A Sip is a Start

[+.Henry.+]

Moon Phase: Full moon
Time of Day: Mid-afternoon

Black leather boots clanked their way along the crowded sidewalk. The many voices were merged together into a buzzing mass, for the black and white clothed teen was not interested in picking out snippets of any conversation. His own mind was buzzing with thoughts and concerns, so much that he could barely make out what they were trying to tell him. Mayhaps that what he was doing was foolhardy and stupid, and that he could possibly get himself killed? No, he was sure the man wouldnt pull something like that in the public, which was probrably also why they had agreed on that place. Whatever doubts he had had to be thrown in the trash now, he had to settle this mess. The outcome was a complete haze for the teen, he didnt know how it would end up. Clear blue eyes closed in frustration, and he rubbed his temples with pale, chalklike fingers. No need to worry. Yeah, right.

Finally he seemed to have reached his goal, for the fast-paced 'walk' he was in had slowed down to a stop in front of a coffee shop. Not just any coffee shop, this was Caribou Coffee. Those odd blue eyes looked up at the sign, and a small, grim smile crossed his face as he brushed a bit of wispy black hair out of his eyes and straightened the black leather and nylon laced top hat he wore on his head. After that moment of prep, he sucked in a breath of chilly winter air and stepped through the cozy wooden door.

Instantly the teen was greated by a rush of hot air from a fire burning in the fireplace in the corner of the shop. He didnt stop to savor the moment, however, and walked over to the far corner in the shop to sit down in a chair for a table of two. After a moment of glancing warily around to see if the person he was doomed to meet was there, he slipped off the black leather jacket he had been wearing and draped it around the chair. A waiter walked up and asked if he wanted anything, and a few moments later she was sent off with an order for a cup of hazelnut coffee-- Ismirshalen's favorite. Upon recieving his coffee, the teen settled down in his chair, leaning it back against the wall while sipping the creamy, sugary, and hazelnut-tastic substance that was practically the boy's life.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

[.:Mink:.]

Being surrounded by so many humans was unnerving. The blond man that prowled the streets in an animalistic fashion didn't know how he could stand it.

Then again, being so much taller than the majority of them gave him a masochistic sense of pleasure; he was stronger than them and he didn't need to attack any of them for them to know it. Even wearing his specially-made hooded trench coat to conceal the wolf ears and tail he didn't like letting go of, he was avoided for the most part by others. Perhaps it was his six-foot-plus height that made others wary, and perhaps it was that there was a hateful gleam in his chocolate eyes. There were a hundred reasons that someone might fear him, but Amadeus automatically assumed that it was because he was stronger. Strength, power, and the like were the only things that mattered to him.

Power was what he had come here to dispute over.

He paused at the door he wound up at. The logo on the door matched the one hanging from the top of the building; Caribou Coffee's namesake animal. Amadeus L. Constantine, being a wolf, thought it ridiculous that such a beast be portrayed as the mascot of a coffee shop. In fact, any other animal would have been just as redundant. It didn't take him long to think up a new logo for the store; a human as he portrayed them--a race of stupid, ignorant beings whose existences were pointless. Now that fit.

Thinking it a shame that one of his fellow lycans, Ismirshalen Linnaeus, was so obsessed with this wretched place, Amadeus opened the glass door without bothering to keep from bothering the people already in the store. He felt no change in temperature even after he closed the door; his body temperature was ridiculously high even for a werewolf, so high that the air around him always felt cold to his skin. When he did shut it, though, people in the immediate area paused drinking, eating, talking, whatever it was they were doing, to look at him. His ears were still concealed under the hood, but his hair fell out in front in long, thin spikes. They were so clumped that his eyes were almost fully covered by them, but he could still look down at the humans around him and see that while they looked perfectly content, there was discomfort obvious in their eyes. The lycan smiled to himself, proud that he could strike fear into hearts without even trying, before walking up to the main counter. The lady standing behind the counter didn't seem as intimidated, for whatever reason, but still showed signs of uncertainty nonetheless. It wasn't peculiar that he hadn't bothered to take his hood off; being that it was the middle of winter, it was not an uncommon thing. "Ammy" stood there idly for a moment before smiling a wide grin. His teeth were sharper than others', and obviously those of something inhuman. He told the lady what he wanted, and she hastily turned to another worker to repeat the order, desperate to look away from the strange man. When his coffee was ready, he quickly produced money from a pocket on the inside of his coat [he had somehow managed to find exact change within a matter of seconds]. Once he turned away from the counter, the cashier looked relieved.

Not needing to bother looking for Ismir, Ammy let his feet take him to the table in the corner. The entire time, even after he had taken the seat opposite Izzy's, Amadeus kept his eyes on his cup. Once it was placed on the table, he used a stir-stick to swirl the cappuccino idly [he had only bought it to look in place. He did not eat or drink anything humans made]. He was still doing such when his mouth opened and his voice, deep but heavenly, flowed out as smoothly as it had before the cashier.

"Hello, Ismirshalen."

[+.Henry.+]

Out of the corner of his eye, Ismirshalen saw a big bulk enter Caribou Coffee. Instantly, a cold sweat began to break out on the back of his neck. He had more a reason to fear this man than anyone else in the world. He haunted his sleep, tortured his thoughts, and seemed to always be lurking behind him, like a shadow. He was Izzy's Hell. And now he was going to have to talk with him. Porcelain fingers tightened their cold grip around the sizzling hot coffee mug as the teen tried not to let his hands tremble. The teen's temperature was so cold he should be dead, making everything around him seem hot or burning. He was surprised the sweat on his neck wasnt freezing or something.

Ismirshalen kept his eyes fixed on his coffee as he heard the tall man asking for a cappuccino. That hazelnut coffee had to be by far the most interesting thing in the world at that moment. With hands that unfortunatly he could not make stop twitching he sipped the coffee one last reassuring time before setting it down on the table and straightening his chair. After doing so he made sure to shove his hands under the table in case Amadeus's sharp eyes were out and looking for signs of fear. Well it wouldnt have helped much anyway, Izzy was sure that the werewolf would be able to smell his fear.

Clank, clank, clank. The sound of Ammy's shoes pounding over the floor of the shop were practically deafening to the teen, and it wasnt because of his enhanced hearing. His heart was going double time compared to it. You shouldnt be this freaked out, Izzy told himself, but a voice in the back of his head told him it was stupid to think so. It was practically suicide to strike up conversation with this guy. But Ammy wouldnt kill him, no, he was more for tortureing Ismirshalen and mauling him however much he could without killing him.

The coal black haired teen bit his lip as the blond sat down in front of him and stirred the cappuccino with the stick. He only knew the man was doing so from his periphial vision, for his eyes were fixed on the table. As Amadeus spoke, he found that he had a strong urge to stand up, shove in his chair, and run out as fast as he could. Which was very. very fast. But instead, he had to answer. He had to do this.

"Hello, Amadeus," he began, his voice surprisingly level despite how his hands were shaking like jello. "As planned, we have come to discuss important matters...." Okay, enough with the intro. "I want to live in harmony with humans, and you want to... to kill them all." In a small voice, he muttered, "It's not going to end up your way."

[.:Mink:.]

As if frightening the humans wasn't good enough for Amadeus. Rarely did he come across things that he enjoyed more thoroughly, but this was one circumstance that had him entirely enthralled; scaring something that didn't know fear. Yes, he could smell the fear rolling off of Ismir like waves, and no, he didn't want to kill the teen just yet. If only the black-haired boy knew just how much enjoyment the man took in torturing him without even having to lift a finger. It was a reassurance to him that his power was great enough to win a fight without even fighting.

Through Ismir's short speech, the blond sat there silently, carefully examining the boy through his bangs, watching every move he made. He even took notice of how often the teen's chest heaved up and down in what was the common act of breathing. At the end of the younger man's verbiage, Amadeus smiled the eerie, fanged grin that was practically a trademark of his. A haunting chuckle drifted out from between his pointed teeth. They were speaking quietly enough that no human could hear them, but his acute ears, even under the hood, picked up every syllable and every emotion concealed within. Izzy truly wanted harmony with creatures as filthy as human beings, and he was seriously worried about what Ammy would have to say to that. If it wasn't so pathetic, the blond would have had the nerve to laugh as loud as he could.. which was probably loud enough to make the others in the shop go deaf.

"'Kill' would be an understatement," the 23-year-old mused in what could be taken as a happy tone. His words were true; he didn't kill humans just for the hell of it. He liked watching them suffer. Their agony was his amusement. All of this because one--just one--had wronged him. It did not take a genius to know that Amadeus was a steel-hearted, unforgiving bastard. And as such, he refused to let anyone get in the way of what he delighted in. No one would keep him from the only pleasure he could find on the planet, not even Ismirshalen A. Linnaeus. He removed his hands from the cappuccino and pushed it aside before lifting his arms so that his elbows were resting on the table. His fingers laced together and he rested his chin over them, then proceeded to look up and stare threateningly into Ismir's blue eyes with a conceited grin. "I will have my way. And," he added in a perfectly calm voice, "there is nothing you can do to stop me."

[+.Henry.+]

Ismirshalen could feel Amadeus's eyes burning into his skin as he studied the teen's every move. He could imagine how much fun the man was getting out of this. Just seeing Ismir there, unable to hold onto his sanity in front of the guy! Suddenly, he was determined not to let the werewolf get to him so easily, not without force. Hopefully, it wouldnt come to that. So the clear blue eyes were able to face up to meet the chocolate brown eyes that were almost not visible through all the hair. And he managed to do it without flinching, the fear melting away for the moment. His hands even stopped shaking, so he was able to take his coffee mug and have another sip. Warmth flooded through his throat, though it was practically boiling to him. At the mention of killing being an understatement, Izzy's guts almost twisted up all over again. He knew exactally what the man ment.

After draining his mug to half, the teen lifted his arms and laced his fingers much the same as Ammy had, although he was considerably shorter by about five inches. The caffine was working magic, making him feel a bit more confident than he had been two minutes before. The clear blue eyes took a moment to study his opponent's features, which all spoke of torture and a malevolent taste in entertainment. Deciding these features were the kind he should not be paying attention to, and the fact that they would only made him start shivering again, he ignored them. At Ammy's next words, the teen gritted his teeth together in annoyance.

"You wont have your way," Izzy said, mocking Amadeus's calm. "I can stop you. I can do it easily." He smiled crookedly, as was how he always did. "Have you ever heard of packs?" Ismirshalen rolled his eyes. "There are going to be lycan that dont want to kill humans, and there will be those who do. With your indolence, I'll have you begging for mercy in moments!" He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his chair and emphasizing the lack of effort it would take for him to have an army of wolves strong enough to pin Amadeus to the floor.

[.:Mink:.]

Ismir's sudden confidence slightly annoyed the blond, but he kept the toothy smile plastered to his face. He knew it wouldn't last forever. Nothing did. [Except maybe his conceit.] The boy's words did no better for him, but he dealt with them with his relaxed mood, as if he had no want to throw the table across the room in order to get a clear shot of the teen's throat and sink his fangs into it. No, instead he just kept on with his bluff of relaxedness and suppressed whatever urges were tugging at him.

"Yes, there is always that," he agreed with one of the boy's statements once he had finished. One hand left the other and picked up the stir-stick again, then turned it about in the coffee once again. Now Amadeus's chin rested on the back of his left wrist. "There are plenty of those... of you inbred curs that want to live in peace and harmony with the scum of the earth. However, Ismir, I think that if you take a look at those of us more experienced, intelligent lycan, you'll find that we are an elite race... And, compared to us, anything and everything else is obsolete.

"Half of all weres are moonblind," the man pointed out matter-of-factly with a vain sneer. "Needless to say, they wish to feed on human flesh, not make friends with the fools. And there are those of us in the other, sensible half who comprehend the laws of nature and do not jack them up. So, with the moonblinds and the prime controlled lycan, you are already outnumbered. Regardless of whether you could find any followers, the moment you were to give an order against the rest of us, we would have your throat torn open."

Amadeus's smooth voice had grown sandpaper-y in some parts of his speech, showing obvious distaste of Ismir's beliefs. Being that the man's arms were not actually in the sleeves, the coat was open for the most part, save the top two buttons. With one arm around the cup and the other on the table, it was easy to see the clothes he wore beneath the trench'. All black as coal, matching his soul perfectly. His fingers tightened around the small twig that he was stirring the coffee with and the stick splintered into the cup and onto the table. Other than that, he remained calm, although his angry face said otherwise. "With that knowledge, I want you to make a choice. You have two options. One, strive to become an ideal member of our society and live life well. Second, decide that the lives of scum are worth more than your own immortal, go to war alongside all of the other mutts who think like you, and die a most dishonorable death. Personally, I believe the correct answer is obvious, but then again, the humans seem to have polluted your mind with their foolery... Ismirshalen, I implore that you make a wise decision. I would hate to have to take an otherwise endless life."

[+.Henry.+]

Ismirshalen's smile grew a bit wider as he sensed the disappointment that Amadeus was obviously trying to surpress. Feeling a bit jittery, the teen went to take another sip of coffee. The sweet hazelnut flavored substance was barely kept from being spat out into Ammy's face, however, as the man launched into speech, which was insulting and informative at the same time. The blue eyed boy had a strong urge to fling his mug into the blonde's face. And it became stronger... and stronger.... and, you guessed it, almost unbearably strong as the sickeningly calm voice came to a close.

The worst part, Izzy decided, was that half of what was said was true. The majority of the werewolf population was moonblind, and those that were wouldnt want to fight to save what they ate. There were those who could control themselves, but most of them also wouldnt wish to fight for the humans. If things were to turn for the worst, the black haired teen would be fighting a war one million to one. And now he was being offered a choice. Two options, join that... that monster, or choose to start a war. The wolf inside the teen growled, longing for him to choose to rip the humans, tear... No, he told himself firmly, disgusted with himself. He would never choose to change his ways.

"Inbred curs?" he mocked, speaking calm dispite that overpowering urge. "I'm sure you might have most of the biscut jar on your side, but you also mentioned an important piece. Half of the ones who want to kill humans are moonblind. They cant control themselves. They wouldnt fight those of their own kind. How do you plan on getting around something like that? And those who are experienced, there are just as many who think like me." Blood was rushing at a hyped up pace through his veins, though he fought to keep himself in control. "And must I remind you, you were also born as 'scum'. You were 'scum' for a good span of your life. They're not stupid. Being that all you do is pick out their eyeballs and use them for marbles, I'm sure you would think that way. And from what you suggest about us being intellegant, elite creatures, I have proof sitting right in front of me that you're completely wrong. Unless, of coarse, you consider concieted and stubborn to be elite." Izzy's hold on the mug tightened hard as he struggled not to let his hand shake with his pent up anger. "I wont die," he hissed. "And if you think that I'm stupid enough to give in and go along with you sniveling mutts, then you better think again, if your brains havnt already rotted away! And if you havnt taken the hint, my answer is unchangable. I choose to stay on the side of the humans, and I will make sure that you loose this war, for by now it will have surely become one, am I right, oh dear and beloved Amy?" Unable to contain the will of his trembling hands any longer, Ismirshalen set down his coffee. But instead of spilling his own, as he was still intent on finishing it, his hand instead darted over to the cappuccino and flicked it hard enough to sent it toppling over to pour onto Amadeus. It happened so fast that even the teen himself wasnt sure if he had done it. So much for self control.

[.:Mink:.]

More preaching on Ismir's part only irritated the blond more, but he was able to keep his cool. However, at the sound of that ridiculous--abbreviations weren't needed for it...it wasn't even the right pronunciation...a girl's name!--nickname, Amadeus found that the anger currently pent inside him was a time bomb that had just been set off. The cappuccino flying into his lap was nothing. Being so hot, he didn't feel it at all, and even if he had, he didn't rightly care. It got the front of his shirt drenched, but it being so dark, there was nothing really to stain.

The lycan stood so harshly and abruptly that his chair toppled to the ground. Everyone stopped and stared. Amadeus's face was now totally the opposite of the calm he had pretended to feel, and the hatred that fueled his very existence was burning like the pits of Hell. His hands slammed onto the table and the sound of wood cracking thundered through the shop.

"We know our place, and that is at the top of the food chain and the planet's society!" His voice was definitely louder now, booming in an outbreak of rage. All in the quiet shop heard. "Just you remember, Linnaeus, you've chosen your own... Your heart may be pure, but hearts do not make us! Those with hearts are weak, those without them are true warriors, and you will never defeat such! All of the humans will die, along with you and every other lycan who opposes it!"

The last sentence got the humans in the shop just a tad riled up. Perhaps it was just a stupid practical joke, but that thought was immediately dismissed when Amadeus took a fistful of the front of his trenchcoat and ripped it off, revealing aggressively placed ears and an angrily lashing tail. His lips pulled back into a gruesome snarl, and for a single moment, there was silence in the building. Then the blond man gave a feral cry that strongly resembled a bark.

"Werewolf!" someone immediately screamed, and then there was havoc. Every person sitting, standing, or whatevering was suddenly rushing this way and that to leave the building, but the door just so happened to be close to where Amadeus and Ismirshalen were. Only maybe one or two people dared to venture out of it. The others were tangled in a fray even as Amadeus, whose features were starting to elongate into the fashion of something not man and not beast, heaved the table into the wall [where it splintered deafeningly] and slashed at Ismir with fingernails that resembled and were beginning to turn into claws.

[+.Henry.+]

Okay. So maybe completely loosing it and calling Amadeus the name he most hated wasnt such a great idea. Nothing Ismirshalen could do about that now. His veins pulsed with adrenaline as the tall blonde abruptly stood up, and the teen winced unconsciously as the chair clattered to the floor loudly. The silence that followed it was eerie, though Izzy was not at all worried about all people staring. He was not even worried about Ammy at the moment. Instead, his mouth twisted into a disdained grimace at the sight of his coffee toppling over as the werewolf's hands slammed upon and cracked the table. He covered his face with one hand, having a moment of silence for Mr. Hazelnut's death with the rest of the shop [who were absolutely not silent because of the spilt coffee] before the rage ridden voice of Amadeus filled the air.

All this talk of hearts and true warriors was making the teen sick. He wished he had never been infected, never have had to be forced to choose between peace and starting an all out war. Why couldnt he go back to being that teen who had run away from his homeland? He really wanted to ask someone that question. But for one, he didnt know any werewolves [besides Amadeus, who would surely be of no help whatsoever]. Izzy felt weighed down. But he had to escape, he couldnt just sit there and ask himself pointless questions, unless of coarse he was ready to be tortured and then have his head torn off by a madman. So as soon as the sound of clothing being ripped filled the air -- along with the screams and shouts of 'werewolf!' -- the teen quickly, though not roughly pushed back his chair and stood up, looking for an easy exit. Unfortunatly, before he could do so his attention was drawn to the table as it crashed into the wall.

Suddenly, there was a burning sensation in his cheek, and Ismirshalen's eyes widened as they flashed down to the source. Red liquid was already starting to pour out over a deep cut that had somehow magically appeared on his right cheek. It started from the top right side of his nose and went down to the end of his jawbone near his ear. As feeling finally kicked into his system, his face twisted into a look of pain mixed with shock, and the black haired teen stumbled backwards and into the corner of the wall. Before the table had been tossed , he had managed to snatch up his coffee mug, and now he proceeded to throw it at Amadeus's face, which was in the process of undergoing transformation. The teen looked about to scream, his eyes changing icy blue but otherwise not transforming.

"Bloody freaking HELL!," Ismirshalen shouted upon seeing the claws that had done the job, covering his wounded cheek with his left hand. Seeing the blood on his fingers when it was withdrawn, he flung some of the crimson liquid at Ammy's face. Moments later a black gun was in his right hand, seemingly appearing from nowhere, but if you looked closely you could see that the pouch that had been hastily tied around his belt was open.

[.:Mink:.]

A man being hit on the cheek with a ceramic is one thing, but a wolf being hit on the nose with the hardest part of a coffee mug is something completely different. Thanks to this, a surprised--and maybe pained--yelp pierced the air. The mug shattered when it hit the floor, and the now-wolfish Amadeus had an urge to pick up the broken pieces and stab Ismir's eyes out with them. However, it was obvious that such a simple thing could not injure a werewolf, so he decided instead that it would be more fun to pull the teen's heart out from his throat.

His form was crouched, and even then he was huge. The fact that his fur jotted out in all directions gave an even bigger impression. By now, the humans were perfectly quiet and still, frozen in that cold fear that such nightmarish things cause. As much as Amadeus would have loved to kill them all, right now it was Ismir he wanted. And, being in the corner, Ismir was a perfect target. The gigantic golden werewolf snatched up a particularly shiny fork from another table and half-heartedly thanked whatever human had been smart--or stupid--enough to put actual silverwear out.

The gun now apparent in Ismirshalen's hand was the biggest threat Amadeus knew. It was not loaded with lead like other guns, but rather with something much, much more terrible. There was no way he would allow himself to be injured with that. And as long as the wolf kept up his terrifying act, his prey might stall long enough for him to attack. So he approached Ismir very slowly, all the while having his head slightly cocked, just as any other predator might. The slowness was a trick, and at just the last minute, when he sensed that the black-haired teen would pull the trigger in milliseconds, Amadeus's hand-paw jerked towards him, the pointed, silver fork aimed directly at his hand.

[+.Henry.+]

Ismirshalen winced, his right eye half closed, as the pain flared up in his cheek. Compared to his body, the wound on his face was a pan boiling water. But he was still able to smile as Ammy's yelp of surprise rang through the shop. The humans were practically dolls, just standing there gaping in terror. Izzy felt sorry for them, but it was his own skin he had to save just now. If he wasnt alive, many more of these humans would perish, as most surely would tonight. After the mug shattered on the floor, Izzy turned his attention to the werewolf, gun still steady in his hand as he took it all in.

It had been a while since the last time the leather-adorned werewolf had seen his forevemie [as Izzy dubbed him] in full blast were-form. Of coarse Ismir would never forget how he looked, but seeing it again never ceased to send ripples of fear and awe [though he would never admit the awe part] down his spine. The golden beast was mad tall, even when crouched, so he was easily towering over everyone in the shop. The fur made him seem even more massive, what with it bristling out in every which way. The face was purely intimidating, along with those long claws. Which were stained with the teen's blood. Overall, still as drastic and malevolent as usual. No biggie. Unless you're being impaled upon those fangs, of coarse. Blood from his cheek wound continued to pour down in a steady stream.

Icy blue eyes narrowed sharply as suddenly Amadeus snatched up a shiny fork. They quickly widened in fear as they registered what it was made of. No. No! The 'wolf wouldnt get anywhere near him. He had a weapon, too. And he knew Ammy knew what was in it. As the beast got closer and closer, head cocked to the side, Izzy's finger tightened harder and harder over the trigger until...

Bang! The sound of gunfire rang out through the shop like a thunder bolt, followed closely by a scream of unbearable pain and the sound of a body falling into a wall and slumping to the floor. But it wasnt the werewolf. On the floor, writhing and screaming and completely unaware of what was going around him lay Izzy. The silver fork had been shoved right through the palm of his hand, the four bloody tips sticking out of the back. Crimson liquid welled out from it, spreading over the floor and the teen's clothes like a forest fire. Face contorting into the most hideously pained expressions, Ismir curled up into a ball and screamed, though it sounded more like the most terrible howl ever made. It was practically deafening, even for human ears. The gun had been traded over to his left hand, and throughout the process of contorting into the oddest positions he had managed enough control to reach the fireplace, which was cackling at him mockingly. From there he proceeded to get on his knees, leaning his forehead against the brick surrounding the fire. The bullet had completely missed its target, and now almost delerious with pain and revenge, the teen fumbled with the gun, trying to get his trembling left hand to lock hold around the black shiny mass. The effort was almost comical, what with a string of curses mixed with howls erupting from Ismirshalen and the fact that his whole body was jerking in harsh spasms. The guy hadnt even thought to remove the fork.

[.:Mink:.]

Amadeus might have taken advantage of Ismir's weak moment, had it not been that the boy's screech made his ears feel like they would explode. The large beast stumbled backwards clumsily... right into a human. Before anyone knew what had happened, he had whirled around, sunk his fangs into the human's neck, and pretty much tore it out. The others immediately moved away, but the most any of them could utter was a squeak. They looked so tempting to the golden wolf, but they would have to wait. He turned back sharply to Ismir, who was now fumbling with his gun. It had been lucky that the last bullet had been avoided, and Amadeus didn't want to take any other chances. He reapproached the fallen teen, red eyes gleaming with the longing to inflict more pain. Once he had reached the boy, he clamped onto his forearm and jerked him off the ground. With his free paw, he twisted the handle of the fork around Ismir's hand so that it would be extremely difficult--and painful--to remove. The monster's face was twisted into a hideous wolf grin. He was taking much enjoyment out of this.

Without waiting for Ismir to shoot him, the wolf threw him across the shop where his body would most likely make a dent in the far wall. Upon tossing him there, Amadeus caught yet another glimpse of the mob of humans and could not resist licking his chops like a dog that hadn't been fed in weeks. Thinking quickly, he scanned the surroundings in order to find something to stall Ismir while Amadeus took care of the humans. He noticed coal among the logs in the fireplace. Perfect.

Ammy never did understand why Ismirshalen would never transform in front of humans. If he cared so much about them, wouldn't they accept him, even though he was a bloodthirsty beastie? No, they wouldn't, because humans were the type of creature to get biased at the slightest thing different from them. Yet another reason why fighting for them was a lost cause.

Reaching into the burning fire, Amadeus grabbed a fistful of the charred coal. It was a wonder that he could touch the flames, the very coal itself, and not be burned. That was just how he was--that hot. Ismir, on the other hand, was allergic to coal; as allergic to it as Amadeus was to gold. So he took the handful and threw it forcefully in Ismir's direction.

Without even looking to make sure his target had been hit, the lycan advanced on the group of humans. One by one, he picked them off and slaughtered them; not for food as was the custom of werewolves, but rather just for the hell of killing them. He would tear and slash and bite until, whether little girl or full grown man, they would scream in pain, in suffering, in echoes of his soul and what the very creatures had done to him. And maybe that was why his human side didn't take the same pleasure in killing as his wolf side did; because he always saw himself in everyone he killed. That, however, was meaningless at the moment. Only a couple of the humans remained. Amadeus took special care in disposing of them. While keeping them alive, he took them apart, maybe limb by limb, maybe organ by organ, by whatever means necessary to make them bleed and suffer. By the time he was finished, the shop was drenched in blood, confettied with flesh, and even splintered with bits of bone. Proud of his work, Amadeus turned suddenly toward Ismir, only to yelp and stumble backwards when something sharp impaled his left arm.

A twisted howl of agony escaped the massive beast's throat. It wasn't the sharp piece of wood that was embedded in his flesh that hurt, but rather, what had been laced around it--mistletoe. Damn Ismirshalen! He had purposely arranged this little outing during the holidays when humans always had mistletoe about and within reach, and had taken advantage of that and thrown some at him. It sickened Amadeus so much that he forgot to remove the splinter of wood and instead let his arm go numb and useless. He took a few heavy steps towards the boy before his long legs folded into a crouch. There he remained immobile for a heartbeat.

This would end right now, Amadeus decided, and sprung with his jaws gaping and ready to tear Ismir's throat.

[+.Henry.+]

Ismirshalen's head hurt, leaning into that wall. Everything hurt. Well, really only his cheek and hand, but that was enough. He wasnt sure how much longer he could hold out against Ammy without transforming. But he wouldnt transform, not in front of humans. Because maybe, somewhere deep in his soul, he knew they wouldnt accept him. He knew they'd try to kill him, that they might even take someone like him in for experimenting, like those mad scientists on TV. He could never fit in with humans, no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes the teen even questioned if what he was fighting for was even worth it. What had they ever done for him? Well, they had let him exist. They had given him coffee. And no matter what they had or would do to him, Izzy was determined not to go in the direction Ammy had taken. Two wrongs didnt make a right. He knew that, because he himself was able to learn it as a human. Others might too. Not all humans were the same, everyone was different. Sometimes, you had to think of werewolves as human, too. The only difference was the living forever, the fact that on your special moon phase you'd transform into a hideous beast. Because if you really took the time, put all the genetic differences aside, they were all the same, they could all feel, have emotions, and live. I'm not the wolf. I'm human, just like them. I shouldnt have to transform, not at all. The wolf doesnt belong. How much he wished it were so.

All this thinking and reasoning had really only happened in a matter of seconds, during which time the golden beast had managed to tear out a human's throat. The black haired teen could barely repress having his stomach knot up at the sound. But Amadeus wasnt ready for the rest of the humans. Not yet. Clawed feet scraped across the floor towards him. Izzy had less than a second to prepare as his right arm was jerked upwards, his body being effortlessly hoisted into the air. Through half closed eyes he watched as the monster's free paw reached over to his hand. Then came the pain as the fork was bent, rubbing up against the teen's bones, causing massive amounts of inflammation and tears to spark to his eyes. The pain hurt worse than before, as the fork was twisted, the bloody flesh inside the wound touched by the silver was instantly fried up. The whole handle was wrapped around his hand, and while on the outside of a wound it could not hurt him, he could still feel the silver, a big blotch of heat around his skin. Ismir looked up into Ammy's eyes, feeling like a dead weight. Would the beast win the war before it even started? Death seemed almost pleasurable right now. At the sight of the beast's excited, overjoyed expression, at how the longing to torture and inflect pain just wafted right off of his face, the chalky werewolf felt like throwing up. His left hand tightened over the trigger.

Before he could summon the strength to lift up his hand, however, he was abruptly and forcefully thrown across the whole shop and into the far wall. Instantly all the breath was knocked right out of his lungs and chest, making the brunette [they call black haired people that too, I think] unable to even groan in this newfound back pain. Sure, wounds not inflected by other werewolves or things they were allergic to would heal instantly, but not something like having your back whammed into a wall. That doesnt nessesarily pierce your skin. Izzy knew there was a huge dent in the wall because of the fact that he hadnt slid down to the floor. Instead, his leather boots were dangling in the air with the toes of them sliding across the ground. He was still unable to draw breath when coal black projectiles hissed through the air. No, wait, it was coal. Ismir's face twisted in agony as they landed on his stomach, burning holes through his black turtleneck no-sleeve and into his skin. Eyes closed tightly, only able to make strangled noises, the wispy black hair slumped down along with his head. The larger chunks of coal fell to the floor, while the tiny bits embedded themselves into the teen's skin.

The sounds of tearing, ripping, shreding, snaping, and so many other indescribeable sounds filled the air as Amadeus malevolently slaughtered the humans like wolves would to sheep. Except it was only for the joy of it, Izzy was sure. He didnt even have to look to know what was happening. He didnt want to. Why couldnt he just die? he wondered in despair. There was nothing he could do to stop Ammy, nothing... Suddenly, a flash of green caught his eye. Mistletoe. So all was not lost. Not yet. Only moving his left arm, Izzy managed to slide down from the wall. He managed to loosen his vice-like grip on the gun, setting it on the floor. Breathing was still harsh on him, dots were swimming before his vision. But it was okay. He didnt need to be fully conscious to do what he needed to. Reaching out, he grabbed a large and sharp shard of wood from the ground and the strip of mistletoe he had spotted. Using only his left hand, his right having been rendered useless, he managed to get the mistletoe to wrap around the shard. Ready with his weapon, the teen took aim and threw it in the direction of Amadeus. It hit home right as the werewolf had turned to face him.

The howl that erupted from the beasts's maw was terrible. It spoke of hate, pain, and a promise of revenge. Apparently the golden wolf hadnt thought to take out the wood, for moments later his whole left arm was paralyzed. The monster turned its blood red eyes upon Ismirshalen, moving forward and then lowering to a crouch. Knowing what would happen next, the teen struggled to regain grasp of the gun. And lifted it, while at the same time Amadeus lunged, jaws wide open.

"Bang," came a whisper from cold lips, then pale fingers curled around the trigger.

[.:Mink:.]

Ever closer to reaching the flesh he wanted so to tear and shred, Amadeus could hardly stand the time it took him to be carried through the air. If only time would move just a little faster, he would be there sooner, he would taste blood, ... Ismir would not have pulled his other gun.

Twisting around in midair, the wolf attempted to move, to get out of the range of where the pistol was aimed, but his form was too large to move away quickly enough. His head spun to the side, his feet tripped over air when they touched the tile floor, his tail acted as a rudder so that he could move enough that the bullet would not kill him. A flicker of hope that he would avoid the shot became apparent, but it was pointless.

The Boom! which resounded was quite possibly the loudest noise Amadeus had ever heard, or at least it seemed that way because it was what he dreaded most. Just hearing it made his head shake, his very heart's beat was in time with the bang, and then it stopped beating. No, the bullet did not kill him. Had it, he would not have felt a thing. But did he ever feel something! Pure gold, it was a pure gold bullet just like he feared, and it grazed his left cheek. Even being a graze, it was considerably deep and he could have sworn that the bullet had nicked bone. He could have, that is, if it wasn't that his entire face suddenly felt on fire. This fire was worse than his insane body temperature; it was a hundred, if not a thousand times worse. The pain an injured werewolf feels cannot be compared to any wound a human may receive--there is just nothing that can get the point of just how much it hurts across.

This particular scratch--only a scratch!--hurt Amadeus so much that instead of side-stepping, he fell forward and smacked his head off the wall. When he tried to open his eyes, he saw nothing but blurs and red, so he fell over on top of that. The pain, unbearable, made him writhe around on the cold tile. Curl, uncurl, flip, twist, turn. No matter how he squirmed, the pain remained. There was gold dissipated in the wound, he knew, and so he did the only thing he could have thought of in such a desperate situation. He clawed at the scratch, clawed to get the gold out, but instead of succeeding, another burning was suddenly felt, but this time directly over his eye. In his haste, he had clawed his own face.

Now a terrible howl, worse than before, angry and hurt and vengeful, rang through the shop and cracked its glass windows. He could not even shout, the agony was so horrible, but that one outraged cry spoke for Amadeus enough.

This is war! I'll kill you and anyone else who stands in my way. Just try to beat me, just try. I swear by the pain in my face, you will die by my fangs.

[+.Henry.+]

It seemed like minutes had gone by since Ismirshalen had pulled the trigger. The motion of the wolf in the air as it twisted, trying to get out of the way. The breath that had caught in the teen's throat as he willed the bullet to hit. Then sudden motion as everything clicked into sequence, the bullet grazed the golden beast's left cheek, the monster smashed its head into the wall near Ismir and fell, squirming and writhing. Icy eyes continued to stare straight forward in shock, heart thumping so franctically it felt like his chest would burst. Breathing again. His pain even seemed to numb for the moment. But unable to look at Amadeus as he writhed on the ground near him, unable to watch, but hearing enough to tell him that the wolf had clawed his own face.

At the sound of the blood curdling howl that rang through the air, Izzy was once again able to move. He turned his eyes first to the black gun, the hand holding it now shaking uncontrollably. The pain of the silver and coal flared back up again, causing the teen to double over, choking and retching up coffee, the only thing he had had that day. How it hurt. How he wished it would stop. But when he had writhed and squirmed like Ammy, he had found it would not leave, as the wolf must have found out by now also. The brunette allowed himself to turn his eyes over to stare at the monster. The sight of his claws flailing and body writhing made the teen sick. He had come so close to being killed, murdered brutally before the war had begun. It almost felt as if he had been killed already, except that the pain had forgotten it was suppost to stop. He had to get out of here, while Amadeus was unable to move.

Done puking out all that coffee, Ismirshalen forced his body to stand up. The instant he was at full height, however, lightheadedness flooded over him from blood loss, and he had to lean on the wall for support. His wispy black hair covered his eyes, and he raised a shaky hand to brush it back before slowly working his way to stand just out of reach of the thrashing beast, his legs feeling like jello. As he looked down at Amadeus, his icy blue eyes changed back to their natural clear blue, sensing that for the most part danger was over.

"War has begun," Izzy whispered, his voice cracked and throat burning. "I should end it now, but..." He paused, holding the gun up so that Ammy might see it. Curse his shaking body, he could barely keep from dropping it. "I guess, for lack of a better phrase, it would ruin all the fun." Done with his small and barely audiable speech, the teen proceeded to stagger out of the shop, making sure to avoid looking at the blood that draped the store. Outside, the sun had just sunk under the tall buildings of Grieco City, though the walk was still plenty bright with all the lights. The teen turned one last time to look at Caribou Coffee, and made sure to turn the sign to say "CLOSED" before going on his way. It might take a week or so for them to have it up and running again, and maybe a few more until the costomers started appearing as much again. Many people were still bustling about, so Izzy weaved through them, trying to make his scent hard for Ammy to follow, for follow he most surely would. The blood flowing out from the cut on his face, the fork twisted around his right hand which was also bleeding, and the holes in his shirt where burns were visible through it, however, made people tend to distance themselves from him.

Soon, walking had become a chore, and Ismir unconciously found himself in an alley between two tall buildings, one which happened to be a hospital. He might have gone in, but before he could even think on it, Ismirshalen found his world go black as the ground rushed up to meet his face. Even though worn out and unconscious, the pain from his wounds would not cease, and instead smothered him like fog.

- - - - - - - - - -

The voices echoing around through the crowded walk were infuriating. The people themselves were making the bedraggled teen claustrophobic. He couldn't take it anymore. How could they stand this? How could any sane person stand this? Many would probrably ask him where he got the idea that he was at all sane. His frame was practically just skin and bones, with his ribs showing even through his paper thin huge white T-shirt. It had a duck on the front, and on the back where a tear used to be there was now a patch that had the words "Just 4 Peanuts" on it. Huge black bags were imprinted under his eyes, which were half hidden by his messy dark teal hair. Torn blue jeans were what consisted of his lower body, plus a pair of socks. Just socks. No shoes. A pack of cigarettes were visible sticking out of one of the pant pockets, and there was also a big lump where some other unknown objects might be hiding. All in all, the 19-year-old teen seemed to be one hell of a druggie.

The noise and close proximities of the sidewalk finally sent the teen, who seemed to be half in reality and half in his little domain stumbling off and over to the entrance of a shop. A coffee shop, and to be more exact, it was named Caribou Coffee. Ignoring the "CLOSED" sign, which seemed to be stained with a bit of red, the teal haired boy pushed the door open, which seemed to be a huge effort, and walked into the vinicity. Instantly the smell of blood and extreem amounts of human carnage rushed to the druggie's sensitive nose. The lights were off, apparently someone had wanted to conserve energy, though the millions of neon signs outside were enough to light up the interior of the shop. Silver eyes blinked groggily several times as they looked around, and a small, cracked smile spread across his sickly face.

After gazing with admiration around at the torn throats and bodies that were not reconizable anymore, the teen's attention was finally drawn to the source of all the chaos. The whole time he had been aware of the thrashing and scraping of claws that had unmistakenably came from the one who caused all this mess, and yet it was just now that the silver-eyed shoeless kid had decided to pay attention to it. But now was always better than never, no matter how much that now had been delayed. So without further ado, the teen turned and dragged his feet through the warm blood and over to Amadeus, who was writhing on the floor right in front of him.

"Allergic to gold, and is repelled by mistletoe," came a soft whisper as the teal haired boy bent over to watch. "And interestingly enough..." He bent over and proceeded to whip out a needle and swiftly shoot it into the golden beast's thigh. "He seemed to have been pierced by both, not too long ago, by the looks of it..." Apparently the guy only whispered, because even though his next words were directed at the werewolf his voice did not raise even a pinch. "What I have injected into you is a drug which will relieve pain... Due to the fact that you are obviously not a doctor, I will tell you it in plain old English." A hint of concealed sarcasm dripped in his mealodic calming voice. "It should take effect quickly, and when it does I want you to sit up and stop writhing like a baby. It helps with the healing process if the patient does not protest."