Post by Silas on Aug 12, 2016 16:07:36 GMT
Small towns were good for a lot of things. Maybe. Silas supposed. There had to be a reason people lived in small towns. The surgeon couldn’t see any sense in it himself. He wasn’t super clausterphobic, but there was the sense of being closed in on. Plus it was dirty…and it smelled. Of course those last things were from the perspective of a borderline germophobic, OCD werewolf with a hatred of not being able to control his surroundings. He had to keep telling himself that this was necessary. There were other werewolves here and this was far enough away from Boston that he didn’t have to think about certain things or people. Didn’t mean he couldn’t complain about it.
Well, he didn’t really complain about it. Not out loud. He never talked to anyone long enough to complain. Any words he had with the locals were brief and half growled out over the rim of a glass of bourbon. He was lucky he had that, honestly. The bars out here were lackluster at best, and Silas stood out like a giant fucking sore thumb. The immaculate suits, always pressed to perfection got a lot of stares. At least he’d decided not to wear ties most days. That was progress. Still. One didn’t have to know Silas to be able to tell that he wasn’t exactly pleased with his current situation. He just put off that perpetually pissed off aura that he’d gotten so good at over the years. Though, with Silas it was honestly difficult to tell if he was pissed off or not. All his emotions just kind of muddied together into various shades of grumpy.
He had been travelling constantly since Boston, using up all of the savings he had since leaving the hospital. He hadn’t a particular destination in mind, but all he wanted to do was get away from the city as quickly as possible. He hadn’t left a note, or told anyone he was leaving. He’d just left in the middle of the night; didn’t even take much stuff. It wasn’t like he had much he gave a shit about anyway. Silas had never cared much for travelling. There was too much he couldn’t control. The wolf fucking loved it though. After so long of being locked up and being confined to one area, all these new sights and sounds were making Silas slightly giddy despite his intense dislike of this place and everyone in it. He realized he’d had the wolf to blame for that and tried to put a tighter lid on the animal. Ever since it’d had a taste of freedom before, it was harder to control. That didn’t bode well for anyone.
One thing was for damn sure, no matter where Silas was.
He was not going to get into a relationship with a human ever again.
Being human had little to do with what actually drove Silas away from Boston. He just liked to make excuses. It made him feel a little better about chickening out, upending his entire life and leaving. Over a boy, like he was some teenage girl. It wasn’t the first, nor the last time he’d been called one of those. At least he'd always be able to drown himself in liquor. That was what he was doing today. It was nearly eleven at night. At least the regulars were accustomed to seeing Silas enough that not many openly stared at him from where he sat at the bar, nursing a glass of bourbon. He knew his limit, and knew the pace he had to take to end up not a hot mess passed out in the middle of the floor. He’d realized he’d been thinking too much and took another swig of the harsh liquid.
The surgeon hadn’t sought out a job yet. His savings were dwindling, but they weren’t entirely gone yet. He’d rented out a small cabin halfway between Blackwater and Knoxville for ease of commute in case he did get a job at a hospital big enough to have a neurosurgeon employed. He’d actually paid the man more money than he’d probably seen in a long time to leave him the fuck alone. Silas was a private person before he became a werewolf’s chew toy. That secrecy only intensified ten fold now. He hadn’t made himself known to the pack, not sure if he wanted them to be overtly known of his presence yet. His interactions with other werewolves thus far had been few and far between, and he wasn’t sure how they’d deal with him yet.
The wolf always surged at the thought of other lycanthrope companions, and he couldn’t go anywhere in this town without smelling them. Containing the animal had been difficult as of late, and it wasn’t any easier now. The man’s senses were dull as the buzz filled his foggy head. There was something vaguely familiar about the scents wafting into the bar, but he dismissed it as one of the many members of the local pack and plastered himself further to his drink, broad back hunched over the bar. Any attempts at conversation would end in a growl and a sharp glare. It was clear that this wasn’t the time to bother the surgeon.
Still…the scent bothered him. It set the wolf abuzz and made his senses tingled. The familiarity of this scent was more than just that of just another werewolf. There was a flash of memories and a longing not quite extinguished by time and space. Bicolored eyes searched the area, nose wrinkling in distaste as he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then another surge of scent, and a body tucked away in a booth at the far corner of the building, nearly completely hidden in shadows.
Silas froze, his throat dropping to his stomach. Of all people, he hadn’t expected to ever see this particular face again. The wolf hackled, snarling low in his chest. The man thought about pretending this never happened; finishing his drink and then going home and forgetting about this. But another part of him was curious. The human part of him was emotional and messy and stupid and made him rise from his seat, half full glass in hand as he made his way across the room.
His footsteps were as light as the wolf allowed, but he let out a growl as he approached, alerting the other man of his presence before he squinted into the shadows. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” His words were low and guarded. They had not parted on the best of terms and he didn’t know what the other werewolf’s thoughts on him were. “Never thought I’d see that pretty face again, darlin’.” A crack of a half smile at Silas’ attempt of humor when he’d honestly never been so wary and guarded in his life.
The situation was unprecedented and entirely unpredictable, and Silas couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes dart about the room…as if expecting to notice another ghost lurking in the dark.
He had the worst luck.
