Kierra

The back porch isn't as wide as the front, but wide enough to work on, I've done it before. Reaching to my sister in my head tentatively, I don't give her the chance to block me out, sending my apology and pulling out myself. Guilt now fills me for what I started and how I treated Asher and Xavier, my word to Ben that he'd be safe.

Granted he was, he just got molested. Not sure if what happened between him and Faline would count as rape or not, but I'm pretty sure that's how she's seeing it. Just like you could consider what almost happened between me and Xavier could have been. His body may have been willing, same as mine, but that doesn't mean the mind is.

Asher was wrong about one thing though, we didn't fall into the others' emotion set, it was a combining. My excitement and desire of the fight mixed with her blood craving. The fun we'd been having got twisted into something else as others thought they were helping when pulling us apart. We may have drawn a little blood from each other, but that's as far as it would have gone.

It's too ingrained in us not to harm the other in any serious way. Just as the sound of Bastion made me stop. From my sister's memories, I'd seen how she did the same when Maii had made an outcry when she'd been channeling my rage.

With my paints all set up on the small table put out here just for this reason, palate filled and canvas on the easel, I take my anger out with color. Have to fight with the cold wanting to make my inks hard, but I manage. I've done it before, I can do it again. Within several minutes, the 30x40 inch frame is taking shape.

Bringing the last sketch I'd done into living color takes several hours. The Vampire Nicolaus and I face off over the small golden-eyed cat that is my sister, his vivid slit eyes a mixture of orange, amber, and yellow. The madness in them is almost visible. Fangs in a shadowed face shine white, bright amongst the darker shades. Contours of the face a strong resemblance of him with dark brown locks hanging low and bleeding into the background.

My face takes up the opposite side, shadowed as well, but defining features make it obvious. A bright mix of greens for the eyes, long white teeth bared. Both faces have teeth shown with mouths slightly open as if in mid-growl, his the obvious Vampire fangs while mine have the longer upper and lower canines that tend to symbolize animal. The hair on my side is a mix of darker shades with a few streaks of silver peeking through, seeming almost a shock against the backdrop around them.

The small cat below and between the faces is stripped and spotted, the obvious ocelot face looking out from the painting, caught in her own pain yet full of pride. Gold eyes blaze as she sits with head held high, tail curled around her forelimbs. The background is a mix of shadows that swim over the faces making them less distinguishable but leaving certain areas free and unhindered. Signature signed in at the bottom, and I think I'm done.

Takes so long when the one doing it is such a perfectionist. Even when finished, I'm not very happy with it, but adding anymore just wouldn't work. Unsatisfied, I take it down and hang it on the house where it won't get wet, nails and hooks having been drilled into the outer wall just for this reason.

Still snowing, the small fluffy whirling flakes make an excellent backdrop as they dance among the trees only feet away. Paintbrush clasped between my teeth, I go back in just long enough to grab another canvas and go back out. The door closes behind me without having looked up to see if anyone was even around.

This one is the same size, 30x40 inches. About my normal size unless I go really big, like the one I had done a few years ago of a wolf back to back with a feline. That one was 46x55 inches. Haven't attempted to go any bigger.

Setting it up on the easel, I look over it for a second. Brush going from my mouth to the cleaning solution, then new mixtures of color set on the palette. I remember when I first started, the look of the contraption was so silly, but having your inks close to you while working is a must.

The constant going back and forth got ridiculous real fast, so I went for looking like a goof. Now it just feels natural, to where I go nuts if it gets misplaced somewhere. That's only happened a few times, twice from someone moving it on me and once from my own hand in moving things around.

Going down the list in my head of sketches I did inside, I start bringing to life the first one. Asher takes shape and looks like he's about to walk right off the cloth holding him, glossy midnight fur over a strong body stalking forward. Bright blue-green eyes that have captured the Caribbean in their depths gaze out and enthrall. Glimpses of a silver chain around his scruff hold a dangling piece of the moon at his throat, hanging down just enough to be able to move freely, grasping the starlight and reflecting it.

His body is made with shades of black as he emerges from the bare trees that are just as dark, yet defined at his back. Slivers of light glance off the ground and parts of the thick wolf frame. The wildness is caught and held within the image then my signature is signed in the dark blades of grass.

Stepping back, I look over it. Always hated signing my name on the image itself, but after someone a few years ago tried claiming a piece of mine as theirs, I had to get into the habit. Has to be signed at the time as the painting so the ink set times are the same and able to be distinguished if someone else tries signing it afterwards.

Another several hours gone as I look over my work, a soft and tentative touch in my head lets me know he's close. Already known by his scent finding me, probably delayed since my mind was caught up in images and a nose filled with the smells of paint and cleaner. Fingers are smudged from mixing colors impatiently, pretty sure there's swipes on my face as well.

Clothes also have streaks and spots. I'm not a very neat painter, then again, show me one who is. Can even taste some of the oils on my tongue from different brushes having been between my teeth.

Looking up as I clean the latest one used, Asher is sitting out in the yard. My easel is set up right in front of the step down from the porch. Facing that way, my table is on my left against the railing with a chair further down as well as another off to my right side.

Snow is just a light spattering now, but the layer over his coat reveals his having sat there for a while. He may have been in front of me the whole time, doesn't mean I saw him. I don't really perceive much else when working.

Setting the brush down, palette having already been placed aside, I slip around the wooden frame and make my way out onto the frozen ground. At least two inches cover the ground as I walk on the balls of my feet over to the black wolf, dropping to my knees in front of him and grabbing the fur on the sides of his face.

Leaning towards him as he lowers his head, foreheads meet in the middle, fingers buried into the thickness of his pelt. Didn't even realize how cold my fingers were till they meet his warmth. Our breath mingles as it drifts away in a small fog. We sit like that for a few minutes before I pull back.

I whisper into his head my apologies for snapping at him like that, knowing he was only trying to help. The frustrations with my sister's seeming push and pull attitudes, figure mine aren't much better, having to relearn how to live with each other all over again.

Think it will be for naught since she's wanting to leave in a couple days anyway. I can't hold her here, but I don't want to lose her again. I want so many things that I know aren't possible unless time could be rewound.

Raising my eyes to his, I try to banish my pain and uncertainty, knowing it unfair to lay it at his feet, but it's the only reason I have for acting the way I did. Asher fills my head with warmth, comfort. Understanding.

Can feel his growing affection, but I back away from that before he knows I picked up on it. Questioning him as to how long he's been out here, I'm taken aback by his answer. When I had gone out the back, he had Bastion let him out the front.

He'd been hunting while keeping an eye out for me, staying close to the house but not really within sight distance. After he'd realized that I was so caught up in what I was doing and not seeing anything else, he made his way steadily closer. He'd worked all the way to where he's sitting now and watched me for about ten minutes before I looked up.

If anyone ever wanted to try and kill me, getting me while I'm painting is the best time. I'm oblivious to everything around me.

I'm sure if they got close enough and had strong hatred or some other strong emotion coming off them, I might notice in time, but emotion detection doesn't count for squat to a bullet. I don't see too many supernaturals using guns, yet there's one in my home now who does. Or did. Can't recall if his gun was or is still in my jeep's glove compartment.

"You should go inside, your skin is tinging blue."

I'm actually very lucky if I don't have frostbite, but hot Werewolf blood and magic-filled skin will have prevented such a thing. My skin is a bit cool to the touch, being out here so long, but I barely feel it.

Will, however, when I start warming up, then I'll start cramping. Pressing a kiss to his muzzle, I stand and go back to the porch, moving the canvas from the easel to another nail on the side of the house. With it being so cold and 'dry' out, they will set in no time. I'll have to remember to bring them in before tonight so they don't ruin.

Putting paints and the array of tools in the bag, I grab it and the easel up and head inside. Just in time to, since Faline was just about to come out to tell me mom's almost here. Well, it is after three in the afternoon, thought she'd be here a lot earlier since she works third shift. Must not work tonight.