Not to be a Debbie downer or anything, but when things constantly seem to go south, it's best not to set yourself up any grand expectation. Turning one year older doesn't necessarily mean anything, not when you are not around those that care for you. My parents are dead. I left all my friends behind from my old town. Of course I would try to visit them, but we all moved on. Not my fault. I had to move in with a couple of old people that cared only for the pay and not myself. As for my Great Uncle, well, I haven't spoken to him since the night I left to join Frost's pack and experience my first shift. I didn't stay long in the pack to really work out a connection with the other members. I work at a café where my boss's Dark Hunter protégé was chosen to help me train, and she goes off and disappears. Not to mention he is having some sort of fling with the other girl that works there. I don't judge, it's no big deal. I have no one to celebrate this monumental occasion. In the great scheme of life, a Birthday is a Birthday, where you mark yet another year closer to death. While you are staring at me all dumbfounded, I am happily pouring myself another free glass of rum, because I am so going to take advantage of this. Well, if my birthday sounds pathetic, I can honestly say I agree a tiny bit. After all, I'm getting free alcohol right now in the presence of the Were-King himself. With a shrug I reply with a soft quip.

"Yea, well...that's life. Not everything can be perfect."

You know I downed my second glass of rum a little bit too quickly. I really should stop and yet, when am I ever going to get treated like this again? As raise my hand to grab the bottle, I slowly pull my hand away when he lays his own mangy paw on it. Well, I was gonna share...honest. Those three little words were enough to trigger something somewhere in my head. It was an order, not a request. Now, on one hand I could easily say no, because he is not my Alpha, not a friend, not anything to me. I don't have to follow it. But on the other hand those words seem to hold some sort of pressure at the back of my head, his words having some sort of hold on me, wanting me to comply with an Alpha. Well, now I am conflicted. Follow or do not follow that is the question. I followed his wish for me to be in the fighting ring and I turned out okay. I could follow him and get more of that rum. I could not follow him and not have that rum. Really what's the worst that could happen? If he's going to take me to some dark scary room and torture me to get revenge on my creator's treatment of his pack, well I can't blame him for doing it, but I don't necessarily want to have that experience. It's not my fault. I have this weird feeling of not wanting to...what displease him, is that what I'm feeling? Why the hell do I not want to displease him?!

I manage to slip out of the chair and follow after him, with a sheer look of confusion on my face. Although I can honestly say I do feel a bit lightheaded. I try to keep up, but all these people keep blocking my way. Let me through people, let me through! On second thought maybe don't let me through, because as I see the man walking down an uneasy looking coordinator an internal alarm bell is ringing in my head. Don't go. If you go, you're dead. Yes, don't follow Mister Kitty King, don't do it...don't do it! And maybe it was the rum, but I could hear another voice saying, "Follow pretty green eyes, yes yes follow Mister Pretty Green Eyes, it could be fun!" Well, I like fun and green is indeed a pretty color. So, I continue to follow. I am pretty sure my Mother and Father are somewhere yelling at me and telling me I'm being a stupid girl. Well, I guess dying or being tortured to death would really make my birthday exciting. Oh look a kitchen! He is a predator and I am prey...is this where I am to be chopped alive. Oh, well I guess not, because now I'm being asked if I can bake. I set my half-empty glass down on the counter, looking around puzzled. Let me get this straight. I fight in a ring. I drink. Now I am to bake. Well this is turning out to be a really bizarre night, but heck, I'll follow along! With a nod I head over to the cabinets, looking for something...because I've had my own cooking and I suck.

"Yea, but I don't think I got that baking gene in my body. Are there recipe books? We could follow and if we can't bake a cake right...then we can drink some more until it tastes better."

You know, I didn't consider it, but looking through the cabinets in the kitchen is like snooping. Oh look at me, I am snooping! Opening the cabinet doors, I can't seem to find what I am looking for. Plates. Glasses. Spices. Random Kitchen stuff. Where in God's name is there a freakin, oh hey lookie, a recipe book...I think. Grabbing a ruddy old red book, I stare at it noticing there were many colorful sticky notes sticking out from the old yellow pages. Each colorful sticky note had a name to it, with 'Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Dessert' next to the name. Well, the alcohol hasn't ruined my judgement yet, but I'd bet you the person that cooks purposefully did this, so they knew what to cook for said person. Let's see Dessert, oh my goodness there are lots of desserts on these tabs, oh this one has Tetradore's name. Opening the book to that page I see a fairly simple recipe, devil's chocolate cake, with a red sticky note saying 'Tetradore's favorite.' Well, I like chocolate tasting cake, this could be good. Setting the book down so he could see it, I shuffle over to one of the cabinets I opened before, grabbing some necessary items and measuring cups. Coming over I set the items down titling my head to the side as he mentioned she. So, with a very polite tone I respond back, while also pouring myself another glass.

"You said she? Is she your Mother or girlfriend or something? Is that where this very detailed cookbook came from?"

Calliel Alosi

Now I'm Unbreakable, It's Unmistakable