Chains of Retribution Margot & Draaven

[Tiko]

The abandoned train station sat on the outskirts of Lupaix. Despite its close proximity to the Phantom Quarter, no homeless wandered out this way. The railroad tracks are rusted and overgrown, and the rocky ground along them is littered with broken glass and discarded trash.

The station building itself had been all but demolished with crumbled stone walls and broken beams of wood. One large slab of stone the size of a small car had what appeared to be claw marks gouged a good two inches into it.

The accumulation of weeds and overgrowth suggested the station had been abandoned for a long time.

In the distance stood a rather unremarkable warehouse.

 

[Jas]

Margot was tired. Margot was lost. Margot was lonely.

The crimson blur rushed over the landscape. Traveling during the day was dangerous, especially this close to humans. She needed to be fast.

Thankfully, just as she felt the magic of her speed enchantment failing, the wolf made out a couple of buildings in the distance. Finally! Lutetia City! Dreams of a werewolf community, one accepted by humanity, danced in her head as she rapidly closed the distance.

As she neared the building, Margot let her magic fade. The auburn wolf stepped forward in her bipedal form, surveying the scene. She started at the crumbled building, sniffing around. No apparent human scents, and strangely not much of an animal scent either. Maybe the slight musk of a wolf, days or even weeks past, but she was alone.

Probably for the better. I think it would be best if I entered as a human anyway.

With a glance toward the other building nearby, she crouched down amongst the rubble and began shifting back. She wasn't a particularly big wolf, and it wasn't a full quadrupedal transformation, so it didn't take long. But it still made her feel vulnerable. As her limbs shortened and her muscles waned, she dropped the dress that she had been carrying as she ran.

After a minute or so, Margot dusted off some stray auburn fur which clung futilely to her bronze skin, and then stepped into the shoddy white dress. Perhaps it was her immodest upbringing, or perhaps it was her poverty, but she wore no undergarments nor shoes. Just the loose, shabby sundress clad her body.

She stepped out of the ruins and stared at a set of claw marks on a nearby stone as she wrestled her bushy hair into a loose ponytail. Once it was good enough, the young woman began to walk toward the warehouse in the distance, wondering if she'd find someone there.

 

[Tiko]

Home sweet home. Draaven had been back in Lutetia scarcely a month, but it was almost as if he had never left. Some things had changed though. Ragenard, pack leader? Who would have thought. It wasn't that Ragenard wasn't capable. He had just spent his whole life in Baron's shadow, and everyone took it for granted. Baron led, Ragenard enforced.

The change in leadership would certainly make things interesting to say the least. No one really knew for sure where things were headed. They just knew that they couldn't stand still anymore. The years of peace that Baron had brought the pack were no more. Only time would tell if the pack had grown soft in its complacency.

Ragenard had taken care of their Rowan problem. But for all his strength, Ragenard was one person. He couldn't be everywhere. The pack would need to learn to stand strong again.

The sound of a vehicle approaching caught his ear and he straightened and stepped away from the wall.

Out of the shadow of the building one could see that Draaven had a lean almost lanky build, but one would never mistake him for scrawny. Something in the way he moved, the way he stood... A confident directness to his movements and a sharpness to his eyes that spoke of someone who knew trouble was never far off, but knew how to handle himself. His black hair, dark eyes, and leather ensemble only helped to accentuate his posture and expression. There was nothing otherwise remarkable about him, but his eyes could pierce right through you.

The vehicle approaching was a pickup truck and as it pulled up, Draaven approached it and leaned down to talk to the driver through the window.

It was then that he spotted Margot, through the window of the passenger side of the door.

He said something quietly to the driver and then stood up straight as the pickup truck pulled away. He wasn't going to risk unloading the cargo with a stranger standing out there. The truck would circle back around later once the driver received word from Draaven. In the meanwhile he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He never took his eyes off Margot as he speed dialed Desmond.

He wasn't sure what to make of Desmond yet, or why Ragenard had chosen the Iverian as his Second. He didn't know Desmond well enough yet, and so chose to withhold judgement on the matter for the time being. And with Ragenard disposed of for the moment, Desmond it was.

"There's a girl out by the warehouse. Came in from the Phantom Quarter from the look of her," he said into the phone. "No, I sent him away. Ragenard would have our asses if something happened to that shipment. I'm going to see what she wants."

It was probably nothing, but Draaven wasn't one to assume nothing until it was proven to be nothing. And always best if someone knows what you're doing, in case things go south.

"Yeah, I'll give you a call back in ten minutes," Draaven answered.

He hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket, eyes still on the girl in the distance. He didn't move to approach her and instead simply remained standing where he was.

 

[Jas]

The girl continued to move forward, choosing her footfalls carefully in the underbrush to avoid thorns, rocks, and whatever else littered the ground. She heard the truck before she saw it; Margot's lupine form certainly had better senses than her human form, but her human form still had heightened awareness over a normal person. Still, she had not seen that many automobiles in her life.

She'd seen some of course. The traveling merchants and occasional commuter was not unheard of. Her pack generally steered clear of them though, so seeing one up close was a rare sight. She paused as it passed into view, distracted by its size as it idled, engine purring subtly. She slowly approached; she knew intellectually that it was not alive, and yet she could not help but move silently for fear of spooking it. She was so distracted by this marvel of technology that she didn't notice Draaven, in fact.

It wasn't until the truck pulled away, leaving the leather-clad lobo standing near the warehouse, that Margot spotted him. She wasn't skulking, per se, but she was certainly trying to avoid attention up to that point. However, at the sight of another person she immediately stopped, stood up straight, and froze for a moment as she contemplated what to do.

Oh crap, she internalized. I hope he doesn't think I'm a weirdo. Did he come on the truck? Was he always here? Has he been watching me? Is he dangerous? Is he friendly?

Her mind continued in a spiral of anxiety for a moment before she shook her head, trying to clear away the thoughts. And the loose binding around her hair came out, causing it all to puff out into a tuft of auburn. Startled slightly, she bent over, found her tie and began attempting to tie it off again as she approached, slowly.

Margot sized Draaven up as she walked. Other than the dark leathers, he was fairly unremarkable. (It's still so weird to see other people in clothes, Margot mused to herself.) From this distance it wasn't easy to tell his size, but she figured he was around Margot's build, but maybe a little smaller. As she advanced, his eyes remained trained on her while he took some device out of his pocket and put it to his ear. (Dangerous eyes; now that's at least something familiar.)

Even with Margot's trained ears, she heard pieces of a conversation but not enough to string together a coherent thought, especially as she tried to process the Lutetian words she heard into Iverian to understand them.

Wind blew across the landscape, bringing a few scents to Margot's nose, both familiar and alien. The smell of tanned animal hide, likely from the stranger's clothing. The musk of a human man, not unpleasant. But riding on that, something familiar: the smell of fur and pheromones. (A wolf?) But even then, something oily, not unlike the trucks and other human devices she's seen. She couldn't place it exactly, but it lingered even as the cacophony of scents given off by the departing truck faded. It was definitely coming from somewhere on this man.

As he ended the call with a touch of his finger and placed his device back into his pocket, Margot decided she was close enough. This seemed like a wolf, and despite a similar slim stature to her, he seemed confident in his abilities. The woman paused and collected herself, then spoke in the best Lutetian she could muster from reading her books, which probably came across as childish and broken as she stumbled to find the right Lutetian words to voice her Iverian thoughts.

"Hello. My name is Margot." She gave a little curtsy like she'd seen in books. "I have just arrived in town. I do hope that I am not intruding." Aware of her accent, she had made sure to annunciate as best as she could to make sure that he could understand, which probably would made her speech sound even more infantile.

 

[Tiko]

Draaven's expression was difficult to read as he looked her over. If she was human, she would be no threat in her state. But even a stark naked werewolf could be deadly.

Her butchery of the Lutetian language was unlike any that he had ever heard. It was incredulous enough for him to be suspicious of the genuine nature of it.

"You just arrived in town," he parroted back with a hint of skepticism to his voice.

No shoes, no luggage, no belongings of any sort he noted. He wasn't putting it out of the realm of possibility that she was just a nutjob from the Phantom quarter.

"And just where did you come from?" he asked.

 

[Jas]

Doubt.

Margot wasn't sure why, but this man doubted her words. She heard it in his voice and saw it in his stance, his demeanor. Maybe she just didn't say it clearly enough the first time.

She held her hand to her chest and offered a bit more detail. "Margot of the Aedui clan. I come from Iveria."

Her smile faltered for a moment, then she added, in Iverian: "I could speak far more clearly in my native tongue, if you would prefer."

 

[Tiko]

Draaven scowled and pulled his phone back out and speed dialed Desmond back.

"She barely speaks a lick of Lutetian," he said into the phone. "You didn't have anyone arriving from Iveria, right?" he asked before pausing. "I didn't think so. She says she just arrived, but she looks like she just rolled out of bed. Not even any shoes on her. Something is off about her. Want me to hold her here?" he asked.

He never took his eyes off Margot, but he spoke into his phone as if she weren't even there.

 

[Jas]

That device again.

Presumably he was either dictating a message or talking to someone through it. She measured it up and decided it must be a communication device of some kind.

He spoke quickly, but Margot caught a few of the words.

"... Lutetian..." Margot surmised that he was talking about her poor speaking skills. She squirmed a bit and a flush took to her cheeks.

"... Iveria..." Was the other person familiar? Were there other Iverians here?

"... shoes..." The girl fidgeted again, realizing that shoes were probably the norm here in town. She'd read stories, of course, and the characters always had shoes. But she was lucky to have gotten her hands on this thrown-out sundress. She had not had a chance to pick up shoes. Clothes were shunned in her clan, who chose to live as close to nature as possible.

The man didn't seem to want any input from her, so she continued to look down at her feet, rocking slightly from ball to heel of her feet. As she shifted all of her weight back, she'd wiggle her toes as she waited for the finale to this conversation.

 

[Tiko]

Draaven pressed a spot on his phone screen before speaking again.

"You're on speaker," Draaven said.

From the phone another voice came through, this one speaking clear Iverian without a hint of a foreign accent. There was a jovial tone to the speaker's words, without a hint of Draaven's coldness.

"'ey there. I 'ope Draaven 'asn't given you too much of a scare," Desmond said in Iverian. "He says you don't speak much Lutetian? Are ye' lost?"

 

[Jas]

...Speaker?

Before the girl had a chance to muse over that for too long, its meaning became clear. Desmond's clear Iverian rang out into the evening, and Margot let out an involuntary squeal of excitement.

So there are other Iverians here! Oh, it's so lovely to be able to speak to someone natively!

She responded, words gushing out; no, that wasn't right. It wasn't as much a gush as a geyser, excitement tinging and distorting each word. "Ah'm nae lost! Ah've trav'led from Iveria tae Lutetia City tae live 'ere." She had a strong highlands brogue to her voice, which Desmond would certainly be able to pick out. She was clearly country folk. As she spoke she absentmindedly took a few steps toward Draaven and his phone.

"Ah'm Margot o' clan Aedui." She hesitated, her fingers absentmindedly caressing the fresh pink scar on her face. "Well, priorly o' th' clan, anyway. Ah'm nae welcome back." The girl decided to leave that topic, and move on to another. "Yer boy 'ere--Draaven, yeh said--smells o' wolf. Yeh reckon ah'd catch a similar waft offa you? Ah'm newly packless and lookin' fer one tae run wi'."

 

[Tiko]

"Well ye sure are a ballsy one," Desmond replied with a chortle. "Ye might want to get the lay of the land before ye start decidin' that city life is the life for ye. Stick to Vargeras and ye won't be bothered much, but avoid the inner city. The humans don't take well to our kind in Lutetia. Don't cause any trouble for me packmates, and ye're welcome in and out of Lupaix. Me name's Desmond."

He smoothly shifted back to Lutetian for his next words. "Let her go, she's not 'ere to cause trouble."

The phone vibrated briefly as Desmond's text came through and Draaven glanced at it.

Have her watched.

Draaven looked back up at her and nodded his head towards the city. "Well go on then," he told her.

 

[Jas]

Margot thought she was making some headway, but the suddenness with which the conversation ended left her feeling a bit cold. Still, even in Desmond's Iverian a couple of words threw her. They sounded distinctly Lutetian. She repeated them. "Vargeras. Lupaix. Thank yeh, Desmond."

In Lutetian, to Draaven: "It is nice to meet you, Draaven." She bowed her head to him, catching sight of his shoes. She'd need to find herself some shoes soon. She could probably craft something if she could find the right materials for it. In the meantime, it sounded like she was not welcome in this area. She did, of course, hear the vibration of the phone, but with little context on how they operated she did not know that it was abnormal, much less see the message Desmond sent to Draaven.

She turned toward the direction she'd seen the truck come from and started down that road. As she moved, she looked out for items she could use to craft shoes. Unfortunately, people didn't really discard useful things on the side of the road, it seemed. She did manage to find some small twigs and some tree bark. She crouched down on the ground, perhaps still even within line-of-sight of Draaven; she didn't really care. She touched the tree bark and with a flash of crimson she picked it up and bent it, testing its flexibility. It would do for a durable sole. She wasn't sure what shoes were made of, but she gave it about the properties of a heavy leather.

Then she touched the twigs and with a similar flash, they flattened perfectly against the ground. She picked them up, and they had about the feel of sinew, which was what she was going for. And then she touched another twig, and then tried to bend it. It was nice and rigid and springy, like steel. She used her steel punch to push the twig-sourced cordage through the leathery bark.

They weren't stylish, but if someone didn't stare at them too long they might have looked like sandals. These would only stay that way as long as she continued to pour energy into them, but they were not a tremendous drain and she felt she could keep it up at least until she found a place to sleep.

A few knots later and she was on her way down the road, perhaps to Lupaix? She wasn't sure. But she walked down the road in a shabby white sundress and crudely-made shoes, her ponytail tie barely containing a floof of auburn hair that seemed impervious to the rain that started to fall. But she was all set now. She had shoes.