Morgan's Bedroom

[Morgan]

Continued from: Nerys’ Room.


She didn’t bother with anything other than changing into her pyjama pants and tank-top when she reached her room, yawning again. She drew the shades over her window, not wanting the light to bother her, and promptly padded heavily over to her bed, dropping down onto it with a sleepy eagerness. She moaned softly in comforted delight as it almost swallowed her.

After a few moments of healthy digging and shuffling, Morgan had snuggled herself into one of the most comfortable positions she had ever felt in her life, and before she could even think about anything else, she was fast asleep.

[Tomas]

Continued from: The Lobby

Tomas paused outside Morgan’s door and listened for a moment, hearing no movement from inside, but because he could smell his sister within, he knew that she was there. Most likely still sleeping, he told himself, before silently pushing the door open. Sure enough, his guess had been right and he smirked very slightly to himself. He always loved it when he guessed correctly. Stepping back, the fighter shut the door just as silently as he had opened it and tried to decide what to do. Finally, he just started walking, deciding that he would see where his feet took him.

Continued at: Hallways

[Morgan]

Morgan wasn’t an especially light sleeper, at least not usually. Perhaps it was the familiar, comforting scent as it drifted through the slightly opened door, or the sound of the door opening itself; whatever the reason, she stirred softly, and even as the door closed silently, she lifted her head from the pillows, freeing it from under the blanket it had burrowed beneath. She no doubt looked a frightful mess, with her red hair in lazy disarray around her face, neck and shoulders, but she blinked, rubbing her hand over her eyes, more concerned with the scent that greeted her.

“Tomas?” she mumbled, still tired, narrowing her eyes as she looked around.

Typical, she thought good-naturedly after ascertaining she was still alone. He had been checking on her. Morgan smiled, watching the door for a moment, before she settled her head down on the pillow again and waited for sleep to return.

[Morgan]

She still couldn’t think why Tomas had felt the need to check on her so stealthily. Normally, he was content to at least let her see it was him who had poked his head into her room, despite the fact that her nose could tell her that just as well as any sighting would have. Still, she supposed, since they hadn’t seen each other face to face since the previous night in the courtyard, he had felt that typically brotherly need to check up on her. Such was his way, and as often as she pretended it was a nuisance, she honestly wouldn’t want it any other way. She was lucky to have Tomas, such a loving, protective brother, and she wouldn’t change him for the world.

Her thoughts, it seemed, were enough to steadily carry her back into sleep, and it was as she was in the middle of deciding she would track Tomas down and perhaps hop on his back later that she succumbed to the returned lethargy.

[Morgan]

POST TIMESKIP.


Every few months or so, a strange but familiar and harmless urge struck Morgan, and just over a week ago, it had returned in full force. It had seen her digging through the boxes on the shelf in the top of her closet for one in particular, a case more than a box, that held something prized and valuable to her, even if its real value in the outside world was somewhat minimal. The Polaroid camera had been a gift from Tomas years ago and Morgan remembered just how excited she'd been when she'd torn through the gift wrapping to the prize beneath, she remembered tackling her big brother in a tight hug and thanking him for days on end. The film was a little harder to get hold of nowadays, but Cole made sure there was a steady supply of it in the dark room for when her urges struck.

The Polaroids were scattered neatly, seemingly in some kind of order -- even if it was one only Morgan herself could understand -- over the majority of her bed with the tall, redheaded female perched on her pillows, in the perfect vantage point to look them over as a group. There were a couple of shots of Heidi and Raze before they had left, and she had even managed to catch the new introductions to the pack, making sure they were far enough away so as not to disturb the subjects. Flynn, Owen and Susie were still new, still young -- so young in the case of the latter -- and Morgan didn't want to be responsible for making them uncomfortable in any way.

She hadn't managed to get a shot of every member of the pack, but she had a good collection, and besides, under the very bed upon which she sat now with her new shots, there were boxes of older Polaroids that she had taken over the years. Morgan knew she had at least one shot of each member of the pack by now.

[Tomas]

For most of the day, Tomas had been re-organizing his closet, going through a few boxes and bins he kept at the back, sorting through what had accumulated in them, scrutinizing everything in an attempt to decide what to keep and what to be rid of. Though he tried to keep things cleaned out and organized, he was like many and sometimes managed to collect more than he realized. That was exactly what had made him decide that he needed to give storage items a thorough cleaning out, though he could not deny that the thought of having more space for more stuff had crossed his mind while he had been going through everything.

He had put aside several things that he thought Morgan might want to look at before he got rid of it, but he had discovered something down at the bottom of one of his storage bins that had caused a rather evil smile to come to his face. He had thought that he had gotten rid of the squishy white and blue ball ages ago, but the discovery of it made him determined to keep it. That was, if he ever managed to get it back after he went through with the idea that had come to him.

Stopping outside of his sister’s door, he listened carefully, wanting to make sure he wasn’t interrupting anything especially important. After all, being evil could wait… Just not too long. While he behaved himself around the rest of the pack, he was allowed to get an evil streak where Morgan was concerned. After all, she was his sister. If he couldn’t be evil to her, then he couldn’t be evil to anyone.

Finally, he gave a quick knock at the door, certain that she had probably already caught his scent, and opened it, not waiting for her to do so. If she was indecent or something, he figured she would lock the door, just in case. As soon as the door was open and he had her in his sights, he threw the ball at her head with a grin. It wasn’t exactly a traditional hello, but it would do.

[Morgan]

Morgan was rarely doing anything that absolutely couldn't be interrupted for one thing or another, whether it was something important or just a chance to socialise with other members of the pack. She had very little in the way of responsibilities, one of those members of the pack who simply coasted along comfortably, not a fighter in any respect or one of those with a job like Jeremy or Rowena. Morgan was happy with her lot in life, and so long as she had her brother then she knew she could continue on that way; Tomas was the most important thing in the world to her, so much of her life revolved around her big brother, the only flesh and blood family she had left, and she adored him completely.

Except, of course, for when he got it in his head to be an absolute terror, not to mention childish on top of that.

Still minding her own business by the time his scent alerted her to his presence, she was just in the process of lifting her blue eyes from the scattered arrangement of Polaroids on her bed when the door opened and the two-tone ball came sailing in, meeting its mark with a quiet, dull thump before it bounced off and tumbled across the floor, eliciting a squeak of surprise from the she-wolf and a momentary flail that, thankfully, didn't scatter any pictures over the floor.

"Tomas!" Loud and abrupt, his name burst out of her, and then she was bolting off the bed to grab the ball, half-falling as she grabbed it, twisted as only a werewolf could, and threw the ball back at him, aiming for his chest.

[Tomas]

When he wasn't busy training, patrolling or doing something photography related, there was usually no way to know what he might decide was a good use of his time. Morgan was the one who most often saw the silly, childish side of him and whether that made her lucky or not, he could never quite decide. Whether she was lucky or not, she was the single most important thing in his life. If it ever came down to a choice between his sister and the pack, the choice would be an easy one, because as much as he treasured the pack as a whole, absolutely no one came before Morgan as far as he was concerned. It was simply how things were and he very much doubted that there was anyone who didn't realize that.

For tonight, though, there were no such serious thoughts, only the desire to pester his sister, something he thought he was quite good at, if he did say so himself. Of course, Morgan was extremely good at getting him back...

The fighter couldn't help the grin when the ball hit its mark, especially when he saw the reaction Morgan had to it. He even went so far as to throw his arms up in the air in victory. He had been hoping to surprise her and the fact that it seemed as if he had succeeded made things even better. Of course, that was until she threw the ball, which he caught as it bounced off his chest.

Tsking, he gave a little shake of his head as he tossed the ball up in the air and caught it again. "Ah, little sister. You've just made a mistake. You returned the ammunition to me."

[Morgan]

It was no doubt because of Tomas' interest in photography that Morgan's had reared its head for the first time all those years ago. She had taken after her brother in so many ways, which was only natural after following him around so eagerly and holding him in such high regard practically from birth; he was her big brother, and there was an undeniable degree of hero-worship there, she knew. Morgan couldn't deny it, not even after so many years. It had eased off and toned itself down, but she still respected and admired her brother so much, and not just because he was a fighter. Tomas had looked after her after they had lost not only their mother but their father, he had always watched out for her but it had intensified so much after they'd suddenly found themselves without their parents. How could she not hold him in such high regard? Morgan considered herself blessed for having Tomas, so very blessed, and she never for one second took him for granted. Not everyone was so lucky, she knew, and so she would not be so ignorant or ungrateful. That would hardly be fair to those in the pack who had lost everything.

If push came to shove and there was simply no other way for Morgan to get her revenge on her big brother, she could always fall back on her ultimate, tried and tested, vengeance method. Early on after her first transformation, Morgan had realised how much size and mass she had on her brother, and in those times when there was simply no other way to get her own back, she would use those facts well and truly to her advantage. Underhanded and a little childish, yes, but Tomas did bring it out in her and usually had no one to blame but himself.

Snagging the thick cushion from the armchair tucked into the corner of the room, Morgan rose to her feet, red hair a messy wave around her shoulders, eyes showing the briefest flicker of the wolf as she growled playfully. "You're not the only one with ammunition, big brother," she retorted only a moment before she hurled the cushion at him with all the speed and strength she could muster.

[Tomas]

Had Morgan not been there, Tomas wasn't at all sure what might have happened to him over the years. Perhaps he would have been dead, killed during a fight because there wasn't any reason not to be reckless, especially after what happened to their parents. Morgan had given him a reason to be careful, to make it through the fight and get back home because he didn't want to leave her completely alone. Yes, she would have had the rest of the pack, but that wasn't the same, especially since he knew how he'd feel if something was to happen to her. If there was anything after this life for werewolves and he knew that he had left her alone like that, he never would have been able to forgive himself. He wanted to be there for her, to be right there in case she needed a shoulder to cry on, someone to listen... or someone to pick on her.

There were times when his playful side, usually carefully controlled and monitored, simply couldn't be denied. If Morgan went wolf and came after him, there was no escaping an "attack" from her. The size differences of their wolves put him at a very distinct disadvantage when they were in those forms and, since he certainly wasn't about to use his abilities as a fighter against his baby sister, he accepted that. However, that by no means meant that he wasn't going to take his chances on occasion!

The cushion hit him in the face with enough force to make him take a step back and, shaking his head, Tomas launched the ball at Morgan again and grabbed the cushion, charging into the room. He swung the cushion at her with a grin. What better way was there to spend a night?

[Morgan]

Morgan didn't like to think about what might have happened to either of them had they not had each other. She was just so grateful and relieved that they did have one another, that they weren't alone in the word. It was true that they were never truly alone, that pack wolves were never alone, far from it, but it was surprising how you could be so surrounded by people and yet feel like there was no one around. It was simply one of those things, so intangible and like smoke through your fingers, something that Morgan knew she just couldn't understand, that no one could really understand. It wasn't simple or straightforward in any way. She was so very, very lucky to have Tomas, her brother, her flesh and blood, someone who was more a piece of her than a wholly separate entity, and she loved him more than anything in the world. Simply put, Tomas was her world, and she didn't want to think about that ever changing. Every time he went out on a patrol or got caught up in a fight, she waited with breath held for his return, and as soon as he walked back through that door she was there, checking him over with her heart in her throat and every inch of her on edge. Morgan knew she wouldn't be able to live without Tomas, her big brother, the one wolf who had always been for there.

The younger Woodburn had taken great delight in her greater size and mass when they were both transformed, as well as the fact that she could stand erect on two legs and use a greater range of movement to her advantage. That wasn't to say that Morgan in any way thought she was stronger than her brother because she knew nothing could be further from the truth. She might have been larger but that didn't mean she was better in any way. She knew very well that size could quite often hinder in a fight, that being quicker and more agile could make a huge difference. On top of that, her brother was a trained, experience and fully qualified and recognised fighter within the pack. Tomas was stronger than she was, hands down.

With a squeak that was thoroughly girly and a little louder than it probably needed to be, Morgan bolted away from Tomas, bounding easily over the bed, long legs carrying her clean over the mattress in a single spring with only the slightest bounce that left the Polaroids where she had set them, barely disturbing the scattered arrangement. Somehow she had managed to evade the ball in her eager effort to put distance between herself and her brother, landing on the other side of the bed with hair tumbled around and across her face, only partially obscuring the playful grin that had broken out. "That all you got, big brother?" she teased with a faint flicker of the wolf in her eyes.

[Tomas]

The one part of being a fighter that was the hardest for him to handle was knowing that Morgan worried about him when he went out to see to his duties. He knew there was no helping that and they both understood the inherent risks that came with the position of fighter, but that didn’t mean that he had to like knowing that his sister had the tendency to worry about him so much. When he came back injured was always the worst because the pain didn’t bother him nearly as much as seeing the worry in her eyes that came with it. Sometimes there was no avoiding an injury- there was always someone better, always someone faster, always someone who’d rather take a shot from behind rather than get face-to-face- but an injury didn’t mean that he had to just roll over and die. The thought and fear of leaving Morgan alone- surround d by pack mates who loved and cared for her, but without any blood relations or that unique bond they shared as siblings- would always make him fight for life, even through the worst possible injuries. He wasn’t leaving her like that. He wasn’t leaving her at all, not if there was anything he could do about it.

While he had training, as well as the speed and agility that came with having a smaller wolf, over his sister, she most certainly had some advantages of her own. She could grab onto him and if she was to come down on top of him… Well, he had always joked that she would make a grease spot on the floor out of him if that was what she felt like doing when they were the wolves. He knew she wouldn’t, but he still had to joke about it.

Tomas laughed at the squeak- he couldn’t help himself- and turned, looking across the bed at his sister. “Oh, you know perfectly well that it isn’t, little sister, but obviously it’s enough to make you run like a girl. It doesn’t matter that you are one. It’s enough knowing that I can make you run like one.” Slowly, he started to stalk around the bed towards her, cushion at the ready. “That’s a victory in itself.”

[Morgan]

When Tomas had first told her of his desire to be a fighter, all those years ago back before she herself had even been in control of her changes, after they had lost both their mother and their father, she had not only protested, terrified that she might lose him too, but considered following in his footsteps when she reached the right age herself, when she had a proper hold on her wolf at all times. She never had, though. Something had held her back, and even after so many years, so many decades, she still couldn't figure out what it was exactly that had stopped her. It was almost as if she thought her mother or father wouldn't have wanted both of them to be out on the streets, fighting tooth and claw, risking blood and bone and so much more. Tomas at risk was enough. Both of them would have been too much. She had come to rely on her belief in her brother, in all that skill and experience he had stocked up over the years since he had achieved the full rank of fighter. Tomas was careful, and he was good at his job. Morgan believed that, of course she did, but she would never stop worrying. Not even for a second.

"News flash," she tossed back at him, eyes flashing fully, "girls always run like girls, so that's never going to make a dent." Morgan grinned. "It's when you run like a girl that we know something's really wrong." A playful growl laced through her words and she tilted her head, that touch of a wolf to her motions as she bowed just a fraction, the faintest dip of her weight that was all predator, but still mischievous, far from lethal. Her growl picked up a little as she let Tomas advance around the bed, thinking to corner her. "And trust me, I'll have you doing just that in no time."

[Tomas]

When his sister had protested against him becoming a fighter, Tomas had very seriously reconsidered his decision, though he had never said as much. Something had been calling him to join those particular ranks, but his sister’s protests had made him, for a brief moment, wonder if he was really making the right decision. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that being a fighter was right for him in the end, but he had hated that his decision caused his little sister so much worry and fear. He still hated it, but he had become accustomed to it and understood that it was simply a part of things. As long as he was a fighter, Morgan would worry. He knew that. He also knew, however, that he was right where he was supposed to be in regards to the pack. While there were plenty of others who made an impact without being one of the fighters, it was his way of helping, because not only was he helping to protect the pack, he was protecting Morgan as well.

Tomas allowed his eyes to flash, blue turning briefly to red. For the night, all thoughts of fighting and responsibilities were at the back of the fighter’s mind, his focus and energy all on what he was currently doing. There were times for being serious and there were times for allowing his more playful nature to come to the forefront, the night having seemed like the latter. If something happened, Tomas could be all business in a split second, and he knew that Morgan would understand that if it happened. He just hoped it didn’t because he was currently enjoying himself far too much to want to call and end to the silliness in order to be as serious as he would need to be in order to deal with business in a fighter’s capacity.

“Fair enough. I’ll elaborate a bit. You’re running like a scared girl.” He grinned at her and gave his own playful growl as he readjusted his grip on the cushion. “I never run like a girl, Morgan, from you or anyone else.” He approached slowly, ready to pivot should she attempt breaking to the side. “I have to admit, though, I’m a little curious as to how you intend to try making me.”

[Morgan]

At the end of the day Morgan would have felt terrible if she had made Tomas go against what his gut was telling him. He'd felt drawn to the rank of fighter, she knew, she knew that better than anyone, he'd felt a calling and answered it as anyone with the inclination and drive would, and had she made him turn away from that desire she might never have forgiven herself. It would have eaten away at her, and as much as she hated not knowing whether or not he was all right whenever he went out on patrol or into a fight with weapons drawn and the intention of protecting the pack, she was glad she hadn't changed his mind. Tomas did important work within the pack, and she was proud of him, so proud, just as she knew their parents would be if they could see him now. He had made something of himself, and she was glad she hadn't been so selfish as to keep him from achieving that.

Tomas was one of the only people who got to see Morgan like this, silly and spontaneous and childish, all wide smiles and open laughter, playful flashes and teases of the wolf, her red hair streaking through with shocks of black as she growled at her brother in a taunt as he showed her that flicker of lycanthropic red, her own hue intensifying in response.

"One of these days," she began, her body poised to duck off to the side or drive right at her brother, she wasn't sure which she would attempt yet, "I'm going to catch you on camera, running like a girl. And then you won't be able to deny it." Her smile became a grin. "And that would be telling, big brother." The grin widened. "Are you just going to stand there, all talk and no action, or are you going to use that?" Her eyes dipped to the cushion in his grasp, daring him to make his move.