aranbythewood - Tumblr blog

[aranbythewood]

[aranbythewood]

http://wildgoat.tumblr.com/

[aranbythewood]

[aranbythewood]

“Let me guess, an ex-wife?” Aran half-joked, even as he took the scotch. He could more than afford the drink, but didn’t ever turn one down. Pride, when it came to money, mattered only when it came to family, and specifically, his stepfather. He took a sip of the scotch, turning and leaning back against the bar as he looked out, clinking their glasses together.

“I’m the shift supervisor at the Mill just outside of town. Although,” he pause, hesitating, before committing: “I’ve been on a bit of a furlough from the job for the past few months. Personal project. You know how it goes.”

@blindcut

light conversation | aran

“Very good,” Sloane murmured. He gestured that he would add Aran’s drink to his ongoing tab that consisted of three sodas and a glass of champagne. “There were some interesting things being offered. I had considered the option of getting the enchanted photograph, but the woman that is in the photograph I have would disapprove of everything I am - I could not stand to see the looks she would give me.” 

Sloane lifted his refilled glass of soda in return to Aran’s. “I work in security, and manners - apologies. Jack Sloane. What do you do, Mr. Bythewood?” 

[aranbythewood]

“Scotch, neat,” Aran replied, not one for looking a gift horse--or drink--in the mouth. Exhaling, he looked back at the ballroom, where the ball was well underway. “I thought about putting in a bid myself, but figured that it’d be best just to donate the money anyway.”

As the bartender served them both the new drinks, Aran lifted his to the other man. “What do you do..” He trailed, and added. “Sorry, what was your name?”

light conversation | aran

“Bythewood,” he repeated with a nod. He should have remembered that name. He bet that Aran’s name was unique in the phonebook, if phonebooks still existed in Sumner. He smiled slightly and shook his head. “No, not me. I arrived when people were finishing up setting up their bidding cards. I did bid on Melissa’s service, an aura reading,” he explained, keeping the conversation going. “Besides that, what could I have offered? Though, I would have been able to clean the top of shelves and ceiling fans without needing a ladder.” 

He gestured to the empty glass in front of the other. “Can I get you a refill?” 

[aranbythewood]

“Bythewood,” Aran offers, smoothly, switching the position of his scotch to the other hand, offering his dominant for the man to shake. He notices, without drawing attention to his reaction, the strange pattern of callouses on the man’s palm, his fingertips. And then, much more briefly, the pattern of scars that dance across the top of his hand, extending up into his wrist, beyond the scoop of his shirt.

“Were you up for auction? I didn’t see your card..”

Originally posted by evolvedapathy

light conversation | aran

He seemed slightly startled when he looked up from his phone only to see someone standing in front of him. A quick once over of the man gave Sloane some clues as to who he’d found himself in the company of. “Mr. Aran…?” he offered, the last name alluding him for the moment. “I saw that you were one of the people that offered up a service to be bid on. Congratulations are in order?” he wondered. “Or should I say - I hope that your date goes well.” 

[aranbythewood]

Come As You Are | Iann & Aran

Aran, as per usual, was on time. It, apparently, wasn’t the more popular of the choices. Walking in, his mask in hand, he glanced around the almost empty ballroom. The music was already playing, and off in the distance, he could see the bar where the bartenders were already pouring drinks, lining them up under price cards, adjusting the notice that all the proceeds would go towards charity.

It hadn’t been his idea to put himself up for auction, that had been Laila’s brilliant plan. The youngest of Caroline’s brood, and the only one that Aran was related to by blood, the little girl had very specific ideas of what Aran should and should not be doing with his Saturday nights. When Laila had posed it to him, there had been little question of whether or not he would, and instead, what he would wear.

The Winter Solstice was fast approaching, leaving Aran only a week and a half, two at most, to finish getting everything ready for the meeting of the Elders, the Triumvirate, to announce his intention to be considered an Alpha amongst their packs. But, if Aran had ever been born with a soft spot, it had been meant for her.

So here he was. Early to the party, an elk mask in hand (Laila had found it on Etsy for him, riddled with giggles of delight at the idea of him wearing it), glancing around the large space and spotting Iann, near the bar. Perfect.

“Did you get my text?” He said, as he approached the other man, paying for his drink and for the other man’s.

[aranbythewood]

une part de bonheur | Cassie & Aran

Generally at events like these, large gatherings of people—large gatherings of potential Otherfolk—there’s an unspoken rule that avoiding any.. otherworldly abilities is the way to go. For some, it’s a more difficult process than for others. Specifically, those that are able to manipulate physical strata, those that are magicked, they’re usually prudent in keeping them quiet, to not spark any panics, no matter how well-vested the humans around them were to the idea of them walking around them. For Aran, it was a well-practiced art, but every once in a while something peeked through.

In this case, it’s the smell of her. He knows it’s a she, on instinct alone, and he exhales through his mouth, trying to push the scent out of his nose and throat. It doesn’t work.

Walking to the corner of the room that housed the bar, he fished out his wallet, pulling a ten, and perused the already mixed drinks. He’d already had two separate drinks, a heavily spiked eggnog, and something they’d labeled grog. He settles, ultimately, on a bright red concoction of champagne and what he guesses (hopes?) is grenadine, taking a heavy swig. It’s on the downswing of the flute that he sees her, standing to the side, and realizes, based on instinct alone, that it’s her.

Downing the drink, he takes a step forward, towards the brunette, hand tightening on the stem of the flute.

“Did Rufus send you?"

[aranbythewood]

“If that fails..” Aran began, settling on the corner next to Faye, his hand unfurling in the darkness like a black sail, worn down silver lighter in hand. The silver box was dwarfed in the palm of his hand, disappearing back into his sleeve when he saw the first plume of smoke rise up. Looking back at where Faye was watching, the man and woman dancing.

The smell of the smoke settled on Aran like a veil, calming him, and he lifted the flute of red-tinted champagne he held, taking a sip. Noting the color, the bright sprig of mistletoe on the edge of it, he noted. “You think they know it’s poisonous?”

Masquerade: Faye and Open

The ball flowed elegantly in the background, a lush movement of color and warm white noise. Faye herself had taken a breather from the dancing and the champagne, and was currently occupying a dark corner, watching Chris dance with Melissa. She’d won Chris’ offered night out. Faye smiled. She loved them all so much. More than anything. More than her own life. If something happened to them… 

But no, this wasn’t a night for thinking about bad things or things that may never happen. It was a night to celebrate. To have fun and dance and be with friends. All for a good cause. Faye leaned back against the coolness of the wall behind her, letting her glamours drop momentarily. It was wearing recently, keeping them up for too long. It drained her, made her feel weak. Especially as she tried to cover the black web of spider veins on her shoulder. Normally, she wouldn’t care, leaving all the marks uncovered, but tonight she didn’t want the looks. The questions about the burn scars covering her right forearm. She wanted to forget for just one night. 

Chris laughed at something Melissa said, and Faye smiled again. Raising a cigarette to her lips, she waved a hand to light it before settling her eyes once more on the dancers in their finery. 

[aranbythewood]

The tux was tighter than he would have liked it, but there wasn’t much logic in Aran’s mind for renting a new one. When his step-mother had remarried, this one had been rented for him—the wedding planner had been adamant about making sure it was tailored perfectly. They had the money, she’d argued. Caroline, his step-mother, had then paid for the suit, knowing her step-son’s distaste at consumable wealth. Aran had always liked Caroline. Aran had kept it since then, in his hotel room, where he’d been living in since coming back to Sumner, folded in the garment bag, inside of a suitcase.

[aranbythewood]

[TEXT] i know it is

[TEXT] i need the marrow from the femur of an alcoholic

[TEXT] adding something to the list. (A few minutes later.) [TEXT] hope that's not a problem.

[TXT] of course not.  deadline’s drawing near though

[TXT] can you believe it’s easier to find the tooth of a Lobison than to find local baneberry.  

[TXT] bring be the additions and I’ll see what I can do.

[aranbythewood]

2003 GMC Sierra; codename: Bellatrix

Aran’s workhorse. He uses this truck for business purposes at the Mill, and more recently, for working at the cabin.

2008 Jeep Wrangler; codename: Narcissa

Narcissa works as an errand-runner. Going into town, making quick trips into the woods. Anything that doesn’t require the towing power of the truck, basically.

[aranbythewood]

By the time Aran receives the message, his Jeep is already pulling onto the street the man had messaged him. He doesn’t bother checking it, not yet, stopping the car in front of the house, and stepping out onto the curb. Exhaling, he pulled the phone out of his front pocket and checked the message, making a soft snorting sound.

[TEXT] Already here. 

[ TEXT ] *Sends address*

[ TEXT ] You on the way?

[aranbythewood]

pearls before swine | perl & aran

Above everything else, the place smells like piss. It isn’t surprising for Aran, not really, because all the places he’s been like these always ended up, at one point or another, smelling like it. This time, he knows, it’s because of the kid--the young werewolf, a visitor in town--who had gone down in the first round, and messed himself across the ground-out patch of dirt they called The Ring. The judges, moderators, they’d thrown straw down into the muck and raked it up, and just like that, the fights continued, with a burly looking human taking on another, and winning, without much shock and awe from the audience.

Aran would have guessed: not much caused shock and awe among these types.

When it was Aran’s turn to go, the moderators decided to give him the welcome that the kid had gotten, putting him up against another werewolf (chance, they said, matches were drawn on weight alone) who was steel-cut, towering above Aran’s six-foot-four, all lean muscle, face more scar than smooth flesh. Bark-like. Inhuman. It wasn’t a fair fight, but Aran did better with unfair, and knocked the fucker out in the second round with a blind uppercut to the Ent’s jaw.

It was as he emerged from the ring, eye beginning to swell, that he spotted her, and without asking, calling attention to his actions, pulled the water bottle from her hand and took a swig of it..

..and coughed up half the vodka he’d mouthed, hacking: “--fuckin’ vodka?”

@perl-less

[aranbythewood]

Aran is down for anything, if it’s for a good cause. Your choice of venue, anything from movies and fast food, to a jaunt down to Bangor for theatre and culture, or a wicker-basket picnic by the shore.

Charity Auction Details!

[aranbythewood]

Aran is down for anything, if it’s for a good cause. Your choice of venue, anything from movies and fast food, to a jaunt down to Bangor for theatre and culture, or a wicker-basket picnic by the shore.

Charity Auction Details!

[aranbythewood]

Aran took a breath, and glanced over at the console of his truck. Quarter to six. Enough time, and the extra cash could go towards what Iann was procuring for him. Or, at least, sweeten the deal. Speed things up. Give Aran another reason to head to Mal Ojo and check on how things were going. Exhaling, he settled his foot on the brake, and texted back.

[TEXT] What’s your address?

[ TEXT ] As soon as possible. They’re kinda sitting out here on my lawn. I’ve been moving them slowly but surely inch by inch but I just had a cocktail and now I’m exhausted.

[ TEXT ] Nope, you’re the first to text me. :)

[ TEXT ] It is first come first serve though.