Vinegar Bees
flowers & teeth.
Maylee found herself smiling a small, private smile as Shia described returning to his home. There was a certain ache to it, a longing—she missed having a home of her own to return to, but hearing Shia say he wanted to fight for his home made her all the more determined to fight for it, too. All of them—they were all fighting for their homes, weren't they? On a macro level, the world was their home, and whatever was happening to the moon was threatening it.
She had always found home in people rather than places, and the thought of fighting for the people fighting for their own homes—despite all of the doubt scraping away within her, it left her with a small, impenetrable hope that she was doing the right thing.
Maylee followed Shia and Evelyn upstairs, her mind quickly boggling at the sheer number of amenities Devlin's property offered. The tubs for bathing were spacious and pristine, a far cry from the cramped, mildew-stained little thing she had scrubbed herself in on many an early Monday morning (Adrien kept the house fervently clean, but there was something about those mildew stains sunk into the grout that refused to be vanquished). The twin sinks would have been a godsend for the daily tango of teeth-brushing, shaving, and hair-combing that threatened to fill the tiny bathroom to bursting.
Naturally, the bedrooms themselves were just as luxurious: a huge, plush bed that seemed ready to swallow her; a fireplace, a real wooden fireplace with a few decorative horse shoes nailed to its mantle; more space altogether than she knew what to do with. Shia advised her and Evelyn to pick a room, and Maylee hesitated as she watched Evelyn quickly make her choice. There were so many rooms it made her head spin—how was she supposed to choose?
You're overthinking this. It's just a room.
With a deep breath, Maylee strode into the first room on her left, her eyes scanning the bed to be sure it hadn't been claimed by Shia's bags. Slowly, hesitantly, almost as if she expected the room to spit her out in her comparative plainness, she made her way to the bed and placed her bag carefully down on its center. Carefully, she unzipped the bag and extricated her stuffed rabbit, placing it gently beside the bag and smoothing its fur.
For a moment, she looked silently into its rundown button-eyes. "We can do this," she murmured quietly to it. "We've got each other."
The dinner was, as expected, dazzling. The food itself wasn't intimidatingly extravagant, instead comprising a cornucopia of comfort foods that matched the overall warmth of Devlin's home. Maylee scanned the dishes piled high with slabs of juice-bedecked meat, golden-brown rolls shiny with a buttery finish, and honey-glazed carrots sparkling like red dwarf stars beneath the cast-iron chandelier. Just as with the bedrooms, she didn't know where to begin.
When Tilly cheerfully inquired about her plate, Maylee found herself fumbling nervously. "Oh—um—" It would seem ungrateful, she thought, not to take advantage of the meal Tilly had generously cooked for them, but she had to admit she was far too shy to indulge as greedily as she would have liked. And what should she eat—? For most of her life, Maylee had been a vegetarian, but the wolf within her had quite willfully made some dietary changes. The husky scent of the meat was enough to make her mouth run with thick saliva, and she could almost feel her teeth sharpening into fangs as the wolf awaited the fresh kill with relish.
"Um... some roast beef, please," Maylee said shyly, "and some peas and corn, please. Um, thank you—!"
She glanced at Devlin as the man offered a chance to say grace for anyone who so desired. Maylee frowned, trying to pull at distant memories. She hadn't been brought up in any particular faith—Dad's family had been Muslim, she knew, but he had always had a laissez-faire attitude to religion, and if they had ever said any sort of blessing at the dinner table, she couldn't remember it now. She supposed she would need to go off-script.
Maylee furrowed her brow as she stared down at her hands, clasping them together in what felt like a proper gesture of prayer, and somewhat clumsily prayed: Um, God, I don't know if you're listening, or if you're even there, or... if you would want to talk to me if you were. But...
She clenched her hands together, her knuckles blanching.
...I'm not ready to give up on this world, or the people in it. So please... let me fight for it for as long as I can.
Unclasping her hands, Maylee looked bashfully up at the rest of the guests and the colorful array of food splayed across their dishes. "Thank you for the food," she murmured.
She had always found home in people rather than places, and the thought of fighting for the people fighting for their own homes—despite all of the doubt scraping away within her, it left her with a small, impenetrable hope that she was doing the right thing.
Maylee followed Shia and Evelyn upstairs, her mind quickly boggling at the sheer number of amenities Devlin's property offered. The tubs for bathing were spacious and pristine, a far cry from the cramped, mildew-stained little thing she had scrubbed herself in on many an early Monday morning (Adrien kept the house fervently clean, but there was something about those mildew stains sunk into the grout that refused to be vanquished). The twin sinks would have been a godsend for the daily tango of teeth-brushing, shaving, and hair-combing that threatened to fill the tiny bathroom to bursting.
Naturally, the bedrooms themselves were just as luxurious: a huge, plush bed that seemed ready to swallow her; a fireplace, a real wooden fireplace with a few decorative horse shoes nailed to its mantle; more space altogether than she knew what to do with. Shia advised her and Evelyn to pick a room, and Maylee hesitated as she watched Evelyn quickly make her choice. There were so many rooms it made her head spin—how was she supposed to choose?
You're overthinking this. It's just a room.
With a deep breath, Maylee strode into the first room on her left, her eyes scanning the bed to be sure it hadn't been claimed by Shia's bags. Slowly, hesitantly, almost as if she expected the room to spit her out in her comparative plainness, she made her way to the bed and placed her bag carefully down on its center. Carefully, she unzipped the bag and extricated her stuffed rabbit, placing it gently beside the bag and smoothing its fur.
For a moment, she looked silently into its rundown button-eyes. "We can do this," she murmured quietly to it. "We've got each other."
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The dinner was, as expected, dazzling. The food itself wasn't intimidatingly extravagant, instead comprising a cornucopia of comfort foods that matched the overall warmth of Devlin's home. Maylee scanned the dishes piled high with slabs of juice-bedecked meat, golden-brown rolls shiny with a buttery finish, and honey-glazed carrots sparkling like red dwarf stars beneath the cast-iron chandelier. Just as with the bedrooms, she didn't know where to begin.
When Tilly cheerfully inquired about her plate, Maylee found herself fumbling nervously. "Oh—um—" It would seem ungrateful, she thought, not to take advantage of the meal Tilly had generously cooked for them, but she had to admit she was far too shy to indulge as greedily as she would have liked. And what should she eat—? For most of her life, Maylee had been a vegetarian, but the wolf within her had quite willfully made some dietary changes. The husky scent of the meat was enough to make her mouth run with thick saliva, and she could almost feel her teeth sharpening into fangs as the wolf awaited the fresh kill with relish.
"Um... some roast beef, please," Maylee said shyly, "and some peas and corn, please. Um, thank you—!"
She glanced at Devlin as the man offered a chance to say grace for anyone who so desired. Maylee frowned, trying to pull at distant memories. She hadn't been brought up in any particular faith—Dad's family had been Muslim, she knew, but he had always had a laissez-faire attitude to religion, and if they had ever said any sort of blessing at the dinner table, she couldn't remember it now. She supposed she would need to go off-script.
Maylee furrowed her brow as she stared down at her hands, clasping them together in what felt like a proper gesture of prayer, and somewhat clumsily prayed: Um, God, I don't know if you're listening, or if you're even there, or... if you would want to talk to me if you were. But...
She clenched her hands together, her knuckles blanching.
...I'm not ready to give up on this world, or the people in it. So please... let me fight for it for as long as I can.
Unclasping her hands, Maylee looked bashfully up at the rest of the guests and the colorful array of food splayed across their dishes. "Thank you for the food," she murmured.
maylee song.
hunter | werewolf
Last edited:
Houston, TX (May 14th)
Houston, TX
