Welcome to Rift, a post-apocalyptic werewolf roleplay set in Point Grey, on the University of British Columbia's campus. We play by liquid time and we're R-rated for the possibility of violence and language. Please have a look through the navigation links to learn more!
In a small, isolated clearing overlooking the cliffs, Scott sat on a big rock. Where it had come from, nobody knows. A huge slab-fractured piece of granite, sparkling pale and flecks of dark grey, slightly rough to the touch, even under thick calloused fingers.
He watched the sea, far down below, the grey-green waves rolling dark across the water, turning into surf somewhere below him.
A small golden ring moved between his fingers, passing under the rough skin, warmed by his palms. It wouldn't even fit his pinky. But it was beautiful, a myriad of shapes formed out of a solid band, curling and twisting and circling upon themselves. The band itself was somewhat deformed; it had obviously been worn.
Stonyfaced, eyes hooded and focused on something far more distant than the waves below, effortlessly passing the ring back and forth, rubbing it under his thumb occasionally.
Although he could no longer see it, at least not without Joseph, Liam was still drawn to the ocean. The pull was almost stronger, in its own way, since he lost the ability to see the water with his own eyes. The sound of the waves was amplified within his skull and the smell of the brackish water was all the more tantalizing in the absence of sight. The serenity of mind these simple luxuries brought upon him was what drew Liam toward the shore, although he didn't manage to reach it before another scent snagged in the salty air.
Traveling off of campus was always easier as a wolf, and Liam's slate gray paws ambled to a lazy stop as his muzzle angled upward, searching for a better grasp on the origin of the smell. Without giving much thought to the matter, Liam veered toward it, trotting quietly through the trees as the waves gathered and broke in a breathless rush on the shore below.
When Scott's scent was strong enough to signal to him that he was little more than feet away, Liam paused to shift. The expression that veiled Scott's features were lost to him, and his lips settled into an easy smile by way of greeting.
The ionized salt breeze was angled behind Scott, carrying his scent away into the woods, keeping him from noticing those behind. A self-imposed solitude, unconsciously performed.
He continued to stare out at the foamy water, pausing the movement of his hands to run the pad of his thumb over one small curl in the golden band.
"Hey Liam."
Dull, distracted, the barest acknowledgement of the other man's presence, just enough for Liam to hear.
Gathering uncertainly sifted the smile from his features. The replied he received was so subdued that, for a moment, it had glanced off his conscious completely. A frown deepened the corners of his lips as he lingered in silence for a moment, anticipating further word from Scott. None came.
"Everything all right?"
He didn't want to push, and the question was structured in a way that clearly offered Scott the opportunity to brush it off should he wish. But concern flittered about Liam's chest. The distance hollowing Scott's voice was something he hadn't encountered before, at least not from him.
Caught by indecision, Liam hesitated. It hardly took another moment for him to dispel the uncertainty In silence, he settled cross-legged in the grass beside the rock on which Scott sat brooding, the action asserting without words the fact that he was there regardless if Scott chose to acknowledge him further or not.
His gaze twitched to Liam, and then slid away. But he didn't tell him to leave, as the other sat down. Anybody else, he might possibly have. Or just stood up and walked away. But Liam had been there. The whole time, Liam had been there.
Quietly, after a moment, he looked down at the ring, and then over at Liam, and asked, "Y'know what today is?"
There was a palpable tension that hackled Liam's intuition, one born from the heavy silence anchored between them. It was unlike Scott to be so despondent.
The question drew his brows together, knitting them shallowly. Dates were something Liam had long since stopped keeping track of, although he remained in silence for a long moment, rifling through his mind for anything significant that would have come this time of year.
Very softly, very still, so low and thick that Liam was probably the only person who would have ever heard it, "It's Jossy's birthday."
He looked back up, out at the sea, face torn and threatening to crumple with three years of repressed emotion.
As he looked up, at the slate-grey clouds that covered the sky, he continued.
"Last month was Kathryn's. Jamie's is in two."
Those were just the closest. He had the birthdays written down on the back of pictures. The seven pictures that were clustered near the end of the hall, next to the kitchen. One of each. Jossy. Caleb. Faye. Kepler. Kathryn. Jamie. John.
That simple admission carried more weight than anything either man could physically bare. A heavy empathy constricted Liam's chest, and in that moment no coherent thought could find the proper footing to establish itself within his mind. Emotion was not a rare thing for Scott to portray, but emotion of this magnitude was. In all the years Liam had known him, he could count the amount of times he had seen Scott's composure fracture on one hand.
"Last month was Kathryn's. Jamie's is in two."
All these names were tied together by two simple things. Each belonged to someone close to the other man, and each was no longer here.
"It never gets easier." Liam offered quietly, unsure of the proper condolence to use and hoping to empathize instead. He had his fair share of experiences with death. The difference was, he had yet to experience a loss like Jossy had been to Scott.
Silence fell as he shuffled through all he could say. Nothing seemed to fit. Shaking his head, as if in reproach to himself and in remorse toward the situation, Liam angled his head toward Scott.
"You did all you could for them. You made them as happy as they ever could have been here. You should find solace in that."
Silence, a wet, low choking cough that evolved into a half-hearted chuckle, and Scott looked down at Liam, with a wavery smile in his voice.
"You're really bad at this, you know."
A facade of amusement, a safe barrier to retreat behind, a return to stoicism and steadfast calm. A man's way out.
He looked down at the ring, rubbing his thumb over it one more time.
He had mixed regrets about them. His family. They didn't not specifically center around their actions, or his actions, mostly. They all were good people. Some of them had dragged themselves out of terrible situations, learning how to be alive again.
Above all, he was proud of all of them. He knew they'd been happy. The pictures that lined his hallway, and the images that lined his memory, told him that.
He tried not to let his mind go down the path of "what if." "What could I have done." To not blame himself for any of their deaths. Especially Jossy. And Caleb. Nobody could predict that the Vanguard would have focused on Vancouver. And there was no way he could keep them all in Point Grey. They would have hated him, and he trusted them. Trusted the other pack members they were with.
No, he did not go down that path of thought.
He was just alone. Three years of living alone in that house, after he'd shared a bed nearly every day for a decade, and had teenagers in and out for months at a time.
Scott coughed again, rubbing the ball of his thumb into his eye socket.
