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We are a Harry Potter-based, post-book game set in the present day. Lord Voldemort has been defeated and the wizarding world is back to business as usual, and business as usual for thousands of underaged wizards and witches world-wide means skipping school, drinking, cheating, stealing, and fighting. Play as an inmate, a marshal, or one of the creatures native to the island.

Welcome to Furiae Correctional Facility, the only international institution that will whoop your children so you don't have to.

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 Thunder Moon, [event]
Sicila O'Dair
Posted: Aug 13 2011, 10:37 AM


Warden
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Group: Story Council (Faculty)
Posts: 273
Member No.: 2
Joined: 25-February 11



Played by: Elijah

With no previous announcement or forewarning, Sicila O'Dair swept into the room.

"Move," she snapped at the marshal who was guarding the doorway, sending him a look of dislike. It was not clear whether her irritation with him was sincere or misplaced; the Warden's lip curled as she glanced around the room.

She fixed the nearest werewolf pair with a piercing look before stating, "Inmate Zero Zero Five Zero, Aiden Chiskovi."

Oh. He had better be in here. A mere glance at the doorway marshal was all that Sicila needed to do to let the man know what sort of hell would be paid if the wolf she wanted wasn't present. "You will not be in attendance for this... event."

The word 'event' was said with as much distaste as possible.

"Come with me."

She didn't wait. Her black robes flowing around her, the witch spun and headed back out the doorway and through the corridors, her destination not upward but further down, deeper into the maze of corridors.

Continued for Aiden in: The Terrible Case of Timothy Smith.


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Aiden Chiskovi
Posted: Aug 13 2011, 02:27 PM


levelTHREE
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 76
Member No.: 15
Joined: 4-March 11



Aiden was snapped out of his hair sniffing by the presence of a short, but imposing, non werewolf. The Warden. She was the one who put him here, in this dark and confining room. She was the one behind this. But she had a wand. He didn't. Unfortunately, for now, there was little he could do. But perhaps this was a good thing. Maybe she would take him somewhere that he could run a bit more, somewhere that he wasn't surrounded by this whining weaklings.

"Good moon, all," he called as he left, wondering if they would all survive the night.

Werewolves from different packs had a way of being a bit brutal on the full moons.

He followed her, naked as the day he was born and completely unashamed. As he passed the door guard he grinned toothily, flashing his fangs. One day, door guard, one day. Aiden wasn't about to be locked in here every night. For now the band on his wrist kept him from straying, but he would get it off even if he had to chew off his own paws.



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I am Inmate 0050
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Comfort Goodwin
Posted: Aug 13 2011, 07:16 PM


levelTWO
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 30
Member No.: 124
Joined: 11-August 11



“It's, um... it's pretty bad, too small.”

Comfort looked over at the other girl. She looked shaken, still curled like an animal in the corner. Back in Phineas' camp, they had been violent, though no one really seemed to get hurt. She'd seen people wake up bleeding and shaken, but she'd never seen anyone mauled or severely beaten. She'd certainly never been treated roughly. Maybe it was because she was the pack's only pup but she'd definitely never been hurt. And, now she was getting the feeling that she could and would be. This tiny room, angry werewolves, and people she didn't know or trust. She'd be lucky to walk out of here.

“It goes quick,”

Despite herself, Comfort shot the other girl a look. She didn't believe that for a second. She'd been transforming since she was little, very little, and it had never been quick. She'd had good transformations and bad transformations but they were never quick. Maybe this girl had it quick, but she certainly didn't.

"I don't know about you," she said. "but it's never quick for me." She shivered and curled her knees up, holding them to her chest. She was suddenly cold and lonely. This was place was like a refrigerator or a hospital. It was sterile and awful. She had to get out-she needed someone. Phineas warned her, he'd warned her! He said, 'don't ever get taken. If they take you, they'll hurt you, baby girl. They'll break you.' And he was right. Comfort wanted someone to cuddle with. Anyone. When the Warden burst through the door she shrank down, recoiling. The boy who was sniffing left with her and Comfort whimpered. The door closed behind them.

"Don't let them take me," she said, talking to the ceiling, to God, to anyone who would listen. "I don't want leave. I thought I wanted to leave, but I don't want to leave." This room was bad enough, out there was worse. Here, she had a wall at her back. She'd only been here a short time but anywhere that the warden wanted to take a werewolf was somewhere she didn't want to be.


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Afton Brown
Posted: Aug 14 2011, 01:03 AM


levelONE
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 36
Member No.: 105
Joined: 7-July 11



“Yeah, um... I guess you're right,” Afton half whispered dejectedly, seeming to sink down even further into herself. She stared down toward her lap, sighing. She liked to tell herself that this would all go quickly, but it didn't really. In the span of a lifetime each transformation was just a blip on the radar... but while it was actually happening, each change seemed to take an entire eternity on its own. It didn't go quickly at all. It was slow and agonizing and painful and she'd have to do this every month for the rest of her life. How many times had that thought formed in her mind during a dark period? How many lonely nights had she stayed up, staring at the moon through the window as it taunted her? How many hours had she spent trying to think up the easiest ways to die? The transformation did not go quickly. Ever. Things might have been different for her if it did.

She couldn't help but to visibly shudder when the Warden walked into the room. She didn't have the energy to rise to her feet like she knew she was supposed to. She just turned her head, blinking up at the woman as she extracted one of the wolves from the room. She watched him go, feeling her stomach lurch uncomfortably as she was forced to question just where it was he was being taken. You never really knew with that woman. She didn't know the boy, really, but she liked him in a distant sort of way, admiring him from a far. She didn't want anything to happen to him – or to anyone. Even so, she had to thank each and every one of her lucky stars that she hadn't been plucked from the room for some other purpose. She felt guilty for thinking it, but she couldn't help thinking it anyway.

The other girl's words resonated in her. Cage transformations at Furiae were horrible, but there was always something worse. Once, after an unsuccessful suicide attempt, Afton had managed to come down with the world's worst case of pneumonia. As the month's transformation drew closer she couldn't even tell if the pain she felt was from the impending change or just another symptom of her never ending illness. She'd had to transform in a cage at the hospital. Not a cage like this – an actual cage. They tried to sedate her so she could go through the whole thing asleep, but ultimately there was no sedative that would work on a ninety pound girl that would also sedate a wolf. She'd woken up high off her ass and covered in welts... and she still had pneumonia. She didn't imagine that the warden had anything much better in mind. If anything she was sure it would be much, much worse.

It made Afton uncomfortable when people were upset. She didn't what to do or how to fix it, but she always felt a strong desire to do just that. She blinked at the other girl, wondering if there was any way to make this easier on her – because making this easier on her would cut the tension in the little room in half and make this easier for everyone.

“It's okay,” she crooned feebly from her little ball in the corner. She didn't know what else there was to possibly say. That was the extent of her comforting vernacular. “Do you want to, um... you can sit by me, if you want.” It was probably a bad idea and she knew it, because the moment they began to undergo the brunt of their transformation they would be praying for space. For right now, though? Well, it didn't seem like a bad idea right now. She'd never done this any way but alone before and it was worth a shot. “I'm Afton,” she added as an afterthought, “Just, um... just so you know.”


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I am Inmate 0078
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Comfort Goodwin
Posted: Aug 16 2011, 08:37 PM


levelTWO
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 30
Member No.: 124
Joined: 11-August 11



For Comfort, the monthly transformation was something truly terrible. She'd heard about werewolves who enjoyed the transformation. Phineas certainly hadn't minded. His eyes had glowed and his stride had been loose. For her it was something different. It was the idea that every bone in her body could break, be melted in acid, reformed and broken again. Her skin would prickle, stretch, rip and shrink again. She didn't even like to think about the muscles. It was a million charley horses running the length of her body, wracking her with pain.

Comfort wasn't a wuss about pain. No one who grew up in the woods running wild could possibly be. She could stand sharp pains or burning pains. She couldn't stand the combination of both. Though she pretended to be stoic most of the time, she knew she'd sob before the end. She would scream and she would try her hardest to hold it back, all in vain.

It wasn't quick, it never was. The transformation was slow, almost leisurely. And the worst part was, it never started the same way. Every time it was a surprise. Maybe her skin would stretch before her bones broke, or her muscles would cord before anything else began. Every month it happened again and every month it was like she forgot the agony until the moment it happened.

Maybe it was these thoughts, or the stress of the day, or just missing Faolan, Phineas, and the others. Or perhaps it was the time of the month, but Comfort couldn't stop shivering. She certainly wasn't cold, but the shakes wouldn't stop.

“It's okay, do you want to, um... you can sit by me, if you want.”

Comfort looked up and sniffed. She wasn't sure when she'd started crying, but she felt the tears starting to dry on her face. She was sticky and her lips were cracked. Great, she thought with a sigh. I'm sure I look lovely right now.

It was kind of the other girl to offer. Comfort knew that she was uncomfortable with it. The girl didn't want to be touched. No one did like this. At least, they thought they didn't. Comfort knew that, as prickly as she felt, if she could just be near someone, the shakes and the coldness would leave.

“I'm Afton, just, um... just so you know.”

"C-comfort," Comfort stood up and slid down the wall, not believing that she'd be able to hold herself up. "Comfort Goodwin." She leaned back against the wall and sank to the floor, just barely touching the other girl. Almost instantly, she sighed. It wasn't much better, but she was counting in the minutia, and she'd take what she could get. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "Thanks. How long have you been here?"


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Afton Brown
Posted: Aug 17 2011, 05:25 PM


levelONE
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 36
Member No.: 105
Joined: 7-July 11



It was funny, Afton thought, that they called this place the Safe Room. It was just another example of how things in this world could be deceiving. You'd think that a safe room would make you feel safe – that you'd go inside, even on the most difficult evening of every month, and somehow you'd actually find some kind of sanctuary. For Afton, a real safe room would be a place where she could hide from herself – where she wouldn't have to transform at all. There would be books in there, too. Books, plus a fantastic garden. There would be a million kinds of blooms that she'd never be able to coax from the ground in New Hampshire. Nobody but Afton could ever be in there, so nobody could ever leave her. That would be Afton's idea of a real safe room. But this safe room was not safe, which seemed unfair.

And, in the same vein, Comfort did not seem especially comfortable, which was equally unfair. Afton hated having to go through this – but before she'd come to Furiae, she'd been going through it in a vacuum. It was strange to suddenly be surrounded by people who got it – who understood her dread and her hopelessness. These were kids who might have even been able to understand why she'd run away on the night that landed her at the facility. She'd had trouble connecting with the other young werewolves around her so far. It was as though she felt that connecting with someone who so thoroughly understood her own demons would make her pain less legitimate. She felt entitled to her anguish. It was the only thing she truly owned.

Even so, having the girl next to her wasn't bad. If there was one time of the month to let her guard down, this was it. She couldn't hide while curled up half-naked in the safe room with all of her scars – physical and mental – on display for all to see. She'd been trying since she arrived at the facility but by now she knew it was useless.

”How long have you been here?”

“This is, um, this is... my fourth moon here,” she explained softly, trying to keep her voice even and gentle to keep the girl from getting any more worked up. “So, just over four months, I guess,” she explained. She'd never be able to lose track of how long she'd been at the facility. It was difficult to forget a transformation. Each one was a little bit different and just hellish enough to make itself memorable. They helped her mark the time, which seemed to run into itself in such a gray, lonely place.

The other girl didn't seem new at this – she'd changed before and she knew what to expect. She knew it wasn't quick and she knew the implications of changing while trapped in a little box. She didn't quite seem like one of those born wolves, though – at least not physically. It was hard to tell. The concept of born wolves was a new one for Afton. “Were you... were you born or bitten?” she asked gently. “You don't have to tell me if you don't, um, if you don't want to,” she added with the tiniest of shrugs, her muscles too bound up to attempt anything more. She looked down at her bare, too bony knees and sighed.


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I am Inmate 0078
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Comfort Goodwin
Posted: Aug 20 2011, 10:54 PM


levelTWO
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 30
Member No.: 124
Joined: 11-August 11



When they'd called it a safe room, Comfort had imagined a room with padded walls and benches. It was all leather and polished wood, happy and dark, like a den or a cabin. She'd imagined cots and warm drinks. Happy nurses and calm music. It hadn't sounded so bad, but it wasn't anything like it sounded. It wasn't this locker room of a cell with it's cold, hard walls and unhappy people. There was iron and bars everywhere and it certainly wasn't warm. She wanted fuzzy blankets, fresh cookies, piles of familiar werewolves and Faolan to throw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. Instead, she was cowering here with a girl she'd never met before. She was hungry, cold, and lonely. She wanted to see her friends and her family.

The last time she'd transformed it had been perfect outside. She'd laid around for hours with Faolan and the others, snapping and snarling good naturally. When the sun had gone down, they'd all headed for the woods and waited breathlessly. The moon rose and now Comfort imagined that she hadn't felt the pain at all. Maybe the walls of this place made it worse. They made it heavier. And more than that, it made her depressed.

She hated herself. For just a moment, she hated everything. She hated this room, she hated the rising moon. She hated the other people who were stuck in this room with her, and she hated the fact, that in a matter of minutes she'd be transforming into a creature voted most likely to devour other humans. She recognized the feelings bubbling up in her stomach. They were caused by the moon. She was never like this. Normally, she was mild-mannered, calm, and rational. Today, she was likely to rip someone's head off.

“This is, um, this is... my fourth moon here. So, just over four months, I guess,”

Four months. Comfort couldn't imagine four months going by in this place. And she couldn't answer. Her mouth fell open. It was already overwhelming her. It was gray and bleak and no one smelled right. In four months no one would recognize her. She wouldn't recognize herself. She couldn't transform in this tiny little room. The walls were closing in, they were suffocating her. She couldn't breathe. Her muscles were twitching and she took several very deep breaths, trying to calm down. Even the air was stifling.

“Were you... were you born or bitten? You don't have to tell me if you don't, um, if you don't want to,”

Comfort thought again what life would be like if she'd been a born werewolf. She wouldn't be sitting here, shaking to pieces, desperately afraid. She'd be striding around, rattling bars and snarling at that stupid guard. She'd break through these bars and tear down the walls of Azkaban. People wouldn't be afraid that the Death Eaters would return. They'd be afraid of her. She knew, just knew, that it would be incredible. Instead, she wasn't, she'd been bitten by the best werewolf in the world. Her family had saved her from a life of neglect. But they needed her now.

"I was bitten," she said. It was simple and it was clearly not enough. "My father bit me when I was three." Then, because she knew how it would sound, she tried to explain more. "My mom left me and he found me-bit me I guess." She shrugged, not noticing that her shaking had stopped.


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Afton Brown
Posted: Aug 21 2011, 09:36 PM


levelONE
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 36
Member No.: 105
Joined: 7-July 11



Afton didn't quite understand the intricacies of the other girl's story. Though she'd certainly told more than she had to – more than Afton herself might have told in her situation – her story was still vague enough to be perplexing. The whole debacle with her father (or her adoptive father? It was hard to tell what exactly she meant) being the one who bit her was an odd but interesting little nugget for her to digest. Afton hadn't known the woman who bit her, and she still didn't. They'd probably come face to face in the woods during transformations without even realizing it – but Afton, being a bitten werewolf who'd never so much as tasted a drop of wolfsbane potion, remembered nothing from her nights as a wolf. Maybe she'd never met the woman at all. Maybe she'd done what Afton had been trying to do for so long – it was possible she'd managed to successfully kill herself. If that was the case then Afton envied her. The only thing that could make being a werewolf truly bearable was being a dead werewolf – in her own limited experience, anyway.

The other part of the girl's story – the part about how the girl's mother left her – that she could relate to. Afton, too, had been abandoned by both of her parents and hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of either of them since the night she'd been turned. The truth of their abandonment had killed her over and over again every single day for the past eight years. Even years later the first name she cried out when she was delirious from pain was her mother's – even after every cruel thing the woman had done to her, even after leaving her only child bleeding in a hospital bed, Afton still called for her with abandon. It was pathetic. She hated her parents more than she'd ever hated anyone in her lonely little life, but she loved them so much it actually hurt.

“My mama left me, too,” she explained, not daring to make eye contact with Comfort while spilling her soul this way. Normally she wouldn't speak of this sort of thing, but sitting naked and in pain with all of her scars bared made her a little more forthcoming with her private information. This whole experience was so intimate that it didn't seem like she was revealing much. Plus, she owed this girl for what she'd shared. “And my daddy. They both left me. They left me at the hospital after, um, after I was attacked. Bitten,” she half-whispered, her fingers blindly finding her scars and running over their familiar contours. “I was seven,” she added, finding an odd sort of kinship with the other child werewolf. This was the first time she'd met anyone even remotely like her. She wished it didn't have to be now – like this.

What she really wanted to ask was whether or not Comfort had killed someone – whether she'd made a horrible mistake, like Afton had. Had she lost control of herself, too? Had she done something she regretted fiercely? She couldn't ask, though, because she wanted it to be true too badly. She wanted to find someone who was just like her. She always had. She'd been alone for so long.

Instead, she produced a whimper, feeling the muscles in her shoulders contract painfully, gearing up for the pain still to come. She shut her eyes against the spasm and took a breath, letting it out with a shaky gasp. Where was the moon? Was it taking its time, drawing out the burning anticipation she felt every time she allowed her eyes to wander toward the skylight? As soon as the moon found its place in the sky this could all start. The sooner it started, the sooner it would all be over.


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I am Inmate 0078
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Comfort Goodwin
Posted: Aug 24 2011, 08:18 PM


levelTWO
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 30
Member No.: 124
Joined: 11-August 11



Comfort realized just a moment too late that she'd probably said too much. She wasn't used to a place where people didn't know anything about her. She could have been anyone she wanted to be here. She could have been fantastic, beautiful, deadly, and fierce. She could have killed millions and run wild. In her head, she ran through a large number of scenarios. She was a beautiful werewolf assassin, dumped into Furiae after she'd killed the wrong target. She was the pampered only child of a fancy family, orphaned after the werewolf mafia had slaughtered her idealist family. The grief had driven her mad and she'd killed the hit squad coming to find her. All of these scenarios were no longer valid.

And now, she was the odd girl with a father who turned her into a werewolf. Her friends had been imprisoned and killed. She had an odd family and had been destroyed by the ministry. She was an open and closed book. Still, she thought with some penance, her thoughts swirling around like acid in the pit of her stomach, it wasn't like she wasn't proud of who she was. She was, she really was, proud to be the adopted daughter of Phineas Goodwin. She loved her family and the way she was raised. It was unique, and it was certainly better than the alternative.

She'd never wanted to be anything other than what she was. After all, it was really all she'd known. Who wouldn't want to be raised at a campground, allowed to run as she pleased? Who wouldn't want to be adored and loved constantly? Who wouldn't want to be the center of the world? She was part of a pack, a huge family. And now, this place, and the people who ran it, had not only taken her, they'd destroyed her family as well. Her pack was her identity. Being here was like missing a limb. Every day that she was away from her family hurt worse.

“My mama left me, too, and my daddy. They both left me. They left me at the hospital after, um, after I was attacked. Bitten, I was seven,”

Comfort didn't really remember her mother, and she'd never really felt like she was abandoned. Phineas and the others at the camp had more than replaced her mother in her young mind. However, she was more than able to understand the idea of being left. She nodded and tried to smile, but stopped when she realized how unnatural it looked and felt. Smiling on the full moon. Bizarre.

It was at least as bizarre as the idea of being labelled a murderer. She wasn't even a real murderer. Everyone else got the level one. The man who'd sentenced her seemed to pity her, more than anything. She was young and innocent mislead by the dangerous werewolves around her. At that moment, she wanted to scream. I am the dangerous werewolf! I did this!. She wanted to slam her hands against the wall and stomp her feet. Instead, she'd taken her bitter medicine.

"How did you-" she stopped, not wanting to put her foot in her mouth. "What did you do to get here?" She stopped again, shocked to hear the other girl whimper. In a bold moment, she tossed her arm around the other girl and pulled her close, suddenly mindful of how very little they were wearing. "Is the moon ever going to rise?" She muttered, not speaking to anyone in particular.


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Afton Brown
Posted: Aug 25 2011, 07:13 PM


levelONE
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 36
Member No.: 105
Joined: 7-July 11



As she felt the girl's arm being drawn around her, Afton, still tense from the painful muscle spasm, was unsure how to react. She was too tense and stiff to react regardless of her apprehension. This was a very strange situation and a very strange sensation and the trembling girl just couldn't decide what to make of it. For years Afton's Nana had rubbed her back to help her fall asleep, so the sensation of someone's hand on her was almost welcome. She'd missed it, and it didn't feel fully out of place during her time of duress. She didn't move, though – didn't react. She merely sat still as another strong spasm, strong enough for the other girl to feel, rippled across her shoulders and back, causing her to jerk suddenly as though frightened. This time she stifled her whimper, inhaling sharply. The question the girl had asked stuck to the back of her mind even as she waited for the sudden spasm to pass. She hated this conversation because she hated the part of herself that had committed that crime. Even after sharing everything else – her nakedness, her history, her agony – sharing what she'd done sometimes felt like too much. The shame related to the incident was complete.

Eventually the spasm did pass, but Afton still couldn't relax. She was anticipating another one and, more than that, anticipating the change, which would be the same sort of pain magnified a million times. She couldn't help holding her muscles taut and keeping her breath shallow, anticipating the impending agony. She let a breath out slowly through her nostrils, staring blankly ahead as she considered how to respond. She wouldn't lie to the girl. Afton wasn't good at lying – it felt like a betrayal. At the end of the day it was always easiest to be honest about her crime. It was already done and she was clearly sorry.

She continued staring toward the wall as she spoke. Usually she simplified her crime when she explained it, but if anyone could understand what she'd done and why she'd done it, it was another child werewolf. Again, the situation lent itself to a slightly more forthcoming answer.

“I, um...” she floundered, clearing her throat softly, “I ran away before a change,” she explained, “I didn't want to do it anymore, so I ran away.” Her eyes were distant as she spoke of her biggest mistake. Her words were so simple, but the weight of them was immense. She was sure the other girl would understand the implications of running away on the night of a full moon – that, unrestrained, a changed werewolf could do a lot of damage. And she had. Too much damage, to be truthful – but not the most damage she could have. In her mind, death was a significantly better alternative to the curse of lycanthropy. She'd killed someone and didn't even remember doing it. The morning she'd woken up with her mouth tasting of copper pennies was the morning her worst nightmare was realized. She still couldn't believe it was real. She'd been selfish and now somebody was dead. Some days she couldn't believe how jealous she was of that dead man. Some days she would have done anything to be in his place. Some days she did do anything. Even after cutting and drowning and throwing herself into traffic, she remained the miraculous unbreakable girl.

“I killed someone. By accident. I can't even... I don't remember doing it. I don't remember,” she explained, beginning to tremble with a bit more ferocity. “It was really, um... I didn't mean to.” She couldn't keep her lip from trembling even if she wanted to. She wouldn't cry, though. She didn't do that.


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I am Inmate 0078
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Comfort Goodwin
Posted: Aug 28 2011, 09:37 PM


levelTWO
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Group: Inmate (Tisiphone)
Posts: 30
Member No.: 124
Joined: 11-August 11



Comfort just couldn't help herself. She knew that it was probably rude and uncalled for, but she snuggled against the other girl, feeling herself relax. Sure, the other girl didn't smell exactly right, and she was still shaking like a leaf in the wind, but it was something. And, in spite of it all, it certainly felt right.

Some people, mostly the old women who believed that werewolves were vile and disgusting, seemed to think that they were lecherous and immoral too, just because they like to snuggle. It was apparently unnatural to be like this, warm and comfortable in spite of the coming pain. Comfort thought back to the way they used to pile into a shed before transforming. There certainly wasn't anything sexual about it. It was just natural. It was… well, she thought with a wry grin, it was animalistic. Puppies piled up like this.

She was so lost in her thought, that she'd forgotten all about the question she'd just asked. When Afton answered, she jumped slightly before leaning in to listen, resting her chin on top of the girl's head. She wasn't the most observant werewolf, but she was beginning to get the idea that it would be easier to hear this if she didn't have to look at the other girl's face, though easier for whom, she wasn't sure.

“I, um... I ran away before a change. I didn't want to do it anymore, so I ran away. I killed someone. By accident. I can't even... I don't remember doing it. I don't remember, it was really, um... I didn't mean to.”

Again, Comfort was forcibly reminded of how differently they'd been raised. Phineas had told her about the prejudices other people had about werewolves. He said that they imagined horrible things about them. And he said that people liked to hunt and kill them for no good reason. Werewolves weren't monsters, he'd said, his bearded face very serious. People were the monsters. We've killed how many of them? He'd asked. But how many of us have they killed? It seemed that this girl was the exact opposite. While Phineas had never killed anyone on purpose and never allowed any of his people to do so, he'd never really been upset when he'd heard that another human died.

Still, she could definitely understand why Ashton was the mess that she was. Anyone who considered herself such a second class citizen would be destroyed by the idea that she had murdered someone who had so much more value than she did. Comfort felt that burn in her gut. Who had told this girl so many lies? Of course she hadn't meant to murder that person. It had just happened. And, if it did, so what? Comfort had killed someone, on purpose.

"You didn't do anything wrong." In spite of herself, Comfort couldn't control the sharp tone in her voice. "You didn't meant to kill anyone. You certainly didn't do it on purpose. And," she said, her voice getting even sharper. "So what if you did. Human kill us all the time, by the dozens. And they're called heroes. When was the last time someone ended up in jail for killing a werewolf. They give those people medals. I killed someone. On purpose." She snarled. "They destroyed my family."


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