A Typical Night On The Town
Title: A Typical Night On The Town
Author: Muninn
Story: Chicago Snow
Flavors:
Word Count: 1100
Rating: PG-13, nudity, mild violence
Summary: An introduction to the main character and his counterpart.
Notes: All places mentioned here are real. What I do with them is not.
[Edited 8/10/11]
His muscles tensed, taut and coiled, posed to leap out of the cul-de-sac and into the street. The wan moonlight shone down the quiet neighborhood, softly illuminating his silky white coat. The enormous white wolf sniffed the air; his ears cocked, listening for any disturbance beyond the usual car alarms. Off in the distance a elderly dog barked, unable to smell the presence of a greater beast nearby. When he walked through the streets, the animals and babies went quiet. Adults just weren't aware, a fact he used to his advantage.
His ears picked up the sounds of men scuffling a few blocks away, just down the street from the Wrightwood Tap. The wolf sprang into action when he heard the sound of a bottle breaking and a rough challenge issued from one of the men.
Racing along Wrightwood and then down Seminary, he snarled as he drew up to the group, blue eyes flashing dangerously. The stench of urine leached into the air, and they took off down the brick-lined alleyway, leaving their victim shaken and clinging to a nearby busted lightpole. His face was bleeding, and he looked close to fainting. The wolf relaxed, shuffling closer to the injured man, and hunkered down to offer him a ride to the Advocate a few blocks away.
The human cried out, gasping, and stumbled off further down the street. The wolf rose and stared after him, then shook his head disparagingly and bolted south, heading towards home. Some of the streets were still busy, and he was loath to go out into the open for fear of being seen. Usually his speed was greater than that of the humans' eyesight, but the news reports were becoming more frequent. He didn't hear any crashes or the squealing of brakes as he raced through the busy intersections, heading closer and closer to downtown.
He dove headfirst into the Fulton, ignoring the brief chill from its waters and surfacing a couple miles downstream near the Kinzie bridge, through a deserted warehouse district, dodging traffic under the nearby train bridge, and finally leaping four floors onto a penthouse balcony. It was late, after last call, and few of the residents were awake. None of the tenants even thought about the slight creaking sound that happened night after night.
As the large wolf strove to reposition himself on the tiny balcony, his skin began to ripple independently of his muscles, becoming baggier and shifting away from his frame. As he hooked a claw to slide the balcony door open, letting the cool night air into the stuffy apartment, the skin seemed to fall away from his body, a pale human form showing beneath the heavy white fur. Finally his hands slipped from the front paws and he shut and latched the window, casting off the heavy wolf's head with his other pale, trembling hand. His hair was as white as the wolf pelt that he held tightly. His body was lean and wiry, though not heavily muscled, and his skin was so pale he could easily have been mistaken for an albino were it not for those piercing blue eyes. For though they did not glow as the wolf's had done, they still sparked with intensity.
He was naked beneath the pelt, and dragged it through the master bedroom doorway to the closet quickly, gesturing with a flick of his hand and a murmur at the windows. The blinds snapped shut one by one and the dark blue curtains began to pull across their rods as he whisked open the closet doors and felt along the wall for the secret latch. Finding it against the closet wall beneath his trim navy suits, he slid the wall open into a dark crawlspace and lovingly folded the pelt inside. It tugged at his heartstrings to part contact with it, but he sealed it away with a low whisper in a long-forgotten tongue and loving, lingering touch, closing the compartment until it looked like there was nothing there but a blank wall. He sat, the light from the bathroom's nightlight enough to dimly illuminate his opulent bedroom. He drew himself into the cool sheets, still not cold enough for his liking, but certainly better than the overall mugginess of the room. His eyes closed, and soon enough his breath rose and fell, casting him into dreams.
At first he was aware of a weight on his ribs, then of far more light in his room than he normally allowed. Then he heard another's heartbeat, and his eyes opened and he struggled to sit up. A black woman with her hair in large braids sat naked atop his chest and held his arms down with her powerful legs. She looked like an athlete, a runner, until he smelled her. She was all too familiar, a scent he'd tangled with long ago.
She leaned forward, the weight of her knees pressing hard into his arms. Her slim finger flicked his nose. "You had better be careful, Snow," she said in a heavy African accent. "You are being seen, and you are being watched." She eased off of his arms, springing up to stand above him. He watched her eyes, unfazed by her form, and noticed that behind their apparent blackness, there flashed an inkling of red light, like the reflection of a cat's eye. Snow drew up his knees and his face contorted into a snarl.
"Why are you warning me?" He demanded, fists clenching.
She sprang back, off the bed and backed up towards the balcony he had arrived on last night. He bounded forward, casting off the white sheets and thin navy blanket. She reached behind her and pulled a black jackal mask from thin air somewhere behind her shoulders, the pelt unfurling as it settled onto her head. "Someone's got to keep a worthy adversary like you out of trouble," she said, and leapt through the open balcony doors, diving onto the street below. He dashed to the balcony, clutching the iron balustrade to stop himself from falling as well. She alighted to the ground unnoticed by the busy traffic below, every inch the perfect black jackal, with a red glow like embers in her hyperintelligent canine eyes.
Snow relaxed, crouching on the balcony as he watched her zip between pedestrians and run alongside a bike messenger before leaping onto the rail tracks and off into the distance. The ironwork was cool under his hot face, made red by anger and sudden exertion. It wasn't until he heard a woman in the parking lot across the street shriek that he even realized he was still naked.
Author: Muninn
Story: Chicago Snow
Flavors:
- Blueberry Cheesecake #1 (human nature)
- Cayenne #9 (a worthy adversary)
- Maple Walnut #17 (out in the open)
Word Count: 1100
Rating: PG-13, nudity, mild violence
Summary: An introduction to the main character and his counterpart.
Notes: All places mentioned here are real. What I do with them is not.
[Edited 8/10/11]
His muscles tensed, taut and coiled, posed to leap out of the cul-de-sac and into the street. The wan moonlight shone down the quiet neighborhood, softly illuminating his silky white coat. The enormous white wolf sniffed the air; his ears cocked, listening for any disturbance beyond the usual car alarms. Off in the distance a elderly dog barked, unable to smell the presence of a greater beast nearby. When he walked through the streets, the animals and babies went quiet. Adults just weren't aware, a fact he used to his advantage.
His ears picked up the sounds of men scuffling a few blocks away, just down the street from the Wrightwood Tap. The wolf sprang into action when he heard the sound of a bottle breaking and a rough challenge issued from one of the men.
Racing along Wrightwood and then down Seminary, he snarled as he drew up to the group, blue eyes flashing dangerously. The stench of urine leached into the air, and they took off down the brick-lined alleyway, leaving their victim shaken and clinging to a nearby busted lightpole. His face was bleeding, and he looked close to fainting. The wolf relaxed, shuffling closer to the injured man, and hunkered down to offer him a ride to the Advocate a few blocks away.
The human cried out, gasping, and stumbled off further down the street. The wolf rose and stared after him, then shook his head disparagingly and bolted south, heading towards home. Some of the streets were still busy, and he was loath to go out into the open for fear of being seen. Usually his speed was greater than that of the humans' eyesight, but the news reports were becoming more frequent. He didn't hear any crashes or the squealing of brakes as he raced through the busy intersections, heading closer and closer to downtown.
He dove headfirst into the Fulton, ignoring the brief chill from its waters and surfacing a couple miles downstream near the Kinzie bridge, through a deserted warehouse district, dodging traffic under the nearby train bridge, and finally leaping four floors onto a penthouse balcony. It was late, after last call, and few of the residents were awake. None of the tenants even thought about the slight creaking sound that happened night after night.
As the large wolf strove to reposition himself on the tiny balcony, his skin began to ripple independently of his muscles, becoming baggier and shifting away from his frame. As he hooked a claw to slide the balcony door open, letting the cool night air into the stuffy apartment, the skin seemed to fall away from his body, a pale human form showing beneath the heavy white fur. Finally his hands slipped from the front paws and he shut and latched the window, casting off the heavy wolf's head with his other pale, trembling hand. His hair was as white as the wolf pelt that he held tightly. His body was lean and wiry, though not heavily muscled, and his skin was so pale he could easily have been mistaken for an albino were it not for those piercing blue eyes. For though they did not glow as the wolf's had done, they still sparked with intensity.
He was naked beneath the pelt, and dragged it through the master bedroom doorway to the closet quickly, gesturing with a flick of his hand and a murmur at the windows. The blinds snapped shut one by one and the dark blue curtains began to pull across their rods as he whisked open the closet doors and felt along the wall for the secret latch. Finding it against the closet wall beneath his trim navy suits, he slid the wall open into a dark crawlspace and lovingly folded the pelt inside. It tugged at his heartstrings to part contact with it, but he sealed it away with a low whisper in a long-forgotten tongue and loving, lingering touch, closing the compartment until it looked like there was nothing there but a blank wall. He sat, the light from the bathroom's nightlight enough to dimly illuminate his opulent bedroom. He drew himself into the cool sheets, still not cold enough for his liking, but certainly better than the overall mugginess of the room. His eyes closed, and soon enough his breath rose and fell, casting him into dreams.
At first he was aware of a weight on his ribs, then of far more light in his room than he normally allowed. Then he heard another's heartbeat, and his eyes opened and he struggled to sit up. A black woman with her hair in large braids sat naked atop his chest and held his arms down with her powerful legs. She looked like an athlete, a runner, until he smelled her. She was all too familiar, a scent he'd tangled with long ago.
She leaned forward, the weight of her knees pressing hard into his arms. Her slim finger flicked his nose. "You had better be careful, Snow," she said in a heavy African accent. "You are being seen, and you are being watched." She eased off of his arms, springing up to stand above him. He watched her eyes, unfazed by her form, and noticed that behind their apparent blackness, there flashed an inkling of red light, like the reflection of a cat's eye. Snow drew up his knees and his face contorted into a snarl.
"Why are you warning me?" He demanded, fists clenching.
She sprang back, off the bed and backed up towards the balcony he had arrived on last night. He bounded forward, casting off the white sheets and thin navy blanket. She reached behind her and pulled a black jackal mask from thin air somewhere behind her shoulders, the pelt unfurling as it settled onto her head. "Someone's got to keep a worthy adversary like you out of trouble," she said, and leapt through the open balcony doors, diving onto the street below. He dashed to the balcony, clutching the iron balustrade to stop himself from falling as well. She alighted to the ground unnoticed by the busy traffic below, every inch the perfect black jackal, with a red glow like embers in her hyperintelligent canine eyes.
Snow relaxed, crouching on the balcony as he watched her zip between pedestrians and run alongside a bike messenger before leaping onto the rail tracks and off into the distance. The ironwork was cool under his hot face, made red by anger and sudden exertion. It wasn't until he heard a woman in the parking lot across the street shriek that he even realized he was still naked.