Katastrophy [FINISHED]

[Trisha Morello]

Maybe she should have been looking for a job. Maybe she should have been putting in applications so she could find some way to pay the rent. Instead, she was spending what little money she had on drinks so she could drink away her fucking misery. Cliche. Pathetic. Unoriginal. It was all the same. Were you unhappy? Do what everyone else did - find you happiness at the bottom of god damn bottle.

The part time bar tender, a rather attractive young woman came over to Trisha and smirked slightly. Trisha was resting her head in one of her hands, her other gripped loosely around the small glass she had that was almost empty. Her brown eyes were cast down at the liquid in the glass. Whiskey. Simple. Strong. Everything she wasn't.

"You look worse for ware."

Trisha put barely any effort to lift her middle finger as her eyes didn't leave the glass. "Fuck you, gutter slut." There was no emotion in her voice. Just the bland response laced with blatant insult. The bartender only chuckled softly before filling the young woman's glass. They didn't check for IDs here. That's why Trisha managed to find a place to wallow. Technically, she was only 19... turned only a few months ago. She'd had two episodes of the beast coming out on the full moon. All of it was just fucked up. She didn't know what to make of it. So she ignored it like she did everything she didn't like.

She took the now full glass and brought it to her lips. She'd never really drank before. She used to sneak drinks with her friends in high school, but nothing like this now. It was easy for her to get drunk... kind of. Her faster metabolism was proving to be a problem. So she needed more than she used to. But she was still a small woman. Good. She didn't have the money to spend on a lot drinks. Getting drunk after a few glasses would have to do. She took a swig before cringing. It was a harsh taste, but it was proving to be more and more enjoyable.

Fuck this shit.

She downed the rest of the glass.

[Daniel “Lykaon” Myr]

The friction between the pads of his fingers and the heavy chain mail stowed in his car's trunk was comforting and Lykaon found that the mere touch of the cold metal sent his nerves a tingling at the possibility he might be readying for battle, readying for a fight. With a hint of regret in his eyes he pulled his hands away from the armor and shut his trunk with a resounding whumph! It had been a week or so since he had even been able to wear his armor and even then the Lycan he had found simply turned tail and ran--his reputation was getting annoying. He pulled at the silver chain about his neck with a scowl of irritation on his face as he walked towards the entrance of "Finley's Tavern." Truth be told he disliked most forms of jewelry, but here he was with a silver chain about his neck and a silver circle on his right hand ring finger; useful ways to check if someone was a werewolf.

Ensuring the chain was tucked away under the black collar of his simple t-shirt he opened the door and stepped into the quiet atmosphere of the tavern. A smattering of conversation could be picked up here and there and the music that was played wasn't loud and overbearing; Finley's was a nice place. Jamming his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans he flashed his award winning smile at a few of the usual passionate patrons sitting in the bar and gave an extra radiant one to the young female bartender and sending the faint shadow of a blush through her cheeks.

Then he turned his face purposefully so that she might see the scar on his face and he chuckled inwardly as he watched her eyes widen with curiosity from the corner of his own. Though it was an ugly disfigurement of his face he had learned that it often won a few pity points in the eyes of soft hearted, motherly women--points that would later end up getting you in their pants. Predictably, he had barely taken a seat at the bar before she was there greeting him with her best customer appreciation smile and doing her best to draw attention to her sizable female assets.

Keeping an amused smile on his face he ignored her attempts at conversation and simply ordered a beer off of tap; he'd have to make sure he was sober enough to drive once this little bartender got off work. Watching her as she walked away he let a smirk break out onto his face before turning his eyes towards the rest of the bar.

His eyes were greeted by the site of a patron downing an entire shot of whiskey and without hesitation he slipped a folded twenty dollar bill from his wallet and slid it in front of the petite black girl a few seats away from him. "It looks like you'll need a few more shots before you get where you're trying to go. Though it was clear Lykaon knew where this particular person was trying to go with her drinking he held no harsh judgment in his voice, but rather a sad note of understanding.

He knew of alcohol's power to depress and to soothe one's personal monsters and he had went through a very short, short phase of his own where he washed down his self-pity with any drink he could get his hands too. Still, it had been but a phase and it had only taken time for him to get out of it and to find a greater purpose. One day this girl would wake up with that familiar pain in her head, in her stomach and it would snap into her--life wasn't meant to be lived this way.

Then again, she might not... and she'll asphyxiate on her own puke. What a horrid and inglorious way to die; looking down at the beer placed in front of him he made a stern mental note to himself--he was not to die choking on his own throw-up. With that cheery thought in mind he took a deep, long sip of his beer.

[Trisha Morello]

The whiskey ran down her throat and she cringed. But Trisha didn't really want to be feeling anything right now. Not even the alcohol coating her throat and stomach. Not even the comforting warm feeling it brought to her. She put the glass down hard on the bar top and it echoed through the bar. Some of the people looked at her strangely. She did look rather young to be so miserable and drinking away her sorrows. She turned her gaze to some of the loyal patrons and snarled viciously. They seemed to leave her gaze after that.

Then someone else came into the bar and Trisha could see from the corner of her eye how the young bartender lit up. It must have been someone she knew. A friend coming to gossip with her. So Trisha rolled her eyes contemptuously. It was only a few months ago she was acting that way, chatting with her girl friends and going to the gym to check out hot guys. All of that seemed to change though. She changed. Everything about her was different. She didn't give a shit about the way she looked anymore. Her short hair was tussled disheveled and despite the warm weather, Trisha was wearing a long sleeved black shirt and worn jeans. She only packed a few things when she left home... not many of them were clothes. So she had to take what she could find which wasn't much.

She heard someone talking and for a moment, she didn't pay much attention until she realized they were talking to her when they placed a $20 bill next to her glass. She turned her head to see the tall, dark man looking at her with a hint of sympathy. It made her stomach churn. She took the 20 dollar bill and crumbled it up in her fist before chucking the ball right for his head.

"Fuck off, pretty boy. Go find a mirror to look into." Trisha turned her head away from him as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a few dollars and some change. She motioned with her pointer finger, barely using any effort, for the bartender to come over. "Another one." Instead of some snide remark from the bartender like before, she filled her glass, leaning more forward than was necessary as she turned her gaze seductively toward the man. She couldn't help but wonder why he was bothering talking to this piece of white trash.

[Daniel “Lykaon” Myr]

The insult bounced around Lykaon's brain for a bit and with each bounce it stung a little less. At first it had hit him quite hard and he had almost retorted back at her something along the lines of, "You can go shove the mirror up your ass." However, he had managed to stay his tongue and he merely hardened his gaze and chose to reexamine the brat sitting next to him.

Her body was muddled, so obscured by her large, baggy clothing but with a closer look he divined that a skinnier, perhaps more pleasing form might lie underneath. Sweeping over her he noted the faded color in the material of her clothing as well as a few holes scattered about as result from persistent and excessive use. The stoney aspect left his eyes then and he blinked in surprise as a thought entered his head--was she homeless?

Though she probably didn't want it the Hunter made a silent vow to himself and to God that he was going to help this girl. Still, he'd have to be tactful about this as he supposed he couldn't just strong arm her into accepting help; the crumpled up twenty dollar bill was evidence enough of that. Gesturing to the balled up cash he gave the bartender an attractive smile out of instinct though his eyes clearly showed his mind was elsewhere, "Consider that twenty to go towards this young girl's tab."

The pretty thing wasn't quite as dense as she looked and she took the bill in silence, but she still kept jutting out her chest at Lykaon, which only caused a brief spark of irritation to jump across his face--did he go thrusting his crotch into women he was interested in? Reading the danger in the air the bartender tutted quietly to herself in an offended tone and abruptly went off to service another customer. Turning back to Trisha he leaned forward in his seat, keeping himself propped up with his elbows bracing him against the sleek wooden surface as he tried to catch her eye.

"So, you think i'm pretty, eh? A smirk was broad upon his face and he only hoped that he wasn't going to receive a shot of whiskey to the face; that stuff really, really burned when it got in your eyes. Still, he felt he had to chip away at the icy and extremely offensive exterior that this girl was currently throwing up in front of him; certainly a task much easier said than done.

[Trisha Morello]

When the man didn't respond for a few second, Trisha felt a wave of relief wash over her. Good. He wasn't going to fucking bother her because she really just wanted to be left the fuck alone. She didn't need any friends to come cheer her up. She left all of those back home with her parents. She didn't need the burden of people knowing her. A social life was something she used to pride herself in having. Now she wanted nothing to do with the social world. And if she weren't such a coward, she would have taken her own god damn life. But how would she go about killing herself anyway? Trisha figured out early on that she was allergic to silver. When she found that out she just rolled her eyes. Really? she thought bitterly to herself. Silver..? Maybe she could swallow something silver.

Whatever, she thought to herself. She looked down at her full glass and then heard the man next to her speak to the bartender. 20 dollars on her tab? Trisha rolled her eyes and took her drink and downed it quickly, her head tilting back as she did so. Could he get lost now? But he stayed in his seat next to her even as she turned her head away from him in annoyance. He spoke to her again and her shoulders tensed noticeably. She wanted to rip that pretty fucking face off. She gripped her glass tightly as it was filled again. She drank it all before slamming down with extra force just as she turned a fiery gaze to her annoying bench partner before she smiled sweetly, sarcastically.

"I'm sorry... are you not used to rejection?" Her smile faded and it was soon replaced with a scowl. "I didn't ask for your fucking money, prom king. I'm not going to be your god damn pity case nor your fuck buddy. Find some dumb blond to swoon over you."

[Daniel “Lykaon” Myr]

With each passing moment Daniel was growing more and more used to the woman's potty mouth; with every scowl, every curse and every evil eye she gave him becoming increasingly natural to him. This woman's severely offensive front had no doubt had many possible friends and allies dash against it to be torn and ripped into shreds. The pity was quickly leaving his body and being replaced by a severe strain of irritation--this being deserved no pity nor softness for what she deemed to be appropriate behavior to others. Even wrapped up in his own tightly woven cocoon of arrogance he never made it a point to belittle those around him with harsh words and obscene gesture.

Suddenly he was filled with the great and overwhelming urge to hit her. Not just a slap or a backhand, but a full fledged five knuckle sandwich directly to that cute, curse ridden mouth. The last straw (not that there were many straws to begin with) broke at that moment and the man's hand darted out, catching the young girl's chin in a strong grasp and forcing her to look into his stoney hazel eyes.

"Listen, girl. If I wanted you to be swooning over me, you'd be swooning. If I wanted you to be my fuck buddy you'd be my fuck buddy and you are definitely not worth any of my fucking pity." Dropping her chin his hand whipped over to seize his glass of beer, which was now only half full. "Since you're so inclined to drown in drink--I will be more than happy to help you." With that being said he gave no more thought to his actions and upended the glass of amber liquid on top of the girl's head.

((OOC - Lemme know if it is too much God Mod.))

[Trisha Morello]

Trisha turned away from the handsome man with a scar on his face to look at the bartender who had been watching the two from the corner of her eye. Trisha gave her a look that said, bitch, my glass is empty. Get the fuck over here. And she did just that, filling the girls cup to the rim. Just as Trisha was about to take the glass, the man grabbed her chin tightly and forced her head to turn to him. He got close to her face, and she felt her skin ache and her blood boil. She. Hated. Being. Touched. He was in close proximity to her and she could feel his warm breath on her skin. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as he spoke to her in an irritated tone. Her lips curled back into a vicious snarl. He even had the gall to call her girl.

She was moments away from punching the pretty off his fucking face. But she was left no time to respond. Normally, she wouldn't even have let someone get so close to her without punching them. But the man had caught her so off guard that she was left repeating his words in her head over and over again as she tried to catch up. He dropped her chin and she swung back to face the bar, her face beet red in anger. She gripped the edge of the bar tightly as she tried to control herself. She felt her nerves burning and her heart racing. She gripped her small glass tightly.

Then a cold, wet, bitter smelling liquid ran down her hair and face, hitting her shoulders and running into her thinly layered clothing. Trisha grew incredibly still as her entire body tensed. Patrons gasped along with the bartender who added a little giggle at the end of her shocked expression. She grasped at her glass with a death grip. His words didn't hurt her neither did his actions. She didn't feel like crying and running away, going home to her mommy and crying about the mean boys at school. She was far from that. The man was sitting there, having put his beer bottle down and she gave it a subtle side glance.

That.

Mother.

Fucker.

Quickly, and without a word of argument, Trisha grabbed his now empty beer bottle and sent it flying toward the side of his head.

[Daniel “Lykaon” Myr]

A certain satisfaction rushed into his ears along with the gasps of the surrounding viewers and even the giggle from the bartender helped bring out a broad, oozing smirk on his face--that would teach the little gutter rat to watch her tongue. No matter how big and tough you thought you were someone was always out there that wasn't going to deal with your shit, your problems and your attitude. Lykaon would know for he had gotten into a fight every now and then due to his rash impulsiveness and overconfidence. Granted, nearly all his fights went in his favor so it really only served to stoke his ego; he'd been trained to fight Lycans and Vampires so what could a human really bring to the table?

Thinking his business finished here he left his seat and set his feet moving toward the exit. Still, he had to offer at least one more insult to the female before he left and he found himself turning back to face her, his hand reaching for his wallet for another twenty dollar bill. His eyes had just registered the anger on her face when they locked onto the dark amber blue flying through the air towards him. Instinct took over and his arm flew up to block it though there was one small problem his mind overlooked--he didn't have his shield on him. What would have been layer upon layer of strong, forged bronze was instead simply air and it did little to slow the bottle's trajectory.

The bottle clonked off his head with a resound hollowness before it ricocheted off to land a fair distance away and go skidding into a corner. "OW!" Lykaon exclaimed as he was forced to step back, a shower of multicolored star-bursts stomping across his vision. Placing the back of his shield arm up to the place that was struck he lay down a silent stream of curses at God, at Lycans and at the god damn beer bottle that had been thrown at him.

Given little time to recover he had scarcely opened his eyes again before he was greeted with a flurry of small, but speedy fists breaking through the air towards him. His eyes narrowed and the pain in his head dulled as the adrenaline began to hit him full force--she should have kept throwing bottles at him. A sturdiness crept into his stance as his feet widened marginally to give him better stability and his knees gave a slight bend to them so he could jump or leap at a moments notice; his fingers pressed themselves together tightly and bent into a "C" shape better to scoop away a punch or kick or to claw or grab an enemy; his tongue darted out hungrily wetting his dry lips as his heartbeat filled his head. God, he loved to fight.

The next moment passed in a rapid burst of events as he parried aside one, two, three of her blows, but the fourth one was the one he wanted. The big right hook with all her little body's weight behind it flew at him and he let it connect with his chin, careful to keep his tongue away from his teeth lest he bite it off. Rolling with the blow he set his hands into motion, grabbing her firmly by her wrist and giving her a sharp tug that sent her spinning, off balance. Her hips spun into his and he quickly pinned both of her petite arms to her body with his stronger, larger ones in an awkward lover's embrace, his mouth at her ear with words at the ready. "You don't want this fight going any further, girl." Blinking hard he took the moment of peace to stretch his jaw out further, hearing something painfully click into place...damn, the little thing packed a punch.

The smell of the beer made his nose wrinkle with distaste and he felt the wetness sink into his own shirt from being pressed up to her own clothes--okay, maybe she deserved an apology. The words began to gather at his mouth, as bitter as the prospect was, and he took a moment to think about how to say it. "Hey, sorry about pouring beer all over you," just didn't seem to cut it and his grip slackened slightly as his mind mulled over the best possible way to apologize.

Sure, Daniel was a knack with his fists, but make the guy apologize and you had him frozen like a deer in headlights.

[Trisha Morello]

There was so much satisfaction and triumph when she saw the bottle clank off his head. Granted, it proved to be slightly anti climactic seeing how she was really hoping it would shatter on that thick skull of his. Instead, it skidded to a lonely corner. He grunted a bit in complaint and a malicious smirk came to cross her lips. Served the fucker right.

But she had no intention of stopping there. Trisha was an act first, think later kind of person. But that seemed to get her into a lot of trouble. Not to mention she had more than a few drinks in her. They were catching up to her, and she was grateful for that. She needed to feel drunk. She needed that numbness to set in. It was the only sanctuary she had really. Some pathetic, starved, malnourished girl drinking away what little money she had so she could reach that point.

So logic was far out the window and she started throwing miscalculated punches at that man's face, and it felt good, even though she missed him the first few times, which actually surprised her. What kind of pretty boy like him knew how to dodge a fist? Maybe he grew up being one of those jocks in school - the ones who picked on the little guys and probably girls in his case. Making fun of them, picking them up and locking them in their own locker. What a prick. Then finally it hit, her vicious right hook that sent so many people to the floor connected with his jaw, but instead of stumbling, he grabbed her wrist.

Trisha growled angrily as she was about to stomp on his instep but he locked her arms to her side and pinned her. She should have been stronger than him, right? She was one of those beasts, those monsters, right? Perhaps it was because she still didn't know how to tap into her core strength, the strength of that beast inside her... She felt it lurking, always lurking in the darkest corners of her mind.

Again he was invading her space, her precious space and she felt her blood boil. The nerve of him. But at his words, Trisha relax noticeably. Her muscles loosened and their was an air of defeat about her. She leaned her head back so she could look at him, her brown eyes soft for a moment - like she was conside-

Oh, wait. Nevermind.

At that moment, her rouse was over and she sent her head flying for his. His grip loosened and she backed up, only to bring her leg up and jutting straight for the man's gut. He kept doing all the wrong things - all the things that pissed her off. Invading her space. Whispering to her ear. Gripping her. It only infuriated her more.

[Daniel “Lykaon” Myr]

Looks were... deceiving. You would think that Lykaon was well aware of this fact since he had seen the small, weak bodies of children morph into full-grown, blood-thirty and wild werewolves, but it still came as a surprise when his eyes were telling him something that turned out to be a total and complete lie. Still, there was always those times when he let his eyes fool him and it always came around to bite him in the behind; though in this case it just headbutted him in the face.

For the second time this encounter he found himself swearing at God--he would have to apologize after this--and blinking his vision clear as the hard skull of the little female he was holding jammed into his nose. Her next action was predictable as all hell and even in his disoriented state his body still reacted accordingly by raising his knee up to intercept her attempt at a mule kick to his family jewel's.

Blindly he shoved out with his arms, only wanting to put space in between the kicking, beer bottle throwing, punching girl that he was dealing with. "Sorry Sugar Tits, you don't get to go near that on our first date." Wiping away the tears that had sprung up in his eyes as a bodily reaction to being hit in the nose he let a large, devilish grin crop up on his face--hah, Sugar Tits. He liked that name.

The throbbing in his head, while present, was still numbed by the energy coursing through his veins and Lykaon still couldn't help but feel he had a score to settle with this insolent, mouthy prick. Mumbling a quickly apology to the patron he took it from he turned back towards Trisha with--you guessed it--another glass of beer in hand. Whipping it out at her he sent a wave of the bitter smelling, gold liquid (some sort of pale ale judging by its color) flying through the air toward her in an attempt to saturate her even further.