With Tooth and Claw {IC}

[tirgesfu]

Not his errand girl? Well, that leaves lots of other things she could be for Darius, doesn’t it. Jory thought as he watched a drop of their drink slowly drip down her chin. He quickly stuck out his tongue and licked it. Fast and short the taste of the strange fruit laced ice tea and the salt sweat of her skin made him lick his lips. Jory smiled at Rebeca enjoying how she teased. There was a wildness about her.

Jory was new to this exciting rush that pounded through him. He had always been called a wild child but now the wolf in him was something he didn’t need to hide. He had no sad regrets about his transformation. He wanted to run, to howl, and to mate with abandonment. But he wasn’t a fool either. One of the reason he so easily settled into this pack was convince; it was the first one after his conversion, but also he stayed because of Darius. Not that he knew the alpha but he could see the wolf had control in a sensible way. He knew what he was doing. The animal in Jory understood he needed a pack. At the same time anything he could do to get a slight snarl form the head hound felt right. He was the new young male. He needed to mark his ground in the same way Darius had to defend his. It was just natural. As natural as the taste of Rebeca’s chin.

For the first time since she sat on his lap he turned his head slightly to get a glimpse of Darius. Rebeca might not want to look but he did. When he meant his eyes he gave a brief easy nod as if he was approving of Rebeca as he held her. She might not be his errand girl but whatever she was Jory would enjoy her for as long as he could. Darius’ discomfort only made it sweeter.

He dismissed Darius as quickly and easily as he nodded and grinned back at Rebeca. “Since you are so accommodating and friendly I do need a bit of advice or help. I found and repaired a lean to right at the west end of the circle. But the bedding is not ideal. I would like a blanket or mattress. Would you take me into town or find a way I could purchase or trade for one?”

Before she could answer he dipped another piece of meat into the sauce and placed it to her lips. As she chewed he watched her and exaggerated licking his own lips.

[May]

The Society

Elena
She watched the whole thing unfold in front of her, smirking a bit. There was no way she could make this situation any better, no way that she could make it any less awkward than it had become. So she was just going to do what she did best in these sort of situations: slip away and watch the drama unfold from a distance. That was always the best part. Not that she thought it would be overly dramatic, really. But it was still something. And she was much more of a catalysis than a partaker any ways.

Though as she was slipping away, she caught sight of her boss and she had to stop pretending that things weren't happening that afternoon and go back to work. She shuffled her way over to him and listened as he listed of a few things he needed her to do research into. Seemed this possibly budding war was getting bigger than she thought and things were reaching outside of just that department.

She dug through old files that hadn't quite made it into the computer system for whatever reason. Old flies on things that she'd only ever head about it passing all her years. It was hard, being a supernatural as she was, to think that there were people out there who would want to kill her, still in this day and age. And yet, there was a whole group, just like the one she worked for, who'd do it without a thought. She really hoped that they weren't thinking of calling them in to help with this problem. That was like asking a spider into your house to deal with your fly problem.

As long as the look that she'd gotten from her boss didn't pan out the way she thought it would, she'd be okay. She didn't like that look. The look that said that they might need someone to go 'undercover' as it were, and get their attention so they could track them a bit better. She wanted nothing to do with this order or whatever they were call.

Perhaps though he just wanted her to look up things and not actually get into contact with them. Perhaps they were going to call someone else in to help. It was all just rumors, it could be anyone she supposed. Just things were looking anything but good at that moment.

[Raid]

THE PACK:ISAAC DUNLOP

He limps in. He thinks he twisted his ankle. Maybe it’s some bone wreaking disease. “Yes, yes. Bone eating. Bone crushing.” He scratches at his face. Stops. There is dirt and skin lodged beneath his finger nails. He nibbles on them, revealing the salty bite. He walks normally, now. His shoulder jerks. It’s sore. “Lyme’s. Lyme’s. Lyme’s,” he chants. The tents around him sway in the moonlight. Sway. Sway. He quivers with it. He smells meat. His nose inches further up his face as he pinches it. “Not food. Not food. Not food,” he cries. He’s dragging his fingers against his slimy scalp and tugging at his dreads. When did he last take a bath? A few days ago while swimming in the stream and catching his lunch. When was the last time he took a bath with soap? He grumbling lowers. “Bubbles. Suds,” he whispers.

“Fuck!” a man sneers—a Lycan. “Piss in your own pants this time?”

Isaac took the question seriously. Maybe one night he was too lazy to actually get up… it was plausible. He rubbed a bare foot on packed down earth. Rubbing the fungus infested toes along his canvas pants, the stains numerous and the original color questionable, his shoulders curved to cradle his head farther, submitting to the other Lycan’s superiority. “No challenges. No challenges tonight. Only smelling. That’s it. That’s all. Just some new perfume.”

The Lycan stopped listening as soon as pungent stench scorched the inside of his nostrils. Most did. With acute senses anything too severe sent Lyans reeling. It wasn’t as if Isaac was worth acting polite around. Manners didn’t waste their energy on him. Although not new to the Pack, they all knew to steer clear of him. Pity. Disgust. Hatred. He represented something they were all uncomfortable seeing—the virus which changed them into awesome creatures was not as awesome as they believed. For every living Lycan there was five dead because their bodies rejected the change and even after that other brothers (and the occasional sister) continued to die due to its strength.

Isaac is a wraith around camp. Many figured he’s getting ready to kill himself, but are confused about why it’s taken him so long. Others speculate maybe he’s actually sick and has one of those illnesses he’s always ranting about, but they know their immune systems can’t be compromised the same way the humans’ are. Almost all wish Darius would banish him from the pack. Why keep around a parasite like him? He disappears so often, but still manages to stagger back, disrupting meals with his grumblings of such carnivorous diets. Tonight would be no different. He started before he entered the light of the dinner circle.

“Killed. Murdered. Murdered. Hot L-Z! Hot L-Z!“ He violently lurched forward. “Huey dewy.” He made disturbing growling noises and pathetic whines. The revelry around the tables did not stop, but many scorned his antics. Isaac’s jagged, decaying teeth jutted out as he gasped for breath. His eyes glassy and intent on the ground. One of his legs dragged, phantom pain jolting him as he stumbled forward. Soon, he began a chant, “Darius. Darius. Darius. Darius.” He paused for a moment between the entwined couple. His head lifted ever so slightly. His eyes screwing closer together. “Darius. Darius,” he began again shoving his stinking body between his Pack Leader and the bitch. Isaac bent close. “Darius. New. New. New. Newnewnewnewnewnewnew,” he snarled. He spoke quietly because he never challenged anyone, but everyone heard him. Now they were silent as he continued ranting “new.”

[Lyzan]

Society
Mark Szilinski

Panic-strickened, insecure and uncomfortable; Mark backed off from the seemingly over-protective lady named Azmarie. His gaze casted down to the ground, hands trembling as he winced at every word being said. A step taken then two before finally settling on the third where he found it safer in absorbing the harsh words from the coffee-lady. An arm holding tighter on the briefcase as he pulled it closer to his chest, seeking some sort of shield or protection to brace whatever it was that might be thrown at him. Mark Szilinski wasn't new to such treatment. The nerd-looking agent had went through the similar ordeal in his previous job location. Sort of a common thing for him. There were a few times he'd opened his mouth to speak but only to shut it back with a quiver and uncertainty. He swallowed his protest.

The sudden change of Karin and the spilt coffee snapped him out of his defensive stance. His eyes widened at the metamorphication taking place right before his eyes. Once again his briefcase thudded onto the floor. His arms shot out to as if to catch the deer before she would crash but he hesitated. With bended knees and outstretched arms that never quite reach the target, Mark's head was slightly tilted to hold the gaze of Azmarie instead. Frozen awkwardly with his bottom sticking out in that comical posture. He wasn't sure if his attempt at rescue or if he ever did managed to get to Karin in time would even give the coffee-lady a second impression on the man. Thus he paused and thought it necessary to seek an approving look from her features. Slowly, Mark shifted his attention to the deer whose head seemed to be snuggling over the floor. He looked back up to Azmarie, then back down again. Body still unmoving as his head seemed to be nodding like that little dolls with springs as their necks, nodding almost endlessly by the frontdesk of a car.

Do something...! She's... she's a deer.. and.. and.. she's dr... drowning in the coffee you gave her.. I can help.. can't I? Should I? Is it alright with you..? I'm helping... okay? No? Alright ..you help.. But I'm closer.. now.. I'll just... just..

His thoughts went. But never could he grasp onto the courage to say them or to simply proceed with his intention.

"Mark Szilinski?" came a voice from behind him. "A call for you.."

"Wha..." he turned his head around and was stunned for a moment. "H.. how... do you know I'm that man?" he asked instead of retrieving the phone from the man's hand.

"I don't see any other albino nerd around.." answered the man simply.

"Ah.. Right.."

He turned about and straightened himself but paused midway to as if resumed with the help intended for Karin. Only to once again repeat the look for approval from the woman standing before her. Tiring it was to the eyes of the onlookers. Some even rolled their eyes and muttered to themselves; "GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY!"

Mark ended up pointing out the obvious to Azmarie at the condition of Karin, "Sh... she's a deer.. Right there by your... feet.. I could be a gentleman and help her up but... but I've got a call to answer..."

Said the latest addition to the Society who seemed to hold quite a position within the organization despite of the uncertain display of decision-making. He pointed again as his hand was about to reach the held out phone, pissing off the man that was holding it out to him.

"Just leave her to Azmarie and take the fucking call already, Numbnuts!"

"Uh... my apology.."

Placing the receiver to his ear, Mark then spoke. It was his boss from another site. The albino man all the while nodded with a few acknowledging hums and noddings. His frown vanished from his forehead and a new spark glinted within his eyes. He'd been filled in with the latest report and was given a task. But he needed to confirm it with the person in charge first. To see if they would approve his field assignment. The call ended and Mark started to walk away from the scene.

"Umm... Miss Deer... I mean.. Karin.. Miss.. Could you bring my stuff and papers to my desk.. Umm... Whenever you could of course.. Erm.. I got to go.. on a mission right now.. Thanks, I truly appreciate it.." stuttered the man before he sought out for the person in charge. "Miss?" Mark then called out to Elena whose name he'd not yet knew of. "I was told about a situation on the ground and my... boss mentioned that my expertise.. may be required.. So I'm here to seek permission in heading out... Umm... to work in the field.. What say you?" asked the man nervously as he pushed back on his spectacle.

[Raid]

THE SOCIETY:AZMAIRE YARAH

What was up with the briefcase? It screamed “mob-movie” to her, but when was the last time she even watched a mob-movie? She was offended. Not because her mind made a reference to a mob movie she can’t remember seeing (such occurrences were not rare), but because he was holding the glaring thing between them. Because his body began to cave in around himself like a frightened puppy. She wanted to straighten his spine and tell him about how bones remain strong if they’re used properly. That it was healthy. But what’s up with the brief— the back of her legs were soaked. When did that happen? Just a second ago, a faint, late echo inside of her head informs her.

She wasn’t bother by the fact Kay stood up to Azmarie’s hips and on four legs with a mix of a deer and a dragon face. Az could have told you all of that. It was her pants, though, her beautiful designer pants that made it actually look like she had a butt (despite being an avid runner) that bothered her. Covered in acidic coffee she wanted to just take them off now and throw them away. But her pumps! Leather. Comfortable. Metallic. You don’t throw away a pair of shoes like that. Fashion, for someone as attractive as her (ignoring the sorry excuse for a good-story-scar on the back of her head), was easy. It was something she didn’t need to relearn or worry about. It was something she could still do on her own. The independence it gave her created a type of “appreciation,” as her Psychiatrist worded it.

“…Mark…” Coffee! She glanced at the wall clock and mourned the passing of time. She was fifteen minutes late! What would happen to the rest of her day, now?

“…Don…” Why was he looking at her like that? When did she become the mother in this whole situation? Oh, yeah, when she decided to be. But his head…should it be doing that? A bubble is caught in her throat. Her mouth lifts. Is she smiling? She not quite sure. Smiling takes work for her. But she’s not quite sure why she should be smiling. As he’s just standing there the coffee is cooling and Kay, can’t forget her, is in a compromising position. Azmarie decides she doesn’t want Don to be a “gentleman” because it takes him too damn long.

How was she supposed to help Kay anyways? It wasn’t like Az controlled when or how the woman (Deer? Dragon? Creature?) transformed! Instead Azmarie sets the remaining drinks down (making sure in no way possible could they be pushed or fall over), and helps Kay disentangle herself from the clothing. She hates seeing people on their knees…It reminds her of—It reminds her of—her mind stutters. She stops moving for a noticeable ten seconds before the cogs grind together once again and she folds the last piece of discarded clothing respectfully and stands up.

“Now what?” she asks. Is she asking Kay? Is it one of those annoying questions you’re really not supposed to answer. Or is it the type of question you’re not sure you want to answer?

Then Don’s back, ordering around a deer. Who orders around a deer?
Exasperated, Azmarie sighs and takes charge. “Go do you’re thing. I’ll take care of it.” She sounded considerate. Well, maybe to the highly trained ear and, in reality, you don’t want Azmarie to “take care of it.” She could hardly take care of herself on bad days. But Don didn’t know that did he?

[May]

The Pack
Rebeca & Darius

She squirmed a bit more at his continued attention. He was very good at making her squirm. Probably because she didn't know what he was like or what he. Was up to. Being so new and all, she couldn't predict with such certainty what moves he was going to make. And she rather liked that, really. It was a very nice change from the old routine. One that she didn't know was needed, but now that she had it, she didn't know why she'd not noticed before. She watched him look at their alpha, waiting for the low, warning growl that was sure to come from the other man. They may have an agreement, but he still didn't like seeing after all these years.

"Well we can fix the blanket problem easily," she replied with an easy nod of her head. "Got a few up in the house in a trunk. They should be safe. And maybe tomorrow we can go into town, most places will be closing up by the time we get there. Besides, the rain'll come back, and then our clothes will be all wet. Can't have that, now can we?" The look she gave him at the end was very teasing, and just enough to hold her attention on Jory and not on the new comer to the group that night.


Darius though was not as lucky, especially since they had come to him. With a tired sigh he looked up as Issac came back from some time in the woods. He'd never kick him out of the Pack, he wasn't a real problem, really. But there were times that he wished that this trip out to the woods on his own for days would be the last and he'd just not return. Something had gone wrong with him. Either whatever had happened to him before his bite, or the bite itself. It was hard to tell given what he knew about the old farm boy. He'd never seen a wolf this fucked up though, but that didn't discountthe chage. It did strange things to your body..

His eyes opened and he looked at Issac leaning a bit too close to him. "What's new?" He asked, still not able to always follow his train of thought, even after all these years. He was just glad he didn't often need to worry about it. Despite not knowing exactly, his eyes flashed over to where his Rebeca was sitting, being far to close with that pup. "What are you going on about?" He asked again as he looked back, not wanting to listen to them talking about beds and wet clothes.

[Noa Noah]

The Order –Knights of Unity–
Henri Molay

Henri Molay didn’t know what it was that made him so nervous. The sofa he sat on was comfortable; the room he was in was clean; the furniture was nothing fancy --- most held a professional atmosphere with a slight hint of a homey taste--- but was satisfactory. It was obvious that the soft color scheme and the use of wooden furniture was the interior designer’s attempt to make the visitors feel welcomed, comfortable, and safe in this otherwise, white bland waiting room. The presence of a large window and plants did help calm the nerves, but Henri still felt nervous. Maybe it had nothing to do with the room: maybe it was something else. Maybe it was the elevator music that playing constantly above everyone’s heads as if the speakers had nothing better to do with its nonexistent life. No; it wasn’t the music. The music was too quiet to even notice, so insignificant that Henri was positive no one even cared to pay attention to it most of the time.

Then was Henri uneasy because he was in the waiting room of a hospital for his doctor’s appointment? No--- well, yes, but no. As a knight of the Order, fighting monsters was not only a normal event, but was also Henri’s duty. The Knights of Unity was a division in the Order specialized in combat against the supernatural. Considering what they are fighting against, it was not rare for an entire team to get slaughtered by the unnatural creatures. What was rare, on the other hand, was to encounter a knight that had never gotten hurt during their time as an active knight. Henri have even heard jokes about how Death got so fed up of coming and going so often he decided to pitch a tent at the front lawn of the Order’s HQ (It took awhile for Henri to find out that there was an inside joke which involved the fact that the Order placed many of their offices near a cemetery or some kind of morgue, but that is another story). Bottom line, being a knight usually meant ending up in the hospital a number of times before getting brutally murdered by a supernatural. The ones who were lucky end up getting transferred to a different division or if they hit a certain age, they retire from active duty and were placed in a higher ranking position in the Order. Until one of the three happens, the knight’s second home was the hospital. This was no exception for Henri.

Henri never liked the hospital, but with how often he ends up in one, Henri was forced to get used to visiting it. Yet here he was: nervous. Henri knew for a fact that he did not react in such a way in the other hospitals---… No, that was not accurate enough. Henri knew for a fact that he did not react in such a way in hospitals that SHE was not in. In fact, Henri always felt nervous just by the very thought of her. When he told others about this, they would tease him about his taste in women, but Henri knew it was not a sweet warm emotion he had towards her. He felt… neutral about her. He knew nothing of her to really base any personal feelings towards her… or at least based on what he could remember, Henri knew nothing. His missing memory could give a possible explanation to his physical rejection to the woman, however. Henri, for one thing, couldn’t think of a better reason to explain why he felt so disturbed. Or was it simply genetics taking its part? Henri was no scientist, but he didn’t want to ask her just to get the answer. She would probably charge him a ridiculous amount of fee for the simple lesson or make Henri consume some kind of experimental drug that she seemed to always have conveniently in her grasp… most likely the latter. With that said, maybe Henri leaned more towards the dislike side of the neutral emotion spectrum.

Henri sat in the waiting room patiently, fighting the urge to leave the premises while he still had the chance. He was lucky the last three times simply because he had a valid excuse to miss his appointment and Henri knew that “I feel uneasy to see my doctor” was just not going to cut it. The knight sighed deeply as he closed his eyes to rub on them gently with his callused hands. Henri understood that he needed this medical check more than anyone in his team. He was not physically injured anywhere, no; the previous cleansing mission was carried out perfectly and had no casualties. This appointment was not the normal health check that was required for the members of the Order either. Then why did Henry Molay need to be in the hospital? Henri wished he had the answer to the question, however, as fate would have it, he didn’t remember why he needed to be here. When he realized it, he was required to see his doctor every month after he had taken his other health examination. It was such a natural occurrence that it took awhile for Henri to gather the courage to ask why he needed such medical checks.

She looked up at Henri with a blank expression before looking away just for a second to take off her glasses. She mumbled something incoherent before finally speaking up, “Then I ask you this, Sir Henri Molay. What exactly is it that you remember?”

Henri opened his mouth… then realized something that most people should have noticed the moment they regained any consciousness: he didn’t remember anything.

To be more exact, he remembered only certain fragments of his episodic memory, while everything else was intact. If (episodic) memory lane was an actual street, then Henri’s street was the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. He could recollect certain events with such clarity while there were other memories he just could not see past the thick fog. Though Henri seemed to be getting better at retaining his memory recently, there were still times when he suddenly realized that he had forgotten something. At least he was getting better at noticing that he forgotten something, before, he didn’t even notice a chunk of his memory was missing.

“Mr. Molay.” A clear voice called out with a calm and almost mechanic tone.

Henri looked up to see his doctor’s assistant standing in front of the doctor’s office door. Henri didn’t respond at first as he decided to test a theory he’d been formulating these past few months. The assistant stood silently at the door like a statue, waiting for a Mr. Molay to respond. Henri looked around the waiting room to see that he was the only one in it, then looked back at the assistant. Once again, the assistant called out for a Mr. Molay. Although Henri had bad memory, he had always seemed to manage to remember people’s names, even if he doesn’t remember ever meeting them. He knew the assistant’s name was Alexis “Alex” Gill and Henri actually remembered meeting her every time he came for his appointment…yet she never seemed to recognize him each time.

When Alex repeated his name for the fifth time, Henri finally stood up from the sofa and walked towards the assistant. She stood there, never turning to look at him even when he was only a foot away from her face; her glazed eyes looked straight through him as if he was a ghost. “Mr. Molay.” she said again. “Yes, I am here.” Henri whispered, almost afraid that he would scare her by making his presence be known. “Dr. White is waiting for you,” Alex said in the exact same even tone she’d been using to call his name, “Please come to room C4.” The two stood in their spot for a good five seconds before Alex began to move to open the door for Henri. In the process of doing so, however, she managed to bump into Henri. With the never changing tone, she apologized, without ever acknowledging Henri and opened the door. Henri wondered if he was truly a ghost as he walked into Dr. White’s office.

“She” was sitting at her desk skimming through some documents when Henri walked in. Her black wavy hair and her brown skin were accentuated by the dead white room that had nothing but the bare minimum of what was needed in a doctor’s office. There was nothing personal in the room; it was too clean; too geometric; so colorless that it was hard to imagine that any living individual with emotion and a personality actually owned the room. But there she was, Dr. Ebony White: Henri’s doctor who, ironically, made him feel sick just by thinking about her. The only comfort Henri could find was based on three things: One, Dr. White was a doctor recognized and accepted by the Order. Two, her skills as a doctor was top notch. Three, her hair. Dr. White’s wavy and bushy hair was the only thing that looked lively and organic: it grew as much as it wanted and stretched in any direction it pleased. If Dr. White’s hair was Henri’s doctor, then he was confident that he wouldn’t have been half as nervous as he was now.

“It took you awhile, Sir Henri Molay.” Dr. White said without looking away from her paper work, “Sit down.”

Henri was guided to the white stool placed in front of Dr. White by a different assistant who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Henri had seen this assistant as many times as the other, this one went by the name of Alexander “Alex” Gill; why have the same nickname for the siblings (though he was not even sure if the two assistants were related by blood), Henri could not imagine. When Henri sat down as commanded, he took the opportunity to scrutinize the room. Not like there was anything to look at. This room is dead as a mortuary. Henri jumped slightly in his chair when he heard his doctor chuckle darkly. He froze still, like a frog being glared by a snake, when he turned his head around to see Dr. White’s pupil-less shark eyes staring at Henri. Technically speaking, the doctor’s eyes were not pupil-less, but rather her pupils were so large that she lacked an iris to give her an eye color. Not that Henri cared for the technicalities: it still scared him.

Dr. White inspected around the room as Henri did, “I see no point in decorating a temporary office. You know that I do not stay long in one place.” When her eyes landed onto Henri once again, her mouth made the gesture of a smile, but anyone who saw this muscle movement knew that she was truly not smiling, “Besides, morgues need to be sanitized. Not only are most of its residents dead, but even microscopic life forms are killed for the sake of keeping a place clean. I believe this makes my dead-like-a-mortuary office, a fabulous place to have a health check. Do you not think? No? Well, that is unfortunate, but I will still do what I am paid for. Now strip.”

Henri stared at his doctor like an idiot, before his brain completed deciphering what had just been said to him. “Excuse me?” It took an additional few seconds to understand what Dr. White meant when he saw her place the piece of the stethoscope into her ears. “Oh, oh, sorry.” Henri quickly unbuttoned his shirt.

“You have a dirty mind, Sir Henri Molay,” Dr. White said as she started to examine her patient.
“It wouldn’t have been as dirty if you didn’t jump subject matters like a Mexican jumps fences.”
“Sir Henri Molay.”
“Yes mam?”
“You are racist. Shut up. Speak only when I ask you a question.”
“Yes mam.”

As Dr. White went through the basic procedures, she asked the typical health questions, which Henri answered with a straight forward answer or mixed it with a few jokes that were shot down by Dr. White every time. When they were finally done, Dr. White ordered one of the Alex’s to set up a special equipment and the other to turn off the air ventilation. She pulled out a long smoking pipe, which reminded Henri of a calumet more than the commonly portrayed smoking pipe, and lit it.

“We’re in the hospital, Dr. White.” Henri warned.

“We are in my office, Sir Henri Molay.” Dr. White responded after she blew out a thick cloud of smoke in Henri’s direction.

Henri coughed out of reflex and attempted to fan the smoke away. At first Henri felt nothing, but as the smoke passed his nostrils and into his lungs, he began to feel light headed. The smoke harassed him, suffocated him with a sweet and spicy aroma. When he tried to tell Dr. White what the smoke was doing to him, Henri simply fell limp onto the cold ground. He couldn’t move and he swore his lungs weren’t getting enough oxygen, but for a moment, his other senses became sensitive: he felt everything, he tasted everything, he saw everything, he heard everything ---especially the insignificant elevator music from the waiting room--- and then everything suddenly died slowly. His world became as foggy as his memory, before “Henri Molay” lost consciousness. During this whole time, Dr. Ebony White enjoyed her pipe as her patient knocked out cold on the ground. She waited an extra few minutes before she got out of her chair to check on the knight. Ebony smiled her hollow smile. “Now then,” she said as her hair took the pip from her mouth, “Let us do our business, Sir Henri Molay.”


The Order –Knights of Unity–
Ralf & Silverclaw

The two werewolves tracked the lycan child for several days in the woods, from a safe distance. The tracking itself was uneventful for the most part. The child never encountered any true danger and it was obvious its pack had taught it well on how to hide effectively from danger if it felt the need to do so. The first few days the child simply ran as fast as it could to get away from his home. When it thought it was far away from danger, the child began to slow down.

Ralf and Silverclaw never let their sight off the child. They watched it clumsily maneuver its way through the forest; watched it attempt to hunt for itself; and watched it cry alone at night. They learned, based on the urine and other body wastes produced from the child, that the little lycan was a boy no older than six. By observation they could tell that the boy was a rascal by nature, the type of child who would drop a cockroach in your drink, but kind enough to put a use a plastic cockroach … if he liked you enough. He was impulsive, adventurous, and curious like most kids around his age. Ralf did not get the impression that the child was sky, cautious maybe, now that his family was murdered, but not shy.

Silverclaw warned Ralf not to get attached to the child. Ralf knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it, he loved kids. At the same time, Ralf and Silverclaw both knew very well that was not going to stop either of them from killing a child. They would make sure that the child would have a quick and painless death, if they were ordered to kill one.

When a number of days passed where the boy had failed at hunting and gathering any type of eatable food, the two lycans were ready to get in contact with the child to either: kill the child to save it from suffering by starvation or stuff the child with so much food that the only thing it needed to worry about was losing some weight. To much of their disappointment, neither was an option until they were ordered otherwise. Luckily instinct had told the child that his odds in surviving alone in the wilderness were close to zero. He needed to either find a pack that would take him in or head down to where the humans lived so that he would at least have a trashcan to eat out from. After one last attempt to find a pack in the forest, the boy walked its way to the closest human settlement it could find.


-----


On his way out to the woods, the boy stopped for a moment and sniffed his surroundings. For an instant, the lycans could see how the boy’s face lit up with joy as he sprinted to a certain direction, and then stop dead in his tracks. The child sniffed the area for awhile then backed away as he seemed offended by the odor. The boy’s face was colored pale with disappointment and a bit of fear ---most likely something triggered him to remember the traumatic event that occurred not too long ago--- as he turned around and returned to his original path to town. When the boy was well away from the site, the two lycans stood where the boy stood and sniffed the area.

“WOOOOOHOOO!” Ralf suddenly yelled as he fanned his nose to water down the intensity of the stench, “What has to die in what to make this smell so bad? Ugh my God. Woo! Ahahaha!”

Silverclaw, now in her human form with grey eyes and platinum silver hair, made a face as she pinched her nostrils closed with her fingers which glittered silver from her painted nails. “I don’t see how this is amusing to you, Ralf. Do you think it’s dead?”

Ralf continued to talk between chuckles, “Well… ahaha. I don’t see the remains of a body. And, to much of my amazement, I don’t think anything actually died. It’s a very much alive lycan. Ahahaha! Think of how it would smell when it does die. I bet it’ll kill everything in a thousand mile radius. Really, even the flies will drop dead.”

“Ugh… we’ll be doing the world a favor by burning the body.”
“With this stench, I’m pretty sure it’ll explode if you do that.”

Silverclaw groaned, took her hair and inhaled deeply, appreciating whatever was left of her shampoo and conditioner sent. She looked up and saw Ralf holding a lock of her hair, enjoying her smell. Their eyes locked onto each other for a moment, but once the moment passed, they took one large step away from each other.

Silverclaw was the first to speak, “Do you smell anything else? Are there others with this walking trashcan?”

“Even if there were, the walking trashcan’s smell just erased every other sent. I think my nose is paralyzed or something, cause now I can’t smell anything but the walking trashcan.”

“At least the child did lead us to something. I’ll report to the commander.”
“And I’ll stalk a six year old kid like a child molester.”

Silverclaw simply nodded, “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

Ralf smiled at his partner before running off to the direction the child went. Silverclaw touched her hair absentmindedly, then ran off to another direction to inform her masters the possibility of a pack nearby.

[Fallenreaper]

Society, Karin

Not good. Karin fought the burning sensation of coffee over her front, leaking in her chest as she bit back a cry of pain. Her head turned to catch sight of the stranger, his briefcase dropped made her nearly jump, halted in mid bend to aid her but why? Earlier he was flinching while Azmarie was pushing between and now he was frozen in mid movement. His held with an outstretched hand and bottom pushed out in his leaning not very far from her form, trapped and unable to move. She wanted to shrink from here in that moment to vanish as was he seeking permission from her friend like a child from a mother. Like she with hers. It was hard keeping her head up from being shoved into the coffee as she shifted to let the throat touch with a hiss of ouch from the feeling, the jacket tangled up on the upper part of her legs that made it impossible to get up without tilting to the side. The hind legs shifted finding a suitable situation to keep her from being totally on the floor.

His name was called followed by a rough conversation; Mark was clearly undecided over the whole event between helping her and taking the call passing looks to Azmarie for approval. It quickly became a scene that pinned her ears against her head. Karin sank her head farther down while blowing the coffee liquid across the floor to save her from it heading up her nostrils, slowly absorbing into the carpet, with a soft moan of embarrassment while protests and angry shouts cried out. Long silver hair trailed down her neck touched the floor while a bit got into her eyes. Forcing her to blink them from the pain. Warmth spread though her cheeks at his pointing out of her current situation that her legs impulsively moved only to cause her to roll over on her side, exposing the soft under belly and making her hind legs curl up against it.

Could this day get any worse? Though Karin, wanted to kick out and dash into the nearest bathroom even as the tears started to build behind her dark eyes. Legs wiggled and struggled until with a huff of defeat, the timid deer gave in. She wasn’t winning but farther making a specter of herself to everyone, thankful Mark had departed to take the call at last. Each insult made her fur crawl with a flinch at the volume and dislike the upset it caused her, even if she was scared of him there was little reason to call him rude names. It added to the growing discomfort that she shifted her head far too quickly, her already dangerously set glasses off balance and not meant to perch on a dragon face. Glasses slipped off her nose and splattered in the liquid. The lenses now coated in grimy droplets, smeared with watery brown.

There was a bit of relief when he left to take the call. Karin had to take a double look as the smile on Azmarie was a surprise; a crack of a grin was new sight indeed. Was it something he did that made her friend smile? It warmed Azmarie’s features and added a delicate beauty that brought what Karin though was a feminine glow. Hearing the sound of the cardboard contain holding the drinks set in the middle of the table while kneeing down to pull at the fabric, her focus had shifted to her aid. Karin stood surprisingly still with upturned deer like eyes settled on her “savior”. The jacket manages to come loose easily enough as a tick, a brief moment which didn’t go unnoted, that stalls Azmarie for moment in time making Karin’s nose reach out to stroke the woman’s cheek. A comforting nuzzling attempt. An emotion and sense of sorrow fills the sectary to the marrow of her light bones but her snout stops short, Azmarie’s body puts itself back into motion by itself making Karin pull back. Not wanting to offend. Her spindly legs fold underneath herself to wobbly push up into a stand with eyes still on Azmarie. Pausing only to grip the eyeglass’s ear piece in her lips. Wonder laced her doe eyes that she couldn’t pry herself front the woman before her even as she asks a question, uncertain if it was her or just a speaking out loud sort of thing.

Karin moved, her snout to set the glasses on the table top and mouth then reach out for a rag for such events and set out ahead of time to save her the trouble to try to open a desk with hooves. Her lips had gripped the rag, trailing it from her gentle mouth when a sound grabbed her attention. Mark’s words made Karin’s skittish nature leap from her fur taken by surprise, taking a few steps only to halt in mid path to look at him. Her head cocked to the side with what could pass for a questioning look. Her vision in deer form was blurry but nowhere close to what her human shape was much to her grateful thoughts, she could function to a near sighted degree but looking into the distance was problematic.

She spied Mark talking with Elena from the corner of her eye, two blurry shapes one white and other red, while she lifted the rag to drift over the dark coffee stain. As if to answer Azmarie’s question without words. First the mess then the rest… her mother’s favorite phrase. Karin made a mental note to thank Mark even if she had to have Elena lock her in the office to do it, refusing her exit until she spoke the words. Besides she had to return his briefcase as well though she would have to find the keys first.

“Uh…if you aren’t busy and it was my fault that I spilt the coffee would you mind joining me for lunch? I eat rather later and because of that I don't often get a chance to have friend eat with me…it’s my treat if you would like? It's only if you want to...” Karin’s voice was calm in her deer form almost as if it came from around Azmarie but was clear of the source. For now Karin waited for an answer while the coffee was soaked up in the rag, delicately taking a hoof to dab at it.

[tirgesfu]

The Pack
Jory



Something smelled, really smelled. Jory wrinkled his nose and squinted before he buried his face into Rebeca’s side. Taking hold of her even stronger and trying to enjoy only the charming sniffs of her not the overwhelming stink that suddenly filled him. He was thinking of blankets and running with Rebeca through the rain. Ya, he could see that, he thought as he nuzzled.

But then he heard some strange growls and yips toward him. He lifted his face from that sweet spot and looked around. Was he being called out? It felt that way to the new male lycan. The stinking malformed weird snarling guy was calling Darius. But something tinged in the hidden fur of Jory. The thing was saying something about new. New. He pushed toward him.

Darius spoke to the sick looking thing but it felt to Jory as if the challenge was directed right toward him. He slowly shifted Rebeca off his lap and onto the seat of the chair as he stood. His hand ran up her side making it clear he didn’t want to let go. But he had things to take care of.

He was the NEW. That’s right, he was. Jory looked at the dirty scrum filled face. The kid was deranged, or so his eyes told Jory. Still, if he is growling at him, Jory needed to make a stand. He did. He stood tall and pushed his shoulders back before he let a small slow growl escape directed at the tooth decayed spit drooling kid that whined about new.

“New is good.” He snarled back at the repeated call. He stopped his low toned rumble and looked toward Darius. His eyes were cold even though his mouth turned up just slightly in a smirk. New was good. The alpha male should appreciate that.

[Raid]

THE PACK:ISAAC DUNLOP

Isaac fingers tore at his bare shoulders as he rocked in rhythm. It was either that or grab at Darius. Yo dun lay no han’ on the boss man! his grandfather’s voice reminded him. “Dun no touch the boss man,” he grumbles as the leader tries to get through his manic haze. Isaac doesn’t forget, though. The meat didn’t even seem to bother him as he plunders on. “A new smell,” he hisses, spit escaping between crowded teeth. “Baby-bottom fresh,” he adds. He reaches towards a pocket. “Babybabybabybabybaby,” he’s chanting. A smile screws his face. Isaac knows he’s being helpful. “Helpful helper,” he hums as he dumps one pocket of grass and berries on the table to dig through another one. He never gets there.

Challenge! his mind shrieks. He bows his head down, crumpling to a pathetic size. He covers his face with his grimy hands, smudging the dirt around. “I ain’t challengin’. I ain’t challengin’!” he shrieks as if the other lycan has attacked him. He repeats this a few times in a fast murmur before continuing, “But I gotta tell the boss man! I ain’t challengin’.” Everyone’s starring now. This strange, vehement outburst does not belong to the demeanor of their residential insane pack mate. He never insists. He never pursues. Isaac is a give up type of guy. He’s attention span lasts as long as someone cares. Even when no one cared, though, he’s off sputtering his news in a cryptic language.

“This new is bad. Bad. Bad. Badbadbadbadbad!” he insists. “New in the woods. New in the forest. New at the border. The border! Too close. Baby bottom fresh. Baby. I ain’t challengin’!” he begs, reaching towards Darius but then pulls back muttering, “Yo dun lay no han’ on the boss man.” He’s back to shuffling through his pockets. “It was mid afternoon. The time yo work in, but they was runnin’. They was chasin’.” He dares to glance up at Darius before dropping his eye down in obedience again. “Chasin’ the baby bottom scent.”

He finds what he’s looking for. He slips it on the table and backs away. Slowly. As one would do with a predator. They smelled the blood now as the plastic protecting it crinkles away. The torn cloth. The alien scent. Lycan. Female. Foreign. What now? Isaac doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to be anywhere close to a bunch of territorial animals as they deal with a breech in their borders. He does his best to limp away from the tables and “Meat,” he sneers, plugging his nose with two fingers. His body quivers. He’s exhausted.