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[OOM]: Post Ace

Richard’s in a pretty damn good mood. He just finished a good bout of play with Damocles outside and they both’ve come in for water. Dam is still in the kitchen, drinking, but the werewolf’s taken his glass to the big window looking over the lake.

Such a pretty view when the sun is setting.

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Jul. 29th, 2009

((From here))

Richard carefully clambers back inside, ducking low to avoid hitting either his or his prize's head. Then he eagerly glides down the hallway towards room 417. His scent is practically humming with pleasure at his catch and the hand holding her pinches her thigh.

"Nearly there," he rumbles, already digging in his pocket for the keys.

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OOC

The Character Expression Meme
Character: Captain Richard Ryan
Journal: captainryan
RPG: milliways_bar











.happy..sad..angry..scared.
.disgusted..surprised..flirty..sexual.
.confused..shy..playful..rage.
.hurt..guilty..bored..laughing.
.sarcastic..tired..wtf..pride.
.sympathy..evil..innocent..in love.
YOURFOURFAVORITEICONS



WANT TO DO IT TOO?
Snag yourself the coding here.

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The Archives

The bed's made and Richard's relaxed on it, one hand tucked behind his head as he watches River finish getting dressed. The other hand is hanging off the side of the mattress, scritching Damocles' head.

"So CAL makes a copy of your data every time you return to the Library, and if something happens, she can restore you from that, correct?"

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A Dog's Talk

What did you two talk about that made you so serious, sir?

The question’s a bit out of the blue and Ryan looks up startled from the sword he’s pounding on. What?

You and River. What made you so serious? I mean, more serious.


Ryan goes back to pounding since you can’t just stop this sort of work whenever you feel like it. He frowns at the metal as he works it into shape. River wants to be like me.

Grumpy? Sorry!
Dam grins at Ryan's look even as he pins his ears back.

She wants me to bite her. Ryan barely catches a whiff of Damocles’ puzzlement over the ash.

What for?

Because that could turn her into a werewolf, too.

You can do that?

Yes, Damocles. I used to be human, you know.
Ryan takes the sword back to the coals.

No, I didn’t. The dog falls silent for a bit. So why does that make you so serious? Isn’t her being like you a good thing?

It’s Ryan’s turn to be silent. I’d like to think so, but humans…don’t usually see things that way. Most like being human very much. They don’t like having to hunt for their food.

But…but hunting is AWESOME.


Ryan can’t help but smile a bit at that. A lot of humans find it violent and unsettling. I did, once.

I can’t imagine that at all.

Well, I’ve changed. River thinks she’d like it, though. I just want her to be sure. It’s not the sort of thing one does lightly.

Because she might not like it.

Right.

But she thinks she would? And you think she would?

She does. And I hope so.

So what’s the problem?

If I turn her and she doesn’t like it, what then?
He pulls the sword back out of the coals.

Dam doesn't have a fast answer to that one. Perhaps she’ll learn to like it?

Perhaps
, Ryan agrees, frowning as he starts shaping the metal again. Perhaps I shouldn’t turn her at all.

But if you both want to try…you’re always telling me ‘live and learn’. Isn’t this a living thing? Like the time I ate a grasshopper?

It’s a bit more complicated than that.
The dog does have a point, though.

Okay. You’ll do what’s best. You’re alpha.

I appreciate the vote of confidence.

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Time to April 24th

River’s reading on the sunseat in Ryan’s flat today, not unusual. The werewolf steps up silently behind her, also not unusual. She’s reading the same book as she was yesterday, slightly unusual, and staring at the exact same page. He can tell by the picture.

Very unusual.

“What’s so interesting about that plant?”

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April 10

April has come and with it the warm weather. Werewolves, for the next six months at least, do not find it quite so miserable to be outdoors for three days in a row.  The level of easy prey is beginning to rise as well, as the animals of the forest begin their reproductive cycles anew. A good time to be a predator.

It’s the last night of the full moon. The right edge has begun to wane ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but its light is still bright over the hills and valleys of Milliways' Scottish simulation. The light is less illuminating under the trees, but still enough to pick out a path without too great a difficulty, provided there’s a path to follow.

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It’s been some time since he found her note. His mind’s been swimming with ‘what if’s’ ever since.

What if she asks him? What if he says yes?

What if she doesn’t like it?

What if it disgusts her? What if she hates it? What if she grows to hate him because of it?

He’s tried to explain all the aspects to her, purposefully bringing up the parts that should make her change her mind about it. He’s tried to make her see the predator side of it, the instincts, the blood.

He doesn’t know what to tell her.

What else can he tell her, besides flat out no?

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if she hates it.

She says she’s done the research. Hell, he knows she’s done the research, he’s seen bits of it for himself. There’s just…he can’t believe observation and books can adequately prepare someone for what a werewolf is.

What he is.

What she’s considering becoming.

He wants to be able to say yes. He really would. Because if she likes it- If she likes it, that would be-

He doesn’t let his mind down that path. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

Because.












What if she hates it?

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He’d been playing with his terminal, trying to figure out a few more commands when he noticed the pad left on her desk. He can make out the title from his own and he’s not surprised to see it’s another report on, essentially, himself. He opts to take a break from his own somewhat failed attempts at 52nd Century technology and slides the pad towards himself.

Bloody hell.

He reads through it again, skipping over the report and focusing just on her handwriting.

If you're reading this, I have a favour to ask.

If I ask you to do this, I need you to not question me.

I need you to understand that I've done the research. I've given it a significant amount of thought.

When I ask you, I need you to breathe in my scent, so that you know. I love you, more than mere words can express, and I need you to trust me in this.

When the day comes that I come to you and I ask you to do this, I need you to set aside your own fears for me and trust that I understand exactly what it is I am asking of you.

If you're still reading this, I know you are flush with indignation, your instinct to protect me assaulting your rationality. I understand that, believe me I do. And if you find you can't, please tell me now, that I may spare us both the humiliation of me asking and you having to refuse.

If you feel that you can do this for me, then there is no need to say anything. When the time comes, all I ask is that you do this for me, without questioning. And I promise you, I will not ask this of you unless I am sure that it is what I want. With all my heart and mind.

Know that you're in my heart and in my thoughts, always. I love you, Richard. I have no idea how or why it happened so swiftly and so completely, I only know that it has. And I'm not inclined to question it. It would feel like questioning the inevitability of daybreak. It just is. And I am more than content to let it be.

Yours,
~River










He leans heavily against her desk, completely at a loss for words.

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Gift

He works carefully with steel for strength. The chain is tiny, tedious work since he forges it link by link, but it's the most difficult thing in the project. The tag itself is easier, dull steel engraved with her name and degree on one side, a stylized version of the wolf on his ring on the other. He makes two of those, one for her and one for himself. Finally he plates everything with a thin layer of gold and puts it all together. The spare tag he slips onto his own chain.

He presents the necklace to her with a small smile and a modest, "Just thought you'd like something to hang my tag from." He slips the chain over her head, then pulls his own tags out from under his shirt, one of gold, one of steel, to show her. She digs his liberated tag out of her pocket and quickly fastens its little chain around the larger one. He grins at the equal but opposite nature of their dog tags and helps her slip hers under her shirt. She lets out a squeak as the cold metal touches her skin.

And then she kisses him to make him stop laughing.

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Captain Richard Ryan

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