Standard disclaimers for Gundam Wing apply. Anita Blake,
Vampire Hunter and all subsequent characters belong to Laurell K.
Hamilton, as do the characters and plot from Caress of Twilight et
al. Blood Dance, however, belongs to me—frightening, isn't it?
Warnings: Language, shounen ai/yaoi (limey), some flashback stuff, lots
of potentially bastardised character play.
Author's Note: Yeah, I know these things are supposed to go at the end
and stuff, but I wanted to put it up front to explain things a little.
I've had a lot of requests for some Quatre/Trowa moments, but they're
really hard to work in when Blood Dance is told from Duo's point of
view. However, I felt that there were some parts of Blood Dance
that could use a little clarification, and Quatre is the perfect person to
do that. Also, this gives me a chance to play with Quatre and Trowa, who
are two of my favourite characters to explore after having read the
manga—and seeing as how they're very under appreciated in the GW
fandom, this is my chance to represent them well.
Twilight Tarantella starts out before Blood Dance
actually begins, then shifts to where Part 6 ends. It may be a little
confusing at first, but you're all bright people—I think you'll catch on
quick. Reading Blood Dance isn't necessary, but it would probably
clear quite a few things up.
[Gracelessness]
Duo is so clueless some days that it frightens me.
Oh, I know I'm not being fair in saying that. He's really quite
intelligent, though he tries hard to make us think otherwise. 'Look at me,
I'm a clown,' he tries to say, laughing and smiling and making an ass out
of himself. It makes me want to shake him by the shoulders and say 'Duo,
Trowa's the one employed by the circus, not you.'
Not that he's laughing or smiling right now. The last time I looked in
on him, he was thoroughly sedated in bed. I was hoping the sleeping
draught would keep him unconscious for at least another six hours; that
would give Wufei plenty of time to arrive.
Really, though, who would have thought that idiot was dumb enough to
try and commit suicide without knowing all the facts? Did he really think
the rest of us so callous that if Heero really were dead we wouldn't mourn
him? I swear, that American is…is… Well, I can't think of a word to
describe him at the moment, but if I ever do, he'll be the biggest one I
know.
I looked up from contemplating my hands as I heard the soft padding of
bare feet across the floor. Trowa gave me a small smile, hands in his
pockets as he paused in the doorway. "What?" I asked, arching an eyebrow
as he continued to just stand there and look at me.
"Just admiring the…view," he said loftily, looking up towards the
ceiling as he said the last word.
I looked up, noting the cracks in the ceiling, the peeling layers of
paint. Really, who painted a ceiling neon orange, I wondered. "Yes, it's
quite…interesting." Interesting truly wasn't the word for it—horrendous,
outrageous, and vomitous fit much better—but such vague commentary was
more likely to get a humorous reply from Trowa than specific adjectives
would. And, despite the fact that I'd had a wonderful bout of anger and
frustration going only a few moments ago, I was willing to let Trowa amuse
and distract me.
"Well, I thought so—a bit like that finger painting with hamburger
condiments that Wufei and Heero did about a month ago after dinner."
I laughed, shaking my head. Trowa really has an odd sense of humour,
but his attempt at distracting me had worked. "All right, my wolf, I'll
quit brooding."
"Good." He moved the rest of the way towards my chair, leaning over
the edge to nuzzle against my cheek. I sighed, closing my eyes; I would
stay like this forever if I could, his skin against mine, warm breath
ghosting in my ear, the scent of pine and gunpowder overwhelming in my
nose, his lean, silken-steel, incredibly flexible body exuding warm
and barely contained frenetic energy… Verily, I hadn't gone looking for a
lifemate when I'd embarked to fight in this chaotic mess of a war, but I
wasn't going to complain that I had found one—and a very sexy one, at
that.
Trowa chuckled, fingers trailing through my hair, down my neck,
sliding over my bared arms. "And what are you thinking about now, my
faerie princeling?"
"Hmmm, I'm…" I couldn't help but snicker a bit evilly as my thoughts
turned to a slightly kinkier, slightly more lust-over-love bend. "Well,
currently I'm imagining you naked on our bed, tied spread-eagled as I lick
my way over every inch of your lovely, sweat-dewed skin."
Growling, Trowa leaned in and nipped at my neck. I giggled, wrapping
my arms around him and hauling him into the chair with me. "I like the way
you think," he said, voice dark and husky.
I shivered, tipping my head so that I could view his eyes, pools of
midnight pine barely visible through half-mast lashes. "So do I," I
murmured, cupping one hand behind his head as closed the distance between
us.
Mouth on mouth contact is a little-practised art form. It's
surprising—and sad—how under appreciated kissing is. Really, though, you
can get some of the most wonderful reactions from a body, simply by
well-applied use of lips, teeth, or tongue.
Trowa was definitely well practised with his lips. All it takes
is a few well-placed nibbles on my lower lip, a teasing trace of tongue,
and I'd be completely willing to live on the oxygen supplied his mouth for
the rest of my life.
I was all warm and tingly by the time we parted, fingers tracing over
the back of Trowa's neck. I could feel my wolf's contentment as well, a
lovely feeling of warmth and love that was settled at the back of my head.
Until I'd met Trowa and the others, I'd cursed the gifts my mother had
bestowed upon me. Oh, I'd trained them—I would have been a complete fool
not to—but I cursed them with every fibre of my being. Now, though… Now
that I have Trowa to share my head and heart and body with, I see them as
the "gifts" that they are.
"Shall we go to bed?"
Mmmm, bed sounded delightful. "Sure. Let me go and check on Duo first
and leave a note for Wufei, since he'll probably roar in sometime early
this morning."
"You're right." Trowa got up from my lap, stretching his arms over his
head. I took a moment to drool in my head as he revealed a lovely line of
amber flesh for my viewing pleasure. Really, if Duo wasn't such a pressing
and important matter, I would be tempted to jump Trowa right then and
there.
Noticing the direction my thoughts had no doubt taken—and where my
line of vision was firmly grounded—Trowa laughed and wrapped a hand around
my wrist, hauling me to my feet. "Go and take care of Duo, love; I'll be
waiting for you."
And with that, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and padded from the
room.
Sighing, I followed in his footsteps, heading down the hallway towards
the bedroom next to ours. Pushing the door open, I couldn't help the
clenching I felt in my heart when I viewed the bed's lone occupant.
Duo had rolled over sometime during the last hour, and his arms with
their vermilion stained bandages were crisscrossed next to his face. It
was frightening how closely his skin pallor matched the original shade of
the bandages.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry again or beat my unconscious friend
to consciousness. I was still so, so angry with him for pulling this stunt
on me—on us. When I'd called Wufei an hour ago, he'd told me that he was
dropping everything to come over. I didn't need him to be in the same room
to sense the fear and anger he was feeling at that moment.
Healing Duo as much as I had had taken quite a bit of energy from me.
He was going to have to rely on conventional healing methods for a day or
two, since it would be at least that long before I'd be up to anything
else. Reaching his bedside, I ran my fingers over his brow, grimacing at
the chilly, clammy feel that met my touch. I reached for the cloth I'd
placed on the table next to the bed, wiping his forehead and face. I ran
my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his face; despite the
sleeping draught I'd given him, his features were still lined with
pain.
"Oh, Duo…" Even in his unconscious state I could sense the devastated
waves of loss he was feeling, and like pitch they coated and clung to my
sense of empathy. He felt so completely and utterly betrayed by Heero's
"death," so completely and utterly alone…
"When you wake up, you stupid American, I'm going to kiss you." My
voice was shaking along with my hand as I continued to smooth his hair
away. "And then I'm going to kick your ass in a way that will make Heero
and Wufei's tempers seem like the ice age. And then…" My voice dropped to
a mere whisper as I ghosted my fingers along his blue-tinged lips, using
every ounce of my empathy to try and convey to him a will to live. "And
then I'm going to hug you and tell you how much you are loved and wanted,
so that you'll never do anything like this ever again."
I smiled bitterly as a tear splashed onto my hand; traitorous things
had gotten away from me once again. "Sleep, Duo, and heal. We all want you
to return to us."
Standing up straight, I scrubbed at my eyes. I turned to the table and
grabbed the pen and paper I'd placed there earlier, scribbling a hasty
note to Wufei to wake me should anything change in Duo's condition. On my
way out, I tacked it to the door, closing it so that only a crack of light
would be visible in the room.
I shuffled to my room, opening and closing the door with a deep sigh—I
seem to be doing a lot of sighing tonight, though it's not that
unexpected. Trowa's sitting on the bed, shirtless, just looking at
me.
My walls crumbled, my emotions pouring forth before I could stop them,
and I threw myself at my lover, sobbing. I feel so young when this
happens, like a child whose been frightened by a night terror they can't
explain.
Trowa doesn't ask—he doesn't have to ask, though. He simply holds me,
murmuring endearments and running his hands across my back in soothing
motions as I cry and cry and cry.
I cried myself to sleep, that night.
Wufei was trying so hard to help Duo heal, but the stupid American just
wasn't responding. No wonder Heero called him "baka" so often—and, no,
right now I don't care if it was a term of endearment. Duo was refusing
each and every offer we have made to help him. He'd lost quite a bit of
weight, resembling something like a corpse in priest's clothing at the
moment. I was so frustrated I felt like screaming, but I knew that
wouldn't really accomplish anything. Well, not anything positive, at
least.
I was leaning in against the mouth of the hallway, watching my two
current targets sit together on the couch. It seemed innocuous enough, if
one didn't know the two people in question; Wufei had one arm around Duo's
shoulders while the braided American was crying softly into his chest. I
couldn't hear what was being said, not at this distance, but I could get
the gist of it simply using my empathy. Duo was still completely
distraught and Wufei was rapidly becoming frustrated.
Some days, I think that we should have told Duo the truth. Of us all,
he's the only one who doesn't know the reality of what we are, of what
he is. We'd all hoped, though, that our other lives wouldn't find
us until after the war. I know that I had hoped not to deal with my
other relatives until after the war, but even the best laid of
plans go astray when that bitch known as Reality decides to make her
presence known.
Whoever it was that said the Faerie are hard to find obviously wasn't
trying to avoid them.
The Unseelie Court is a tricky body of government. All I can say is
that they're saner than the Seelie Court, but that's not exactly saying a
lot. And when your aunt is the Queen of Flesh and Blood of the Darkling
Throng, things can get a bit…crazy.
The Queen's two children, Morag and Morgead, were very different in
looks and temperament. Morag, as the eldest, had much of her mother's
beauty, but it was laced with the colouring of her father, Frost. She was
also possessed of his cold pragmatism, a fact that made her well liked by
the court followers.
Morgead was an entirely other story. His hair a red that was so dark
it was almost black, his eyes and skin as dark as Doyle's, there were many
who were put off by his abrasive manners and his spitfire temperament. I
didn't really blame him for being the way he was (being slender and
effeminate when one was a warrior was a decidedly disturbing fact), but it
made him a pain in the ass to deal with. And, for some reason, the Queen
decided she was going to have Morgead be my contact.
Yay for me.
The mirror chimed as I was on my way back from the bathroom, a
decidedly horrendous clanging—like a cross between a Buddhist temple bell
and a fork across a plate—that told me almost immediately that my caller
wasn't Morag or the Queen. Sighing, I signalled for Trowa to keep Duo away
and disappeared into the bedroom.
The chiming occurred again, but I refused to run. I grabbed the room's
lone chair and drug it to the dresser, settling myself down before placing
my fingertips on the mirror's surface. "Who summons the mirror?"
"Greetings to Quatre Raberba Winner, Prince of Darkness, Light, and
the Astral Realm. Greetings, Prince of the Darkling Throng, from Morgead,
Prince of Blood and Darkness, Prince of the Darkling Throng."
I rolled my eyes, tracing my fingers over the mirror. I watched it
ripple like disturbed water, settling to reveal a pissy-looking Morgead,
lips twisted into a scowl that even Heero would have been hard pressed to
beat. "Could you possibly sound any happier, Morgead?"
"Oh, shove it," Morgead snarled, eyes narrowing. "I'm not exactly
pleased about being your liaison, cousin."
"I'm not exactly pleased about you being my liaison either…cousin." I
smiled, enjoying the look of anger that crossed his face. "So, why are you
calling?"
"The dhampile…you wanted to know where he was. Doyle and Frost found
him about half an hour ago, just south of the base. He's mostly healed up,
but Frost estimates it will be another day or two before he's completely
healed—and the gods alone know when he'll wake from the coma."
Chewing my lip, I thought through our timetable. Thanks to the
"negotiations" that White Fang and the Romefeller Foundation were
currently engaged in, all Gundam activities had been halted for the time
being. If Wufei could keep Duo occupied, than Trowa and I would have
plenty of time to fly to North America and retrieve Heero's body.
"Please ask Doyle to place a guard at the cave," I said, drumming my
fingers on the dresser top. "Trowa and I should be there tomorrow to pick
up our friend."
Morgead turned his head, gesturing with a black-leather clad hand to
someone that I couldn't see. When he turned back, he began to yank on the
thick red braid that trailed over his shoulder. "You're asking a lot from
us. We're not as welcome in the mortal world as we once were."
"You think I don't know that?"
He sighed, muttering something that sounded like an expletive. "It'll
be taken care of. We'll meet you tomorrow at twilight at the entrance to
the Underhill with your friend. Tell your wolf I said hello."
And then Morgead was gone, leaving me to sigh at my own reflection.
So, Heero had finally been found. Well, that was one less worry I had to
deal with.
The door creaked open, Trowa peering around. "Good news?"
I nodded. "They found him. We can pick him up tomorrow at dusk."
Trowa smiled faintly. "Twilight rendezvous with the Twilight
Court."
I smiled in return. "As if we'd do it any other way."
He came fully into the room, closing the door behind him. "Will you
tell them?"
"Wufei, yes. He'd figure that something was up anyway, demon-tied as
he is. Duo…" I sighed, rubbing at my eyes. "I think he's better off not
knowing for now. Wufei's been trying so hard to get him to respond, but it
hasn't been going well at all."
"I noticed," Trowa remarked. He placed a hand on my head, fingers
drifting through my hair. "I also noticed…" He sighed, fingers pausing at
the nape of my neck. "I also noticed the thread between them, Quatre."
I winced at his cold tone, tensing. "It wasn't supposed to—"
"Wasn't supposed to what, Quatre? I know that they couldn't have done
it alone, and there's no way that Duo could have consented considering the
fact that he still doesn't know the truth. You had to have helped them
with it."
I stood up and pulled away from him, walking towards the bed. "They
did it for him, Trowa. He didn't know—couldn't know, at the
time—what we all were, what might be looking for us. How was he supposed
to protect himself if the Shadowkind came looking for him? They had to
have some way of knowing if he was in trouble."
"And so you helped them. Blood and flesh tied, mind and soul bound."
"It's not…" I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat. I knew what I'd
done was highly unethical, especially in the eyes of someone like Trowa,
who'd been abused so often with similar bonds, though of lower strength.
"I know you don't believe me, but it's different. Yes, I performed the
ceremony. I was the one who got Duo's blood and hair for the binding. But
you know as well as I do that neither Heero or Wufei would ever abuse that
bond. They—"
"—love him. Yes, I know that. But is it fair to Duo that both of them
have equal claim and equal desire for him? He doesn't even realise that
Wufei cares for him as anything other than a friend."
I spun on my heel to face him, a sliver of anger driving through my
guilt. "I know that!" I hissed. "But what's done is done, and even I
cannot undo such a spell. And I carry enough guilt over what I've done
without you adding to its weight, wolf."
We glared at each other, and I could see the golden glow of the wolf
swimming behind the dark green of his eyes. I refused to give to him,
though, no matter how much I hated it when we fought. It had been for
Duo's safety that I had helped Heero and Wufei bind themselves to him. My
American-descended friend often had little care for himself and wound up
in rather sticky situations.
Trowa finally looked away with a growl. "Stubborn."
I lifted my chin. "Only because I have to be. Duo needed to be
protected, and it was the only thorough safeguard. Even my magics can't
follow him everywhere."
When he looked back at me, my empathy was overwhelmed, causing my
knees to give way and send me tumbling to the floor. I gasped, fingers
scrabbling over the worn flooring, face pressed into the wood grain until
I could feel each individual peak and valley.
"I followed you when others would not," he said softly. "I loved you
when others pushed you away. I excepted your bond when others offered you
only loneliness."
The tears leaked down my cheeks unbidden, and no force of will could
stop them. "I…I know."
"I became yours, Quatre, of my own free will. What you did to Duo was
wrong."
Gods and goddesses, I hated how our bond increased the sensitivity of
my empathy! He was manipulating me and he knew it. "I know."
"And you still say that you won't undo it?"
I gasped again, pushing myself into a somewhat upright position so
that I could glare at him. My arms trembled with the effort, but I managed
to give him a feral grin. "Of course, you ass. Won't—and can't. I meant
what I said."
He sighed, moving to sit on the bed. "Well, at least you're
consistent."
The press of emotions cut off as thoroughly and completely as if a
door had been closed, and I slumped back down to the floor with a sigh. "I
hate it when you do that."
"As I hate it when you're a sneaky, underhanded little faerie
princeling—even when your heart was in the right place."
I began to laugh, ignoring the musty smell of the flooring. "Gods and
goddesses! I swear, even when I'm doing the only thing in my power I can
think of, I'm fucking up somewhere."
"Quatre, language."
I ignored his soft reprimand, shakily drawing myself to my feet. I
clenched my jaw as I looked at him, looked at the young man I had chosen
to bind my immortal life to, the one that I loved so desperately and yet
at times hated with a passion that frightened me, for he was the only one
who had ever made me feel such a gamut of emotions. "If you care for Duo
in the least, then cease this guilt trip you wish to place upon me. We
have more important things to do now than play such petty games."
"Petty games, my princeling?"
"Yes, petty games, my wolf. Tonight you have reminded me of all the
reasons that I love and hate you—and of all the reasons that I need you as
desperately as I need air. Don't make me remind you of the same."
Power games. Dominance. Every species has its little eccentricities,
but the underlying basis of the game is the same: Who will be alpha.
Though Trowa had the power to be an alpha in his own right, my magics
dimmed his power to that of a mere lamp-flicker—a fact which he knew quite
well. I was the alpha in our relationship; I was the one who
fought, who protected, who maintained. I was the one with the power, and
just as any challenged wolf would do, I kept my posture erect, my stance
ready for a fight, and I bared my teeth—physically and magically—in
anticipation.
"Well, my wolf? What shall it be? Shall we fight again, here an now,
or shall we acknowledge where we stand and move forward?"
He shifted from foot to foot, green melding with amber as his
indecision became apparent. I balled my hands into fists and strode
forward, reaching up to lace my hand in his hair and none too gently pull
his face down to mine. "What shall it be, Trowa? I know that you're
disappointed in me, that you don't trust me—and believe me, the second
hurts much worst than the first—but we—don't—have—time."
My breath was coming in fast, shallow pants, fingers trembling as I
brought up my other hand to capture Trowa's face; beloved face, with its
dark soulful eyes that speak volumes even when his honeyed voice is
silent.
I kissed him—hard, hungry, angry. I wanted his submission, if not in
words, then in actions.
I coaxed him—nipping teeth, questing lips, lapping tongue.
Yield, I thought, drawing my hands down his neck, feeling him
tremble with a fine shiver.
I forced him—dexterous hands, searching fingers, eager libido. Clothes
fell, words forgotten as I backed him towards the bed, body expressing my
emotions as clearly as empathy.
I loved him—sweat-dewed, sliding skin, forceful take and give. Neither
of us were quiet, voices shouting, growling in passion, in anger.
I claimed him—mind, body, soul. He was mine even as I was his, and the
reminder of that sent me over the edge.
I collapsed atop Trowa, my limbs trembling, breath gusting over his
neck. Our fingers were twined, and shakily I brought them to my mouth,
kissing each fingertip before drawing them to my chest. I sat up slightly,
gazing at my lover, whose eyes were completely glazed with pine
forested-darkness. Always it was this fast-paced dance between us, this
push and pull, a constant winding-up until one or the other snapped and
brought the motions to a stuttering, clattering halt. And, sadly, neither
of us were very good at it, for our steps were awkward and jerky—a very
disjointed and inelegant dance.
But in the dark…
In the dark, all things look the same.
I closed my eyes, willing the darkness to fill the room. When I opened
them, the lights were off, and the only brightness came from the moiré of
the night sky that filtered through our window. Always Trowa was
beautiful, my reminder of the faerie ties to the earth with ever action he
made, every breath he took. But in the starlight he was…indescribable.
"Je t'aime."
His whispered words reached my ears, eliciting a sigh. "And I,
you."
And there were no more words that night, no more anger, no more
questions. There was only me and my wolf, and the love that we shared.
Everything else could wait. Everything.
[Elegance]
We haven't danced in months.
I don't mean literally danced—well, not really. I refer to that odd
disjointed set of movements that Trowa and I once regularly engaged in,
verbally, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Since Heero's
return…things have been different. Maybe it was that last fight, that last
struggle between us. I feel a peace now that I've never felt before.
"Thinking again? Quatre, you're supposed to be sleeping."
I smiled, looking up at his gentle chiding. It was true that I needed
sleep, for the amount of power I'd used tonight was quite large. Combined
with having to talk to Morag… But I couldn't sleep; my mind was too busy
to settle down, rampant with too many thoughts to be contained even by
Morpheus' power. "Physically I'm exhausted, but I can't seem to sleep just
yet."
"I see." He sat beside me on the bed, pillowing his chin on my
shoulder to look at what I'd been reading. "A diary, my princeling? I
didn't know you kept such a thing."
I shrugged, laughing as he shot me a disgusted look for disturbing his
position. "It's a recent thing. I started it a few months ago. I find
it…interesting to see how far we've come in such a short amount of
time."
He smiled. "We have come a long way, haven't we?"
Closing the journal, I set it on the nightstand, adjusting my body so
that we lay side by side facing each other. "Trowa?"
"Hmmm?"
"I want to dance."
His eyes widened, lips pursing. "You want to dance? Now?"
I nodded, grinning at his bewildered expression. "It's not exactly the
right time for it, seeing as how dawn has encroached upon us—twilight
would be much better—but I really want to dance."
He sat up, looking down at me. "I can't believe that after everything
that happened to today—after everything that's happened in the last two
days—that you want to dance."
I rolled off the bed, bouncing on my feet with surprising energy. I
didn't have much in the way of magical reserves left, but it was a simple,
minor illusion to make the room glow with the warm and sombre colours of
twilight. It was a frivolous thing to do, but I was young and happy and in
love, and at the moment I didn't care. "Come on, you lazy wolf! Come and
dance with me."
He laughed at me, shaking his head even as he came to me. "And what
shall we dance, my faerie princeling?"
"Oh, I don't care!" I joined him in laughter as he swept me into his
arms, moving us about the room with what seemed to be casual elegance. No
longer disjointed, inarticulate, frenetic… We moved with simple ease, with
loving grace, each of us to our own song that always seemed to match
beats. Minutes flew by without notice, and I was content to simply
exist.
"Once, if we had done this, we would have been like spiders trying to
dance—too many limbs getting in the way, never knowing which one to put
where."
I nodded, laying my head on his chest as we slowed our pace, content
to simply hold and be held. "But we fit now. We always fit, actually, but
now it's…it's perfect."
"We're perfect."
I mumbled agreement; sleep was making my eyelids heavy now. Trowa
noticed this and nuzzled my cheek, drawing me towards the bed. "Poor
Quatre. Too tired to even handle a proper allegro beat."
"Nope," I said, barely managing to raise my hand in time to cover a
yawn. "I think all I'm up for now is maybe a largo."
"How about bed?"
"Or that."
Trowa had to help me into my pyjamas, and then he pulled me back onto
the bed and into his arms. I didn't even notice as my control over my
twilight-illusion slipped and the neon lights from across the street
drifted through the blinds and painted themselves onto the wall. Because I
was tired, and I was happy, and I was in love, and everything else could
wait.
"I hope Duo's going to be better now."
"I think he will be. And, Quatre…"
I could sense his hesitation, but I was just too tired to open my
eyes. "Hmmm?" I asked, snuggling closer to his warmth.
"I think that things between Duo, Wufei, and Heero will work out. I'm
not saying you were right, but…but I did overreact, back then. For that, I
apologise. And I do…I do trust you."
I smiled, kissing his neck. "Thank you. And I'm sorry that it took us
so long to work out this dance properly."
"We did fumble a lot, didn't we?"
"Mm-hmmm. But now…"
"Now we're elegance."
I nodded. "And someday we'll dance a proper twilight tarantella."
"After this is all over, I'll hold you to that. But, for now, you need
to sleep; you've got a lot of work to do tomorrow in getting us to the
Underhill."
"Good night, Trowa."
"Je t'aime."
"And I, you," I whispered.
Before sleep completely claimed me, I made a promise, one that I
intended to keep or die trying. Someday, when we've managed to sort
through the tangle of Sidhe, vampire, and lycanthrope politics we've
landed ourselves in inadvertently, I'll take my wolf to the true world of
Twilight for a dance that will last our lifetimes.
But for now, everything else…could wait.
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