Oh she had irked the man with his vibrant green stare, despite how easily it was done, she could still see the displeased scowl on his face. In fact she could practically see that face with her eyes closed. Were panthers always so moody? Or perhaps canines and felines were eternally not meant to get along, constantly chasing after each other tails. The way he glared at her was enough to make any submissive want to hunker down, but Mira was not easy to intimidate. He acted as though she had asked him something so deeply personal that somehow truly and deeply offended the high king. Yet, she does not feel even slightly bad about it. Perhaps she should have, but it's not like she bit him. Sure she gave him a modicum of crap about it. After all it was only a name, she wasn't asking for an organ! All she wanted was some kind of transparency, was that all wrong? Where was the harm in that?

However, to be entirely fair, she gave him the perfect opportunity to simply let it go. It would have been easy to allow the unanswered question slip away into oblivion and yet somehow he felt obliged enough to share the name that had meant so much to him. This man was full of surprises. Fortunately for him, they had other subjects to broach that were not as deeply personal as his name seemed to be.

Now, his sister, was a subject he was rather willing to talk about. It seemed a lot more personal than a name, alas, she wasn't going to argue knowing a little bit more about this mystery sitting across from her. Mira could hear the potent pain evidently within his softened voice as he shared just a little more insight into his convoluted world. Somehow, she wondered if he had meant to share all he did. How strange and difficult he was and yet somehow so deeply sensitive and carrying a world of pain upon his burdened shoulders. It was sad, but a common tale nonetheless. The causalities in the wake of love would always hurt, even if the intent was not to cause harm. Love made people make some strange choices. From the dawn of time, people would act in the most bizarre way beneath its spell. "Love makes people do foolish things, she will come back, one way or another." She had no possible way of knowing the truth or the future, but for some reason she knew the worth of blood. After all, she had sacrificed much to keep her own blood safe. If this sister of him, truly loved him she would find her way back to him.

The conversation shifted once more as she told her woeful tale, a skimpy version but enough to paint an ugly picture. No it might not be new, but it was still her hell nonetheless. It wasn't meant to be a comparison to see whose sob story was worse, or who had experienced more pain. After all, everyone has a story. She laced her fingers before her, on the wooden table, knowing he was driven by his own hurt. He would never quite understand and she had no desire to make him see, especially when mere words alone would fail every time. She wasn't much for sharing and this they both had in common. But what surprises this wayward soul was his admittance that he wasn't lucky in his own life's tale. Curiosity swells within her and yet she is too weak to press, not that he would share, it would require much more energy than she was capable of. After all, gaining his name was akin to pulling teeth out with a tweezer.

What was also so surprising was wondering why he was so eager to help her? A burden that was not intended to show up on his door step. This was not his battle. This was a consequence to her own choice, she couldn't risk the life of someone who merely decided to be kind to that stranger in the woods. Was he in search of a death sentence? He didn't seem like the type to make friends so quickly.

The night was coming to a close and the poison that coursed through her veins made her weak, her shoulders slumped and eyes grew hazy. She was finished with her questions for now, having all that she needed to know and perhaps a little bit more. Perhaps the man got off a little easy this time, although she was sure he would beg to differ.

He turned to leave, already half out the door when she spoke that taboo word he seemed to loathe so much. "Goodnight, Aiden." She spoke softly, as though it were but a mere whisper. Without even realizing she said the name he was by no means fond of. Oops, better get to sleeping and hope he didn't hear. Once she was sure he wasn't returning, she unfolded and draped the towel that once clung to her body onto the chair. The shift into the form that brought her the most comfort came quickly, it rendered her bandages useless. She always slept in this wolf form, not to mention that it was much easier to maneuver the apartment this way. The large ebon wolf hobbled her way to the large bed, leaping into it with a less than graceful movement even despite how careful she was to keep her damaged leg out of harm's way.

Well today was a hell of a day, she muttered to herself in her mind, an almost too wide yawn took over to remind her of her own fatigue. That yawn displayed all those menacing daggers in her mouth. She wobbled from the effects of the poison, nearly toppling over in the bed. But she does not stop there, for but a moment she appears like she is doing nothing more than making a mess of the bed. She paws relentlessly at the bedsheets until they form the perfect little nest, before placing and propping pillows for walls, it was amazing how many pillows this man had for a simple bed. But it worked in her favour for now. She built herself a fortress of white plushy wonder that concealed her form entirely except for the tip of her black muzzle. There was a moment or two, to find that spot where she could get comfortable. It wasn't perfect, but for now it would have to do.

What a peculiar little habit for such a tough and dominant wolf to take a semblance of comfort in a den made of blankets and pillows. It made her feel safe and secure in a world that was unstable, where the wolves would descend with gaping maws and slashing paws if weakness was sensed like blood in piranha infected waters. That reality still felt real to her. Regardless, Mira gained comfort in his little den of hers, a place that was safe, a place that might have felt far, far away from all her problems, a place where she could actually drift softly sleep. Yes, they were just pillows and soft down blankets, but sometimes comfort could be found in the oddest of places, it didn't make sense but it was hers.

Tonight, she would sleep better than she had in years, even despite the incessant pain of her leg as it worked desperately to heal. And so the she-wolf slept through the night, dreamless and comforted in the embrace of plushy pillows and warm blankets.

Mira Ramos