welcome to your new hell, Welcome to the Menagerie. Or as we like to call it, Dome Sweet Dome! We are an eight-year strong futuristic shapeshifter and sci-fi creature roleplay, dedicated to bringing you a world unlike any other; a world in which your character has become an experiment and must fight for survival in a domed city, cut off from the rest of the world. Choose to be any animal in your fight for survival in an artificial world built by the Keepers as they subject you to experiments beyond your control. Choose to wander the world inside the walls alone, as a Rogue, or find safety in numbers in one of the groups known as Rings. How will you survive?
60 - 65 ºF
blustery with scattered showers spotty sunshine
YEAR 2309
shift bans.
» Cougars (aka Puma, Mountain Lion, Panther)
» All Tiger Species
» All Lion Species
» All Wolf Species
» African Leopards
group bans.
none.
encouraged !
FEMALE CHARACTERS! create a RETRO or ANTHRO and get 250 CP + a free skill! read me for more info!
last updated: april 19th, 2016
Click on each Ring or Retro group image to view their ranks!
GROUP UPDATES
CARNARING
Jocelyn Edelwolfe is the new Alpha! Seija Mulviene is the new Beta, and Grey is the new Delta. Lead Hunter is now Boone Haywood, Head of Border Patrol is now Noelle Ndango!
FALLENRING
-
FULSIRING
Fulsi has a standing treaty with the Nakoma, granting limited access to their fresh water.
NAKOMA TRIBE
-
ANALOYA PRIDE
a while back, the Analoya suffered a suspicious poisoning of their river, luckily with few casualties; the Bellator are suspected of having taken part in it, and there are whispers that Pride leader Wanderer is talking alliance with the Nilda for access to their clean water.
BELLATOR HERD
As new leader of the Bellator, Loril has instituted some rank changes. See this thread for more information!
LAWAII FLOCK
no updates!
NILDA PACK
no updates!
CARNARING QUICK STATS
ALPHA -- Jocelyn Edelwolfe, Clouded Leopard, played by IronChild
BETA -- Seija Mulviene, Spotted Hyena, played by Seija-chan
DELTA --Grey, Mackenzie Valley Wolf, played by Kriss
_______________________________________________
Every step was agony. Ghosted fingers still held a vice-like grip around her neck, making it difficult to breathe and it felt as though a bat had been taken her head. A few times, she had seen Grey in the distance … as if he stalked her and she would instantly fall to the ground with a whimper, hiding behind anything be it rock or scraggly bush. Each time took longer and longer for her to summon the nerve to look up through her one good eye, and took even more courage to get up and continue on. Blood had crept around her irises from trauma, and her wheezy gasps for breath were almost too much for her cracked ribs. Her finger throbbed so badly she thought of cutting it off more than once.
Steadily she made her way across the burning sand from the oasis, where she had slept over a day away in the shade and drank so much water her stomach had swelled painfully. Zombie-like she walked, step by step toward the Fallen Ring.
Trust came with a price, and in the entirety of the Menagerie there was only one person left Red felt safe with – Tomas. She had to stop hand to stomach as she fought to breathe through her swollen throat, and remembered the clear consistency in his blue eyes as he spoke the resounding assurance: There’s nothing here that will hurt you, and sealed it with, I promise. For Roma though she did not know it, those few words were all it took for her to run away. For Red, it was the strength behind his eyes, the kindness in his hands as he said those words that made her run back.
As the sun set, Red’s steps became slower and slower until her legs would no longer hold her and her knees dropped to the ground. Without permission her body collapsed and her world went black.
“Easy, she’s had a rough go of it,” said a male voice far away. Hurt exploded everywhere as careful pressure lifted her and a noise between a moan and a whimper escaped her. Nausea overwhelmed her but there was nothing in her stomach to retch. “It’s okay lil’ Roma we gotchya,” consoled the same voice. He sounded familiar, but her mind was too hazed in pain. The association was not a bad one, which kept Red from panicking. Her eye slit open, but the brightness was harsh and when a pair of hands gingerly touched her middle the agony was too much and she collapsed against the arms that carried her in a dead faint.
“…come from? She’s been out for three days now,” said the voice from before.
“How about her finger, it looked pretty brutal, almost like they were going to skin it,” said a new male voice quietly.
“I don’t know. I stitched it up and it’s healing but her injuries are extensive. This wasn’t a fight … this was torture. The suffering she endured - let’s just say it was one sided,” said the medic. Red recognized his voice from her rare bouts of consciousness.
“Why the hell … who would do that to her?” asked a female voice.
“I don’t know. We don’t know much about her aside from that Tomas brought her through on a field trip a couple months back,” that was Sooty again.
“Where did you say you found her, Sooty?” Medic.
“I didn’t. Cara did … had Husher here help me bring her in. With this bum leg I couldn’t carry the poor thing. Though she’s more skin an’ bones now than she were when she was here last,” he answered.
“She was about a mile or so out. I had Cole follow her trail back to the oasis, and from there the border. She found blood just inside the border and signs of a struggle. Whoever it was wasn’t worried about us finding out they were Carna – apparently Cole says it was a single male who headed back to the Carna border immediately,” Husher’s voice was the new one she’d not heard before then.
“Bless that girl, she’s all craft. Cole say anything else?” the medic asked reflectively.
“That from the looks of it, Roma was walking about a day an’ half to get here. Says the tracks give her a pace barely past a crawl and she stopped a lot though she’s not sure why,” that was Husher again.
“Well do me a favor and don’t tell Tomas about the Carna bit for a while. He’s already on thin ice and despite this lil’ uns disappearing act on him you know he’s going to take it personally,” said Sooty.
“………I’m going to take what personally,” said a soft voice that might have awoken Red from the dead. The conversation thus far (that she barely followed) seemed far away, but Tomas had emanated from close by - his approach had been deliberate and casual, catching more than the tail end of the conversation. Red might have been in a world of hurt but her ears still worked, her body didn’t though and that scared her. Her eyes wouldn’t open, and she felt bound and confined … and the pain. The unrelenting pain that ache bone deep and would not quell. It wasn’t long before she mercifully slipped unconscious once more.
Last Edit: Dec 18, 2014 0:12:51 GMT -5 by ROMA|RED
Post by TOMAS MCKELLAR on Dec 18, 2014 0:45:20 GMT -5
Tomas had been a child until his twentieth birthday. He had always played at being an adult, quick to take responsibility for groups, activities, and himself. But he had still joked and jostled and been nothing but an oversized child. The first time he had experienced real combat he had been drunk and it had been his birthday. A riot had erupted in the center of the neighborhood.
After seeing his best friend screaming in the middle of a riot, trampled underfoot by a thousand people, he learned to take life a little more seriously.
For some reason, that was what he thought of when he heard Roma had returned, but that she was in critical condition. He thought of Theodore Murphy, shot and stepped on. Tomas remembered just how gruesome it was and, even drunk, the image stuck with a certain clarity. Bones broken, handsome face so swollen it was almost unrecognizable, his clothes stripped from his skinny body by a crowd of greedy heathens. Tomas always liked to say that Murphy was the best of his first squad but he saw his best friend only once, after that.
It had taken longer than he would have liked to work up the nerve to go visit her. If there was one thing Tomas hated, it was medical wards. He also had difficulty overcoming the painful emotions that swelled in his chest when he thought of Roma. Now, they were surrounded by contrite so sharp he had trouble breathing. He had promised to keep her safe and she had left... but did that mean his promise had lost its severity? He should have tried harder to find her...
He swung himself into the medical train-car, catching the tail-end of a conversation that mentioned him. His anger flared and he reined it in. Barely. "... I'm going to take what, personally?"
He looked at everyone else first, before allowing his eyes to find Roma. When they did, he shut down.
It was the only way he knew how to deal with grief and guilt. There was a moment of intense, savage emotion and then... he took a breath, steadied himself, and his expression stilled. No one answered him. They merely observed Tomas' reaction, for only Sooty had seen him in such a state, and that had been during and after the surprise attack by Carna. Stay rational, Tomas told himself, inhaling through his gritted teeth. He relaxed. He took a moment to think clearly and then he repeated his question.
"What am I going to take personally?" He strided farther into the room. It was not often that he exercised his full authority, but he did here. Tomas swelled and it seemed as though his presence filled the train-car to the brim.
"It was a Carna," Sooty admitted, quietly.
Tomas swallowed. "Is she stable?" He asked the medic.
The medic nodded, nervously.
"Then get out. Stay close, however, in case you are needed." The medic moved toward the door but the rest remained. "I meant everyone. Leave."
It was not until they had half-closed the door behind them that Tomas allowed himself to break. He stepped toward Roma, unable to bear what he saw. It must hurt so badly. And he wished he could take the pain from her and bear it himself! He fell onto his knees and his hands fluttered over her helplessly, wanting to reach out and console her still body through touch. He did not know where to touch that would not hurt her, however, and so he did not make the move to traverse that slight boundary of air between them. He was quiet, his thoughts a roar in his head, of Carna and Roma and of his night with her.
She's been through so much and now this... and why? What the hell could she have done, to threaten them? "God, I'm so sorry... I am so, so sorry." It was his nature to blame himself. He should have tried harder to find her, Tomas thought again, and would continue to think.
"Roma?" Tomas called, softly. He studied her face closely, his own twisted into an expression of pain and grief. He may not have known her well; he may have only known her for a day and a night. But that did not change the fact he had been upset to find her gone when he awoke.
It did not change the fact that if he had known who had hurt her, he would kill them.
He did not stand for torture.
He would kill them with his own hands and he would enjoy it.
Last Edit: Dec 18, 2014 0:52:34 GMT -5 by TOMAS MCKELLAR
She had been in a strange place for a long time. Not quite peacefully nor unhappy, she simply was. Sister Wolf put her here sometimes; it was as if she was in that delicate place between sleeping and waking up. However, something had changed and she had gone away for … a long time.
There was a call to her now however, one that she did not expect. It awoke her fully to the outside world, to the brightness of consciousness. The line past finding how and where to escape was suddenly no issue and the moment she sidestepped the mirror that held her she wished she were dead.
She had known pain. Breaks, bruises … sometimes the aftermath of whatever Sister Wolf had kept her from, but the horrendous agony that wracked her head to toe was unbearable. Tears trailed down her temples before she even opened her … eye.
A strangled whimper escaped her as she tried to breath. Her throat was raw and swollen, her head, her hands, her whole body felt heavy and immovable. It felt as though someone had driven railroad spikes through her chest above her breast, and she was so, so thirsty. Her face hurt as it twisted with pain and her eye rolled around to see where she was and what was going on. She wanted to hide her face; to hide away from it all but there was no going back.
A hand settled and another squeak came from her before a face loomed. Fear, sharp and cold gripped her for an unholy moment before she realized she knew it. Tomas … her eyes watered more, and for all world the hurt and plea flooded her eyes and she looked as a child that did not understand. She did not understand. Why? Why did it hurt so badly?
Unbidden sobs ruptured, which hurt even more. Her entire body shook visibly … she couldn’t deal with this. Make it stop, she pleaded in her mind.
His words were scattered, soothing but frantic and he called out to someone outside. Fear hit her again, and she turned those terror stricken eyes to Tom who cooed something and touched the top of her head.
“T..Tom,” slipped through her cracked lips, more choked air than word. When the other man leaned over and asked her a question she cringed and tried to turn toward Tom, instinctually away from one she did not know. The strange man was talking to her but she didn’t care, didn’t hear … his hand came down on her shoulder to restrain her. Pain exploded, and her ears were suddenly assaulted by a high cry. Her throat hurt and she realized it was herself too late; a struggled breath was drawn in far more labored than she had never felt before. Each breath was like bits of broken glass worked its way further into her body.
Gone.
She wasn’t quick enough, Lord no she hadn’t been quick enough. She had been too lazy, too stupid, too careless. Tomas had called out to Roma, of course she woke up. Red rolled Roma into the blackness once more, shutting the gates down so hard and fast she almost lost consciousness herself. But something was wrong, something …
Between one breath and the next, Red’s eyes snapped open – a haunted golden gaze and she half sat up. It was obvious she was in pain, obvious that it was hard for her to move, to breath, to think … but it was tucked away behind an expressionless face that now turned to Tom. In those eyes lurked intelligence, hardness, and … a touch of something … wild.
Without warning her leg came up and kicked the medic away. The next minutes were nothing but chaos as a few more medics came in to wrangle the abrupt hell cat was as far removed from the girl that had laid on the table just moments before, as a child was to a demon. There were shouts, and grunts and yelps of pain escaped her. It wasn't that she couldn't feel the pain as Roma did, it was that she'd already been dealing with it. For Roma, it had been all new. She had failed Roma. She'd never felt anywhere near that much pain in her life, and it crippled her. Red had been too late, too late.
Last Edit: Dec 18, 2014 1:38:38 GMT -5 by ROMA|RED
Post by TOMAS MCKELLAR on Jan 1, 2015 22:06:52 GMT -5
It happened too quickly.
He knew she was in pain. So much pain. He liked to think that even looking at her hurt for that pale, freckled skin of hers flowered with dark bruises. She seemed so delicate to him there where, before, she had been nothing but strength. He burned with ire for the man who had committed such an atrocity; he thought of her smile, her vibrant and flaming passion for life, how she simply... was a being of physicalness, of life. So vigorous, so beautiful, and now so broken. Now the tears welled in her eyes and the sound of his name on her chapped lips broke his heart utterly.
He called immediately for a medic, unable to bear the sight of her pain. He wanted to fix it so badly but did not know how. His mother used to tell him that his soul was too gentle for atrocities and that he ought to have been born with a fate suited for an artist rather than a warrior; but here he stood, yet again staring down the demons of moral abhorrence, his whole self aching. He wanted to heal her and yet he was powerless, trained only to shoot a gun and use a knife! Those skills were useless here and soon he regretted even coming as she writhed in fear of the medic, of the stranger.
"Shhh, Roma, Roma. He's trying to help!" His voice was quiet, soothing, but still tense as the string of a bow.
And then... that tension was her. She was the taunt string, fighting viciously against the medic who sought only to help her. Tomas recognized a change; he felt it, in his gut, and he moved forward to help in restraining her. "Stop! You're hurting yourself! Roma... Roma... calm down, you're safe here! You're safe!"
Now if only he could deliver the promise he had made weeks ago. If only it wasn't already far too late to give her safety.
The struggles ended, eventually, as another man entered to assist. The three men held her down gingerly, clearly disdaining the entire ordeal. Tomas most of all. He knew that his very touch must hurt her and his eyes sought hers out, begging her forgiveness, but what he saw stole his resolve and made his mind swirl in turmoil.
Those eyes were not warm, homely brown. They were golden.
He swallowed against the dryness in his throat, acting once more on impulse. "Take her to my train car. It is the place she's most familiar with here and she obviously doesn't feel safe."
It was the only thing he could think of that might help and, even that, was a shot in the dark. "Roma? Is that okay?" His voice was so questioning, so strained. Those eyes unnerved him.
The Pain made Red combative, it woke her up. They were old friends. With each hand that took capture of a leg or arm she thrashed all the harder like a wild animal caught in a trap. Raw instinct had taken over, and only after all three men were holding her down with their full weight did she settle. Half of her bandages were in ruin, unraveled or ripped, and many of her stitches had been busted from reopened wounds.
Tomas’s words were trickling into her ears, trying to break the wall that was held up in confusion, exhaustion, and panic. Somehow, whether by accident or instinct no blow struck Tomas as she flailed almost violently, but when she calmed it was for no other reason than she had run out of strength. Stubbornly, she remained half raised in a semi-recumbent posture, refusing to lay flat.
When they were speaking again, the man to her right moved his hand to touch her and without thought, Red’s head snaked out – her teeth catching his skin and drawing blood. He cried out and instantly let go, backing almost to the wall. She watched him keenly, her top half swaying but she did not advance. Livid warning hovered in her gaze until she heard Tomas’s voice again. He was asking a question of her and when her head turned his blue eyes met her brilliant golden hues and she settled, suddenly so exhausted she could hardly stay upright.
Had she been wolf, her ears would have flattened and she would have looked cowed. Without a word and in an uncharacteristic moment, she wiped the blood from her mouth and settled her forehead against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She did not remember losing consciousness but between once second and the next all was dark again.
When she woke, it was all at once with a gasp as her eyes snapped open. She was lying on her side on a cot. Panic swelled within her before she realized she had been here before. Tomas’s scent was everywhere, and she instantly calmed. If she had been in pain earlier, it was worse now. Every muscle, wound, and joint ached beyond belief. She stayed still, worried that movement would make it worse. She heard movement. She knew it was Tomas without needing to see him, but she wanted to and shifted and scooted with a wince and a whine until she could see him, seated on the floor next to her. His arms were folded and it looked as if he had been sleeping only a moment before.
Post by TOMAS MCKELLAR on Jan 31, 2015 11:28:13 GMT -5
Tomas had been fifteen. Thinking of it now, it seemed as though the event itself had occurred a lifetime ago, perhaps to another man. They were on a "camping" trip out in Colorado where the snow was still deep and fresh, virtually untouched. Tomas used the rare opportunity to stretch the legs of his shift. At the time, he had still been an adolescent. His figure remained ungainly and his antlers had only a single fork.
He had been walking through the snow, enjoying the sound it made when his hooves crunched through. It was so deep he could remember staggering. He could also remember the trill of running water and, with his breath fogging the air, he began to pursue it in the early dawn light...
There had been a snap, almost inaudible, and then Tomas had felt his neck twisted at an impossible angle by an impossible weight. He had gone crashing downhill, attempting to regain his footing only to falter and fail. He had tumbled with his assailant until he found his jugular held between hot teeth. His face had been pressed into the snow so that only one eye could see his surroundings; he saw brown and cream fur.
Even in the comfort of his room, his eyes attentively locked on the injured form of Roma, the memory of fear made his stomach roll.
He closed his eyes and leaned forward so that his elbow rested on his knee. He put his face in his hands and listened to the rasping sound of Roma's breath. His breath had rasped like that, too. He could remember the tension of the moment which could not have lasted more than a few seconds but felt like a lifetime. He could remember how the wolf finally, slowly released her grip and settled back on her haunches.
Tomas could remember scrambling upright and shifting to a man. He could remember staring back at the wolf incredulously. "Why would you do that?!" His sister hadn't answered him. She had simply stood, flicked her ears forward, and parted her jaws in a jovial pant. The look in her golden eyes had been so amused, so cruel...
He had been dozing in and out with these thoughts coloring his mind, half dream, half reality, and half remembrance. At the sound of Roma stirring his eyes snapped open, still hazed over with memory and fatigue. He met her eyes and they unnerved him again, resounding with something familiar that he could not name. "Roma." His voice cracked. Tomas reached out hesitantly to touch her uninjured hand. He straightened his back and became more attentive. The concern he felt for her now was enough to wash away his earlier thoughts. "Do you need anything? Water?"
It was clear to him that she hurt. Tomas swallowed and rose. When he returned, it was with a bottle of water and a bottle of whiskey. He knew that one might be able to take the edge off of her pain but, before offering it to her, Tomas needed to hear her voice. "Can you tell me what happened?" He had settled beside her again. He wanted nothing more than to draw her into his arms and offer her shelter, solace. He wanted to give her a place where she could be protected. He knew, however, that to draw her close like that would only hurt her more.
The instant he said her name, Red’s eyes widened in awareness. Roma … no. She’d always been right here, right here! But Red could not feel Roma in her mind anywhere. The breaths she labored through strained with pain now doubled from panic. Where was she? Roma?
His hand on hers instantly caused those sharp golden hues to shift toward him, her expression fathomless. Do you need anything? Yes, she needed Roma. Water? Her chest rose and fell in gusts, and the little she moved caused nauseating amounts of pain. She licked her dry lips and looked around. Roma, where are you?
They were in the same room- train room- as when Roma had stayed the night with Tomas. Red, feeling uncharacteristically comfortable, had gone to sleep. Early that morning Roma had decided to high tail it out of there at the crack of dawn. Reluctantly, Red had snuck them out.
When Tomas rose she lost his touch and warmth, her fingers trembled and she watched him avidly – worried he would leave. To her relief he did not, and he returned with what smelled like water, and that sharp sweet liquid Roma liked a lot. Roma, he had called her Roma.
Can you tell me what happened? She could, but she didn’t want to – couldn’t. She didn’t want to go back to that place in her mind. The pain, the fear, the screams … a shudder took over as she closed her eyes and looked away. When she looked up again several moments later, her brows knit in worry as her eyes glossed over with tears.
“I lost her,” Red admitted in a desperate, raspy voice - almost to herself. It was other to Roma’s, deeper and almost free of the girl’s Texan twang. Her gaze lifted to Tomas’s, and she swallowed with effort. He would hate her in the next instant, he would not, could not understand. But for reasons she could not quite fathom she had to tell him.
“I lost Roma,” she whispered. Had she been wolf her hackles would have gone up in anxiety – a creature backed into a corner, fearful, with nowhere to escape to. Her throat closed, and a breath escaped through her nose, just shy of a whine.
Regret. It was not something true animals felt. Fear of anger, submission, knowledge of future recompense for ill deeds … all of these were things humans anthropomorphized into animals to make them seem regretful, or sorry. Animals could not feel repentance. They could, however, feel loss. Without Roma there it was … nothing. How could she not tell Tomas? She wasn’t Roma, and Roma wasn’t here.
Post by TOMAS MCKELLAR on Feb 28, 2015 19:20:11 GMT -5
Tomas knew immediately from her expression that he had asked the wrong question. As much as he would have liked to enact vengeance in her name, Roma was not yet able to talk of the ordeal and so he would not force her. He was familiar with this scenario. He had seen enough soldiers go through the same sort of silence and he respected it, in that quiet and thoughtful way of his.
Her anxiety went beyond his simple question, however. I lost her. Tomas' immediate thought was of Roma's horse, which was safe in Fallen territory and had been for a while now. He prepared to comfort her when she continued. I lost Roma.
That stilled Tomas' tongue. He did not understand. Was she making some profound claim that she had lost herself? He didn't think so. Perhaps her words could be attributed to dehydration, or panic, but he felt his stomach sink with a strange certainty. No, he thought. The fear in her off-colored eyes was enough to tell him otherwise. The difference in her voice warned him to something strange. Tomas set down the two bottles and leaned forward delicately. Again, he touched her hand, and it was the softest and most caring of touches that he could give.
It hurt him, somewhere in his soul, to see her like this. It would have hurt him to see most people like this but, with Roma, it hurt him more and he didn't know why.
"It's okay," Thomas whispered. "It isn't your fault." He spoke without thinking, his eyes locked very still and very calmly on her own. "You just have to explain to me... I don't understand... What do you mean that you lost Roma?"
The anxiety Red felt by the threat of rejection was blow straight out of her like the north wind across the mountains; for when his fingers touched her hand again it was not with anger, and the kindness of his words soothed her nerves.
It’s okay. It isn’t your fault. She was at first stunned, then wanted to argue instantly. It was no one else’s fault but hers, Roma was her charge but – You just have to explain to me … What do you mean that you lost Roma?
How? How could she explain? It was only pure desperation that drove her to reveal herself to him. She couldn’t even think his name without the chilled clutch of horror reaching … reaching. The strength she had displayed, the bravery, shelter, and hardness she had withheld to survive him had cracked her to her core – but she was not shattered. Not yet. She trembled under his touch, so terrified she could barely breathe.
“I am not she. She is not me, but we are one. The girl … the girl of the fire hair with the laughter and ache in her eyes. The girl of the nomads, of the prairie horses – the girl of dancing, sweetness, and spirit. She tastes like whiskey and she smells like rain. This is her body, this is her lover – but it is not mine,” she said quietly. “But she is mine,” Red almost warned. Her words were slow, deliberate. Her eyes were watchful, steady. She pulled words effortlessly from Roma’s experiences. As if her memories were a room full of her belongings, but she was not in it.
“I am the moon to her sun, the bastion of her agony, and the warrior to keep her from harm. I am her pain, I am her lost memories, I am the guardian of her future, and protector of her soul. I am the huntress, the defender, the savage, the shield.” She stilled and looked down if not simply to pull resolve, then reclaimed his eyes. Fear filled the small space, Fear of the truth and fear of what it meant.
“I, am the wolf.” The brilliance in her eyes shone no lie, and she dare not break his gaze. She was scared he wouldn’t believe her, and petrified he would.
Post by TOMAS MCKELLAR on Mar 6, 2015 22:21:32 GMT -5
Infeasible. As infeasible as the Jakarta streets where cultures collided in a tsunami, water against unyielding earth, running slick and dark through the streets where people became lost in language, colors, scents, crimes. It had always been the intricate dance of a snake and a bird, locked in battle, the end inevitable but the journey far beyond words. Some things could not be confined by thoughts, or language. Some things could not be described and given justice through anything aside from emotion. It was infeasible. But he felt the truth of it in his bones.
This was emotion. Raw emotion. It was what he had felt when Jacob Cruden had told him that she would never love a man who had been at the beck and call of a corrupt government, a mere drone. It was what he had felt when his sister had sent him the casual letter informing him of his father's death. It was what he had felt when he had reached into a coffin to hold the cold, pale hand of his mother. It was an emotion beyond feeling; the ache and bewilderment and confusion that a child felt when faced with the vast, incomprehensible nature of death. What is it? I feel this thing, this terror, but for what? I am looking into...
The eyes of an animal.
He did not feel fear. He could not put name to the thing inside of him, writhing like a pit of worms. He did not cringe from her or her declaration. The image that the wolf painted for him was one that he had seen already, in Roma's eyes. It was what she was. Jacob Cruden had been a summer girl, with tawny hair and tawny skin and tawny eyes. There had been a homeliness to her. Roma was a runner; she was sand in his fingers, the intangible scent of sweetness in a dry desert.
So of course he could not keep her. That crushing realization came over him in a tide. His expression fell and then he recognized something in this girl, this wolf, that he knew well. He recognized the anguish and, almost immediately, his own emotions stilled. What would it be like, Tomas wondered. To share a mind and a body and then find yourself missing part of your soul? He had no right to feel pain in this without also realizing the pain that this soul must have also been in. "Do not be afraid," Tomas murmured. He leaned in closer, hand soft against Roma's... Not Roma's... "We will find her. It may take time, but she will come back." His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he leaned his head against the edge of cot, beside her. His nose almost brushed the skin of her shoulder and his hair, longer than he usually liked it, lay fanned against her shirt and the sheets. It was not a gesture of surrender. It was a gesture of exhaustion. In those few seconds he had seen a part of this stranger that he recognized, that he knew. It was the weary look of soldier's too long in the service, of Jakarta girls in the streets where there they could no longer hope, in the eyes of each shapeshifter he had helped in Rome...
He knew it. He knew it well. "You are the wolf," he came to repeat, softly, and he thought of his sister. "And you are a brave wolf. You are a strong wolf..." He turned his face. He could smell her, a scent that already did not remind him of Roma. She had been the fresh scent of rain. The oasis had clung to her skin when she had laid in his bed... the oasis and the scent of her, clean, earthy. This was sharper, more potent, infinitely more feral. The lingering copper of blood remained despite the fact her skin had been cleaned and dressed. "Here you can rest. You will be safe and we will bring her back. I promise."
A battered thing. Wolves knew nothing of regret, no. They knew Pain, oh Red was could scarcely breathe from the immovable luxury it had set up in this human body. Every part of her hurt, but in the silence for that One. Tiny. Moment. The pause between breaths, the iota of time as Red awaited rejection – she felt nothing …
It will only get worse the more you fight. His hot breath and large teeth enveloped her throat as she fell hard to the ground … Unadulterated. Terror.
Somehow, somehow – in this moment she was more petrified than she had ever been. More than Grey, yes Grey was his name – that man that had written a novel within her by one drop of ink – could ever hope to inspire. Anticipation in the face of judgment was its own special brand of Hell. While she was in the waiting room, Pain was in another damn building.
Don’t be afraid.
It was an impossibility, a paradox, a fanciful acceptance. There was a moment as something Other flashed in his gaze, but then the words she never even considered an option were borne from his lips.
We will find her.
She swallowed, utterly undone. Had she her own form, of fur and tooth, tail and song she would have better expressed the now wide-eyed, watery gaze she fixed to the man.
How did he know? She’d never lost Roma before, never lost her and never had to find her. I am she and she is me and we are one. It was not what she had told him, rather, she had given to him her best explanation of Them.
You are the wolf, and you are a brave wolf. You are a strong wolf …
Where the words themselves were patronizing, placating his manner and tone could never be. Then he looked away and she lost him to something for a long moment. Her head swam, but she bit the inside of her cheek, drawing blood and grasping at coherency to hear him, to see him for just a bit longer. He looked as worn and faded as a photograph left out in the sun too long. Her eyes felt heavy.
I promise.
Only once before in her life had she heard those two words together and believed them. The first time had been when Roma had spent the night with him, wrapped in safety. Roma had run, and Red and followed her. This time, Roma had run away altogether – and there was no one left to follow.
Tears filled her eyes. Wolves did not cry, but blast that this body seemed to leak with every little emotion. Her ability to grasp concepts was leaving now, and the pain was worse than when she awoke. Her body wanted to sleep and to heal. She sniffed once and winced from the pain it caused. She nodded stiffly, shifted her fingers to weakly pull his hand closer, and fell asleep with the scent of his skin to her nose.
Inexplicably, the notion of shifting into what she had always considered her True Form had never once crossed her mind.