Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: The Den

as written by Script

"I'll come along." Seri shrugged, smirking broadly. "Have to face the music at some point. What better time than in the midst of a cellar brawl? Can't see any reason that would go wrong." He'd overheard Snow mention 'fight night' before the white-haired werewolf had lowered his voice, and assumed that was the gathering being referred to.

"It'll be fun to watch you all beat each other up, if nothing else." he added, snickering. When she commented on the dart throw, he shrugged, nodding his head. "I'm a quick study. And I'm generally good at anything involving my hands and pointy things."

He flexed his fingers, feline-like claws briefly extending outwards before he retracted them back.
 
as written by LuLu6214

Damon smiles "Jacques, I would expect nothing less." he turned to Snow "hey, someone has to focus on the important stuff you know." He looks over at Seri "I wouldn't underestimate cats, have you ever seen a cat fight? The blood and hair flying. I guess we will see."

----------------------------------------------------------

Eliza smiles "I'll take that as a compliment. That sounds like it could be fun, if you're gonna be there I'm in." she looked around the room "what exactly do you all have planned, if I might ask?

She finished her drink and contemplated having another, but opted not to, she felt the need to sober up. She took the bottle and slipped it into her bag, no point in wasting what you paid for.
 
as written by Faithy

“I couldn’t agree more!” Aimee knew he was probably being sarcastic and hoped that Marc wouldn’t try to fight him. Well, in that thought, she hoped that no one else picked on him just because he was a werecat and not a werewolf. She tried to think of the last time she actually fought and realized it had been a very long time. Sighing and sliding her fingers through her hair, she glanced around at the others and started to decide who she was going to challenge tonight because it had been far too long and she was feeling extremely antsy. Returning her attention towards him and ignoring the fact that he and the room happened to be moving at different paces, she peeked at his claws and grinned.

“Ooh! Pointy things are the best. I’m very fond of things that can cause immense damage without being the use of a gun. Am I making you feel any more comfortable? She questioned, her brow arching a little as she swayed on her feet before grabbing a chair and leaning against it.
 
as written by Script

While the various conversations carried on around the bar, the door swung open to admit Nieve. She strode in with her characteristic feral regality, eyeing up the newcomers to the pack like they were prey.

Across the room, Snow sat up straight, eyes shifting to watch his mother warily. He knew that stare. She had something to say to someone.

After a moment, her eyes came to rest on Cass, and they narrowed slightly. She walked over to where she and Hubert were sat, folding her arms as she came to a halt a few steps away. "You are the one called Cass, yes?" she questioned, though her tone came across as more of a statement than a genuine inquiry. Her voice was clearly accented, betraying her roots in the far South.

____

Snow watched his mother approach Cass with trepidation, knowing that it was likely only going to end one way. Sighing, he looked back to Damon. "Cats can be vicious, yes. But he's no lion. He's a housecat walking with wolves. A bite that would amount to playfighting within the pack could snap a cat clean in half."

He grimaced. "Disturbing visual metaphors aside, Baron made his choice. We'll just have to see how it goes for him."

____

"I feel right at home. Just need to break a few holes in the walls and make the ceiling leak, and it'll be just like old times." Seri grinned toothily, before raising an eyebrow at Aimee's swaying. "You're not quite entirely immune to alcohol, then." he noted with amusement.
 
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as written by Faithy

Aimee shifted her attention toward the door and then towards Cass, her brow arching as Nieve approached her. Shaking her head and returning her eyes back at Seri, she snorted at his comments and wondered what would happen if they did break a few holes into the wall. She had gotten close with a few of the pool balls, but unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, nothing happened. Shaking her head, she stood there and wondered whether or not she could sneak another bottle away from Jacques. Keep the brain fuzzy and it wouldn’t be able to think of bad things.

“Not immune no, but I can drink more than most and I pride myself on that. Oooh, I know how to get past my father’s reluctance in giving me more alcohol. How about you go over to the bar and get a bottle of rum and bring it to me? That way, you can meet someone else and I don’t get a lecture from my dad, Jacques.” She grinned only half serious in her request.
 
as written by LuLu6214

Damon winced at Snows description "thanks, you definitely have a way with words...I did not want to imagine a cat snapped in half." as soon as the door swung open and Nieve walked in he spun around in his chair hoping to become invisible and avoid spectating or contributing to anything that might occur.
 
as written by Lialore

The smile she gave Hubert was veiled in confidence. He needed to calm down, collect himself. When the last call came, Cass leant forward some to speak to him, privatising their moment, wanting to shield them from the chatters and the players and the heavy drinkers. From what she could gather, tonight was expected to end badly for them. But she’d try her best to make sure that wasn’t the case.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better” she told him sincerely. “Do what you have to, what you can. I’ll get you some courage.”

She could do with some herself. Before she’d made a single move toward the bar to make her last order, the door had lay way to a woman with an intense air of purpose. And, of course, she was heading for Cass. Her eyes flickered between the woman and Snow – one of the pack members who she hadn’t found much reason to hate yet – at his reaction and made some sort of hazy connection on appearance.

The woman’s demeanour had Cass poised to make a quick move, though she tried to be casual about it.

“Yes…” she replied.

Cass could hold her own, but never, ever had offensiveness been behind any of her moves. That seemed like how it was here. All the time. Even the way this woman approached and spoke had her caught between wanting to shy away or be bristled to bubbling rage.

On the frightening scale, she seemed nothing compared to Arman. But then she thought again; there was no honest craziness behind those hard eyes. And somehow that made it worse.
 
as written by Script

Snow laughed at Damon's response to his mother entering.

"It's not you she's here for." he remarked, "Pull yourself together."
 
as written by Ronin

With the bar on the verge of closing up the for night, the doors opened to admit perhaps one last late-comer. His polished boots rapped with slow efficiency on the wood floor before halting a few feet from the entrance. The stranger glanced left to right, dark eyes passing over the room with expresionless vigilance.

He was well-dressed, his long-black coat tailored to his lean frame. Patterns of silver gilded the shoulders, collar and the cuffs. Anyone knowledged in Lutetian government or religion would immediately mark the jacket as distinctly Evequec. He was with the church. A priest, perhaps? No. The hilt of a slender sword framed his right hip. Priests didn't wear weapons. An Inquisitor then? Impossible - he looked too young. Perhaps not even eighteen. His face was thin and pale, eyes dark and tired and troubled. There was little life to him. Only his lips, red and ripe as roses, seemed out of place on an otherwise pallid complexion.

His survey of the Den made, the stranger walked towards the bar, offering Jacques a nod. "Good evening," his voice, as cold in sound as the stranger was in appearance, was laced with a heavy Quelayan accent, "I am Archon Archard Pierpont." An Archon. He was Inquisition. "I am looking for a gentleman by the name of James Guiscard, the proprietor of this establishment, also known as 'Baron'." He offered the slightest sort of smile possible. "Is he in?"
 
as written by Script

"With what money?" Seri inquired, raising an eyebrow at Aimee, "In case you hadn't noticed ..." he pointed at himself. "Broke."

He did his best to ignore the scene going on with Cass. He figured involving himself would only make it worse, if anything.
 
as written by Faithy

“I would give you money, Seri. I just can’t go over there any get anymore. Just one more bottle will be fine. It will be enough to help me forget stuff until the get together tonight. Pretty please?” Aimee tried to keep from sounding desperate while ignoring that her half-serious request was suddenly a full blown serious one. She was beginning to remember the night she walked into her apartment and found the pieces of her roommate and his friends and that was something the werewolf did not want to remember.

“Just one more bottle… please?” She held out some money to him, her eyes full of despair.
 
as written by Script

"Jeez, alright." Seri took the money with a slightly uncomfortable edge to his tone. It wasn't his problem if she drank herself into a coma. But it would be his problem if she made it look like he was upsetting her. He had to wonder exactly what it was she was trying to forget.

He made his way over to the bar counter, waiting to catch Jacques' eye, at which point he proffered the money. "Bottle of rum." he muttered, hoping he wouldn't have to guess at anything more specific.
 
as written by Script

Jacques eyed Seri a moment before throwing a glance over towards Aimee.

"We're closing for the night," he told Seri.

The message was likely clear. It would seem Jacques wasn't unobservant enough to have not noticed what was going on between Seri and Aimee. Now Jacques wasn't much for lecturing, and he largely left Aimee to her own devices. She was an adult now, not an unruly teenager that needed her father telling her what she could and couldn't do, but getting half the pack plastered before the pack meet even began wouldn't go over well - Aimee included.

Meanwhile he scarcely gave Archard a cursory glance as he put another glass away.

"No, he's not coming in tonight," he answered. "Come back tomorrow afternoon if you want to see him."
 
as written by Ronin

"I expected as much," the Archon nodded, eyes half-lidded with boredom, "would you be so kind as to tell Mr. Guiscard that I will be stopping by again tomorrow around twelve, and that I would be most pleased to have a moment of his time?" He reached into his jacket and laid a thin card on the counter. "Call here, or have him send a runner to this location if there are complications. I will otherwise assume he is unoccupied."

He tugged off the glove of his right hand by the middle finger and offered his hand to Jacques, his fingers pale and motionless and graced with a small silver ring. "Thank you for your time. I apologize if I have delayed closing. Your name, sir?"
 
as written by Script

"Right." Seri shrugged and turned to walk back to Aimee, proffering the money back. "Not happening." he stated simply, "Bar's closed up."

He grimaced. Playing nice was difficult. Biting his tongue was difficult. But he knew that if he didn't do both, at least for the first few weeks here, it would end badly for him.
 
as written by Faithy

"Right." Seri shrugged and turned to walk back to Aimee, proffering the money back. "Not happening." he stated simply, "Bar's closed up."

He grimaced. Playing nice was difficult. Biting his tongue was difficult. But he knew that if he didn't do both, at least for the first few weeks here, it would end badly for him.
 
as written by Script

"Possibly." Seri replied, shrugging. "But more likely only when necessary. I don't drink, so there's not much point to a bar for me. And I don't play well with others most of the time."

He laughed dryly. "I'm trying really hard right now." The werecat waved a hand dismissively, "But who knows, hm? Might be that the kennel grows on me. I can't imagine watching you all smack each other around will get old any time soon."
 
as written by Script

"I have been told of you. That you are the one who has brought a litter of children and misfits to us." The woman spoke without any inflection to her voice that suggested her words were out of spite. Rather, she spoke as though simply stating the obvious. She glanced around again, eyes pausing as they found Hubert and then Seri in turn. Her expression didn't betray her thoughts on either of them, remaining sternly cold before she turned back to Cass, meeting her eyes.

"My name is Nieve. I'm not here to insult or threaten you. Baron has given you a chance here, and I respect that. But I will say this - I doubt you. Tonight, I would offer you a chance to alleviate my doubts, and perhaps those of others in the pack."
 
as written by Lialore

Some of her hostility melted away, but the defences were still up, her muscles still wound, her eyes still searching for a lie behind those words that seemed so sincere. But when they found that cold stare, Cass could make out nothing.

Her jaw tilted upwards as she thought about what had just been said. But her head was already unconsciously half-way through a nod by the time she’d calculated her move.

She was beginning to come to grips with what was in store for her. At least it wasn’t card games.
Somehow in this strange world of urban pack life, a threat had been turned into a polite invitation.

“I’m Cass” she said, since she wasn’t too keen on ‘the one who has brought a litter of children and misfits to us’.

“We’re deserving of the chance.”

And they were, after what they’d been through – after what she’d put them through.
Prove it.

“I…” she trailed off, her eyes flitting around the bar, then slyly returning, taking in the woman before her. Cass’s bite was louder than her bark, and she had a feeling the same went for Nieve. “Thank you?”
 
as written by Script and Lialore

Nieve simply nodded her head in acknowledgement of Cass' thanks before she went on. "Where I am from, we refer to something called uchta'neacht. In this language it would translate roughly to 'heart strength'. You have protected your misfits for years now, proven strong enough to fight for the survival of your own when nobody cared about you. This shows that you have uchta'neacht. But in joining us, you will soon face trials you have yet to confront, where simply having it will not be sufficient."

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath inwards as though sniffing the air. "I lived long enough amongst warring clans to know the smell of war on the air, and the air is thick with it. Nobody speaks of it, but many know it. Soon you will find that you need to fight when you have enemies that care all too much."

Cass had been experiencing something like pride. it swelled at Nieve's words, warmed her, and made her feel like the strife might one day be worth it. And that this was just the start. But reality soon came to tap her on the shoulder.

"That is the main difference" she said, more to herself. Her voice came out quiter than intended, so she cleared her throat before continuing. "You can't smell it when you're human." A pause, a short intake of breath; "The largest part of my life was spent peacefully. No one wanted to harm me. A single bite and it's like learning to walk again... with four legs. Nothing's how it used to be. And you want it back. You want it back so bad that you think not giving in, not stepping up, not fighting, indulging, will return it to you.

We have lived in very different worlds. I want my old one back. But I understand, now, that's impossible. So I will learn to live in yours." Cass smiled - a real rarity, it was sorry, but it was there.

Nieve opened her eyes again and fixed Cass with a stare that was hard, but not unkind. "Very different worlds indeed. I have known only two worlds, and of the two, this one is far the kinder. You must learn quickly. If you do not have the strength to not only survive, but protect the rest of the pack, all you are is a target. A weak point in the armour of the pack, where a blade can be thrust to crack the whole."

She turned to look towards the cellar door as she went on, "I trust you are aware of tonight's purpose?"

Cass had been nodding along to show her understanding. The gesture turned into a sort of confused head-tild at Nieve's question. It was the kind of expression someone might have if they were struggling to read something that they could't quite make out.

She hoped she'd been harvesting her information correctly.
You're going to rip my face off, friend?
"Um... r-ritual combat?" She tried, sounding extremely hesitant.

Laughing, an oddly warm and hearty laugh considering her otherwise stony demeanour, Nieve shook her head. "Perhaps were we far south of here, it might have so grandiose a name. Most of the pack call it 'fight night', and it amounts more to sparring than anything more brutal."

Her expression returned to a more serious one within a few moments. "But that is not to say it is unimportant. I would have you face me. Show me your uchta'neacht, and prove that you have what it takes to hold your place with us. I do not expect you to win, but only to give it your all. Strength of body and mind can be trained with time, but strength of heart is more difficult to nurture. If you can demonstrate you have the latter, then you will earn yourself respect. If it turns out that I am wrong ..." she let the sentence hang unfinished, shaking her head.

Nieve's laughter made Cass jump slightly, but she was sure to collect herself. So, fight night. No face tearing, at least, it seemed. She was expecting it to be somehwhat like those pub brawls she'd had to pull Adrien out of back when they'd been together. Then again, that was the other world she spoke of.

The woman's talking ceased. Cass found herself curiously riled.

"You aren't."

A half-smirk found its way to Nieve's face in response to Cass's assertion. "Good. I look forward to you convincing me." she replied, before turning to stride away. "I will see you downstairs."
 
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