the person i became; faolan

[HECTOR ALLEN WULFE]

s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i

just keep chasing pavements even though it

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S T O N O W H E R E

[atrb=width,240] Hector shuffled tiredly to the third floor, passing a few students here and there, but he was mostly by himself. He was on his way to detention, something he'd never been in during all his seven years at Hogwarts. He didn't know what to expect, or if Faolan would even be there, but he hoped so. The night of the fight, Hector had lost control. He'd given in to the call of the fullmoon, to the call of blood lust. He wasn't even sure why, since he'd never let it get that way before. He hadn't let his wolf get out like that since that night with Maggie, the night he had to do rounds with her. Shaking his head, Hec first ran a hand through his hair, then over his face. He was tired. Stepping into the trophy room, he saw no one there, but directions on the board. They were to scrub these trophies, all of them, until the gleamed, or for at least two hours. Groaning, he kept reading. Without magic. WHAT? No magic? Hector swore loudly and slammed a fist into the nearest desk. He was so on edge lately, but had yet to figure out why. He felt like a ticking time bomb all of a sudden. He thought to Maggie, to help calm his nerves. The other night she'd comforted him in their common room, whilst Faolan sulked in the Hospital Wing. Maggie had told him he was right to have attacked, that it was the right thing to do because he needed to show Faolan who was boss, and where his place was. She praised him for it, praised him for how brash he'd been. It didn't seem right to him. Hector picked up a trophy and stared into its dim surface. His reflection looked back at him. He wasn't impressed with what he saw. He saw a strung out, highly tense werewolf peering back at him. Throwing it across the room, it bounced off the stone wall and came back at him. Instead of ducking, he simply stretched his arm out and caught it. Magic prevented it from being hurt. Picking a rag up from the table next to him, he sat down in an armchair and got to work scrubbing the trophy. Unfortunately he was not alone in his thoughts. Maggie kept swimming to the surface. She had asked him why he didn't just fight all the wolves in the school, proving that he was the best. Part of him, the biggest part of him, really wanted to. And that part scared him. The little part of him, the part that was rational, wanted to tell her to shut up because he wouldn't ever do such a thing. Part of him felt like Maggie liked him because he was part werewolf. Part of him felt like Maggie liked him for him. He wasn't sure why he was dating her, but he was. And now that he'd had some time to think about what all had happened between him and Faolan a few nights ago, he hoped that the Ravenclaw would walk in. He would take all hits from him without retaliation, just in hopes that they could talk things over, and maybe even someday be friends again. Hector needed to talk mostly about Faolan and Sierra, but he wanted to talk about other things too. He heard footsteps enter the room and looked up to see Faolan entering. He sat where he was, frozen, waiting to see how his old best friend would react. In the back of his head he heard Maggie telling him to attack Faolan again, to show him continually who was boss. But he pushed that voice down and concentrated on trying to be civil.

[atrb=width,100] words , 628 words tagged , FAOLAN notes , hopefully mending their friendship. :]

TEMPLATE BY THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY @ CAUTION 2.0

[faolan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i142.photobucket.com/albums/r102/Tamar11/600full-ben-barnes-2-1.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] THE ANIMAL IN ME Over the past 6 years, Faolan had tried to make a name for himself. He was not always successful, but over the past couple weeks, all of his achievements he had attained now were drowned underneath the deep water he was in. By now he was thinking how much worse could it be? Each day it seemed ill will was lurking in every corner, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. It was starting to feel like a curse, and it all had started with Fenrir. Now he had so much on his plate, his normally unwavering temper had shortened drastically and the mask of civility was now chipping away. All of this had led to him chasing after sierra, breaking a pact between friends, getting into one of the worst fights he had, and now paying for that action with every swish and flicker punishment Atticus could devise. As soon as his last class was finished, he was forced to attend the first detention of probably a thousand more to come. Tonight was the trophy room. By simple deduction he could assume he was going to have to play house elf and shine them up. It certainly was not his favorite thing to do, but there was worse. To be honest, this part of the punishment was not the one to bother him much; it was the fact that he would have company in the process. Atticus hadn’t told him, but Faolan knew there was no way he’d make it that easy for them. I’m sure in his little diabolical mind, the professor was trying to get them to work together again. Like that would happen. Even if he was partially in the wrong by almost having hector’s sister, he saw no way in stopping it. What happen, happened and there was nothing he could do. Besides, she was the one to entice him, and hector had been the one to start the fight. It had been the bloody prefect’s fault that he chose to be physical, not his. As stressed as he had been, as he was now, Faolan would have tried his best to talk it out. Apparently his ex-friend had thought differently. Grunting somewhat as he made his way up the staircases, the 6th year winced when the tension in his muscles and the movement of his shirt caused his wounds to hurt. It had been only 3 days since their ‘heated debate’ so most of his injuries were not completely healed. As much as he wanted to deny it, these were probably the worst he had gotten in his life...or at least all at once. Not really wanting to get to his destination, Faolan took his time, trying his best to compose himself. This would be the first time they talked since then, and he wasn’t sure if it was going to be a repeat of the night before. He surely hoped not, seeing as that he was still exhausted. However, he had no intention of baring his throat if that’s what Hector expected. The son of a banshee might of had him in a losing position before Atticus showed up, but he hadn’t won fully. Faol had not submitted by then, so he had no plans to do it now. It was a draw and nothing more. As soon as he neared the trophy room, his ears picked up a harsh thump on a wooden desk that he could only assume was his present enemy. His conclusion had be right; hector was there. Leaning on one side of the door where he could hear but not ne seen, he then heard a clank that had to have neen one of the trophies. Growling irritably to himself, Faolan could tell Hector’s mood hadn’t changed. Knowing there was no reason to wait any longer, he stepped through the threshold, bearing a look of mock curiosity and a snide, unimpressed smirk. “So, are the trophies challenging you now, mate? It’s a good thing you can put them in their place,” he scoffed harshly, a brow raising in disgust, “Maybe they’ll clean themselves now.” Already seeing the elder werewolf polishing the cup the muggle way, he had no reason to look at the board before grabbing one for himself and the other rag that remained on the desk. Walking back over to the nearest case, he leaned against the glass as he began to diligently, but unhurriedly scrub the golden trinket, doing his best to focus on it more than the rival in the chair before him. The only reason he hadn’t sat down was not because he was afraid. It mainly had to do with his stiff muscles and stinging cuts, as well as the thick atmosphere of having to talk to the git again. Momentarily glancing up, his dark eyes like ice, he added, “So does Sierra miss me?” there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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[HECTOR ALLEN WULFE]

s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i

just keep chasing pavements even though it

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S T O N O W H E R E

[atrb=width,240] He could smell him before he could hear him. Faolan entered the room, clearly not willing to be here, just like himself. Hector wasn't stupid, this was going to the longest three hours of his life. Scrubbing irritably at the trophy he held in his big hands, he ignored the comment about the trophy. He didn't need to get all fired up again. There was too much testosterone in the room. He noticed that the other Ravenclaw hadn't sat down, and at first thought another power struggle was in effect. But after a second of thought he realized it was just Faolan's stiff body that wouldn't allow him to sit. Hector felt much the same. He finished one trophy and set it down, moving to grab another. After turning to face the trophy again, he saw it dirtying up again and held in a groan. They were literally going to get nothing accomplished in here. These trophies must have been charmed by the professors to stay forever dirty, no matter how much cleaning they got. He glanced out the side of his eyes at his old friend. He wasn't gonna lie, he missed the bloke. Turning to face him, he watched the other wolf clean a trophy. Clearly tension was still high between them. "Actually, smart ass, she does." Hector stopped shining his trophy to look right into Faolan's eyes. Completely real right now, he watched Faolan. How to go about this? Hector was in the fault. He needed to apologize. But he didn't want to admit defeat or anything. "So. Was your mum angry about the shirt?" he asked jokingly to lighten the mood. During the fight Faolan had mentioned something briefly about his mother being mad, and Hec knew it to be true. The woman would have been storming around, and probably cursing out Hec for all the trouble. "Listen man. What I did the other day... It was unacceptable. I should have come at you with a level head." He cleared his throat uncomfortably and turned around to start cleaning his trophy again. "We should try this again. Man to man, no wolves around." He didn't honestly think that Faolan would be up for talking right now, but whatever. Hector could chat while Faolant sat idly by. It didn't matter to him how it went down, but it was going to come out.

[atrb=width,100] words , 628 words tagged , FAOLAN notes , hopefully mending their friendship. :]

TEMPLATE BY THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY @ CAUTION 2.0

[faolan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i142.photobucket.com/albums/r102/Tamar11/600full-ben-barnes-2-1.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] THE ANIMAL IN ME there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

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