Kyrie was very curled facing as I pulled myself away for the second night in a row. One of her arms was under my neck, the other clung to my thigh which had apparently ridden over her waist at so point.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand first, when I got free. Then I did sothing that may have been a final attempt to be caught. I held it up above us both with one hand while carefully pressing my forehead to hers and closing my eyes.
The cara function’s usually soft click was as unnatural as could be to my enhanced hearing. And it didn’t bother her. Her eyes remained closed and breathing normal.
I chose not to look at the photo I just took, knowing that the lighting was probably terrible. It didn’t matter. For the first ti, I felt like even a bad picture was good enough. I just began moving after that.
Like the vixen who always snuck out before dawn.
I grabbed my cheap blue hair ties from the bathroom counter, where I’d left them after she fell asleep and I stared at myself in the mirror for twenty minutes. The plastic spheres that had reminded of sapphires, and ho...
And sothing I could have for myself just because it looked nice to have.
While I had not worn them to the shoot, I always kept them in my purse. The bank card was there, too. When I walked out of the bedroom that was the next thing I grabbed.
All of that borrowed security of shelter and food. I placed it carefully, *obviously* on the floor in front of the elevator doors. Then I set the hair ties right on top.
The blue would be bright against the white card. Hard to miss, I assure myself. Even while I know I’m just leaving a token behind. Because I already have the more expensive ones she gave herself stored away with everything I own.
That thought should have allowed to stand up imdiately. A minute later, I should have called the elevator and been part of the way out of this place.
Instead I remained kneeling that whole ti. Gazing at the small pile of aning. A returned thing that was given to ... and a thing now given that I can’t tell if I want returned.
"Stupid fox."
I stood up and pressed the call button. The elevator opened with a soft ding that I was sure would wake her and have a white wolf on my naked tail soon. So I slamd my hand on the button to go down, waiting for her claws to pry the doors open.
Vrika was howling in my mindscape. Thrashing and fighting and begging to turn around. To go back. To choose differently. Yet, it couldn’t promise that there was no danger to it.
The feeling of rage that followed wasn’t directed at the wolf spirit. It was directed at myself, whose mories poisoned its instincts. At this choice which reeked of my own insecurity.
At the unfairness of it all. Because I don’t know how to make myself stop and hope.
My body finished more of a partial shift than I intended when I hear the door begin to open. Not fully, just enough for claws to sprout from human fingers. I slamd them against the button panel, again and again until the thin tal was scored with deep gouges.
Around the place I couldn’t let myself touch. Only around the button that would take back up there. But in my mindscape, Vrika and I were not rged in the slightest. It just sat there, blue eyes looking at in the center of the slab of Composure, shifting through all kinds of forms.
A shifter that couldn’t decide what they want to be. A vixen that couldn’t decide who she wants to be. The spirit stayed outside of its usual space as I lashed out at myself, because it knew I wasn’t in the mood to take its friendship and care.
I wasn’t in the mood to be told what I’m doing might be okay or forgiven. Or that it is the worst thing I’ve ever done.
Bare feet stepped out onto concrete of the private access area. As I walked up the small path, I stare at the hand returned to normal, before I put it in the oxblood purse I wore on my other arm.
Taking out the access key and swiping it on the gated entrance to get out, I half expected Claire to have disabled it under orders so that I couldn’t escape. Which is why the first cara I clearly saw as I traveled, I turned my face and waved.
Just a small gesture. Just enough for her assistant to know I left on purpose. That I wasn’t kidnapped. Though I’m not entirely sure what kind of face I’m making, so saying she won’t worry when reviewing footage is likely wrong.
Three blocks later and ducking down an alley, I found an older man bundled against a building. His coat had more holes than fabric and he was in my way to the upscale courtyard nearby.
Stepping over his legs without pausing, I summoned the shipping container in the empty space beside a very nice and clean slling dumpster. The first thing I did was slam the purse - and importantly the phone inside, on a shelf space.
The next was grabbing my old coat. The one the woman at the charity event gave to . And from there, I stepped out while dismissing it back to wherever the | Single Parent Stash | existed when not manifested.
When I turned, the man was awake and standing. Staring at with wide eyes while holding onto the wall like gravity might be about to reverse for the whole world.
"Are you an alien?"
"No. Just a Fox Princess from another world inhabiting a werewolf’s body."
I respond without missing a beat. What is the point of lying to this random fellow? Chances are I’ll never see him again.
"...I’m still really high right now from earlier, but isn’t that a lot of words for alien?"
"Yes. You’re a very clever human. Here."
I held out the coat to him. He took it, but slowly. Like he expected , it, or himself to disappear. Well, part of that *was* the plan.
"Stay warm. And inside, if you can. The cold will be terrible after a couple weeks. Warn the other holess for , please. If you rember."
The center of the city grew distant with every step I took away from that small, inexplicable good deed and towards the cabin I was not actually going to. The morning is going to be a long one - I may not make it to my den until the evening rolls in.
Because for all the hurry I’m in - all the expectation that I might be stopped - I can’t forget to leave the evidence and false trails that I need to feel like myself. Even if I’m leaving it while racking up... what I believe to be a ’public indecency’ charge?
However, I’ll have to be caught for that. And I will not make it easy. Not again.
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