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Post by Val on Jun 5, 2021 16:33:25 GMT
As they muttered their awkward goodnights and the women disappeared into their respective bedrooms, Wolfgang was left in an all too familiar situation. Alone, with a bottle of liquor. Leaning over the kitchen table, he stared at the whiskey bottle that had already lost a quarter of it’s contents throughout the evening. He’d sought peace at the bottom of a bottle more times than he could possibly count, but his forced prison detox had lightened his dependency over the last few months. His mind had been clear and his nights had been restful during the time following his exile, spending the days at the prison estate in a state of relative sobriety. But the temptation to numb the pain and stress he felt in that moment was quickly overpowering any lingering willpower he had left.
Addiction is a disease, Wolf. Don’t end up like me. His father’s advice had clearly fallen on deaf ears, but what had the old man expected of the son who was practically his reincarnation? The same handsome face, the same unwavering confidence, and the same exact ridiculously fucked up problems. As if the surge of spite towards his father was the final straw, Wolfgang abruptly grabbed the bottle and brought it to his lips, taking a definitive swig. His face was throbbing, and if the wolf refused to heal him, then he would take matters into his own hands.
Wolfgang spent the subsequent hour or so falling helplessly back into old routines. He wandered the living room, sipping straight from the bottle as he went, studying the array of books he’d grown familiar with during his frequent stays at the cabin in his youth. Once walking became difficult, he rummaged through drawers and cabinets until he stumbled across his father’s old pipe and aged, yet surprisingly well preserved, stash of tobacco. He figured it wouldn’t be the most pleasant smoke by any means, but he went for it anyway, purely to fulfill the habit. By the time Wolfgang was settled into an arm chair in front of the smoldering fireplace with a book, a glass, and a smoking pipe in hand, the effects of his binge were starting to take effect.
Against all odds, Wolfgang was able to complete an entire chapter of a random book he had grabbed titled: The Ecology of North Alynthia before he began to nod off. The steady heat of the fire lured him toward unconsciousness, and he quickly succumbed due to a combination of exhaustion and intoxication. Once his eye lids became too heavy to bear, sleep overtook him.
Bliss didn’t last long. It never did these days. The nightmares came quickly and mercilessly in flashes of death and destruction. The subconscious memories always started out abstract; the blur of the forest as he ran, the stabbing pain of being struck with a sharp weapon, the distinct taste of blood that infiltrated his senses. But the images were quick to take shape into real, raw memories of moments better left buried. The blinding glint of jewels caught his eye- a crown fit for a Queen. The halo of power and status was floating directly toward him, closed and closer until the image of a young woman clothed in a wedding dress took shape as she stared blankly into Wolfgang’s eyes. There was no hesitation. His jaws clamped down around the new Queen's head with a sickly crunch.
A simultaneous thud wrenched Wolfgang out of sleep. His eyes snapped open, wide and alert as he scanned the quiet living room and reacclimated himself with his surroundings. He sat up and looked down at his feet, realizing that the thud had been his empty glass hitting the wood floor. His head was spinning and pounding by the time he managed to stand and, before he knew it, he was standing at the end of the hallway.
Wolfgang stared into the depths of the corridor, which appeared endless in the darkness. On the left was his father’s bedroom, where Sasha had left the door ajar, which he could only imagine had been on purpose. On the right was Kiona in his old bedroom, and he felt the instantaneous gravitational pull urging him toward her, but even wasted Wolfgang had enough restraint to know how absurd it would be to disturb her. At the end of the hall, shrouded in darkness, was the door to the basement or, more aptly, his father’s study.
Rather unceremoniously, Wolfgang leaned his shoulder against the door that would lead him to his most steadfast source of comfort; Sasha. His entrance was not as discrete as he’d planned, and the door thumped softly against the wall before he could catch it. He slowly closed the door behind him with a click and approached the bed, nearly toppling over twice as he kicked his shoes off along the way. Once he reached the edge of the mattress, he pressed one knee onto the edge, causing it to dip beneath his weight.
“It’s me,” he whispered as a delayed announcement of his presence. He studied her silhouette in the darkness before his body collapsed the rest of the way onto the bed, shaking the frame with enough force to wake her if she had somehow managed to sleep through his antics. He released a soft groan and stretched out his limbs to get comfortable, though he had no intentions of returning to his nightmares just yet. Instead, he rolled to face Sasha, studying what he could of her in the dim lighting.
“Sasha,” he whispered, pausing for only a moment before he continued, “Sasha…I think he broke my face,” he told her, as though he was sharing some kind of secret. In reality, it was an obvious pity-ploy to get Sasha to work her magic on him. It was a shameless, drunken approach, but he couldn’t help but crave her soothing abilities that trumped any sort of mind altering or pain relieving substance he’d ever tried.
“I’ll do what I must,” Ike responded to Trys’s question vaguely, mostly because he didn’t have a plan. Acting on impulse usually worked out in his favor and, depending on who was lurking in the trees, he would act accordingly. With Hound several paces ahead, Ike kept his crossbow at the ready, in case their stalker made the mistake of going after his dog. He offered a nod to Trys as she took cover, and continued onward through the brush until Hound halted and turned his snout upward.
Ike looked up just in time to watch a dark figure plummet from the tree top and land on the thin layer of snow before him. Finger on the trigger, he steadied the crossbow against his broad shoulder and took aim, prepared to take the man out before things even had a chance to get ugly. But as a familiar grin came into view, Ike’s determination faltered, and he relaxed his fingers with the realization that this was going to be far more complicated than he could have imagined.
Recognition gleamed in Ike’s pale blue eyes when he realized that it was Alix who’d been sent after him. The man- hardly a man, as far as Ike was concerned- had trained under him for many years. The friendly demeanor didn’t faze Ike; he knew how deep Alix’s convictions ran, because Ike had drilled them into the boy’s mind himself. Alix may have been something of an apprentice to him in the past, as was the way of their people, but things had changed. Ike’s entire worldview had shifted during his journey. Once he’d separated from the tribe to take on a harrowing solo mission, it was shocking how quickly his loyalty wavered. All it took was two young women to irrevocably alter his perception of the world. At first, he wondered if something was wrong with him- if he was some sort of gullible fool for losing his faith so easily. But the longer he spent time with people outside of his realm, the more he realized that perhaps it was their tribe that was in the wrong.
Ike’s eyes narrowed when Alix’s called for his dog, but he didn’t object. He needed to tread carefully if he wanted to avoid anyone getting hurt, and that meant not acting overly suspicious. Unsurprisingly, Hound bounded toward Alix, tail spinning in excited circles as he was given the attention he so desperately craved. The bloodhound managed to jump up and give Alix two slobbering licks to the face before settling at his feet for pets.
Seeing as how Alix had yet to threaten him in any way, Ike slowly lowered his weapon. His eyes remained trained on the man, wondering what his end game was. Questions began to flood Ike’s mind as he considered all the possibilities. How long had Alix been following them? What had he seen? Were there others? Was this a ploy to get Kiona alone? Paranoia crept up on Ike as he was faced with making the right decision whilst being completely in the dark. Ike, who was accustomed to being the hunter, had suddenly become the hunted.
The reference to Trys immediately set him on edge and shifted the tone of the encounter. His muscles became visibly taut and he ground his teeth to suppress his rising temper. The vulgarity of the statement was clearly meant to provoke him into doing something stupid, and Ike might’ve taken the bait if there wasn’t so much on the line. As prone to violence as he was, Ike was a protector at heart. His goal was to make sure everyone got through this relatively unharmed, Alix included.
“I see you have yet to learn any respect,” he replied, rigid with tension. Alix’s statement was wrought with disgust and deliberate insinuations- all thing Ike might've felt had he been in Alix's position. Clearly, Alix was aware of Ike’s change of heart, and that meant this little chat was pointless. Their common beliefs were what had made them brothers; without that, they were just two men with conflicting missions.
Ike lifted the crossbow once more, training it on Alix with renewed determination, “On your knees, or raise your weapon,” he demanded, offering him the age old choice: surrender or fight. Imprisoning Alix would eliminate the immediate threat and give him time to think and carve out a plan. If Alix chose to challenge him, Ike would accept a fair battle out of respect for their customs, but the outcome would be the same. He could not allow Alix to roam free as an ever looming threat to Kiona. “Choose wisely, Alix. Creed matters not with an arrow in your skull.”
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Post by Elvander on Jun 7, 2021 20:26:21 GMT
As time passed by, Sasha listened to Wolfgang rustle around for awhile. It was somewhat soothing to her to hear him in the common area- somewhere deep down, she had feared that Wolfgang would seek out Kiona in the night.
Sasha had spent enough nights in the same household as Wolfgang, definitely enough to know about the nightmares he suffered. He didn’t have to bring it up for her to know. Sasha was intuitive, a byproduct, or perhaps a precursor, of her healing magic. And the closer she felt to a person, the more aligned she was with them. And Wolfgang was someone she considered to be close to her, for better or worse.
She wouldn’t have been able to blame him if he’d gone to Kiona at some point. As his rustling stopped while he slept, Sasha rolled over and curled up tightly, almost unable to bear not knowing if he had gone to her. There were several moments she almost rose from the bed to check the common space, but she stopped herself. Perhaps because she wasn’t ready to face it if he had. The undeniable pull between the two could easily be channeled into or mistaken as lust. She wouldn’t be surprised, knowing Wolfgang’s past.
As she tormented herself with these thoughts, at some point she drifted off. It was a brief, dreamless sleep before Artemis, Wolfgang, and her own senses awoke her to his presence. As Wolfgang settled into the bed, Artemis jumped down to lay on the floor, and Sasha rolled to face the man who had sought her out. It gave her a rush of adrenaline- anticipation and joy and triumph that he was here. She opened her eyes, though they would not register his face, and inched closer to him. He smelled of whiskey, firewood, and sweat. As he declared his injury, Sasha let out a soft laugh and reached out her fingers for his face, connecting with his jaw and scouting up to his nose, where she could feel the swelling. She allowed a small touch of magic to flow from her to him, mending the wound Ike had caused.
“How are you feeling?” She whispered quietly, not really asking about his nose. Sasha wanted to know how he was feeling about Kiona and Ike, and maybe... what he was feeling about her too.
--
Ike's shifts in mood and tone were almost tangible to him by now. He had become so attuned to the older man, learning everything about him as Ike taught him everything else about their creed. True, he had hoped to goad Ike into a stupid reaction by insulting Trys, and he was somewhat impressed when he didn't take the bait. As Hound licked at his face he chuckled and pushed the dog down, scratching him behind the ears before he straightened up. He still thought he had the upper hand here, and was fairly confident Ike wouldn't attack him outright, even when he pointed the crossbow at him.
Alix raised his hands, doing neither of Ike's requested movements. Alix wasn't about to surrender, but he didn't necessarily want a fight right now either. "Please," he rolled his eyes with the cockiness only young men could afford. "I just want to talk. Won't you share a fire with me, like brothers?" he tried to appeal to Ike's sensibilities. Once, Ike had felt protective of him, had viewed him as a little brother. Alix hoped that would be enough to get him to sit and try to reason with him without violence. In the end, they would still have a fundamentally different mission- Alix wanted Kiona dead, and for Ike to return with him to the tribe for punishment for desertion. But it didn't have to be messy, if Ike would simply comply. "I have no interest in fighting you, or ending up as your captive. I believe, if you hear me out, we can come to an understanding. What will it be?" he asked, peering at Ike through the dark curly bangs. He looked innocent enough, but his hand was hovering near his hip, where his daggers rested. On his back, a hefty, impressive ax was strapped. No doubt Ike had the upper hand with his weapon being quick trigger, but Alix hoped it wouldn't come to using weapons. At least, not yet.
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Post by Val on Aug 6, 2021 21:45:39 GMT
The moment Sasha’s fingertips made contact with his nose, Wolfgang felt immediate relief from the pain. His eyes fluttered closed, and he inhaled slowly, allowing the magic to flood through his veins like an addict getting his fix. He’d become spoiled when it came to pain; between the wolf and Sasha, he always seemed to have an option to heal his wounds quickly and without suffering. Sasha’s probing question stirred him from the bliss, and Wolfgang reopened his eyes to study her in the dim light of the room.
It was easy to forget how young Sasha was. She carried herself with such poise and possessed such wisdom that Wolfgang often mistook her as a woman far beyond her years. Alas, like most of the woman that became entangled in his complicated life, she was at least a decade younger than him. He studied her features, noticing lines unrelated to age, but rather indicative of the trauma she’d endured in the past and continued to endure as a part of his life. He didn’t understand her loyalty toward him- he simply accepted it out of selfishness because he could no longer imagine life without Sasha in it.
“Confused,” he replied honestly, the word escaping him with a sigh. Before he could think better of it, he lifted a hand and reached out to touch her face, allowing his fingertips to brush across her cheek. He felt tempted to turn the question back upon her, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer- whatever that may be. With his head swimming from the alcohol, all he could really think about was the way she had gravitated toward him, accepting him into her bed without question. Her lips were parted from her whispered question, and her sightless, yet beautiful eyes were staring back at him- full of acceptance without ever expecting anything in return. The moment felt inevitable.
Wolfgang’s wandering hand cupped the side of her face, fingers curling at the nape of her neck. He shifted closer to her on the bed and leaned in, connecting their lips in a soft kiss. The gesture was exploratory at first, as though he were seeking answers to all the unspoken questions. But the longer he kissed Sasha, the less he cared about knowing all the answers, and the more he reveled in crossing the invisible boundary between them. He propped himself up on the bed and planted a palm on the other side of Sasha, steadying himself as he deepened the kiss between them. Their connection was undeniable, and Wolfgang sensed an all too familiar feeling stir in his gut.
To Wolfgang, love was life’s biggest mystery. Over the years, he’d fallen in and out of love with women so quickly and easily that his intentions were almost always questioned. While others seemed to seek their one true soulmate, Wolfgang felt doomed to an eternity of whirlwind relationships. He was self-aware enough to realize that there was no one to blame but himself. Perhaps he mistook lust for love time and time again, or maybe his curse was to blame for the endless passionate affairs. Whatever the reason for his physical and emotional promiscuity, he knew exactly what would come next. When the moment passed and he was forced to face reality, the guilt would eat away at him until he felt compelled to drink himself into another stupor and repeat the destructive pattern all over again.
Ike didn’t expect cooperation from Alix, but he felt a spike of frustration nonetheless when his warning was ignored. He couldn’t blame the man; Alix thought he was being brave, that he was the hero sent on a mission to destroy a monster and return with the traitor. Ike knew better, and the picture was becoming clearer as the stand off continued. His gut told him that Alix had been sent alone; the real question was why?
The leaders of their tribe either assumed Ike was dead or defected. Both scenarios implied that he had failed, and that the mission had been too difficult or complicated for one man to succeed. Sending a green soldier like Alix in his stead seemed…cruel. They couldn’t possibly have expected him to succeed either, which meant that his presence was merely meant to drive the werewolf further from their territory. That was the goal, wasn’t it? To rid their nation of unnatural beasts. As long as Kiona was thousands of miles away and terrorizing the southern territories, the problem was out of their hands. They could tell the people of their success in destroying the royal family and continue on with their mission until Grovakha was truly cleansed.
As Ike mulled over his newfound theories, he couldn’t help but pity Alix who continually reminded him of himself. He was cocky and naïve, but he didn’t deserve the path he’d been sent on. And he certainly didn’t deserve to die. Ike felt utterly locked in place as he was forced to make a decision, but a high-pitched whine from Hound broke the trance. He watched as his dog sat in front of Alix and stared back at him, right through the scope of his crossbow. If he needed a sign not to resort to violence- that had to be it.
The tension visibly released from Ike’s shoulders as he lowered his bow once again, wondering what Trys could possibly be thinking as she watched from the shadows. He kept his eyes trained on Alix and slowly shook his head, “You don’t understand,” he muttered, “And I don’t expect you to.” Whatever chat Alix had in mind wouldn’t change things. Even if he managed to changed Ike’s mind by some miracle, he wasn’t accounting for the newest addition to the problem: Wolfgang. Although Ike already despised the man for more personal reasons than being a werewolf, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of reassurance having the man as backup. It felt counterintuitive and downright wrong to rely on a werewolf for protection, but he was undoubtedly committed to Kiona’s safety, and that was all that mattered.
“There’s another werewolf,” he announced, cutting right to the chase, “One that can turn at will.” He studied Alix closely for any signs that the warning would throw him off his game, “So if your little talk has anything to do with harming Kiona Volkov, I suggest you save it and give up now before we all end up slaughtered.”
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Post by Elvander on Aug 10, 2021 17:08:13 GMT
The breath in her chest seemed to catch when he touched her cheek. Sasha hadn’t been touched by a man like this since… well since her ordeal when she was sixteen. Part of her wanted to recoil as the fear and trauma flashed through her, but her overwhelming trust in Wolfgang overrode that. She wanted to give in so badly to the lust that made her body ache and shiver with fire, to allow herself to feel as good as she could make others feel. Wolfgang was important to her, but would she risk that by sleeping with him?
Gods, she wanted to. But she also… cared deeply for him. And part of her didn’t want to lose his interest, or doom him to feeling like he had lost something to her. But when he kissed her, her senses fired off like lightning in the heavens. She kissed him deeply, her fingers pressing into his arms as she pulled him close for the brief moments of intimacy, slinging her leg across his thigh. It was pure ecstasy. He tasted of smoke, like the whiskey they had consumed earlier. Reluctantly, she pulled away from the kiss, stroking his hair behind his ear though she did not release him from her arms.
“We don’t have to do this tonight,” she whispered, offering him an out in case he wanted it. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was probably what was best. Ever part of her yearned for him, but she was also afraid. Afraid that in the morning he’d regret her. “I want to be sure this is real.” If her eyes could have searched his, they would have. But her touch, her words and tone, had much the same effect as a probing gaze. She nuzzled her nose against his neck, breathing him in, afraid that a denial would send him out of her bed.
Alix watched as Ike seemed to flip through every scenario in his head. While Alix was being cocky, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he could still be in trouble if Ike decided that talking wasn’t an option. But as Ike relaxed, so did Alix, and the man set about building a fire even as Ike continued to speak. He froze for a moment when Ike mentioned the second werewolf, trying not to let it show that it had somewhat altered his perception of events. He couldn’t take out two without help. He turned that face Ike again, indicating that he should sit. “Let’s ignore the fact that we want different things for a moment. I want to hear what happened, start to now.”
Trys watched as Ike lowered his crossbow and she shifted slightly in her hiding spot, wondering how long this would be. She was used to settling in overnight when tracking, though she had hoped to sleep in a bed that night. Nevertheless, she kept her guard up, wondering if Ike truly would tell him everything.
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Post by starrea on Aug 11, 2021 22:23:57 GMT
He didn't look like a monster, and maybe that was the problem. He didn't look like someone who could massacre entire villages. He didn't look like someone who had torn the still-beating hearts out of children, who had ripped the throats of women open and feasted on their organs. He didn't look like any of the others had before - with their gnashing teeth and frothing mouths, their hollow, black eyes, and their unnatural, beastly form that was stuck somewhere between man and wolf. He looked... normal. He was older, maybe around her father's age, with curly red hair and green eyes that stared straight through her skin and into her bones. There was nothing imposing about him; he was almost sickly pale, as if he hadn't seen the sun for a very long time, and even though he was tall, he was thin. He didn't look like he would last 30 seconds against her older sister, and she was only 12. He certainly didn't look like someone who had ripped men limb from limb. And if he hadn't been pinned to the trunk of a tree by a long spear protruding from his shoulder, Kiona would have been none the wiser.
"Chek emo au!" (Look at him!) The voice of her father boomed around her. "Look at him! Look at his face, look at how he pretends to be one of us! Nou ge ponk klin!" (Do not be fooled!) It was the first time Kiona had seen a naked man and it felt wrong to see the other gender so intimately, especially since she was just a child and he was an old man, but she knew better than to disobey. Her father was pacing in front of the fallen beast, lost in his rage as he preached to the huntsmen that encircled their prey. Any sympathy for the bloody and beaten old man in front of her drained out of her in tune to her father's words. It was easy to fall into her father's mantra, easy to be swept away in his righteous hatred for the damned creature in front of them. She felt weak that she had allowed this creature sympathy for even the briefest of moments, and as she focused on the red that dripped down his chest and onto the forest floor, she steeled herself against allowing him to illicit anything other than disgust.
Her father was a preacher and the huntsmen, his following. The more her father's words resonated with the men, the more empowered her father became. "Emo na pudon emo skin op, ba emo nou na bilaik won kom oso nowe. Emo medo ste thonken, emo nou yo don a keryon. Nou bilaik kepplei kom emo." (He wears our skin, but he is not one of us. His body is hollow, he has no soul. There is no salvation for him.)
Not once did the man try to beg for mercy. He didn't try to fight against the spear that trapped him against the tree or cry out in pain. He didn't curse his attackers, or scream in anguish. He didn't do anything at all except for silently stare at Kiona, the only child amongst a tribe of full-grown men. His stare was unwavering, crawling over her skin, like he could see into the deepest recesses of her being and uncover all her secrets. Her father's voice was muted, background noise, as she struggled under the weight of the condemned man's gaze. Why did he look at her like he knew her?
Her father finally turned to the man and Kiona felt a wave of relief. It was his time to die and she was anxious to be free of his unsettling attentiveness to her.
"Does she know?" The man's voice was a lot softer than her father's, void of the impassioned hatred he preached with. For a second, her father said nothing - stunned, as if he forgot that the man could, in fact, speak. Kiona felt herself break out in a cold sweat; he had looked right at her, and she was the only other girl amongst the troop. She had been right to feel unsettled, this man knew something about her. She looked to her father, searching for answers to a question she didn't know to ask but he didn't even glance her way. His reaction was merciless He kicked the man in the face and there was an audible crunch as teeth were knocked loose. The man groaned, leaning over as blood dribbled out of his mouth and spat the remains of his teeth out.
Her father spun around to face her, a feverish urgency in his eyes as he pushed the knife into her hands, wrapping her small fingers around the hilt and squeezing them with warning before he released her. "Ba em laik yu baga, yu kot em op fostaim. Yu souda kot em op fos!" (He is your enemy, you should cut him first. You must cut him first!) For some reason, the request shocked Kiona. Even though she was taken on most hunts and had witnessed the gruesome deaths of many werewolves, she had never been asked to partake. And now, for some reason, that was changing. When she didn't move, her father pushed her towards the man and she stumbled, nearly falling before she caught herself. Numbly, she walked up to the man.
"Frag emo!" "Emo don frag oyo bro en sis op!" "Teik emo blid au!" "Teik emo drein au!" (Kill him! He killed your brothers and sisters! Make him bleed! Make him bleed out!) The crowd erupted behind her into hysteria, inspired by the symbolism of such a young princess killing a treacherous enemy. Her heart pounded, drowning out the droll of shouts behind her. She lifted the knife, pressing the tip just below his ear. He noticed her hesitation. "En's ku na teik firfur in. Medo drein au en jus drein jus daun. But one day, they'll want your blood too because my blood is your blood." (It is okay to feel scared. A body bleeds and blood must have blood.) This time, he spoke so softly that Kiona barely heard him over the roar of the crowd but his words sent a chill down her spine. And then, with no warning, she drew the knife across his throat with practiced precision and watched the blood spill down his front as she listened to the cheers of the crowd around her.
Kiona's eyes snapped open and she gasped for air, choking down the panic as the grip of the nightmare slowly ebbed away. It wasn't just a nightmare, though - it was a memory. She remembered that day; it was a crisp day in August, unusually cold for the end of summer and she had just turned eleven years old. It was a story her father brought up frequently, boasting about his eleven-year-old daughter had stared unflinchingly into the eyes of the monster and executed him. That was the moment, he'd say, that I knew that she was meant for greater things. Without her, this empire would be overrun by unnatural beasts. By that point, she had been riding along with her father's hunting parties for years. Without her, the hunting parties returned frustrated and empty-handed more often than not. I can't explain it, her father would say, she was made to exterminate those monsters. She can draw them out of any hole they hide in, just by walking through the forest.
That day was the first time that the beast hadn't looked like a... beast. Of course, Kiona knew that werewolves had two forms and only the moonlight could reveal them for who they truly were - but she had yet to actually seen the man become a beast, and the beast become a man. And sitting up against that tree trunk, naked and impaled on a spear, it was hard to remember the trail of devastation he had left in his wake. She couldn't see how something so vile could lurk beneath such a weak, beaten man. But then, it was no longer enough that she was a passive onlooker. She needed to be active participant in this creature's death, a show of devotion that she would practice time and time again over the years. She only hesitated for a second, but it was the first and last time she afforded one of those creatures such a show of leniency.
But there an unsettling addition to her nightmare, something she hadn't remembered before. He hadn't said anything before he died. He had been eerily silent, staring up at her as she had slid the blade across his throat - hadn't he? The more she thought about, the cloudier that moment became. Everything up until that moment, the moment she pressed the knife up against his throat, was invariably clear. But then she pressed the blade against his throat and his face slid of focus and she couldn't be sure one way or another if his mouth moved. His voice was hauntingly clear, speaking as if he knew that in eight short years, they would hunt her down just as he had been hunted.
The longer she laid in silence, the louder his voice got. My blood is your blood. She could see the panic on her father's face, the urgency as he pushed the knife into her hands. They'll want your blood too. His voice was chillingly calm for someone about to die. There was something on his face, but it wasn't fear. Pity, maybe? In his final moments, he hadn't hated his executioner. He had felt bad for her. Does she know? Her father had known. And he hadn't just known what she was, but he had used her and exploited her true nature to hunt down others like her. Suddenly, the years of hunting next to her father and the way he had molded her into a symbol of werewolf persecution made her nausea. What had seemed like an innocent, innocuous connection with her father now felt far more sinister.
She hadn't meant to fall asleep, and even though her body ached with exhaustion, Kiona knew that she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. She remembered the bottle of booze that Wolfgang had offered her and she swayed, tempted to just take it and drink until she couldn't remember who she was. But Ike's patronizing criticisms crept up and she could almost hear him scolding her for acting like a spoiled, petulant child. You're a stupid, worthless, ungrateful child. Who steals alcohol from hosts who had graciously saved your life? And he wouldn't be wrong - stealing booze and getting black-out drunk was something a spoiled, immature brat would do. On the other hand, a mature adult wouldn't need to steal, because she could simply ask for a drink. Wolfgang had already offered some to her, so he shouldn't mind that her change of heart.
Kiona had her hand on the doorknob to Wolfgang's room and had already turned it halfway before she lost all of her courage. It was the middle of the night - how the hell did she think it was even moderately appropriate to wake him up for something as trivial as alcohol? Because, she realized, this wasn't just about alcohol. She abruptly yanked her hand back, taking a precautionary step back as she stared at the door warily. Just thinking about him was enough to lull her into a state of complacency, enough to make her weak to the gravitational pull he had on her. Embarrassment crept up her spine and she shrunk away from his door, too scared to seek solace in the mysterious stranger who was maybe much less of a beast than she had been led to believe.
Instead, she turned towards the room of the other resident of the house. A small piece of her criticized for finding comfort in someone unnatural, but she didn't have many options amongst her present company. Trys was marginally more sympathetic than Ike, but both of them were completely inept at dealing with someone suffering as much as she was. And most of the time, she didn't want their comfort or pity. They had made it clear that they were going to ensure her immediate safety - even from herself - but that didn't mean they cared for her. To them, she was an unruly and difficult dependent and even if Ike wasn't going to drag her to back to Grovakha, he probably was planning on leaving with Trys. She couldn't think of one reason why they would stay.
"Sasha?" Kiona whispered, taking care to turn the doorknob quietly as to not startle her awake. She pushed the door open a crack, leaning as she debated whether or not she was truly going to wake Sasha up just for some booze. The man's green eyes materialized in her mind and she felt the weight of his stare, the way he had seen the truth in her years before she had. It steeled her resolve; she couldn't be alone right now. She wasn't strong enough to face her memories, not yet.
But she wasn't strong enough for what she saw when she poked her head into Sasha's room, either. She didn't need light to know what she was witnessing; there were two dark outlines, one person on top of the other. For a second, she was frozen in place, unable to move as she listened to the heavy breathing and subtle creak of the bed. It wasn't until her lungs started to burn that she was finally spurred into motion, and she hurriedly backed away from the door, biting down on her cheek until she felt blood in a vain effort to keep the tears at bay. It didn't work; somehow, each time she thought she hit rock bottom, she always managed to fall deeper. But this had to be it - how much worse could it get from being the direct cause of her family's massacre, fleeing into the wilderness for her life, being hunted down, finding out she was the embodiment of everything she had been taught to hate, realized that almost every word out of her parent's mouths was a lie, too incapable to even successfully kill herself, and now she was standing in the hallway of a complete stranger's house in the middle of the night, crying over the fact that he was kissing someone else even though she hardly knew him? She wasn't sure she could handle falling any further.
Kiona knew she couldn't just stand there. She was tearing at the seams, falling apart, and the last thing she wanted to do was alert her hosts that she had been snooping. She held it together just long enough for her to burst through the front door and she stumbled down the porch stairs, falling to her knees as the dinner she had eaten hours before came back up. And it was down there on the ground, crying and retching up bile, that she stopped being sad and started being angry.
All it took was a little spark and once her rage caught, she went up in flames. She was so angry; angry that her family had been murdered and angry that she hadn't been. She was angry that her parents had lied to her and she was angry that her father and exploited her nature to further his cause. She was angry that Ike had hunted her down and she was angry that he hadn't brought her back for her execution. She was angry that he had forced her come here, and made her feel like a spoiled brat every single step of the way. She was angry that every single time she tried to stabilize herself, something sent her spiraling towards ruination all over again. She was angry that she was a werewolf and she was angry that she hadn't even known it. And most of all, she was furious that Wolfgang was kissing someone else.
"Ike!" Kiona screamed, lurching to her feet with new purpose. The tears hadn't stopped but now she walked with purpose, fueled by rage that left her nearly shaking. "Trys!" She didn't know where her traveling companions were, but she was confident they weren't far. She recognized Ike's hulking frame and locked onto him, charging towards him with unbridled rage.
"You bastard!" She shrieked, beating against his chest with her fists. Once she started, she couldn't stop and her attacks escalated as she gained momentum. "I'm leaving, and you can't stop me! I told you I didn't want to come here! I told you and you made me! You knew this would happen and you made me do it anyway! You used me and you lied to me! You ruined everything! I hate you! I'm happy they killed you!"
It only took five words to extinguish her rage. She visibly recoiled, shaken and dazed by the her own revelations. But she didn't have time to digest the magnitude of what she had said - or rather, who she meant to say it to - because now that she had calmed down, she realized that the silhouette behind Ike was far too big to be Trys. Terror seized her, wrapping tendrils around her neck as she momentarily forgot about Wolfgang and what he was currently doing.
"Ike, what is going on? Who is this?" Her voice wavered uncertainly, and her gaze shifted between Ike, the stranger, and the dark forest as she obviously contemplated the urge to run. After these past three weeks, the urge to just run was hardwired into her and she was only getting more flighty as time passed. But this time, as she weighed her options, she realized that she wasn't alone. Ike may not like her, and she definitely didn't like him, but he had implied that he was going to protect her - and out of all of the deplorable things that Ike was, a liar was not one of them. So she swallowed the urge to bolt and instead nervously shielded herself behind Ike, lightly clinging to him as she peered around him to keep the stranger within her line of sight.
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Post by Val on Oct 26, 2021 22:06:41 GMT
Real. The word managed to force itself to the forefront of Wolfgang’s thoughts, despite the level of intoxication he had expertly acquired to empty his mind. Yes, Wolfgang wanted to tell her, of course this was real. What he felt for Sasha had been real since day one; he admired her, was fascinated by her, and lusted after her and her magic touch. But most of all, he found a true friend in Sasha.
With her wrapped so closely around his body, he felt like a live wire. Sasha had paused the moment with a few choice words, but that didn’t change the fact that he wanted her- and she apparently wanted him. He wanted to let the moment linger indefinitely, leaving them frozen in time until he could formulate an answer that didn’t ruin everything. His brain felt sluggish and unsure, but perhaps that was a good thing. It allowed room for his conscience to rear its head and stop him in his tracks. Or was it the wolf?
Somewhere in the midst of his internal breakdown, his lips had found Sasha’s again, stealing a final kiss of longing before he allowed the moment to slip from his grasp. “You know it’s real, Sasha,” he whispered, feeling guilt rise in his throat, threatening to suffocate him, “But that doesn’t mean it’s right.” The words felt cheap and sour on his tongue as he forced them out. All those town gossips were right; he was a raging selfish asshole. This had to be at the top of his list of offenses, right up there with proposing to Princess Evolet, and perhaps massacring a newly crowned Queen. His life consisted of one fuck up after another, but he couldn’t fathom the idea of losing Sasha to his own reckless behavior.
The sound of the front door slamming open and shut snapped his attention away from the spiraling thoughts and toward the bedroom door. It was open…and he had certainly closed it. Then it hit him like a wall- the nausea. He abruptly extricated himself from Sasha and stumbled off the bed, tripping over the quiet wolfhound that had settled down on the rug below. He caught himself against the wall with a thud, head spinning and stomach churning. It wasn’t just the alcohol- it was the girl. The feeling was all too familiar, like he was shouldering her wild emotions against his will. Kiona had seen them, and he had a feeling that he was going to regret that fact for the rest of his life.
As the disorientation faded, Wolfgang worked on steadying himself, unable to resist the urge to follow the chaotic girl that had just rushed out into the night, “Sorry…sorry Artemis,” he apologized to the dog as he leaned against the doorframe, “Sasha…” he faltered over her name, feeling downright cruel as he prepared to abandon a girl who had likely overcome trauma to even allow him into her bed. “I’m sorry that I can’t be the man you deserve.”
Wolfgang didn’t remember exiting the bedroom, nor grabbing the nearly empty bottle of whiskey on his way out the front door. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the house barefoot, allowing the shifting breeze to chill him to the bone. He finished the bottle and tossed it aside, eyes narrowing in on the tree line. With Kiona out of sight and in potential danger, the wolf was alert- probably the only reason Wolfgang hadn’t fallen into a complete drunken slumber by now. He followed the sound of her voice toward the woods, allowing his own emotions to kick into high gear as he prepared to confront the mysterious girl that was single handedly making him question his entire existence, “Kiona!”
“I don’t owe you anything.” Ike rejected Alix’s coaxing abruptly, remaining rigid in his stance. His comrade was mistaken if he thought it was going to be that easy to get his guard down. “And I don’t care what you want.” He spat the word out like it was offensive and shifted his grip on the crossbow as Alix started stacking firewood. This wasn’t at all about what they wanted. They were simply fulfilling their duties; Alix needed to kill the girl, and Ike needed to protect her. With such conflicting goals, Ike felt justified in his belief that talking would be an utter waste of time.
Ike spared a glance over his shoulder, toward the cabin, risking only a millisecond of distraction before his eyes were back on Alix. For a fleeting moment, he imagined what it would be like to have Wolfgang as backup. The idea should have disgusted him, but his old ideals seemed to have morphed beyond recognition by now. While the scholar was useless to him in combat, possessing the threat of a werewolf that could seemingly turn at will was…tempting. That kind of power could end conversations like this before they even started. Alix was playing it cool, but Ike knew better. If their positions were swapped, he’d feel inclined to heed the warning.
Before he had the chance to continue threatening Alix into submission, Kiona’s scream reached his ears. His name was on her tongue, and she was angry- so nothing out of the ordinary. He could hear her footsteps rapidly approaching from behind, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the man in front of him. “Stay back,” he warned her, but it was too late. Through her barrage of fists and despairing words, Ike neither looked at her nor shifted his aim away from his target. She could have stabbed him in the back and he wouldn’t have let Alix out of his direct line of sight. Not when he was in such close proximity to his objective.
Once reality dawned upon the princess and her tone shifted, Ike held his breath. Part of him feared that she would think he was in on this- that he and Alix were in cahoots. Would she flee? Accuse him of treachery? Run back to the den of the wolf? In all honesty, the last thing he expected was to feel her delicate hands clutching at the back of his shirt. The familiar feeling sent chills up his spine and buried memories cascading down upon him. He recalled the touch of his wife as she held onto him for warmth. The tug of his daughter’s tiny toddler fists as he helped her overcome her fear of the tribe’s hunting dogs. He knew what that touch meant: she trusted him.
Gravity seemed to shift and, for a moment, Ike felt weightless. His indecision melted away in a split second, replace by the overarching need to protect his new pack. The crossbow was aimed between Alix’s eyes as he prepared to end the conflict right then and there. His finger settled over the trigger and he pulled, shifting his aim downward at the very last second. The bolt launched from the bow and planted itself through Alix’s knee- a debilitating wound to subdue him. Alix was lucky that he was feeling too sentimental to murder his brethren.
As Wolfgang’s voice carried to them in the breeze, Ike finally addressed Kiona. “Go to him,” he urged her, against his better judgement, “Trys and I will take care of this.” He paused, tearing his gaze away from Alix to meet her eyes, “He’s from my tribe.” And it would take a leap of faith from Kiona to trust him with their new prisoner. “We will discuss what to do with him back at the cabin. All of us,” he promised, “Just…deal with him.” The last thing he needed was Wolfgang’s presence stirring the pot before they even had a chance to contain Alix. More importantly, there was no need for Kiona to witness all of this. Without another word, he turned away from the princess and approached his old friend.
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Post by Elvander on Oct 28, 2021 20:31:44 GMT
All she wanted him to do was stay. To tell her that he felt the same way she did, and that they would live happily ever after here in this hut in the woods. That the clothing between them need not remain a barrier, that everyone else inside and outside of the cabin was inconsequential to him. It was the only thing her hopelessly romantic heart desired- and she should have known she’d never have it. Years of creating a hardened, steely exterior to protect her vulnerable emotions should have prepared her to withstand the heat of Wolgang’s body against hers. It should have been impossible for him to cut through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. And yet, here they were, their lips hungrily finding each other again in the dark.
It was almost enough to unravel her completely. She was seconds away from throwing caution to the wind, and letting him devour her. With his reassurance that this was indeed real, Sasha hoped for one final second that her fantasy would become reality. But the slamming of the front door startled her, and she tried to wrap her fingers in Wolfgang’s shirt to keep him close. It didn’t matter. Abruptly he pulled away from her and his words slammed into her like a hammer, knocking the wind from her chest. But that doesn’t mean it’s right.
The only person who could have slammed that front door closed was Kiona. Sasha’s senses had failed her in her moment of passion with Wolfgang, but if she’d been paying attention, she would have heard the girl’s footfalls down the hallway. Sasha pushed herself upright, facing the direction of the door to her room. She heard Wolfgang’s weight hit the wall and she felt the tears beginning to well up. Quickly, she turned her face away from him as the words slipped out. Sorry. He pitied her. The realization was enough to crush her completely. Disgust made her stomach churn- Sasha loathed pity more than anything else, and the fact that he felt sorry for her, for taking advantage of the poor little blind girl… it enraged her. Deep down, Sasha knew the rage was merely a defense against the suffocating loneliness and rejection she was feeling.
“You’re never going to deserve anyone. Not while you see yourself as a monster.” She snapped at him, her voice quavering with barely held back emotion. He wanted to leave, to follow the girl. Of course he’d be drawn to one of his own. Sasha should have known from the start that Wolfgang would never feel for her what she felt for him. His reputation was well known- a rotating door of women. And she was the least of them- a blind peasant woman with no money, title, or prospects. Kiona was a princess, and one of his kind. Sasha’s hands curled into fists and she felt the bite of her nails in her palm. It stung, but it felt better than the pain she felt inside. She didn’t even know if she heard him before he fled her room, and she laid down once again, curling up with Artemis. She knew she was alone in the house, and so, she let herself cry. Whatever was going on out there, it would happen without her.
----
Alix had truly thought that this would end well for him. Not for Ike, but for him. He should have known better than to underestimate his tribesman. As Kiona’s voice split the air, he straightened up, reaching for his sword without a moment’s hesitation. His congenial manner changed immediately and seemed to harden- if the girl was going to walk to her death, he would gladly welcome her to it. He drank in the sight of her and had to admit he was… disappointed? She looked nothing like the formidable foes he had expected to encounter in a werewolf, or a princess for that matter. She looked frail, terrified, and tired.
“I’m-” He was cut off as Ike shot him through the knee and his cocky attitude wilted away as he shrieked in pain, crumpling to the snow. Blood spilled out around him from the wound, flecking the pure white snow with crimson and filling the air with the scent of rust. “You fucker!” He snarled at Ike and stumbled to his feet, reaching for the ax strapped to his back. He wasn’t about to let himself be taken captive. “I didn’t believe them when they told me you defected. Now, I see.”
Alix’s dark eyes were spiteful, but beyond that, there was pain. Physical, yes, but also emotional. Ike had been a role model to him, and seeing the man forsake it all for a scrawny girl with fearful eyes was a betrayal he would never forgive. “What do you think you’re going to do? Keep me prisoner until you’re forced to kill me? Just do it now, if you can,” he spat.
---
Trys straightened up the second Kiona came barging in and showed herself in the firelight. Alix was outnumbered, and not a threat with his injury. What the hell had driven Kiona out here at this hour? She was supposed to be sleeping. Trys adjusted her grip on her spear and stepped out of her hiding space behind Alix, feeling relief as she was able to stretch out of her crouched position.
It didn’t take much for her to knock the hunter off balance. He was already injured, and he didn’t know she was there. Trys swept his feet out from under him, and she kicked his axe out of reach. The heel of her boot stamped down on his dominant hand and she looked up at Ike with an unreadable expression, her hair aflame in the firelight. “What do you want to do?” she murmured, ignoring Alix as he tried to squirm free. The tip of her spear was held to his throat, and he stilled. But she could tell he was planning his next move, and so she removed her foot from his hand before he could trip her up. Her question was simple, but it rang loud with a simple truth- she was putting her faith in Ike’s leadership.
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Post by starrea on Oct 31, 2021 21:55:29 GMT
Go to him. Was Ike fucking serious? It was baffling how quickly Ike had shed his beliefs but it was downright incomprehensible that he seemed to trust this werewolf. Now that she thought about it, it had taken Wolfgang a whopping five minutes to earn more of Ike's trust than he had in her. But it wasn't Ike's questionable decision to trust the werewolf that really bothered her, it was his quick dismissal of her. He hadn't so much as flinched as she unleashed her torrent of fury on him, completely still as she raged. In the end, her tsunami of anger hadn't even been worth the effort to turn his head. She could feel herself shrinking until she had shriveled up from embarrassment, feeling every bit of immature and incompetent as Ike probably saw her as.
"Take care of him? Is there where you tell me that the big bad hunter sent to kill me has gone to live on a farm?" Kiona mocked resentfully, latching onto Ike's laughable attempt to protect her from a little bit of blood and violence. She let go of him and stepped back, suddenly very aware of the strict parameters of her strained relationship with Ike and how they excluded any sort of support or comfort. The lines had been momentarily blurred after Ike's proclamation and for a second, she didn't hate the idea of traveling with Ike indefinitely. Despite their tense relationship, he had unofficially adopted the role of her guardian and without him, Kiona would be forced to survive all of her own - and she wasn't completely confident that she could do that. Now that Ike had spelled it out for her, it was obvious that he was trying to protect her and if there hadn't been something uncomfortably genuine about that sentiment, then Kiona would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. What had started out as nothing more than a hunter and its prey had morphed into something much more complicated that Kiona no longer understood. Whatever drove him to protect her probably had nothing to do with her at all.
Right up until the moment that the arrow lodged itself deep in Alix's knee, Kiona was confident that Ike wouldn't pull the trigger. She shifted her gaze away from Alix, unconcerned with the profanity spilling from the hunter's mouth, and looked at Ike with bewilderment. Everything that had happened, this entire charade, was because Ike couldn't pull the trigger - but now, he hadn't so much as hesitated to bury an arrow deep into what probably used to be a friend. The act of injuring a fellow tribesman for the sake of a werewolf was so radically offensive that even though it was her life he was protecting, she couldn't help but feel shocked and humiliated that she had been the source of conflict. It was unnerving to see Ike accept her so quickly, far faster than she was capable of. Ike shrugged off old values and put new ones on like clothes, but those cultural traditions and way of thinking were the very bricks that built Kiona up. She couldn't change them without destroying herself in the process.
Ike walked away before Kiona could even think of something to snap back at him. Instead, she was left standing there, watching Ike walk away from with an uncomfortable emptiness in her stomach. He had clearly dismissed her but she lingered, reluctant to leave Ike because as uncomfortable as things were between them, it was infinitely better than whatever was about to happen with Wolfgang. But all it took was one look and all of the rage that had been temporarily quelled came crashing back, and she no longer dread whatever was going to happen next. She was bursting at the seams, completely unraveling, but no longer scared of crashing and burning. She had survived this far, lived through her attempted assassination, braved the wilderness, endured Ike, and whatever happened, she knew that she would survive Wolfgang, too. So she spun around and set a course for Wolfgang, approaching him with all the fury and force of a hurricane.
"You want to hear something funny?" Kiona asked with the kind of tone that implied that what happened next might not actually be that funny, but instead of words, she strode straight up to Wolfgang and slammed her knee into his crotch as hard as she could. She could feel their connection but it wasn't enough to save him. Adrenaline drowned out the sparks between him and her anger burned away any that remained. As Wolfgang inevitably lurched forward, she wrapped her fingers in his hair and forced his head down as she brought her knee up again, this time straight into his face. She waited, but whatever remedy she had been searching for in the assault never came to be. Instead, the emptiness inside of her grew until she just felt like the husk of who she used to be. She stumbled back a step, slipping on loose gravel and falling back hard. Pain shot up her spine but all she could focus on was the hole inside of her and all the pain that was leaking out.
"About a month ago, I watched my entire family get slaughtered," The admission was sudden, but it didn't take long for her anger to catch fire and within a matter of words, indifference burned away into unbridled anger. "It was only a week or so before that I had moved rooms. I used to be on the first floor, but I moved up to the fifth floor with my little sister. Crazy timing, don't you think? If I had been sleeping on the first floor, I probably would have been the first one to die." Kiona paused, pretending to consider the hypothetical before she continued, becoming progressively more unhinged as she went, "I woke up to screams and we heard them coming, so we hid. I don't know where my sister hid, but I jumped out of our window. I am a little bit of a free climber, so I hung out on a ledge beneath our window. I listened to my sister's screams as they dragged her out of our room. Anyways, I didn't know what to do, so I scaled down to my other sister's rooms, but they were empty. So I tried to think of where they would take everyone, and I guessed that they were rounding everyone up in the throne room - seemed logical, right? Big room, very symbolic if you're trying to make a statement. So I scaled my way over there, and you want to know what I saw when I looked in? My entire family, both my parents and my four sisters, all dead. There was so much blood, the whole room was red. The room was empty, so I opened a window and dropped in but it was too late. All of their throats had been cut, and two of my sister's heads have been crushed. My father had all of his fingers cut off and my mother's tongue was laying next to her head. One of my sister's arms was bent the wrong way and I could see bone sticking out. And my littlest sister, the one who I shared a room with? They cut her neck so deep that her head was nearly decapitated. And then I heard them coming back, trying to find me, so I went back out the window because what else could I do? They were already dead."
Her tone was too casual, too detached for such a heavy story but she wasn't shying away from it. Everywhere she turned, she was faced with her past and she wasn't going to spare Wolfgang any of the details. "So then, I run, because what other option did I have? They were everywhere, hundreds of them, all looking for me. So I run straight into cold, unforgiving Grovakhan wilderness. I think it was at least two or three days before I could even wash the blood of my family off of myself because all of the rivers were frozen over. I had no supplies, no food, no water, and no fucking clue what to do. So I keep running, but then after like, four or five days, maybe a week, I start to slow down. I'm starving and cold and reaching my physical limits. If I hadn't stumbled upon Trys's cabin, I probably would have died but what do I know?" A humorless laugh escaped from her, as if she were laughing at some inside joke, but she didn't stop to explain it.
"And then, right after I eat a little and warm up - Ike shows up, my own personal executioner! And even better, he tells me that not only am I the reason that my entire family got slaughtered, but I'm also a werewolf! I admit that I was little bit resistant to the truth at first, being that it sounded completely insane that I could not only be a werewolf without knowing it, but that my parents had knowingly lied to me my entire life whilst raising me to hate the very thing that I was. So now not only am I mourning the loss of my family and struggling with the reality that they died because of me and trying to adapt to the idea that I'm the very thing that I hate, but I also have all these questions that I'll get any answers to because my parents are dead. I'll never know how the fuck I even happened, or why they hid it from me, or if any of it was even real. Do they sound like they ever even loved me? Because the more I think about it, the less sure I am."
"And that brings us to now," Kiona gestured between them, settling somewhere between spite and resentment but spoke with enough anger that it wouldn't be hard to light her back up, "Apparently, they managed to send the one single hunter in the whole damn empire that would have a fucking change of heart and won't just put me out of my misery and won't let me put myself down like I deserve, but has instead dragged me on this miserable and pointless journey in search of answers that aren't there because the reality is that I either die, or I am set free to walk the world as a savage, mindless monster that indiscriminately kills every so often. And all of this has lead to the unfortunate reality of meeting you."
Kiona took a long pause, taking the time to study each and every line and curve of his face. "And the funny part is that despite all of that, do you want to know what I'm most angry about? You. Isn't that ridiculous? I don't even know you, so it doesn't make sense for me to care about anything about you. In fact, I should hate you - and maybe I do, but not because you're a werewolf. Because for some insane reason, the image of you kissing another girl makes me want to kill you. That's not a metaphor, either. It makes me want to pick up a rock and smash it into your face until you can barely breathe, let alone kiss someone else. Isn't that just the funniest thing you've ever heard?" A laugh escaped, but it was bitter and resentful and hateful. Once she started laughing, she couldn't stop and she devolved into a spiteful fit of laughter.
When her laughs quieted, she waved her hand dismissively, effectively cutting off whatever response Wolfgang was preparing, "Whatever you're about to say, save it. You don't owe me anything, least of all an apology and to be honest, I'm not interested. I'm not interested in swapping werewolf stories and I'm not interested in learning whatever it is you think you can teach me. I'm not interested in exploring or understanding whatever this connection is between us or trying to embrace the monster inside of me or whatever other bullshit that is going to come out of your mouth next because I'm not interested in some sad, pathetic, selfish, washed up, old drunk like you and I'm certainly not interested in whatever rotten monster is inside of you."
Kiona stood, brushing the dirt off of herself, reaching down to swipe the almost empty bottle of booze away from Wolfgang. She lifted it to her lips and drank the last several sips in one go, reveling in the way it burned down her throat. She took a sigh, looking back at Wolfgang before she slammed the bottle into the ground and shattered it into a million little pieces.
"Unfortunately for me, I can't get away from myself but I can get the fuck away from you. So let me make this very clear, when I leave, I don't want to ever see you again. This... link between us, it won't stop me from trying to kill you, so don't fucking follow me." With that, Kiona brushed past Wolfgang as fast as she could so he couldn't see the tears that were already dripping down her cheeks.
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Post by Val on Jan 4, 2022 0:45:01 GMT
Before Wolfgang had the chance to stumble upon the scene just beyond the tree line, Kiona appeared, bringing with her a wave of relief. For once, she was walking towards him rather than running away. For a moment, he thought she might have finally come to her senses and decided to return to the safety of the cabin of her own volition. He continued to approach her, finding further respite in the feeling of them walking directly toward each other with purpose, all other distractions fading into the background. His fixation, however, was a misguided distraction that left him unprepared for what was to come next.
The assault was swift and merciless. Her rage swallowed him all at once, stopping him in his tracks like an animal that realized a moment too late that it had been caught in a trap. Before he could retreat, her knee found it’s mark and any lingering feelings of arousal from his time with Sasha were abruptly doused on impact. He crumpled forward just in time for her to land the second and final blow to his face, putting his alcohol fueled confidence to an end. Wolfgang landed on his hands and knees on the cold earth, something between a groan and an inhuman growl escaping him. He glared up at her through the tendrils of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes, reasonably angry over the number of beatings he’d endured in one day. But the moment Kiona began slipping backwards, he lurched forward in an attempt to catch her, only to watch in dismay as she joined him in a heap on the ground.
Even if Wolfgang had been able to form a response to what had just transpired, he missed his chance. The moment Kiona began speaking, he closed his mouth to listen. Even Wolfgang, a man who truly didn’t know when to shut up, found himself enraptured by the tales of trauma that flowed from the girl and surrounded them like a heavy fog. Her level of detail was…disturbingly captivating, and Wolfgang found himself right there in the castle- watching the slaughter of the Grovakhan royal family, traversing the wilderness, fending off an assassin, and being tracked down by a werewolf- yours truly. The empathy he felt for the girl was beyond anything he’d experienced before, and her sorrows painted a vivid picture before his eyes. It was when he imagined the foreign king feeding lies to his children that the image morphed into a more familiar face. A face that Wolfgang hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on in some time.
“Father,” Wolfgang knocked before entering the study of Lord Dolph Van Dam and awaited the man’s permission before entering. Young Wolfgang sauntered inside with the nonchalance that only a teenager was capable of, pretending to look for something on the bookshelf as his father continued to busy himself at his desk without so much as glancing up at his eldest child.
“Sebastian can’t sleep,” Wolfgang announced- an excuse for his presence so late at night- and fiddled anxiously with the small vile that was burning a hole in his pocket. He had discovered it while rummaging through his father’s stash of illicit substances. His intentions had been to show his friends a good time, but the unexpected discovery he had made weighed heavy on his mind.
“Hmm?” the professor responded absently after a brief delay and then sighed, taking a puff from his pipe, “Have the governess put him back to bed.”
Wolfgang frowned and approached his father’s desk, summoning the courage to reveal the true reason for his visit. He slipped the vile from his pocket and placed it in the center of the mahogany desk with a pointed thud, “What is this?” he demanded to know, though he already knew the answer. Based on the red, viscous fluid inside, it was clear that his father was collecting blood samples.
Finally, he had captured the man’s full attention. Disapproving hazel eyes peered up at him and Wolfgang knew immediately that he had struck a nerve. He watched his father snatch up the vile and toss it into a drawer, slamming it shut with a sense of finality, “Tell me you’ve not been snooping through my things, boy.”
“You’re studying your own blood, aren’t you? For a cure?” Wolfgang guessed, “Why did you tell me it was useless before? I can help, father. I’ve been reading up on heredity. This condition is passed down through our family, so I figure there must be a werewolf gene that-“
“Enough, Wolfgang.” He was abruptly silenced as his father slammed his empty glass down upon the table. His old man reached for his ever-present bottle of whiskey and filled the glass, taking a long drink, “There are some things you are better off not knowing about. Trust in my judgement. Do not let your thirst for knowledge be a detriment to the safety of our family.”
The answer was as mysterious as it was frustrating, and Wolfgang struggled to reign in the rant he had planned. The suspicion he felt towards his own father made him feel sick to his stomach, and he eyed the bottle of whiskey, seeking the escape that the elder Van Dam always indulged in.
“I deserve to know…If I’m going to end up like you.” Wolfgang bore the knowledge of what he would one day become from a very young age. His father seemed determined to prepare him for the inevitable transformation, and yet he withheld secrets from him in the same breath.
A dry laugh escaped Professor Van Dam as he poured a second glass of whiskey and slid it across the desk toward his son, “You’ve been exactly like me since the day you were born.”
Shortly after the confrontation, his father had disappeared under suspicious circumstances, never to be seen again. The only confirmation Wolfgang had of his father’s death was the fact that he turned the very next full moon, officially assuming the role of Lord Van Dam.
Kiona’s beratement of his character was like a ray of sunshine beaming down from the cold, gray sky. It had been a long time since someone had so boldly reviled him, and the brutal honesty made him feel seen in a self-deprecating sort of way. She managed to speak all his major insecurities into existence, exposing him for the monster that he knew he was. She didn’t even know how deep those flaws ran or the extent of the atrocities he had committed- she sensed it and she was disgusted by it. Just another thing they had in common.
Wolfgang flinched as the empty bottle was smashed, signaling the end to Kiona’s story so far as she left him with a grave warning- a warning that he would undoubtedly ignore time and time again. She would come to find that his tenacity was unparalleled- in all things. He rushed to his feet as she began to flee and caught up to her with several long strides. He hooked an arm around her waist and swept her clean off her feet, spinning her around to face him. It wasn’t like Wolfgang to manhandle women, but it felt only natural with Kiona, almost like they had done this all before in another lifetime.
“I know what it’s like to be lied to by the person you trust most,” Wolfgang finally broke his bout of silence, steadying her by her shoulders to prevent her escape, “That kind of suspicion can rot you from the inside out…It makes you question everything you know. But carrying a lie can be just as devastating. Worse, even. Lies are a lot like alcohol- addicting and poisonous. The longer one clings to a lie, the sicker they become. Take me, for example…”
Kiona was welcome to scorch him, but he was by far his own worst critic. The only consolation he had for his numerous failures in life, was the newfound wisdom that he always acquired in the aftermath. He knew he could help Kiona. No matter how much she resented him, he would protect her from following in his footsteps.
“I held onto a lie my entire life. It festered and grew; invisible, and yet right there beneath the surface. It made that monster inside me rotten- as you’ve so graciously pointed out. The wolf despised me. It found me pathetic, too. And every time I hid from the truth, that rot grew and spread until the wolf had had enough. It wanted me to die so that it could be spared from enduring even a moment longer trapped inside a vessel of self-fucking-pity.”
Wolfgang spoke quickly and without pause, out of breath by the time he shifted the focus back onto Kiona, “You,” he sighed, struggling to ignore the tears that were streaming down her cheeks when all he wanted to do was wipe them away, “You lie to yourself.” His voice had grown soft, clearly not evoking the same anger toward her as he felt toward himself, “That can’t be easy. It can’t feel good. And you can’t do it forever. It is so easy to become the monster that you hate. You’ve been victimized- brutally- but you could do worse in the blink of an eye. Maybe you do want to kill me…and maybe you will. But what happens when you wake up from that nightmare only to find that you’ve killed innocents? Or Ike? Trys? Sasha?” He shook his head slowly and finally allowed himself to catch a tear from her cheek, swiping it away with his thumb as they locked eyes.
“I’m sorry, but I have to follow you. So please don’t leave. Don’t let me be the reason…” He left the plea open ended. It was purposeful- allowing Kiona to fill in the blank with whatever reason resonated with her. If there was one thing they had established, it was that he was not worth any reason at all.
Ike’s finger was still clutching at the trigger of the crossbow as he stood before Alix. He watched absently as Trys further subdued the man, leaving him defeated on the ground. After having sparred with Alix many times over the years, it felt surreal to look down upon him now. He didn’t feel triumphant this time around…just solemn. Fixating his eyes on the bloody arrow, he allowed himself to view the scene from Alix’s perspective. Ike had become the villain that they were raised to despise: a traitorous sympathizer. They would tell tales of him back home- of the man who’d been fooled into protecting dangerous magical beings. How he’d turned on his own brethren to protect a monster. Disgust churned in his belly, and it was then that he realized it wasn’t Alix’s mindset that he was manifesting- it was his own.
Trys’s question broke through the reverie and Ike blinked up at her, reluctantly returning to the moment. He relaxed his grip on his weapon and slung it over his shoulder with a sigh. He should have felt relieved that Kiona was safe from the first of potentially many assassins that would come for her, but he was overwhelmed by the new weight that had landed upon his shoulders; the fate of a friend.
Ike knelt beside Alix, carefully avoiding his gaze like a guilty dog as he patted him down to uncover any remaining weapons. He took a moment to study the wounded knee, confirming he hadn’t caused any life-threatening damage. For now, the arrow would stay planted in Alix’s knee to prevent him from bleeding out while Ike decided what the hell he was going to do to appease everyone.
“I don’t want kill to you,” he muttered, “I don’t want to kill anyone,” he added pointedly, perhaps as a weak excuse for why he was so intent on protecting his new companions. He knew his reasons ran far deeper than mere protective instincts. The truth was that loss did funny things to people, and Ike had found himself drawn to the idea of starting over the moment he’d stepped over the Grovakhan border. He had failed his first family, but he would not make that mistake again.
Pushing himself to his feet, Ike finally regarded Trys. He might not have had the strength to make any decision at all if not for the way she was looking at him. With her powerful stance, fiery locks, and spear in hand, she appeared unfazed by what had transpired, and remained loyally at his side. Ike had no choice but to rise to the occasion and meet her expectations.
“We’ll have a fair trial,” Ike decided. As much as he dreaded the idea of discussing Alix’s fate amongst the newly formed group, it was the only option in which he felt Alix had a chance of making it out alive. Or maybe he was just being selfish, for he could not bring himself to strike Alix down, nor let him go. This was the only way.
Ike bent and grabbed Alix by the armpit, hoisting him to his feet without warning. He slung Alix’s arm around his shoulders to alleviate pressure from his wounded leg and forced him to walk. “They sent you as a message,” he spoke after a moment, voice low for only Alix to hear, “Think about it, Alix. They sent you alone. For what purpose?” Ike was determined to place doubt in Alix’s mind, urging him to see past his blind loyalty. If the young man didn’t suddenly develop a sense of self-preservation , then this trial would be pointless and likely end in his death. “Don’t die for a false cause. Our creed is to protect the people. Not to kill.”
The trek back to the cabin was slow and arduous. He could see Kiona and Wolfgang in the distance- far too close to each other- but safe nonetheless. When they reached the front steps, he deposited Alix on the ground and remained stoically at his side. “Trys, please wake the healer,” he requested, determined to have everyone involved. Ike had nothing more to say to Alix to prepare him for what came next. He simply stared icily into the distance, waiting for the group to gather.
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Post by starrea on Jan 13, 2022 4:42:50 GMT
Wolfgang should have scared her. This checked all of the boxes for a potentially dangerous situation; Dark outside? Check. Alone? Check. Rejecting a stranger? Check. Being forcibly grabbed by the previously rejected stranger? Check. Stranger is also a werewolf? Check. As a necessary survival mechanism, fear was always present, and after what she had just survived through, she was exhaustively aware of each and every possible threat - except for Wolfgang. Her fear evaporated beneath his touch, but it's sudden departure left a pit in her stomach. There was a disconnect somewhere between her mind and body and she only had limited control over her own reactions. There was something eerily familiar about all this, like her muscles had spent countless hours rehearsing for a play that she didn't remember being cast in. She had mastered the part; screaming at just the right moment, valiantly kicking out like a real, true victim might. On the outside, she probably looked nervous and panicky, too. Her cheeks were flushed and her breaths came out in short, frantic puffs that she couldn't seem to get control over. Wisps of her thick black hair, still partially wet, stuck to her forehead with sweat and her muscles were tense and ready to run. Instead, defying all logic and reason, Kiona felt safe.
Kiona wasn't dumb; she knew that Wolfgang's steadying hands were precautionary, ready to hold her still should she try to run but he didn't need to worry. She calmed almost instantly, too rattled by the feeling of his hands on her skin and the increasing distance between her mind and body to do anything rash. She was trapped to endure the moment and so with no other choice, Kiona listened to whatever he had to say but she wasn't ready for the way that his words breathed fire over her defenses. She melted away faster than she could numb herself and more tears sprung to her eyes, powerless to stop him from seeing her so vulnerable.
"I don't know what the truth is," The admission tumbled out of her mouth, blazing the trail for more truths to follow, "None of it was real. I'm not even real. I'm the lie. How could I not know that I was... fake? The only thing I know for certain is that I should die before I... turn again. So no one else gets hurt because of me." She paused, tears pooling in her eyes as she looked up at Wolfgang, "But I don't want to die, and I don't know what to do, or who to trust, or who I even am." Another small hesitation, "And I don't want to kill you, either."
Kiona leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she allowed herself to take comfort, knowing that she would come to regret it later. For a moment, she completely forgot why they were out here to begin with. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, using him to ground herself in the moment. She had spent so much of the last couple of weeks scared and miserable that she wanted to collapse into Wolfgang's arms, to stop fighting what felt right because she knew it was wrong. She wanted to be weak and selfish - so she allowed herself this tiny, microscopic moment. It wouldn't change anything, Kiona promised herself, pointedly ignoring the trace of doubt in her thoughts.
Fear is a good thing. Fear keeps you alive. Paranoid thoughts swirled beneath the calm exterior, too suspicious to settle. Why wasn't she afraid? She forced herself to dig through her foggy thoughts, trying to find why this felt untrustworthy. If it had been anyone other than herself, she would have been genuinely concerned for their safety but she couldn't bring herself to feel that same concern for herself. Her body was privy to secrets that her mind wasn't because despite the millions of reasons to err of the side of the caution, she felt inexplicably safe in Wolfgang's hands. A piece of her wanted to believe in that safety, to trust in the way Wolfgang felt right, but her paranoia drove her away from falling over that cliff. She traveled further back in her thoughts, and then she remembered why this entire situation had blown straight to hell to begin with.
Rage cut through whatever misguided connection she had mistakenly allowed and she ripped herself free of Wolfgang, unfathomably angry at him for something that she knew wasn't wrong, "I can't stay. I can't stay if you're with her." She swallowed her anger, only because she knew it was unjustified, and tried to reorient herself. Space came with clarity and she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, keeping her eyes locked on Wolfgang. She couldn't let him close the space between them again, not when his mere touch seemed to scramble her thoughts. She cringed as she realized that her statement has essentially been a demand to end things with Sasha, so she quickly amended herself, "It doesn't really matter because I'm not staying, anyway." This was about more than escaping Wolfgang; she couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop running because if she stopped running, then she would start remembering and thinking and if she started to remember and think, then she might as well just give herself up Alix now and be done with it.
She paused, looking over his shoulder to see the silhouette of Ike in the distance before she looked back at Wolfgang. Maybe it was a little curiosity in a moment of weakness, but the question was already out of her mouth before she had time to think better of it. "Why do you want me to stay, anyway? Aren't you scared of whatever this is? What it could mean?"
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Post by Elvander on Feb 8, 2022 16:38:50 GMT
Alix swallowed the screams that wanted to erupt from his chest when the arrow pierced his knee. A string of curses flowed from him, but he would never make the shrill sounds of a wounded animal. He forced his tongue to still and he glared up at Ike and Trys as the woman subdued him. She would have made a fine member of their tribe if things were different.
As Ike knelt down beside him, patting him down, the younger man spat at him in disgust. “That’s your problem, Ike. You don’t want to kill anyone. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. Does it feel good to give up your honor for a fucking dog?” Alix had lost his cool, he was willing to admit. The man had always been hot in the blood, but his training in the tribe had quelled most of the fire within him to a cool crust above the surface. But beneath, magma and lava broiled, and it erupted as Ike admitted the reason they were all here. I don’t want to kill anyone.
He stared back and forth angrily between Trys and Ike. What the hell sort of spell had she put on Ike? Or was it the werewolf bitch who’d tainted his brother like this? Women. It didn’t matter which one- a woman was always going to be the downfall of truly good and noble men. When a trial was suggested, Alix outright laughed. He doubted this group of strangers would vote to kill him, and when they let him go, he would make sure they regretted it.
“What happened to you, mate?” Alix growled as Ike hoisted him up and they made their way towards the dark cabin. His tone was nothing but disappointed, hiding the betrayal he felt. Even as Ike tried to make him doubt, Alix held firm. “They sent me because they knew I would do what was asked. Sometimes, protecting people means we have to kill the ones who want to harm us. Harm innocents. You saw it yourself, I’m sure. The girl didn’t even know what she was- and she slaughtered innocents because of it. Don’t pretend you’re on some better path now because you’re protecting her. You threw in your lot with the demons.” Alix shook his head, limping along as he fell silent. Alix sank down on the steps outside the cabin and watched as Trys entered, then looked up at the sky. It was still dark, still the middle of the night.
–
Trys felt an exhale of relief escape her when Ike suggested a trial. It was fair. The fate of one person was far too hefty a decision to make alone. Whatever the outcome, the decision being made together would be a bond of sorts. In the distance, she could see the outlines of Kiona and Wolfgang, and it made her a little nervous. Their voices, carried lightly through the air in the open space, sounded agitated, which put her on edge. If they let themselves get carried away, they could turn. She felt a flash of fear spike her adrenaline as she recalled the flight for their lives from Kiona’s wolf form.
It was a terror she never wanted to relive. And for a moment, she truly thought about what they were doing here. Deep down, Trys believed all life was sacred, and that no magic took that sacredness away. But when real danger rested in the hands of the emotional stability of a werewolf, what did she really think? If it came down to it, Trys knew she would put an arrow through the throat of either of them if they had her cornered. Would Ike do the same? She shot him a glance as they returned to the cabin, a trouble expression on her face. But it wasn’t the time to doubt him now. She took a breath, and nodded, heading into the cabin to wake Sasha.
–
Sasha awoke to the gentle shaking of her shoulder and she sat bolt upright. “Wolfgang?” she mumbled sleepily, but hopefully.
“Sorry, just me,” Trys responded softly and Sasha felt herself deflate all over again. She had hoped he would come back to her, but it seemed like that moment with him was forever out of reach. “We need you,” Trys backed away from the bed, allowing Sasha to rise. The woman turned her head away from the healer, trying not to note the puffiness of Sasha’s eyes, or the redness of her nose. She had been crying, but there was no need to embarrass Sasha by letting on that she knew.
Sasha pulled a cloak over her shoulders as she rose from the bed, and Artemis jumped down at her side to guide her to the porch. As she exited the cabin with Trys behind her, she could feel the heat of Alix’s wound nearby and approached.
“Who is this?” she asked Ike, sensing he was nearby. She knelt by Alix, feeling for the wound. The hunter grunted, but allowed her to pull the arrow from his knee and heal the wound. “Where’s Wolfgang?” She asked, trying to sound casual, unaware that just a few hundred feet away, Kiona was demanding Wolfgang sever their connection.
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