Of Wolves in the Night 2:
Demands of the Soul
by Fur and Fantasy
R for Violence
full contents and notes located at the bottom of the file
"You don't have to tell me anything." Talon turned to face Throttle as the null darkness of her teleport faded to steamy darkness and soft chirps of an undisturbed wilderness. Her enhanced senses easily made out every detail of his weary, tense stance and her heart sank to see her love so burdened.
"I need to tell." He sighed and pulled her against him without strength. "Tell someone who doesn't know ... say it ... all of it."
"Why does this sound like a confession?" She curled her long, fluffy tail around his waist and pulled him close as he began lowering his shields on their bond, then dropped them further than he ever had.
Because it is, love." His mind-voice answered weakly as he sat down to leaned against a great tree with her curled against him. Images and thoughts began to flow with his commentary.
I was born to a woman known best as Death Angel, but to me she will always be 'mommy.'" Brilliantly sharp images of a dark red Mouse with a long, silver-white scar across her muzzle and flowing black hair came first. Her crystal blue eyes demanded obedience even across time and space.
Then came images of her in other forms, coloring, scars and ornaments marking the five variants as the same.
Her huge war-form, the Crinos, with her black hair a mohawk flowing along her spine. Golden single helix horns spiraled back between red antenna and still mouse-ears. Power and furry crackled invisibly even across the memory clearly.
Talon nearly flinched away from the beast's rage, and wondered at the depth of love she could feel between mother and son, so at odds with both their natures. "She is beautiful, wise eyes." Talon managed to think to him, already regretting the rest of her reactions to the images.
Throttle smiled, physically and mentally. "She was a war chief, an alpha of alphas. And you are right to feel that way about her, as powerful as you are. It is that, that makes her so special. Mom nearly won the war with us, her Endless Storm. But it wasn't to be." He hesitated, skirting around a pit of heartache worse than anything he suffered at Plutarkian hands.
"I know, you don't have to say it." She murmured and pressed closer, offering anything she could.
"My mother ..." His voice cracked even as he forced the words out. "Elayshia Death Angel ... she sacrificed herself for us ..." Throttle abandoned words to a throat too constricted to allow them. "She walked into the capitol in Crinos. Argued peace. Let them ...
Then even mind-words failed as flashes of imagery and emotions swirled to the surface. Predominate among them the skinned and burned carcass of the proud woman dragged to the city dump behind a truck.
Please. Enough. You'll hurt yourself going any deeper right now." Talon carefully pulled her mind away from his at his silence acceptance, only to realize she was sitting in the embrace of his war-form; a horned, sobbing creature nearly twice the height she was used to, and several times the mass.
Throttle shivered and clutched her tightly. His deeper, gravely voice was barely above a whisper. "Don't leave."
She carefully gave herself enough room to breathe within his crushing strength with a telekinetic shield and reached out for his mind again, carefully avoiding sending anything but comforting love with her words. "Shu, never. Never like that."
Not all ... I ... I betrayed her, on our last day." His body flowed into it's smallest form; a lean, long-legged quadruped. The spiral horns vanished, and his ears shrunk and reshaped to a more feline form. "I fell in love.
How can there be shame in that?" Talon twisted to pull him into her lap as he trembled, already guessing at the truth.
I ... he was ... was a packmate. A Garou like me." His voice was higher, speaking in Rythin, the beast-tongue of Mars, but no less hurting as he huddled in her small lap. "I did what I was taught, I turned him away the night before he died." His voice dipped lower, softer, nearly dead. "But he was right, the Litany didn't really apply to us ... I knew he was right even then. I was too afraid to accept that truth. Of forcing one more thing upon my mothers pack that I would lead in the final battle." He finally looked up with the clear, crystal blue eyes of his mother. "Tally, I wasn't even fifteen. I still ache for him. It hurts more every day, and I can't deny it any more. You woke that part of me up again, made me love again. There's a cub to raise ... I ... can't live like this.
"Oh, Throttle." She cradled him close, even more distressed than he was by the ever-growing tide of an end-wish. "Don't you leave me either.
Help me." His thought was clear, though not quite a conscious one. "Stop hurt. Permit duty.
Are you sure?" Talon caught the dimming trail of his awareness. "Healing will not be pleasant.
You can heal ... this?" The thought was tinged with as much surprise as awe.
If you are willing to experience much of it again, yes I can." She hesitated. "But it will not be easy, for either of us.
You can heal me?" His mind-voice was stronger, and locked on that one thought.
Yes, love." She sighed.
Then do it." He growled in raw determination. "I'll live.
Of Wolves in the Night 2: Demands of the Soul
R for Violence
Het Level is Medium Slash Level is Femslash Level is Low Herm Level is None
12 KB, Story is Complete, Series is Closed-Unfinished
Written April 6, 2001 by Rauhnee Ranshanka
Setting: Biker Mice from Mars, Children of IDVC, Haloeth, World of Darkness (generic)
Primary Races: Human, Loup Maru, Martian Mice
Contents: Furry. Het (M/F). Slash (M/M). Femslash (F/F). Relationship (Cross Species), Relationship (Established), Violence
Pairings: Throttle/ Stag (M), Throttle/ Talon (F)
Blurb: Throttle comes clean to Talon, which is not a clean affair, to say the least.
Disclaimer: All things taken directly from the sources listed under 'Fandoms' belong to the owners of those shows. No harm is intended and we're definitely not making any money. Now, the things we created are ours, and if you see 'Non-FanFic' up there, it's probably all ours.
Page Hit Count from July 2, 2005