the last one standing
when all the giants fall

aughter spilled from his lips like a bubbling brook, languorous and never ending. Even though the joke was anything but humorous, even if his heart twists and turns, rebelling against the laughter like a shadow that recoils from the sun, he forces amusement to take the place of derision in his tone.

If only you knew, his mind snarls hatefully at the bay man, even while his lips smile and his eyes glint, if someone only gave me a blade, I’d make sure you could never tell that joke again. He hated the sound of their laughter, so he drowned it out with his own, laughing at an entirely different punchline.

All morning the displeasure had been building inside of him, like sandpaper chafing at his fragile patience. It wasn’t often that the ever-present rage reached so near to its boiling point, seething until it roiled just beneath the surface. Toulouse had become adept at suffocating it, at strangling his own heart until it beat obediently, quietly, unassumingly inside of his chest. There was no place for such an emotion in his line of work. The fury he’d grown up with as a child served him no purpose, so he beat it into submission.

But today it continued to rise, a dark wolf made of fire and blood struggling to break free, struggling to take his place. His teeth caught the light every time he laughed, glinting with bloodlust in the light streaming through the window.

A minute more and he might snap.

"Forgive me," he murmured before he could, excusing himself without looking back. And once he turned the corner, as soon as he was out of sight, the smile fell from his face abruptly. He stalked amongst the alcoves, eyes flashing like wildfire upon each title. He’d better hope his information is good, his mind twisted and turned in irritation, the only reason he tolerated his atrocious humor.

He walked past aisle after aisle, a purpose in his step, eyes hunting for the key word. And when he found it, when he turned down the corridor that would (hopefully, for the bay’s own sake) contain the document he sought - a unicorn blocked his path, browsing quite aimlessly.

Toulouse stopped in his tracks. At first there was only more irritation - of course he’d find someone browsing the same records he needed, of course there was someone in his way when the wolf inside of him snarled and demanded solitude. It was his luck, after all, if one could truly call it that.

But he was quick to hide his emotions behind a mask of indifference, forcing himself to step into the small room, hating the proximity between himself and another. Inside he raged at the pale man’s seeming lack of purpose, but outwardly his composure was as calm as a pond’s surface.

"Excuse me," he speaks up, forcing himself to step further into the room, daring to come alongside the translucent stranger, close enough to note the sudden temperature drop in the air. He shifted his eye’s sideway, appraising his frosty appearance. "Do you mind?" He takes another step forward, gesturing vaguely at the shelves as if to say, take what you need or move. But in fewer (and nicer) words.

the last one standing
when all the giants fall

t’s a hard thing to reign in his temper, once it’s already begun to grow inside of him. It rises like a fire, fed by every slight annoyance that dares to test him. Most days he keeps it carefully under wraps; even an annoyingly high voice or an imperfectly timed intrusion are too small to bring it to head.

But today, oh today it’s a hungry thing, one that delights at each tender branch of kindling, laughing and burning away inside of him. It’s the wolf in him, he knows; he’s kept it starved for too long this time. (Maybe a small part of him, an unconscious sliver of his mind, had done it intentionally; maybe Toulouse wanted to lose control, if only for a day.)

Surely it wouldn’t be the worst thing a man like himself could do.

Still he stuffs his claws and fangs down for a moment longer, forcing a small (albeit sharp) smile onto his lips when he rounds the corner and sees the man. He imagines the frost coating his skin melting beneath the heat of his anger to appease himself. 



His smile falters, nearly slips from his face when the stallion steps back, but not silently like he had hoped. "Lost in your thoughts?" He doesn’t say what he’s really thinking, that the stranger wasn’t paying enough attention. Toulouse had not been trying to be quiet, not this time.

His eyes scan the shelves even as he talks, moving far too quickly. He has to stop, backtracking his gaze, rereading the titles. The wolf inside of him growls with displeasure.

"Oh I don’t mind the snow," he lied. Snow was almost as bad as sand, sometimes worse, depending on his mood. Today the snow chilled him from the outside in though, barely cooling the furnace that burned within his chest. "Although," he relinquished, eyeing the pale stallion from the corner of one eye. "it’s far nicer watching it from indoors than trekking through it." He looks at him from the corner of one eye, forcing another small smile.

"Were you looking for anything?" he asks when his eyes return to the shelves. "Just browsing?"


Even when irate, his curiosity gets the best of him.