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Neighbors (closed to DrStein)

That was unexpected. Varg could smell the fresh cuts of boar meat through the butcher paper. He glanced between the package and the jar of blood twice and retreated back into his apartment. Sombria had left before he had a chance to even think of something to say.

He put the blood in the fridge, not entirely sure how he felt about stashing food for a vampire. Hell, last night was the longest conversation he had ever had with one. It was far more common to cut them off while they were monologuing or giving a Hannibal Lecture. Varg still found it a little surprising that there were still beings dumb or arrogant enough to talk during a fight. It had the unfortunate result of making you lose your concentration. And soon after your head or some vital organ.

Varg fired up the stove, got the rub out and started seasoning the boar while the iron skillet warmed up. His approach to cooking could be easily boiled down to getting some good spices and then putting grill marks on everything. Meat, vegetables, sandwiches, anything could be grilled. If the humans ever did anything right it was invent fire so they could grill things.
 
The jar empty, Sombria relaxed into the door. Sated, she stood at the top of the stairs and listened to the sounds coming from next door. And smelled the aroma of charred flesh. Before she started her escapes, the smell sickened her. It reminded her of the beginning, the time before Father found her. Of course she couldn't recall the exact events but she did remember the pain. And the smell. Her own flesh burning under the morning sun, but she survived. Father said because of her dark skin but recently she had come to think that it was more than that.

Maybe that's why she found herself here, in this building living beneath a packless wolf. Their kind, supernatural beings of all species, didn't have the luxury of believing in fate and the like. There had to be a reason, and Sombria wouldn't figure it out keeping her distance. She wouldn't be a pest but she had to know what else they had in common, aside from their winning personalities. She laughed at that as she slipped out of her door to knock on his. Maybe he would be inclined to invite her in?
 
He smelled her before she knocked for the second time in a night. At this point, he was a little confused. Vampires were seldom the friendly type. And those who wanted out of the courtly life went out of their way to keep their privacy. Especially from types like him. A pack of werewolves was already a serious do-not-fuck-with. And even a lone wolf could be extremely dangerous. It wasn't the sort of company you actively looked for, especially if you were the type to have history with werewolves.

He opened the door and met her eyes. "Thanks. For the boar. You... need something?"
 
"Well that's a most unexpected development...gratitude I mean," she said with a smirk as she lean against the door jam. "And as for my needs, I doubt you'd be willing to satisfy them if I asked." That wasn't meant to be shared but it was too late now.

"Just a little bored is all. My first night off and I'd rather not visit any of my old haunts, not that I enjoyed them before...but now...Never mind, don't worry about it. Enjoy your meal."

For the first time in all a long time, as long as she could remember anyway, Sombria was nervous
 
Varg was having a little bit of trouble reading the situation here. Granted, his own interactions were somewhat limited. Violence factored heavily into his lifestyle and even those he counted as friends knew to give him his space. This was different. For someone who wanted to be left alone, she certainly was being social. To say nothing of the fact that she was almost coming onto him.

He wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation, but he didn't want to jeopardize the peace they had so far established. "Did you... want to sit down?" There wasn't much to the apartment. Furnishings were spartan, no TV, and a huge bong, the bowl still packed, sitting on the coffee table. A couple of band posters decorated the walls and that was it. True to what he had said earlier, Varg didn't keep trophies from his fights. Too much to carry.
 
She raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was teasing or if he was being sincere. Instead of assuming she thought being forthright might work in her favor. Sombria stood up on her tip toes to look around him into his place. And Sombria thought her place was sparse.

"I'd love to but you know you have to be more specific...I promise no funny business," she added the last with her hands raised and a syrupy sweet smile. "Rules are rules."
 
"Just ask before touching the bong or any of the music." He left the door open for her and went to check on the grilling boar meat. It was lean, so you had to pay attention to it or it would dry up. Varg fortunately had the advantage that even dulled by all the pot he smoked, his nose and ears were sensitive enough to tell. He could smell the exact moment it went from rare to medium rare and the subtle changes in the sizzling further tipped him off. Another minute and it would be ready.

"I don't usually entertain, you know," he remarked as he slipped the steaks. He then walked over to the stereo and put on Ghost's debut album. He skipped straight to his favorite track, Ritual. "The humans know by instinct I'm higher on the food chain than them. Everyone else..." Varg knew he wasn't exactly an approachable guy. Hadn't been for a long time.
 
"I know the feeling," she said with a laugh as she took tentative steps over the threshold. In her head she knew this could be a very bad idea, but the same could have been said for the night before and nothing happened. "Perhaps we're more alike than either of us think," Sombria said, and again she didn't mean to out loud.

She came over to him by the stove, making sure not to step too close, and peeked into the pan. She didn't want him to think she was creeping up for a sneak attack, even put her hand on his back to ensure he more than sensed her approach. "I always thought anything more than rare was pushing it for you guys."
 
Varg lifted a brow at her remark about how similar they may be. He let that one go without comment. The hair on the back of his neck stood up however when she put her hand on his back. He knew what it meant, but he didn't like being touched. He took more than a few beatings at the hand of his uncle growing up and since then he was selective about who he let into his rather vast perimeter of personal space. "When I change I look like a timber wolf fucked an Abrams tank. Doesn't mean my people haven't mastered tools and fire yet." The fact that werewolves were so frequently underestimated as dumb, coarse brutes sometimes worked to their advantage. Other times it made getting by even among the magical crowd more difficult.

Varg did admit that he certainly looked the part for the stereotype. Hairy, rugged, surly, quiet, sullen... He was smarter than he looked. He plated the steaks and sat down on the couch listening as the next track, Elizabeth, started playing. There was one other way he fit the stereotype: no utensils. He just ripped chunks off one at a time by hand, using a paper towel as a napkin.
 
Sombria laughed as she watched him finish up his meal. "Why do always think I'm insulting you? I'm curious that's all. I've never been this close to a wolf without it trying to kill me...or vice versa. I might be an asshole but I'm not clever enough to insinuate anything," she said as she scanned the room. She figured he might ease up a little with some self deprecaiting humor. "If I wanted to wound you'r ego I'd just as soon do it physically, no ambiguity there."

While Varg ate, Sombria took a moment to survey his music collection. As long as she'd been around she never heard anything that he listened to before she moved in beneath him. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, just different.
 
Varg rolled his eyes as he put the plate in the sink. "Referring to us as dogs like you did last night didn't help." He wasn't really insulted. He'd heard far worse from his own extended family for years. He just never expected any different treatment from a vampire than arrogance, abuse and violence. He started singing along to the final chorus of the song as was his habit.

Elizabeth, in the chasm where was my soul?
Forever young, Elizabeth Bathory
In the castle of your death
You're still alive Elizabeth

He had a good voice. A crooning, smoky baritone. Most wolves could sing a little. His people had a rich oral tradition of storytelling, songs and poems. He had little gift as a storyteller, but he knew the songs of his people and could carry a tune well enough.
 
To say that she was shocked by his singing would have been an understatement. Deep, rich like butter, she found herself blushing as he sang. Sombria had heard stories of the vocal abilities of wolves but she had always assumed it was rooted in confusion between howls and song. Whether it was true for all or just Varg, she couldn't be sure but she knew for certain she liked the sounds he made.

"Hey, here's an idea. How about we stop assuming we know each other already," she said after the song ended. Varg had stopped singing and she found herself inexplicable saddened by it. "I don't know about you but I'm finding that most of what I thought of your kind isn't exactly true and sorting through the bullshit is getting exhausting. I mean we're both trying to get away from the drama between yours and mine yet we're playing it out. Admittedly on a more civilized scale but dancing still. What say we start all over again?"

By the time she finished talking Sombria knew she was well within his personal space but she figured if she was going to talk about it she should be about it. She looked up into his eyes, and held out her hand. "Hi I'm Sombria I just moved in under you..."
 
She acknowledged that she was working off of stereotypes of his people. She offered her hand to start over. He took it and replied, "Varg Blackstone, son of Donovan Blackstone. Lived here about a year." He still used his full name as well as his father's. She probably knew little to nothing about his people's traditions or structure. And it's not as if werewolves were in a rush to tell a bunch of outsiders about themselves. "Just so you know... The prickly, asshole loner thing I've got going? That never really goes away. Nothing personal." It wasn't. Varg was just used to keeping people at arm's length.

He returned to the couch and lit up the bong, taking an impressively large hit before holding it out to Sombria. He slowly exhaled a huge cloud of smoke and slouched into a comfortable position. "Life's easier when I'm left to my own devices. I got plenty of crap from the 'Varg, You're Such a Dick' Club before I left home."
 
"Yeah I'm sure there were parades to celebrate my departure," Sombria said as she flopped down in the spot next to Varg. She was glad he'd accepted her restart and hoped they could keep it going.

She leaned over, their thighs pressed together and her breasts against his muscled arm, to hit the pipe. Sombria didn't see a need in taking the thing out of his lap, instead put her mouth to the top and sucked, piggybacking the cherry of his hit. Two quick pulls cleared the smoke and she held it while she spoke.

"Don't worry, furball, I don't want you to be anything you're not. If you haven't noticed, I'm not the sweetest girl in the world."
 
The fact that she took a draw while the bong was still in his lap was a damn suggestive image. And he wouldn't lie, she was hot. Pursuing that train of thought any further was a strange one for Varg. The creatures out there fell into two broad categories: those that respected him, and those that wanted to kill him. Not a lot of overlap. And this was the first vampire he'd ever met who didn't fall into the latter group.

Varg put his feet up on the coffee table and slouched even further into the couch. "I'm curious," he remarked, grooving on the smoke. "What made you leave?"
 
Sombria noted his slouch and matched his posture. For the first time in their interactions Varg seemed to relax a little. And with comfort came curiosity. She knew it was coming and was prepared for it. She lean over and took another hit off the bong, let the smoke out slowly before she spoke.

"Long story short, it was exhausting trying to fit in after the whole killing my maker incident. They don't take kindly to the slaying of pure bloods, and since I drained him I inherited his everything. The real trouble didn't start until I got my second set of teeth. She wasn't born but she shat dust," she said with a laugh. "That's about the time I stopped giving a fuck about the politics...about what Father thought...I just wanted to be so I am."

Sombria leaned over and took another hit and held it. "So Varg, I showed you mine, now you show me yours."
 
Varg knew that reciprocation would be expected. He hated telling his story, but it helped that he had packed the bowl to the brim with his favorite strain, Death Star. In another minute he would be too stoned to give a shit. That in mind, he took another hit. He held it for a while and let the smoke out as he spoke. "I was eight when my parents were killed. I lived with my two uncles and my aunt. They had no fuckin' idea how to raise a kid and treated me like a blunt weapon. Aimed me at whatever they wanted dead and put me on the shelf the rest of the time. Didn't help my Uncle Leo was born under a new moon. Wolves that happens to... fifty-fifty shot they turn out batshit."

Varg handed the bong off to Sombria and squirmed to find a more comfortable position before he continued. "A couple years ago... I had enough." He lifted up his shirt, showing the scars. In particular one ran the width of his muscular torso. It was deep and looked newer than most of the others. Whatever wound it came from probably would have killed a human. "Another vampire. Silver sword. After I bit his head off I spent two weeks healing with my shithead relatives berating and lecturing me. Once I could move again, I slaughtered what was left of our opposition in that town over the course of a month, got on my bike, and never looked back."
 
She listened, but when he showed his scars Sombria lost all comprehension. He should have been dead, twice over. Before she could stop herself she reached out, ran her long slender fingers over his skein of scars. Starting with the largest one, she traced the wide angry line along his torso, followed it as it branched to meet others. There were so many and she touched them all. Sombria didn't have any, even the burns had faded once she took her maker. Evidence of living, evidence she couldn't have and they had always intrigued her.

Before she could get too carried away she pulled away and lit the bong. Sombria lay back against the couch and smiled lazily. "A bike huh? You look like the type."
 
Varg tensed up when she reached over and traced his scars. When she met his eyes again, they were bright yellow. He blinked and they returned to normal. "I don't like to be touched," he said simply. He hadn't anyone touch him in affection since his parents died. Most of his physical contact with other beings was violent. At that he got up and put another CD in the stereo. Led Zeppelin, ZOSO.

"Remember what I said about my family? Yeah, when I said 'berating' I meant 'beating.' When I was nine my Uncle Severin smacked me around with a piece of rebar until I transformed. His idea of training. And it just got worse from there." He snorted at the memory and put his hands on his hips. "Nothing personal."
 
"I'm sorry...it's just...I didn't mean to..." Tongue tied, all she could see was his bare chest. But he's a wolf. I never even knew they could be so...intriguing She got up, followed him to his stereo. "Sounds like yours are no worse than mine. I'm sorry that happened to you but I'm glad you survived, otherwise I'd still think you were all a bunch a mangy savages."

Sombria smiled at his music choice. Most everything else she'd heard through the floor was pretty much unidentifiable but this, this she liked. "I saw them once. Father sent me to Boston...Might have been before their first album but fuck it was amazing. I acquired a guitar not too long after that." By then she was lost in Black Dog, her hips swayed and head rocked. "Father didn't much appreciate my interest. My first rebellion."
 
"Some things never change, huh?" he remarked. "My uncles fucking hated my taste in music. Tried learning guitar and Severin beat me with it until it broke. I smashed his knee for it. Fucker was limping for a week after it knit." Varg smirked with satisfaction at that. Severin was a tough old bastard, but the witches had foretold at Varg's conception that he would be the strongest warrior of his generation. Even growing up he could deliver a solid beating to opponents that should have been out of his league.

"Probably not helping the whole 'not savages' thing, I guess." Violence and combat were an inescapable part of being a werewolf. Their lives were defined by conflict. They had few allies in the world and had a hard time trusting outside their packs. Probably why there were so few of them left.
 
"Ehh you gotta do what you gotta do to survive Varg...and that's all I hear. No savagery, just a little boy defending himself with the tools he was blessed with." Sombria reached out to touch his arm but stopped herself. This would be something she would need get used to, she had always been most expressive through touch. Whether it be rage or joy, words often escaped her but everyone understood a hug or a fist. Maybe it was from all the time when she couldn't speak, and she had a nerve to call them savages.

"Perhaps I should have been more specific. You, Varg, are no savage. Bit of a jerk but hey, I'm not judging."
 
"Surviving is what my kind is best at." There was a solemn note to that. Varg came to terms a long time ago with the fact that when he died it wouldn't be in bed. It would be a good death, going out swinging. Like his father...

"I suppose your people could say the same, though. Lotta enemies, not a lotta friends." This was more talkative than he usually was. Weed had that effect on him sometimes. Of course, he hadn't had anyone else in the apartment in six months. Maybe he was just enjoying having company again. Being a lone wolf sounded badass, but life was a lot easier with people to watch your back.
 
"No more than you guys, guess it's just easier for us to assimilate than you with the whole full moon thing. We can hide out in the open long as we don't make enemies of our own kind. Guess I fucked that whole theory huh." The last she added with a laugh and a shrug. "So it seems we have more in common than we thought and I for one can admit that I was thoroughly mistaken about you Varg. The way you looked at me that first time, I just knew I was gonna have to get BCB..."

She looked at him then and smiled bashfully, she couldn't help it. Maybe it was the weed but Sombria couldn't shake the vision of his chest or the sound of his voice from her head. She felt her body respond to her unnatural thoughts, nipples hardened and teeth shifted down ever so slightly, and hoped he didn't notice.

"I'm glad I didn't and I'm glad you gave me a chance. You seem like the type who does do that often," she said as she headed for the door. "This was nice but I don't want to wear out my welcome. Maybe we might try hanging out sometime...outside I mean...on your bike...or not...fuck...ok I'm gonna go now before I make myself look silly." Then she did something she could never remember doing, ever. Sombria giggled and it caught her so off gaurd she covered her mouth.
 
Varg said nothing about the full moon remark. That was one of those tropes that was both true and false and yet another thing that his people were in no rush to correct anyone on. He had fought enough vampires to know that they kept plenty of secrets of their own. That not every legend about their weaknesses was true, at least not all of the time. Same with their strengths. He did it find it interesting though how few other creatures of the night ever imagined that the wolves were holding something back as well.

As she was on her way to leave, she giggled. It seemed to catch her off-guard moreso than him. "For what it's worth... I was wrong about you, too."
 
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