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Tiber Loche

Tiber can't exactly pin-point the thought process that kept him from changing his number. Maybe it was some ghost of emotional attachment that prevented him from doing so. The idea that the people he'd cared for at one point or another could contact him the same way they always had, as if that would ever happen.

But it could.

Quinn's text could be presented as both a case and a point. Tiber had made a habit of discarding his phone when he wasn't out in the world, hardly festering on the need to have it attached to his hand like many humans of his age. So when it beeps twice, loud and commanding against a backdrop of deafening silence in his apartment, he confuses quickly.

When his eyes glide over the simple, forward words, he's baffled.

Tiber loses track of how long he stares at the letters on the screen before his fingers finally move. Before he can catch his breath. Consider a response.

A slow swallow of air dances it's way down his throat, adams apple bobbing as his jaw set in a tight line. An onlooker might note how his the lines around his eyes had remained soft. An attribute that offered a sort of gentle demeanor that might have seemed impossible just days before.

You have nothing to apologize for.

Not ever. Not to me.
January 13, 2018 05:06 pm

Quinn Abernathy

She'd traveled out of the compound, sat alone in a bar in the city. Quinn had agreed that she would stay the night at Valar Morghulis, and had driven the clunky old truck that had once belonged to another man as promised. It sat parked outside the plantation house, and she'd ubered her way off the property.

She's near the end of her first drink in the dive of a bar, sat at a table in the corner nearest the door. There is chatter all around her, and music playing at an acceptable level, but her thoughts drown it out. Then, her phone chimes softly from the table.

She'd expected Gideon, checking up on her.
She hadn't expected a response from Tiber.
Quinn had been sure he would have ditched his phone by now.

She considers it all, her chest tight and her stomach in knots. Quinn has managed to f-ck it all up for everyone, even Gideon, who put his trust in her, and while she wants desperately to share her burdens with her husband... she can't. It seems so trivial in comparison to his own, and she feels selfish for having them when she looks at the larger picture.

No, she needs to care for Gideon. Gideon needs her support, not her problems. Quinn could fix things herself. She would be accountable for her past actions, and she would make it as right as she could. Fixing this would fix it all, past, present, and future.

But this man... he'd been her first real anything. What they had, when they had it, was real. But her faith wavered, and she drove herself away when she thought it was over.

Quinn ruined him, and she knows it. There would never be any going back. She loves her husband dearly. She loves Gideon. But, no matter how much she love him, there would always be a place in her heart for the werewolf that molded her future. Without him, there would be no Gideon. She owes him.

I hurt you.

Her head bows as she sends the message, momentarily accepting that heady feeling of self-awareness. Quinn has always let people think she is something she isn't. Maybe she was once, but not anymore. Not for a long time.

I hurt a lot of people.

Her finger hovers over the send button, and she swallows before setting the phone down without committing. "May I have another, please?," She begs the nearby waitress before deleting her message.

Not now.
Something else.

Are you safe?
January 13, 2018 05:31 pm

Tiber Loche

We both have.

Tiber doesn't hit the send button right away. He doesn't want to play into his emotion where this text was concerned. Much of his conscious begged him to play down her guilt- which was at least partially evident in the words that her texts held. But there's also a large part of Tiber that felt like this was not his place. He wasn't the man who should be talking her off of the ledge- no matter how badly he wanted to.

It's a struggle that he wrestles with both physically and mentally: His finger hovering over the 'send' button, but as quick as he had typed off the three small words, he begins to erase them.

I am exactly where I need to be.

This time he does send the text, but dotes on it just a moment too long as he thinks that it's just a little too vague for Quinn. Lack of information would only further push her out onto whatever proverbial tight rope that she'd carried herself out on to.

Are you okay?

That was not what his brain had communicated to his fingers. But the way he shifts the attention off of himself was reminiscent of an old form of Tiber Loche, favoring the well being of his ex wife to his own.
January 14, 2018 10:26 pm

Quinn Abernathy

A wrinkle appears between her brows as they strain together at his first response. Where he needs to be? What does that mean? What has he done? Quinn knows him well enough to know that... no. She has to stop. While her gut throws up the red flag, her heart and head tell her to slow her roll.

The second text rolls in, and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat as her second drink is delivered. Quinn begins to drink this much more quickly than the first. Is she okay?


She lies. She knows it. He knows it. She doesn't know how much he knows about Gideon, or his nature, and is honestly slightly terrified to even begin to ask for help... even from the only other person that knows her better than herself.

You didn't answer my question.

A gentle nudge, if he will. That would do. She cares, despite everything, and she would never stop caring. It is an unfortunate side effect of having a heart like hers.
January 14, 2018 11:00 pm

Tiber Loche

Quinn is as stubborn as Tiber remembers. He tried his best to remain vague, but there's an incessant nagging that wants him to further elaborate as she had requested. He knows she's mildly concerned, and all he needs to do is tell her he's fine. That he's safe and out of harms way. At least half of what he could tell her to settle her nerves would be true. The other half... Relative depending on your point of view.

Tiber finds himself mildly frustrated with this behavior. At a time when Quinn was every part of his life, both the man and the wolf had overlooked her persistence because it was a large and endearing part of who she was as a person. Even now he's not entirely unaffected by it, but a small piece of him wants to rebel against his urge to bend to her relentless insistence.

I answered the same way that you did.

Tiber touches on a passive touch of sass. A gentle reminder of his own that Quinn is not the only one still plagued by concern for a person who they weren't supposed to be concerned about anymore. Mark it up to trouble letting go.

I am safe, Quinnie.

He wasn't going to add anything else, but again his fingers seem to have a mind of their own, and he doesn't really care to stop them.

Living on my own.
I'm doing alright.

One way or another, Quinn would understand what that meant.
January 16, 2018 04:13 pm

Quinn Abernathy

I asked first.

Stubborn. So stubborn. And childish. The two had always been ridiculously capable of having the most epically hilarious disagreements, but they usually resulted in him making a demand four times and her finally doing as asked - at her own pace. The glass before her is emptied, and she reads the next two messages that come in.

And here it is. Their own, special language that only the two would ever understand. She takes a relieved breath, noting the way her head begins to swim. Quinn is confused, but she also knows this street goes two ways. Sharing is caring, and they must compromise.

They shouldn't be talking.

I'm learning a lot about people.
And myself.

I'm not safe, and I'm not happy. She wants to spell it out for him, and tell him everything, and ask for guidance on what feels like an impossible situation to succeed in. Quinn wants to pour her heart out to someone that can listen, and hear, and respond. But she can't. Not outright.

Aren't you lonely?

Is he coming back?
January 16, 2018 04:49 pm

Tiber Loche

There's so much confusion that swims around Tiber's head. It makes him feel slightly disoriented, and he can't be sure how many moments pass him by before he's able to conjure up some sort of reply. He has to remind himself that he doesn't know Quinn anymore. That everything that's happened between them had surely changed Quinn in a fundamental way. Tiber has a lot to atone for, and there was virtually no way he'd ever make it up to her.

He feels like there's no way he would even begin to graze the surface. This thing that he's feeling.. The idea that Quinn's questions are some sort of reflection of what she is feeling is probably some personified guilt rolling off of his moral fiber. Even still, Tiber can't be sure.

He can't, and the nagging sense of worry that begins to lick at his conscience just wont go away. Not as his fingers begin to dance over the number pad. Not even when the phone starts to ring as he pulls it up to his ear.

Tiber needs to hear her voice. He needs Quinn to tell him with her words that she's okay. Because that's the only way he's going to accept any of this. After? He'd tell her anything she wanted to know. None of what went on with him mattered. Not as far as Tiber was concerned.
January 17, 2018 03:26 pm

Quinn Abernathy

♫I love you baby
And if it's quite all right♫

The phone rings, and Quinn stares. The name that came up, Mr. Pretty, never altered after all these years. The picture that absorbs the screen of her phone is deeply personal. One of her own, actually. Tiber, playing with that silly little cub in a mess of fluff from her destroyed couch cushion. Those days has been something; it almost feels like another life.

♫I need you baby
To warm the lonely nights♫

How long has her phone been playing this song?

♫I love you baby
Trust in me when I say♫

There is a lump in her throat that she doesn’t understand, and a fury of emotion that desperately desires to escape. Quinn makes the decision to push her drink away from herself. She can’t believe he is calling. This can’t be real life.

♫Oh pretty ba-♫

A sudden panic brings her back to reality, and Quinn fumbles to answer, barely in time. It is obvious she is in a public place, and fairly clear it is a bar. It would also be easy to tell, judging by the lack of activity sounding off in her immediate space, that she is alone. She’s been drinking, not much but just enough to loosen up her tightly wound mind. It feels like eternity as the phone makes the trip to her ear.

January 17, 2018 05:05 pm

Tiber Loche

Tiber's heart stops and restarts at least a handful of times. There are seconds that feel like years passing him by where he has to consciously remind himself to breathe.

She's not going to answer. She'snotgonnaanswer.

When it came down to it, was he honestly expecting her to? There was nothing he could think that should have compelled her to answer his call. It was one thing to text one another, but to speak? Tiber is almost having second thoughts himself, not sure whether or not he should be so willing to voluntarily unravel beneath the melodious sound of her voice.

There's truly no telling where this phone call was headed, or how it was going to end.

Unless she didn't answer.


His breath hitched in his throat, and with the absence of air and sound came an unsure silence. He doesn't say anything, and for an eternal moment, Quinn has the opportunity to hang up. So does Tiber- but he won't; Though he doesn't feel like he's ever going to find the right thing to say.

"Quinn..." The name escapes his lips in a slow release of air, shoulders relaxing while his whole body seemed to deflate with the sound of his voice. The mans eyes slip shut, and he quietly relishes in the comfort that the sound of his name on her breath brings him- even if he did not deserve it.

"I-I wasn't sure you were going to answer." Tiber admits, allowing his words to hang in the air almost awkwardly. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't."
January 18, 2018 11:47 pm

Quinn Abernathy

“Of course I picked up,” Quinn easily says, reassuring and surprised that he would be so lacking in his usual confidence.

Her explanation feels weak, but it is the best Quinn can do to convey what just happened in the span of mere seconds. In that short time, the world stopped revolving, and past became present. As if some force of nature snatched up the girl he knew and placed her in this bar, without warning.
His voice is echoing in her head, calling to her senses.

She sucks in a nervous breath. There is so much to say. So much she wants, and needs. “Tiber, I….” Other voices chime in, resonating in their conviction. They demand she hang up the phone, and never speak to this man again. Heads, they remind her. Heads, and your heart, and everything else. Remember it. All of it. But Quinn remembers so much more than that time. Tiber has been lost, and had felt loss.

A group across the room erupts into a bellowing laughter, and Quinn clears her throat, startled and emotionally charged. Pushing herself to stand, she begins to push her way toward the ladies room for some semblance of quiet. While she has changed a great deal, there are some things that would never change. The sound of her voice, for instance, is one of them. When addressing Tiber, it is sweet alto coated with care, begging to be heard.

“I shouldn’t have been that way, when you came to New Orleans. You deserve better. I’m so sorry, Tiber.” With a breath, she pushes into the ladies room and locks the door behind her. “I regret it every day,” she admits. “I lo-“

Call Failed

Sighing, she looks at the phone in defeat as the picture disappears. “I lost myself.”
January 19, 2018 08:22 am

Quinn Abernathy


From one of the bar, Quinn watches as things unfold once her new friend leaves. Dempsey. She'll not forget the name, and makes mental note to tell Solomon to make sure he passes her contact information off to the woman. Gideon drinks, Tiber emerges, Mackenzie and a redhead start heckling some men named Poe, Harry, and Prince John. And Quinn, after finishing her water, takes a single shot.

The better to calm her nerves.

Pulling out her phone, she holds it tight in hand as she considers things. She could, yes, walk right up to Tiber and the security guy, Derek. She could absolutely request to talk to him. But she would have an audience. She's been banned from being around him alone.

How is she going to talk to him when they can't have privacy to do so openly?

You look good.

Despite looking like you're blown up.

It's really good to see you.
January 29, 2018 09:15 pm

Tiber Loche

He's avoiding eye contact. He's trying to hustle the smelly dope man into trading him nominal amounts of green for impeccably aged moonshine. Tiber didn't manage to effectively bully into this agreement right away, so he settled into the chair next to him.


Otherwise he's certain that he would have been staring the entire time.

Although, once his phone beeped and he's flipped it (enough, people.) open to see her name flash across the screen in black and white, he tosses a glance over his shoulder. Soft waves of blonde accompanied by a stiff lump of man with dirty brown hair.

To me belongeth vengeance and recompence; their foot shall slide in due time:

Tiber turns back around, relaxing into the wooden chair.

Surely he's not hiding. No. Nope. Not at all.

I look like sh-t.

He presses the send button, unbothered, because it's true. He looks like he's burnt to a crisp. He's also entirely unwilling to admit that it's good to see her. Or that his nerves all feel like they've been individually set on fire. Or that it takes all of his might not to fold Curly Hair McFreak into an airplane and sail him out of the building and into the cold.

You'd look a lot better without that
unpleasant tumor attached to your side.

Petty? Who's petty?
January 29, 2018 09:32 pm

Quinn Abernathy

Quinn sighs at the first message. Of course, he is going to be difficult. Who would he be, if not that? She can't fault him, though. It does bother her, just a little. Why won't he look at her? He's barely glanced at her. It bothers her. It makes her uncomfortable.

The second message comes in, and she glances at Gideon before looking at the bar once more.

"Tabatha... may I have another, please?"

She obliges quickly, probably because Quinn has paled just enough to make the woman realize she isn't messing around.

That's not nice.

Who is she to scold him, now? Shaking her head, she takes the shot and looks at Gideon. She would kiss his cheek, giving him some semblance of confidence, before standing and walking to the back of the room.

Leave it to Quinn to find the farthest table from the bar.

Seated, she looks at her phone again.

Your friend smells bad.
And he tried to frisk me.

Look to the left.
January 29, 2018 09:47 pm
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