Max, born Maxine Rudd to Caribbean immigrants, moved to L.A. when her mother died. She came to ‘make her fortune’ as a croupier with her nimble fingers and inherited speed. She was beginning to settle into the city when coming home one night after her evening shift at the casino, she was attacked. Her memories of the large grey shape that gave her all her numerous scars are vague and hazy and when she staggered back home to collapse in her apartment, it was only the pain that reassured her it had happened. How and why she survived she doesn’t know and a t first it didn’t occur to her to wonder - now she avoids all thought of anything connected to her change when human.
Her scars refused to heal and though she bandaged them they twinged often. She never probed any deeper into her memories - but bought herself a gun and licence instead. In the following weeks, life seemed to be on an up - she did well at work dealing faster and sharper, knowing instinctively how to manipulate the cards, and across the filled hall she watched - and was watched - by another croupier. He was tall, dark with fathomless dark eyes that glinted beneath the neon.
Occasionally they worked the same table and as they shifted cards and chips their hands would brush. Max was restless and agitated and blissful, standing shoulders rubbing with him. She wasn’t sure about love but presumed this voiceless communication was it. She shivered, skin clammy and hot and she seemed consumed with fire. Yes - definitely love, she thought as her change grew near.
After work in the dark of the morning, as she pulled on her coat to leave, he was waiting for her by the door. He took her gently in his arms, always silent, and they left pressed together under his coat. Back in her apartment they stood facing each other and he gently stroked her face, then her shoulders and she seemed to surrender herself, still cold and hot and trembling. But as he lost his gentle touch and began to press her harder, pulling at her top, she resisted him. Pushing him away she felt anger, strong and pure, for the first time, interwoven with her fear.
She would never properly remember the first time she changed - werewolf blood that had chilled her now burning through her veins. She lunged for him, brought him down - and killed the first and last man ever to try to force her to do something she didn’t want to do.
She lived in constant fear of herself from then on and gave up her job and any pretence at a life. Taking the gun she put it against her temple, then in her mouth, and then back in the drawer. A week later when she hadn’t eaten or moved from her room she took it out again... but for a different purpose. Once nimble card-dealing hands became nimble thieving hands. Working alone, she was offered partnership in many forms, but she had built herself an image - she shaved her hair off, vaguely wondered about tattooing, but in the end brought a home gym kit and a leather jacket.
Without much interruption this has been her life for the last few years - with only one intermission. The intermission was called Sarah. If she thought love was a hot cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, she found more than that with Sarah. And when Sarah died, caught between Max and unscrupulous people who had decided not to like Max, Max did not fully recover and gave herself up to her monthly transformation, depression haunting her rage, rage tinting her sadness. When she dredged herself up from her sorrow she did her best to confine herself, locking herself away to beat out her rage and depression against concrete walls.
And now - Max is a werewolf lone gay gangster. And that’s as much as I really know about her right now apart from that her taste runs to glam rock, the early novels of Beckford and her hero is Semiramis.
She is also an anti-violence campaigner (or would be if her career allowed it) and of undistinguishable age.
Meg and I have been out of it for quite a while - I can only plead teenage angst (exams, over-extended family all appearing from Australia, no computer, my first grey hair... the usual.) But I think we’ve missed quite a lot - last I heard there were going to be some other werewolf NPCs and characters - if so I’d love to chat sometime. Merci.
Oh god i hope i've posted this in the right place... it'd make a nice change.
Love light and peace.