||[Dec. 27th, 2006|10:02 pm]
Erotic Writers Anonymous
Short section. Needs to be filled out lots. The next section is when things start to "go weird" so this needs to set up the norm for them.
Suspension of disbelief: werewolves that don't have inbetween morph stages, Up State New York (yes, it does exist, namely, a village is where two roads intersect and houses were build around the bar and gas station that was put at the intersection)
Lookin for help with ideas for normal life. Any cop-type-duties that don't include filling out mountains of paper work?
Pages: About 3 at 12p Times New Roman.
Sasha’s body felt more like a heavy weight than anything else. His mind felt muddled, as though he were in a dream where he had no control. He fought against the wall that seemed to be sitting on his chest. He couldn’t feel his body move, not one wink. He had to be breathing... otherwise he’d be unconscious, right? Or dead?
He could hear two distinctly different women’s voices above him, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure what their words meant. Were they speaking English?
Warm hands shifted under his immobile, seemingly broken body.
The motion imposed on his body seemed to turn the absolute stillness within into motion... of one eye. He fought to even achieve that much, but looking at the woman picking him up rewarded the effort.
She looked beautiful. Dark, honey gold skin. Large, black eyes, tilted slightly at the corners. Dark hair pulled back in a severe manner. Her lips pulled back, eyes crinkled, in a gentle smile. He sighed and as she lifted him up and his eye closed again. Her arms pressed him against her chest. Her walk smooth, his body settled against her, as she transported him from where ever he was, to where ever she wanted him to be.
He felt safe for the first time in a while.
This time he let unconsciousness take him without a struggle. Somehow he knew that the dark haired, dark eyed woman would keep him from harm.
* * *
Nalani sighed as the vet continued to lecture.
After the first twenty-five minutes of so of hearing the man repeat how to toilet train an animal, how much she should be feeding him to help him slowly gain wait, and how he should have a flea dip not once, but several times over the next few weeks to make sure all the eggs are killed.
“I have owned dogs before, Doc.”
“Yes, but you must realize the importance of...”
Nalani stopped listening again. The vet was good, and one of the few in the area willing to deal with hybrids, along with completely domesticated dogs, cats, and rabbits. His partner handled the farm animals in the area.
“We’ll give him a rabies vaccine, but you keep your eye out for any abnormal behavior. If he has it, he’ll show signs in the next couple weeks.”
She nodded absently and ran her fingers through the wolfdogs coat as he spoke.
Taking a pet to the vet had never been easier, other than the vet himself. Maybe sedating before the trip wouldn’t be a bad idea in general. No fighting getting into the truck, no whining, barking, or any other problems. Don’t have to worry about the dog fighting the needles, or holding him down to get the blood samples. She smiled at the idea as the vet wandered off with the samples he needed.
“You can take him home now. We’ll call you once we get the results.”
Nalani slipped her arms under her new pet’s chest and waist again and picked him back up. His head rolled over onto her shoulder and he shifted slightly with the movement. Not long until he’d wake up completely and she’d have to deal with a potentially dangerous creature. No more life-size, warm, and slightly scrawny plush pooch.
She shifted his weight up onto her chest in order to free her hand enough to open the passenger door. He still overflowed from the passenger side of the bench seat, onto the drivers side. She tucked the emergency blanket around him, pushed his tail safely down, and closed the door carefully. No point getting out of the vet’s office, just to go back in for a tail broke off in the door.
She had to get into the big truck slowly, picking up his massive head while she sat down. His read rested snuggly in her lap, shoulder pressed against her hip.
Most of the people in the area would probably have put him in the back, but she couldn’t stand the idea. With a coat on, she shivered in the car. How could she decide for an animal that he needed to be out in a cold, jostling bed of a truck when he wasn’t even awake enough to stand up?
The trip home went uneventfully. She left the truck running while she unlocked and opened her front door. The fire still burned in the iron stove, so the living room felt warm and comfortable. She left the door open and ran out long enough to turn the truck off and grab the hybrid.
With a few less-than-feminine grunts of effort, she kept a hold of him while she walked side-ways up the stairs and had him set down in her big porcelain tub. She pulled his head up over one curved edge before running down long enough to add another log to the fire and close the front door. She shed her jacket and ran back up the stairs.
Flea dip was possibly her least favorite cleaning product. Something about the way it smelled and its sickly green color bothered her to no end. Seeing minuscule dead bodies floating to the surface of the hot water that sat in the bottom of the tub made the trouble worth it, but only just. After rinsing him twice to make sure she got the funky smell off, she set a couple towels on the floor, pulled him out to dry him off on.
He was still pretty damp when he got him settled on the couch closest to the old iron stove.
Nalani added another log to the fire then considered the animal on her couch. In a few hours, maybe less, he’d be awake. He might be a great dog, or completely feral. Her conversation with Anita came back to her. If the animal attacked her, she would have to have to protect herself. She sighed at the thought, but went up to her gun case in her bedroom. She tugged her belt and holster on. She paused as her muscles took on the movement of checking the clip. Full. The idea of having to put down an animal who wasn’t old or very sick bothered her, but there wasn’t much for that. She shoved the weapon into its holster and snapped it into place.
The wolfdog hadn’t moved. She sighed and tried not to hope.
The kitchen held it usual chill. She turned the oven on and puttered about, getting some chicken reheated. While she searched around in the cabinets, she found Charlie’s food and water dishes. She rinsed and filled both, setting them in a corner of the room. The timer went off. She retrieved her food and went back into the warm living room.
She sat on the couch, with her unarmed side to the dog, and flipped on the television. There wasn’t much good on, but it served as a distraction, and that’s what she wanted. She absently stroked the dog’s head as she nibbled on her chicken.