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Snippet #2441965

located in Bellingstone, Pennsylvania, a part of Welcome to Bellingstone, one of the many universes on RPG.

Bellingstone, Pennsylvania



Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sara YasmineJay Character Portrait: Derek Hale Character Portrait: Albrecht Wolff
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ImageAs Derek's back hit asphalt from a blow to the gut, somewhere in the vicinity of his kidney—and he didn't have time to appreciate the fact that he had a spare because he was distracted by the sudden and agonizing pain that accompanied it, there was a verbal barrage with Sara's name on it sitting on his tongue like fire. Damn her naivety about other rogue wolves, they weren't all good intentions and she had to of known Derek was coming to get her...He had said he would, why couldn't she have just waited in the bar? If she had, then he wouldn't be laying flat on his back right now, engaged in some fight with an older alpha. He pushed Sara out of his mind as he kipped up--swinging his legs up to his chest before arching his back so that he popped up on both feet. His jaw was going hurt like a mother fucker tomorrow, but he wasn't going to cry about it now, besides, his adrenaline was pumping so furiously he couldn't feel the sting just yet.

If Derek Hale had been an ordinary werewolf, be would probably have backed down at this point--held out his hands and said something placating in an attempt to avoid exposing werewolves to mankind...but Derek Hale was not ordinary. He was a hot headed, alphic, testosterone driven male with his mate on the line(Supposedly). His eyes had gone feral, he was breathing heavily, and he was fighting for control. Werewolves could smell subtle differences in different emotions, and to a born werewolf who'd had his entire life to memorize the distinct flavors of the olfactory-emotional spectrum, he knew exactly just how enraged Albrecht was...but it hardly rivaled his own temper. This older alpha was fighting because Derek was fighting, Derek was fighting for his lover-for his claim.

ImageA truly ferocious growl that rattled his bones ripped its way from his throat as he swung on Albrecht with enough force to send the man flying backward into Sara's vehicle, signaling the car alarm. The dent in the frame cast by Albrecht's body was no small thing. His sensitive canine ears picked up a sickening squelch and the crunching of bone. Nothing dire, barely a scratch by Were standards but still. He moved to advance on the downed dog before the flash of a camera phone lit up his face. His pupils contracted, trying to adjust to the light, giving him enough time to register just was what happening. He paused mid-stride to look out over a formed crowd with the cell phones whipped out, taking video, gawking like the spectators they were.