Tomas
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 105
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Post by Tomas on Jun 20, 2010 23:51:41 GMT
Though he would have given up being a fighter had Morgan persisted in pleading with him to, but he would always be glad that she hadn't. Though he never would have blamed her for it, he knew that he would have always wondered if he had made the right choice. Being a fighter was something that he had done for as long as he could remember and, had he not followed through with it, he knew that he would have always questioned that choice. He didn't- and couldn't, honestly- know if he would have actually regretted the choice not to become a fighter, but he was glad to be amongst the pack's fighting body. While he knew perfectly well that others contributed to the pack in other ways- anyone who argued with that would find themselves on the opposite side of the argument from him and that was never a good place to be- but his way of doing so was by being a fighter.
He didn't really like showing this particular side of himself to the rest of the pack very much, but that didn't mean that he couldn't or didn't on occasions. He was just much more comfortable being so utterly childish and silly around his sister, though that was certainly no surprise. She just made him this way, something that he would always tell her whenever such a thing might come up in conversation. It was always so easy to blame it on her!
"Uh-huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better." He gave a little shake of his head. "Now, now, sister. What kind of fighter would I be if I let pipsqueaks goad me into attacking before I was ready? I'll use it when I'm ready to and not a second before." He eased a little closer and to the side, watching her, trying to keep himself positioned so that he might be able to block his sister's possible escape routes. After all, where was the fun if she managed to get away? Finally, though, he launched his attack, swinging the cushion at Morgan's head, knowing that he was leaving possible escape options open, but at the same time understanding that there was nothing that could be done about it.
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Morgan
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Maybe all eyes are on you as you finish the race, and the world sees you struggling for last place.
Posts: 127
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Post by Morgan on Jun 26, 2010 15:25:17 GMT
Morgan was proud of Tomas for the choices he had made, his selflessness and his desire to protect, put his own wellbeing on the line for the rest of the pack, but she would never be able to shut down the sisterly concern for her brother. It was in her blood, in every beat of her heart, and every strained breath from her lungs when he was outside the walls of The Hyperion. There was no switched that off, there was no switch that she could flick in order to just disengage her worry for a while until he returned, and honestly she didn't want to change any of that. It was natural for her to worry, and she knew there were others in the pack who felt the same when their own loves ones went out to fight or patrol, whether they were friends or mates. Everyone worried for someone, everyone had someone for whom they would give up everything, and for Morgan that was Tomas, and that would never change.
It pleased and comforted Morgan to see her big brother cutting loose, casting off the weight of the seriousness he carried so much of the time as a defender of the pack, and she felt blessed to be on the receiving end of his lightness and childish smiles and laughter so much of the time, like it was something special and rare and just for her. It made her feel loved and treasured, and she embraced every moment that Tomas took it upon himself to be free and foolish, even if he could be a royal pain in the ass in doing so.
Tomas might have been bigger and stronger when they were in their human forms, but Morgan was lighter and faster, and as he finally swung that cushion at her, she let loose with a free and smooth laugh of amusement and childlike joy as she ducked down and went on to dart past him low to the ground, employing lycanthropic agility and speed in order to roll down and over to come up in a crouch on the other side of him, snatching a small cushion from an assortment that was scattered at the side of the room, ones that usually adorned her pillow during the daylight hours, launching it at the back of Tomas' head with a giggle.
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Tomas
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 105
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Post by Tomas on Jun 29, 2010 17:35:54 GMT
In a way, it was hard for him knowing that Morgan was left there, worrying as she did, every time he went out on patrol. Oh, he could block thoughts of it out so he could concentrate on what he was doing, but it was never far from his mind, which was why, as long as he made it back under his own power, his first stop upon returning to the pack home would always be to see his sister, just so she could stop worrying. Sometimes it was just a quick stop to let her know that he had gotten back in one piece, but more often than not he stopped for a while, usually to tell her about how things had gone if she decided to ask and actually prove to her that he had made it back no worse for the wear. He knew that it was something he would have wanted her to do had their positions been reversed- there was a big difference between seeing for yourself that someone was all right and hearing that they were- so it was something he always made a point to do, even if falling face first into bed was what he desperately desired.
It was, as far as he was concerned, a brother’s job to be a pain in the ass where their siblings were concerned, so he was only doing his ‘duty’; he doubted Morgan would agree with that, though he knew she’d likely turn it around on him. He liked his version of it better, though, and he would stick by it. He wouldn’t want to make his sister worry about his well-being by stopping such a thing, after all. That would be rude and cruel. That was what he told her whenever it came up, at any rate, and he thought it sounded good!
There were any number of ways that he probably could have kept her from getting away from him if he had wanted to, but they weren’t the sort of maneuvers one used in a playful cushion fight, but rather in a fight out in the field when it was possible that such a thing might be the difference in life and death. They were strategies fighters put into use against an enemy, not family. While he probably could have changed them enough to be used playfully, he didn’t. He kept such things aside strictly for performing his role as a fighter.
He turned after the cushion hit him in the back of the head and gave his sister the best pout he could manage, though it was hard since he was trying not to laugh at himself for doing it. He would pay her back and it would be soon. For the moment though, he wanted to pout and see if he could succeed in not laughing at himself.
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Morgan
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Maybe all eyes are on you as you finish the race, and the world sees you struggling for last place.
Posts: 127
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Post by Morgan on Aug 19, 2010 23:05:12 GMT
At the very least Tomas could take comfort from the fact that Morgan wasn't alone and she was surrounded by fellow wolves, all of whom would fight tooth and claw for one another. For Morgan it wasn't so easy whenever Tomas was out on patrol or fighting off some kind of threat; for all she knew as she sat in her room or in the library or wandered the halls he could have been separated from the other fighters in his group and he was alone against insurmountable odds. Morgan had a healthy imagination like anyone and it had the tendency to run riot if she worried, it went off on its own little tangents and once it got going there was little she could do to stop it. Every time he returned healthy and unharmed sent a rush of blistering relief through her body, both sides of her overcome with it, and often it was all she could do to keep from throwing herself into his arms and holding on tightly; she had done that her fair share of times in the past, when she had been younger and Tomas had first started joining patrol and defence groups, sometimes so relieved to see him that she found it difficult to let go again afterwards.
Morgan had no doubt that Tomas could have stopped her if he had really wanted to; after all, he was the fighter in the family, the one with all the combat experience, he probably had all kinds of moves up his sleeves that would have brought her to a screeching halt or seen her right back where she had started out, cornered in her own bedroom. But that wasn't how they played, they liked the back and forth, it was more fun for both of them that way. Tomas' pout earned him the opposite to what he had probably been hoping for, and she laughed loudly, a giggly, thoroughly happy and free laugh that filled the room and lit up her eyes. "Aww," she mocked playfully, "did I hurt the big bad fighter's feelings?" Now it was Morgan's turn to pout, as much of a challenge as that was when all she wanted to do was drop down on her back on the floor and laugh until her lungs ached.
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Tomas
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 105
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Post by Tomas on Aug 21, 2010 15:44:11 GMT
Tomas took a great deal of comfort in the knowledge that his sister was always surrounded by individuals who would take care of her no matter what, whether he was there or not. He hoped that, along with taking care of her, they could at least occasionally distract her from worrying about him while he was out doing his duties as a fighter. Even if she was only distracted for a few moments at a time, he certainly hoped she didn’t spend the entire time he was gone worrying and imagining the worst case scenario. He knew that he probably wouldn’t have had any moments without worry had Morgan been the fighter rather than him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hope that she didn’t constantly worry while he was out of the Hyperion. He would have trusted her to know what she was doing just as he knew she did him, but the worry would have been there all the same. It was natural, after all, and he knew that went both ways. It did not, however, mean that he had to like it. He was allowed to hate the thought of his sister worrying about his well-being whenever he had duties to attend to as a fighter, just as he knew that she was allowed to worry, even if he wanted to say that she didn’t.
For now, though, there was nothing to worry about, except, perhaps, accidentally disturbing someone during their playful antics.
“Why do I get the feeling that you don’t actually care whether or not you hurt my feelings?” Tomas questioned, trying not to laugh when his sister gave her own pout. “I think you’d like nothing more than if you had.” He knew how untrue that was, but as long as they were picking on each other as they were, he was allowed to say such things, especially since he knew that Morgan knew better than to believe he meant it.
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Morgan
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Maybe all eyes are on you as you finish the race, and the world sees you struggling for last place.
Posts: 127
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Post by Morgan on Aug 21, 2010 21:35:03 GMT
If push came to shove, Morgan could take care of herself, as well. Tomas had made a point of teaching her a few self-defence tricks early on into his career as a fighter should the worst ever come to pass and there was no one else around to help her in a dangerous situation. In the face of any kind of threat that would permit such drastic action, Morgan would much prefer to rely on her formidable wolf side, she was muscular but swift and sleek at the same time, lethal under the right circumstances if she could get in the right blows before her enemy retaliated. Tomas had told her that she couldn't always rely on her wolf, there were any number of factors to consider, not least location and room to move, and so he had given her the lessons that she still remembered to this day, ones she had made sure never to forget. Her brother had wanted her to learn and remember, and so that was what she had done.
In a rather immature comeback, Morgan poked out her tongue, screwing up her face like a little brat before she broke out in another laugh. "Don't tell me you're getting all soft on me now, big brother," she teased, fixing him with a mischievous look that contained a healthy glow of wolf. "Next you'll be telling me you've picked up knitting and you want to marathon The Golden Girls."
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Tomas
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 105
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Post by Tomas on Aug 24, 2010 17:03:15 GMT
While he knew that his sister was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he would forever take comfort in knowing that there were others around who would take care of her as diligently as he would. If things got bad, Morgan knew ways to take care of herself; it was something Tomas had been insistent upon, wanting to know and see for himself that she could face down an opponent should she ever find herself in such a position. He knew that the other fighters in the pack would have gladly given her lessons in his stead, but he had preferred to give her some himself, knowing that it was the only was he would ever be satisfied. As much as he trusted the others to teach his baby sister what she needed to know, it had been a comfort to see her progress for himself- to have seen with his own eyes that she was capable of basic self-defense and would be able to give anyone who crossed her a real problem. He had needed to know that she would be able to stand against an opponent if something happened and she found herself either on her own or cornered with someone who needed protection. Tomas has the suspicion that he would never be completely satisfied, always thinking that there was something else he could teach her or something he needed to work with her on, but he knew that was simply because he was overprotective and always would be.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the face Morgan pulled. As hard as he tried, it was just impossible to so much as attempt staying “serious” when she made certain faces, something she knew all too well. Tomas couldn’t resist playing along. “First of all, it’s quilting. Secondly, there’s nothing wrong with The Golden Girls!” The last word was barely out before he pounced, a playful growl escaping as he did so.
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Morgan
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Maybe all eyes are on you as you finish the race, and the world sees you struggling for last place.
Posts: 127
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Post by Morgan on Sept 9, 2010 13:35:32 GMT
Such was the power of the pack. If family members fell -- as they so often did; that was the inescapable, tragic truth that hugged in around them all, the fact that just because they were immortal in their own way, that did not mean they would live forever -- and you were left alone, the last of your bloodline, you were never truly alone; there was always going to be someone who would watch out for you, watch over you, they would always have your back and guide and protect you, take you by the hand and steer you down the right path. Morgan knew she had that just as she knew Tomas had that, and they had both had it since birth. This pack was their birth pack, the wolves around them now, enjoying a quiet and comfortable night, had been around them for years and they had been family for years, many of them for decades, some for centuries. They would never be alone. But Morgan -- and she knew it to be the case for her brother as well -- hoped it never came to that, that it would be just her, the last Woodburn, and her extended family of wolves of all ages and origins who would take care of her and keep her safe. She wanted Tomas, now and forever. They had already lost so much, both of them, and losing anything else would be so far beyond unfair.
The sound of her brother's laugh sent a thrill of delight through her, a kind of happy satisfaction that made her wolf shift contentedly within her, almost like a wild wolf wriggling in the promise of play and a good, harmless game to come. "Quilting? Oh, you know quilting? Much more manly, I'm sure." She squealed none too gracefully as he pounced, catching her off-guard enough to send them both tumbling even as she fought to get words out past her fits of laughter, "I'm telling everyone you like The Golden Girls." Tomas ended up on top, as he always did, knowing just how to pitch his weight and play that of his opponent against them. "Wait, no, maybe you love them."
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Tomas
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 105
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Post by Tomas on Sept 9, 2010 20:20:52 GMT
As long as there was anything he could do about it, his sister was going to stay stuck with him for a good long time. Tomas knew that, when he was out and trouble found him, there was always the chance that the worst could happen, but he was determined to make his sister “miserable” for as long as possible; so long as he had any say in it whatsoever, Morgan wasn’t getting rid of him. After all, it was his solemn duty to stick around as long as he possibly could and annoy her to the best of his abilities.
That was the way he thought about it anyway, knowing that allowing himself to get too serious about it would make his mood plummet. It would not, however, cause it as quickly as thinking about the possibility of losing his sister could. He didn’t want to be the last of their blood line. He didn’t want to have to figure out how to pick up the pieces of losing his sister, especially since he knew how unlikely it was that he would be able to accomplish such a feat. Morgan was the only reason he had really been able to make it through losing both of their parents so if she was gone… It wasn’t something he allowed himself to consider when there was anything that could be done about it.
“First of all,” Tomas said, looking down at his sister, “quilting can be manly. It doesn’t have to be all pinks and purples. Secondly, if I hear anything about you mention me and The Golden Girls to anyone, I’ll tell them all about your headless G.I. Joe collection that proves you hate men.” It was all in good fun, of course, but if Morgan didn’t think he could give her such a collection, she had another thing coming!
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Morgan
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Maybe all eyes are on you as you finish the race, and the world sees you struggling for last place.
Posts: 127
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Post by Morgan on Oct 9, 2010 16:26:56 GMT
Morgan would never complain about time spent with her brother, even if it was time spent teasing and play-fighting, perhaps especially not then; wolves were naturally playful creatures and she was lucky enough to have had a sibling to enjoy that trait with from day one, more or less, or at least since she had been old enough to hold herself up and cave to such impulses. Tomas wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon, or ever, if his little sister had any say in the matter, and she could be as stubborn as a mule when she put her mind to it. Tomas was the only family she had left and she wasn't going to let anything change that. No way, no how.
"How is quilting manly?" she asked through her giggles, staring up at her brother, narrow-eyed in her scepticism. Her mouth dropped open at the threat he returned and she let out a scoff of mock hurt and disbelief. "Why would you do such a thing? You're such a bully and you always have been, Tomas Woodburn." She gave him a none-too-sincere shove in the chest, just enough to make him wobble but not nearly enough to make him fall, her face set in a scowl that was just as playful. "If you do that, I might just have to beat you with the dolls and then what will you do? Huh?"
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Tomas
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 105
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Post by Tomas on Oct 12, 2010 15:57:59 GMT
The only time Tomas would complain about spending time with his little sister was if he was teasing her about it and, Morgan knowing him as well as she did, would probably be able to see right through it. He always enjoyed being around his sister, even when she was being a pain and having way too much fun picking on him and teasing. Of course, he did what he could to give as good as he got, so it wasn’t like he was all that innocent, especially considering the fact that he would occasionally start things up, as he had when he had thrown the ball at her. Sometimes, he just had to get to her before she had the chance to do something to him! At least, that was his story and he was sticking to it.
“It’s only manly when I say it is and I say that when I’m quilting, it’s manly!” It didn’t matter that he had no clue how to quilt or even how one would start such an undertaking. That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that quilting had popped into his head and it was a good way to keep the silliness going, so he had gone with it. “As for why I’d tell someone about your headless doll collection, well, I’d only do it if you forced me to!” He steadied himself quickly after the shove. “If you beat me with the dolls, I’d have to give you more of this.” With that, he went for her ribs, knowing that tickling his sister would probably get him rolled over onto the floor sooner rather than later so she could get her revenge. Even so, it would be well worth it.
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Morgan
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Maybe all eyes are on you as you finish the race, and the world sees you struggling for last place.
Posts: 127
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Post by Morgan on Oct 25, 2010 15:11:24 GMT
It was the wolves in them, or it at least played a big part of that draw; they recognised one another on every level as family and they felt that tie, that bond, the Woodburn blood that flowed in both their veins, an undeniable connection. Morgan always knew when Tomas was close even before she could see, hear or smell him, and it was something she had always been able to do, at least for as long as she could remember. Her brother was a part of her, physically and mentally, just as much as she believed she was a part of him. They bickered like all siblings but for whatever reason they had never had a serious falling out of any kind. Morgan counted herself lucky and only hoped things would continue that way; she had absolute faith in the fact that nothing would ever change, nothing would ever be able to come between them. They were family, and there was simply no fighting that.
She unleashed a rather unfeminine snort of amusement at the concept of manly quilting, just the mental picture of it tickling her to the point where she had to fight to keep fits of laughter from bursting free. There was no caging the squeal of startled laughter when he dove in to tickle her, knowing just where to strike and how, just which points were most ticklish. Her yelps and squeaks of alarm and poorly-concealed laughter -- goddammit, she was trying to be annoyed at him! -- were punctuated by feeble little shoves and thumps at his shoulders to try and get her big brother off her and away so she could wriggle free of his tickling hands.
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Tomas
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 105
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Post by Tomas on Oct 31, 2010 15:24:50 GMT
If there was one thing the fighter truly believed, it was that nothing would come between him and his sister. There would probably always be petty arguments- wasn’t that part of being a sibling?- but in the end, they would forgive each other and go about their lives, pestering each other, watching out for each other and just generally being how they were. He didn’t think that one or even both of them finding mates would be enough to well and truly change the way things were between them. Things would change, of course, and that was something that he understood, but they would still always manage to find the time and opportunity to talk and spend time together. Tomas certainly wasn’t about to let Morgan off the hook that easily, because there would always be squishy balls to be tossed at her head and tickling to be done.
Laughing as his little sister made her attempts to make him back off so she could escape, Tomas rewarded her efforts with more tickling. As always, there was bound to be a price to pay for this particular attack, and, again as always, he would have to pay her back for paying him back. It was, quite honestly, a never ending cycle, but it was entertaining, but it was entertaining, especially when he was the one launching the attack and there was little Morgan could do to make him stop because she was laughing to hard. How could he ever fail to enjoy such a thing?
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Morgan
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack
Maybe all eyes are on you as you finish the race, and the world sees you struggling for last place.
Posts: 127
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Post by Morgan on Nov 2, 2010 19:31:28 GMT
People could try and come between her and her brother but they would be met with the full fury of her wolf side and she wouldn't hesitate to unleash it on whoever stood between her and her Tomas, whatever the situation. Just because she wasn't a fighter, that didn't mean she wouldn't fight, and viciously, for him. The rules didn't apply when it came to her family, and Tomas was all she had when it came to flesh and blood. It was more than most people had, yes, but that didn't mean she was in any rush to let it slip through her fingers. Morgan would kill for her brother. She just would, there were no two ways about it, and she didn't feel sorry about that, not in the least. They were wolves, and wolves protected their own at all times. Just as he would protect her, tooth and claw, so too would she protect him until her last breath if that was what was needed.
Oh, this was war. Plain and simple. She let the colour of the wolf bleed into her eyes, closed though they were under the onslaught, and she thumped him again, this time hard enough to rock him so she could get the upper hand and send him sprawling onto his back. She followed him as any good predator would and loomed over him even as she grabbed his hands by the wrists and kept them from her ribs, breathing quickly and shallowly, finally able to meet his gaze in a mock-glare. "You," she began in as much of a cold, level tone as she could manage, "are so dead."
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Tomas
Pack Werewolf
Cole's Pack: Fighter
Posts: 105
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Post by Tomas on Nov 5, 2010 21:55:35 GMT
As a fighter, Tomas had no problem with bloodshed, nor did he have a problem with causing it if the situation called for it. He could be vicious in the field if he had to be, willing to go the distance to do what needed to be done and win the fight at hand. If he was willing to do that, then no one wanted to know what would come should they ever mess with his sister. What he had done in the field would be nothing compared to what would happen then. There were two things more important to him than anything in the world: Morgan and the pack. In that order. No hesitation, no need to think about it. His sister came first and if anyone had a problem with that, then they could just go elsewhere and get over it. Of course, if they wanted to bring it up with him, they were welcome to, but it wouldn’t be a pretty scene if they did. Pack was family, yes, but his sister was blood. She was the one he was closet to and there would be nothing anyone could do to help anyone who tried to do her harm. Blood would be spilled and a life would be ended, even if, in the end, it was his.
If it was war Morgan wanted, it was a war she was going to get, even if he was, technically, the one who had started it. As he went over, he knew that he had just lost the upper hand and was going to have to work hard if he was going to get it back then, when she caught his wrists and effectively kept him from getting at her ribs again, he knew that it was going to be a tough fight to win. “You know you love it when I tickle you, just as much as you love having me bounce a ball off the side of your head.” He would, for the time being, be nice and let his sister catch her breath. Only until she attacked or he got bored. Whichever came first.
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