular guy, but the way he carries himself, gives everyone the impression of how not like them he is. My eyes take in the detail of his clothing, the way it moves against his body, how it outlines the man underneath.

Helps that he’s in a Halloween costume. He’s dressed like the assassin from that game, Assassian’s Creed. A look that could not be more him, if he tried. The wolf inside the clothing oozy kick ass presence. Makes me want to start growling low with appreciation for such muscular beauty.

“Whoa. Big fella isn’t he?”

Something wild, this way comes.

“Yeah, I like my wildness contained in werewolf form.” I murmur smiling slowly.

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