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Post by elena cortez on Feb 27, 2012 23:19:07 GMT -5
 Thick clouds hung in the sky above, blocking out the moon and the stars, as it did most nights of the year. A strong wind swept across the lake sending great wave crashing into rock face. High above on the cliff, her legs dangling off the side, Elena sat and watched the water rage below her in swirls of blue and green and sprays of white. Lacking better foresight, she had left her hair loose, and like the lake below, thick black waves flailed around her face.
Elena had always preferred the night to the day. She loved the blurred edges that came upon the world around her, the branches of the trees above her blending seamlessly with the shadows and darkness. She felt so alive at night, her other senses heightened to compensate for her eyes failings, the cool night air and natural human flight-instinct causing her skin to break into gooseflesh.
Well, used to. Elena’s body heat ran at a balmy 108 degrees these days, making it very hard for her to get chilly. And as for the flight-anxiety, well, there wasn’t much she was scared now either. What couldn’t she hear approaching? What couldn’t she smell coming close? And what, in its right mind, would challenge her? After all, what scares the big bad wolf?
For some people, normal people, sitting of the edge of a cliff in the middle of a night as blustery as this would be a rather odd way to spend one’s first night off from work in a week. For Elena, it was fantastic. The roar of the waves and smell of the lake and feel of the wind were heavenly to her. It definitely beat running around a dimly light bar all night, taking orders, cleaning mess, and passing off advances from out-of-towners who didn’t know any better and towns-men who were too far gone to register the mistake they were about to make.
Letting out a small sigh, Elena closed her eyes to the lake and allowed herself to fall back onto the grass. She was tired. She’d been tired most of the day, but like so many other occasions, she’d been simply too dreadfully conscious to go to bed, finding the cure for her nighttime restlessness in a run through the forest, all the way to the lake. And, like most night, it had worked. Elena was entirely ready for bed. Too bad she was lying on a cliff. Come on, Elena thought, trying to rouse herself. You can’t stay out here all night, Cortez, for she called herself Cortez. Although, really, would it be such a bad thing? It’s certainly comfortable here. It would be kind of like camping.
That lively debate running through her mind came to an abrupt, however, when she heard something coming through the trees. Wakefulness returning to her, Elena sat back up, twisting to stare into the tree behind her with apprehension.
tags open
word count 489
outfitclick
notes I miss lakes T.T
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Post by griff hawkins on Mar 6, 2012 11:15:14 GMT -5
  
His casual pace gained speed as the ocean’s salty scent delightfully teased his nostrils. Griff had always adored First Beach, finding its overhead cliffs and rocky terrain more invigorating than the picturesque white shores of foreign beaches discovered elsewhere. Miles of white sand didn’t appeal to him nearly as much as the darkened gray stone washed smoother by each wave crashing against its formidable surface. Such intensity evoked a seriousness which he found intriguing and rather well-matched to the reservation itself for their folklore, albeit deemed fictional by many, bore the foundations of those very traits he found displayed here. Plus, if he was being completely honest, the shifter also knew the lack of steady tourism was truly beneficial. He’d seen what happened to areas polluted with routine foot traffic. Hikers left garbage lying within the weeds, void of decency to keep their world clean. Campers failed to safely extinguish fires, leaving risk of damage beyond measure. For these reasons alone, Griff hoped the Rez would remain a hidden treasure amongst the chaos.
Not that there wasn’t enough chaos found inside its marked boundaries. He smirked, recalling the recent upheaval between the wolves’ natural enemies. As long as vampires roamed the earth, so would the pack. As typical when he thought about this, his mind conjured up a perfect image of his deceased brother, Riley. The hopes they’d shared together were never granted but the numerous nights spent whispering secrets back and forth lent additional appreciation for the evening’s long shadows. While others slept, Griff enjoyed patrolling or simply skirting around familiar landmarks. Glancing skyward, he noted the thickening clouds. Morning would bring rain, just like yesterday and no doubt like tomorrow. By mid-afternoon, it might temporarily clear if the sun managed to gain visibility. Then again, with the weather turning colder again this week, snow flurries were a possibility as well.
Should the weather actually decide to act like winter, he knew the auto lot’s business would likely taper off until warmer days returned. Only the desperate went around shopping for a used vehicle with heavy parkas and scarves wrapped round their shivering bodies. This meant less chance of earning a higher commission since the previously described consumers were also notorious for being broke. He vastly preferred the yuppie type; overly arrogant, too stubborn to feel outwitted, and usually ignorant enough to fail to realize when they were being professionally scammed. Griff could sell an old beater car to a snooty woman clad in jewelry items rivaling that of a small shop’s total inventory stock without hardly any effort involved and still walk away from the deal a couple grand richer. All it took were the right words perfectly timed and the right presentation of the item for sale. This was part of the numerous lessons learned in the past couple of years. Griff mastered how to bluff his way through almost anything.
Pausing, he discreetly scented the air. The ocean was much closer now and the night’s brisk breeze carried evidence of a fellow pack mate directly ahead; Elena. The male Quileute half smiled, using keen senses to pinpoint her exact location. She shared his fondness for the location and he found nothing unsettling about relaxing along one of the boulder’s outcroppings in solitude. Approaching her, his steps were kept audible and his tone in a hushed yet friendly decibel. “Hey ‘Lena,”
[/color]he called, striding through the brush until he was standing close enough she’d easily see him. “Thinking about going for a night dive or just taking a breather?” [/color]he asked, dropping down to squat companionably beside her. [/justify] [/blockquote][/size]  [/center] W O R D S * 612 ;;
T H O U G H T S * hiya!
M U S I C * muse
T A G G E D * Elena;Open
W E A R I N G * THIS
C R E D I T S * adele's chasing pavements |
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Post by elena cortez on Mar 7, 2012 23:08:07 GMT -5
The wind, that boisterous and powerful entity which moments ago Elena had enjoyed so much, had taken a malicious turn, leaving her upwind from the approaching being and unable to detect who or what is was. This was a position that frustrated her enormously. Even though she was in her human form, she felt her hackles go up; the wolf ever ready to fight.
But there was no fight to come. Though his voice was quiet and though the wind, that wicked, wild wind, was buffering around her she could still heard it clearly and recognition came in the instant she heard her name. Her ruffled edges smoothed as she relaxed and she watched as Griffen materialized out of the trees and the shadows. “‘Evening Griff,” Elena said in answer to his greeting, her tone light and polite, but perhaps not warm enough to be friendly. But then, that was just Elena for you; she would never be considered the warmest of peoples. That didn’t stop her from wishing that there could be a tad more cordiality in her voice when she spoke to her pack mates.
“Thinking about going for a night dive or just taking a breather?”
“A breather, mostly,” Elena replied, though after a sideways glance at the rich, salty turmoil of waves below, she knew how fun the former would be to do. She hadn’t considered a dive before, so plummeting from a cliff into icy water is counterproductive to trying to solve insomnia, but she was beginning to give up on sleep, and it would be a delicious way to end the day. Bad Cortez, you made a rhyme. “What about you? Recreational wandering or patrolling?” Both seemed equally likely with Griffen.
tags Griffen/open
word count 287
outfit click
notes Howdy. And sorry. Muse is bad. Bad muse. The posts will (hopefully) be better than this.
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