(Requiem) Scent of a woman - August challenge!

[akonken.livejournal.com]

"You still smell like you."

Ruth's casual comment had made Charlotte want to reach out and hug her, despite knowing that Ruth was in one of her 'no touching' moods from the way she weaved. But then, right then, she felt it would be worth the gouges in her flesh to just smell Ruthie's hair, to feel the soft whisper of the pashmina shawl against her throat as she rested her chin on the other woman's shoulder.

***

"Are you enjoying your holiday?" Ruthie's half-whisper came from just over Charlotte's shoulder as she stirred the bolognaise sauce. Ruthie always liked the smell of cooking, and was quick to reward a good-smelling meal with blood. Bolognaise was a favourite, possibly for the wine base. Or the oregano. Charlotte always thought oregano was a very Ruthie scent, although she couldn't explain why.

Her heart leapt as Ruth put her wrist over the plot. Tonight she would eat well.

***

Dre was off...doing something sordid, probably. Tonight she had Ruthie all to herself. They were sitting quietly in the cool evening, the silhouettes of the trees a comfort. Charlotte felt she was glowing with the fresh blood, and was sure she too could smell everything more acutely - the wildflowers, the ocean, everything beautiful in the world. Ruth smelled of comforting death, of- was it cedar? sandalwood? Charlotte had only worked for her for a couple years, but wasn't sure she'd ever leave. She wasn't sure she'd ever want to.

***

Ruthie turned away to talk to Danny after the passing comment, and Charlotte was glad she didn't blush anymore. Of course it had been a slight, like Catherine's gift of cheap perfume - she still smelled like a slave to Ruth Riley. That was all she'd meant.

The bond only went one way.

August writing challenge - attempt 1

[elizathemekhet.livejournal.com]

Brina slammed the door shut behind her as she stormed into the flat. That miserable shit had done it again. And she had fucking let him. What the hell was wrong with her?

She dropped her bag, coat and keys on a heap in the bedroom before heading to the kitchen in search of caffeine or alcohol - preferably alcohol.

The phone rang.

His number.

She ignored it.

The phone continued to ring and then stopped, then started again.

Eventually, after this had happened six times, she picked up the receiver.

"You stupid bitch. Why the fuck didn't you pick up the first time I rang. You knew it was me."

Brina stared out of the window of her flat, tears starting to run down her face.

"Stop it, please."

"No. You know the rules, Brina. No touching other men. You're mine."

"But Paul, Mike's my cousin. Of course I hug him."

"As long as you're with me, you don't. Got that? Now, let me into the building."

"No."

"What did you say?"

"I said 'no'."

"Don't you dare tell me no. You'll do as you're fucking told. Open that door, Brina."

A growl vibrated from deep in her throat, surprising her.

Then... then something happened and Brina...

Let's just say that when she came to her senses and opened her eyes... she knew things were different.

The flat was a mess. Her clothes were ripped to shreds. Her heart ached like she'd never felt it before but somehow... that didn't matter.

Brina had Changed.