Blessed With a Wilder Mind

Cobalt Ridge Ski Lodge 

December 31st, 2017 - New Year's Eve

Maybe Katya had a point, about the apartment being too small for the three of them, really.

The suite on the top floor of the lodge almost felt absurdly spacious after so willingly having spent their time in closer quarters. Well... Levka assumed it was willingly. Kroc had never vocally protested the crowding of the place he knew was hers by all legal considerations. He might have left if she'd ever insisted on it, but he doubted Jackal would have done the same so maybe Kroc had written off any concept of privacy as a lost cause.

She was smart like that.

She was smart like a lot of things, actually, and such it was he was pawing at the air between them, whining for her to be closer to where he sat because why was she so far away? She didn't have to far away. She could be literally. Right here. With him. He'd even be nice about it.

It was the New Years. Russians didn't really do Christmas in the way that Americans did. But Americans also didn't do New Year's in the way that Russians did, so maybe they all missed the mark a little. Tonight was their night for gifting and family and other general nonsense. And by nonsense we mean drinking, of course. One of them--at this point Levka sincerely did not remember which--had brought legitimately good vodka, and they'd already gone through enough to have the senior bear among them particularly warm and giggly.

And needy. Because, again, he asks, why is Kroc so far away, she'd come over to refill his glass and then she'd just left him right here, by himself. Just. Lounged on a perfectly sizable couch by himself. And Jackal was even further away, why was this suite so big. It made sense if you lived here but no one lived here. Man, though, someone should really live here.

In case anyone asks, this is also absolutely serious business in which they had originally decided to spend a couple of days and the full moon up this side of the mountain for scouting purposes. Mmhmm.

Jackal looked around the room. And then around again. Every time he looked around he noticed something new and he didn't know how he felt about it. The room was giant and he preferred much smaller places. That being said, he did like the view out on the balcony even though he'd only spent a few minutes out on the terrace because heights. He supposed the fireworks would be starting soonish and for that, he'd need far more alcohol then currently imbibed.

As it was though, he made no move to fill his glass with more vodka, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace as he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, deciding that he'd looked around and noticed too many new things one too many times. He set his hand on his stomach and watched the corners of his vision get just a little blurry. Tipsy was the name of the game and he could spell it perfectly.


She was, perhaps, the least inebriated of the three of them. Actually, it wasn't just "perhaps". She was indeed the least drunk, what with Levka pining for her like a child and Jackal... being silent. Was he drunk? Maybe. He'd been drinking fairly heavily, letting loose on a night she hadn't celebrated in many, many years.

No, instead of drinking, Kroc was occupied by sitting at the table, a towel spread out while she cleaned and oiled her usual handgun. There was a glass of vodka in front of her, half empty, but she only reached for it every so often, glancing over between the two of them whenever they made a noise or said something.

Seriously, Kroc, is now really the time. He acknowledges that gun maintenance is important, but they were doing this to get away from worrying about things. They needed it. The fact that Jackal was flat on his back was evidence enough that they were worn pretty thin collectively. And sure, Kroc, sure this is how you handle your stress maybe but--

Kroc, please.

She clearly was not going to come to him, so he went to her. As much as he didn't want to get up, he would do this. For her. And as such she would could bear the brunt of his demanding affection. All but draping himself across her shoulders, he would reach to try and gently paw whatever it was she currently had in hand back down to the towel so she would leave it alone while the other hand reached for her glass and insisted at trying to put it into her hand.

"Пистолет может подождать," he grumbled, tired of waiting patiently for her to be swept up in the spirit of the night. Just taaake the vodka, Kroc. You will enjoy everything much more with it. He felt better. Loads better than he had in many days.

"The gun can wait."

Jackal craned his neck and looked up at the two at the table. Everyone had their way of coping with everything that had happened. Jackal's was to stay indoors, avoid everything and only do things if Kroc or Levka asked him to or if he felt so obligated. Levka drank and did... family things. Right. Levka had family here. and Kroc protected them all more vigilantly.

The feeling of attachment that had begun in Russia and was coming to a crux here was only growing. Probably only on his side though. He watched Levka pry the gun out of Kroc's hands and replace it with the vodka and something about the way that he became a blanket over Kroc's shoulders made his muscles tense.

Being possessive was no one's friend right now, he reminded himself and relaxed slowly closing his eyes again. They were all in this together.

Was that a song?

The moment he touched her, several things happened. She froze, muscles tending beneath her clothes, fingers stilled on the gun (though, fortunately, it was still disassembled), and her bear swung its head around to give Levka’s on the attention it sought. Kroc remained still, not quite reciprocating, but not pulling away either.

His hand drew her attention, the gun deposited onto the table, his intention for her to obviously forget about it since he was handing her the glass that had been sitting in front of her. Kroc frowned, turning her head to look at him, one severe eyebrow arching. The gun probably could wait but she enjoyed taking care of her weapons and really, it had been a while since Kroc had celebrated anything. She'd probably forgotten how.

"Мне нравится мой пистолет."

Her eyes flickered toward Jackal who was sprawled on the floor now. Why was he there? Her shoulder shrugged, nodding her head in the other bear's direction. "Шакал не пьет." The words were accusatory. Levka could bother Jackal to drink.

She did finish off her glass though, so he couldn't keep at her about it, and then promptly went back to cleaning her gun, moving easily under the blanket of Levka.

"I like my gun."

"Jackal does not drink."


His bear kind of wanted to chew on hers. Just like. Not in a mean way, he just made aims to put smaller lady-bear's head into his jaws so he could huff on her. This was not a completely unheard of compulsion, but usually he had the mind about him to be more mindful of the fact that Kroc herself was more easily made hesitant. But this was not usually, and she could like her gun all she wanted but why was she trying to get him to go away.

She drank to appease him. This perhaps had the opposite affect and only really encouraged him. She went back to her cleaning and he leaned a little heavier on her. He tried to put his hand down on the table to steady himself just a little but missed entirely and so he grasped at her shoulder with his other hand to keep himself from going over because gravity was an actual bitch if you let her have her way.

"Помоги мне убедить его," he insisted, though this time he would let her keep working. Maaaaybe if she fiiiinished she'd stop. She couldn't keep working on something that was already done, right? He hadn't cleaned a gun in a while, but he was reasonably certain there was no point in cleaning it twice in a row, okay.

Also, he wasn't nearly so worried about Jackal. Jackal had had some already. Hadn't he? He hadn't been imagining that... pretty sure. Levka may have been the most greedy with the bottle, though.

"Help me convince him."

He watched her tense as she did and with that Jackal rose from his spot on the floor to refill his glass with vodka. He stumbled a little, but ignored the way the world spun in favour of tilting the clear liquid into his cup at the table next to the other two Polar Bears. He then refilled Kroc's cup with vodka as well as topped off Levka's and downed what was in his cup in one shot, giving his would-be King a look as if to say "See? I am drinking."

He hadn't even realized that his hand and set itself on Kroc's arm, thumb smoothing over her flesh gently and absently as he raised his eyebrows at the both of them. Drinking is why they were here right? So drink. He hand trailed to her free one and he wrapped his large hand around hers, tugging on it as he made his way back to the fireplace where he could go back to being a human skin rug.

He didn't care if she still had the gun parts in her hand, he just wanted them to be nice and warm and cuddled up. He tugged her down to the carpet with him and sprawled back on the ground, wrapping his arm around her waist to keep her close to his side while he waited for Levka to follow them. If kroc was complaining, Jackal was ignoring it. She worked too hard.

She was ready to shoot them both. Between Levka practically laying on her and Jackal pulling her to her feet, the pieces of her firearm left on the table, her eyes had quickly swirled to that glittering, frozen blue color. The glass of vodka was forgotten on the table, having set it down just before the tall man had pulled her away from her chosen work. Really, she didn't even understand why they were being so pushy about this but if it would get them to stop harassing h—

Oh. They were laying on the floor now. Kroc awkwardly tried to sit up but the arm around her waist did not allow her to when she tried, so instead, she made a frustrated sound and just. Laid there. Grumpy. Maybe slightly annoyed. Her bear was content though, but it was this that kind of made her just refuse to completely relax, despite the warmth coming from the fire and the tattooed bear himself.

Oh looook, Jackal didn't need convincing because he was wonderful. Levka tracked the other male bear with his eyes as he came, poured more glasses of the vodka that so clearly offended the lady among them, and put his own down swiftly. Levka chuckled at him, straightening enough to give the younger man room to work.

He had more ploy against Kroc. In spite of their insistence otherwise at times ('he just follows me,' as Kroc would say), these two had a clear and present connection. So the would-be King let that work to his desire's advantage. Yup. That's right, Kroc. Away from the table, put down the gun. Can't have you putting it together and threatening your friends into leaving you alone, right?


Shaking his head as if that would chase off the buzzing feeling he'd acquired--in truth, only making it worse--he lingered by the table to not only drink down the glass that Jackal had refilled for him, but... also put that one down and reach for the one that had been meant for Kroc.

But nope. Too much at once. He only got through about half of that before something in him protested. Maybe it was the fact that his friends were so far away now, back in front of the fire. Gotta go join them. Look, Kroc was even lying down.

Between drinking pretty successfully most of his life and being a were, it took a lot to actually feel it. But he was definitely feeling it right now. His initial intention had been to sit with his back to the nearby coffee table and maybe even give them some space for a second, but he didn't make it that far. Vertical was not an option for the moment and Levka ended up gingerly laying himself down on the other side of Kroc, as if lowering himself too quickly was going to introduce him to the floor in an unkind manner.

Pretty sure he'd overcompensated on the drinking in the wake of Kroc's stubborn refusal. He tried to reach over to pat her arm but missed and patted the floor instead.

She struggled and huffed and Levka joined them and Jackal's eyes watched the man as he patted the floor. They were already on the floor, what did he want them to do with it. He nuzzled up against the back of Kroc's neck and blew hot air over the back of her neck and ear, tighetning his grip on her so that the snuggles in front of the fire could continue.

He'd been snuggly with her on Christmas, yes. But before that, they hadn't really... touched before. Not unless he was pulling her away from something or she was smacking him for touching one of her guns or knives. This was new territory. Territory that he could safely say that he liked.

She had options. She could throw some elbows and break free or... or she could just. Accept her fate and lay here. With Levka laying on the floor beside her and... patting the ground (he was so obviously drunk) and Jackal nuzzling her neck like he was, Kroc grunted and moved, shifting her arm back, the movement quick at first but then before the impact she stopped.

Then a huff.

Then she relaxed (in resignation).

Her bear was happy here. Content, from what she could tell. Having both of them so near and in contact with her was... pleasant. Another sigh and and Kroc looked at Levka with a haze that was suddenly much less cold than before. One hand reached out, not to strike but to pull him closer, words left (happily) out of the equation for the moment.

Levka pretty well missed all the potential tension in Kroc. If she'd been thinking of putting both male bears in their place and running for the hills in the least, it flew right past him. And if she'd gone it was nigh impossible that he would even be able to get up and go after her. The floor was going to be his friend for the next little while. Maybe even his only friend, what with Jackal getting cozy with Kroc and--

Wait, nope. That was a hand. And from a woman who was usually busy threatening him into behaving with said hand, it was incredibly kind, if a bit insistent right now. Or at least it seemed to him.

Okay, okay, he could do closer. The metaphysical bears were already a pile of fur and heat so might as well give everyone that satisfaction.

With Jackal just behind, wrapped almost possessively around his constant companion, Levka managed to scoot close enough to encroach. His own hand would not find purchase on Kroc, but on Jackal's arm. Not any intention of chasing anyone off, even if he'd rolled over enough nuzzle into Kroc's personal space.

She'd invited him, right? And the absurd muddle of drink and company was warm.

The touching was nice on all accounts. He felt Levka's hand on his arm and didn't push it away, instead deciding to wiggle closer to really sandwich Kroc in between them. He nipped gently on Kroc's shoulder and reached for his vodka to finish off the glass, grumbling when his glass came to his lips empty before discarding it and letting it roll to the side.

He let himself lay back down and tucked his face into Kroc's shoulder, pulling Levka closer with his leg absently. Cuddle puddles were nice, he decided. Very nice.

She was effectively trapped but, for once, the feeling didn't make her want to get violent. In fact, the heat and touching and overall languid feeling plagued her and made her not want to move at all. So she didn't, choosing instead to just... relax into all of it, closing her eyes and letting her herself and her bear revel in the feeling of being so close with others like herself.

Overall, it was a very good new years and Kroc was at least a little glad that these two had dragged her out here to the Lodge. Being that they'd be living here from now on, obviously they'd have to do it again sometime.

Fade thread

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)