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peachpeachtea · 5 years ago

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Region base leaders/apprentices

I briefly mentioned the leaders and their kiddos on the last post so we’re gonna get into them now here we goooo (excuse the old art on my part i dont have time to make new refs--also all artists/contributors will be tagged accordingly)

Lark Base--Base Leader, Cadi--Apprentice, Marna Cadi: She’s the youngest of the 6 base leaders stationed in Asnia (At 20), and the most temperamental. She values hard work and independence, and despises it when people try to coddle or underestimate her abilities. While she runs a tight ship, she tends to be brash, LOUD, and impatient overall,--she’s self assured and very much carries her pride for everyone to see. Her partner is a Dubwool, Clementine, and in her spare time, Cadi has a herd of Wooloo that she takes care off and is v e ry protective over--she often spends nights taking care of them and making sure no trespassers startle the sheepies (and if she catches anyone they get whacked with her staff at BEST--her neighbors aren’t unaccustomed to hearing loud, Galarian swearing in the middle of the night). On that note: she has a really bad sailor mouth.

Marna: Similar to how Cadi is the youngest of the leaders, Marna is the youngest of the current apprentices in the region. She has a curious nature, and is a bit of an energetic busy bee, who rarely has time or patience to sit down/relax--she’s constantly working on something or another, whether it’s helping Cadi do paperwork (see: doing it for her because Cadi is incapable of filing decent paperwork and Marna cannot stand disorganization), or working in her normal duties. Her work ethic is, in a word, unreal, and that’s one of the reasons why Cadi values her so much as an apprentice and friend. Marna tends to be a bit picky and stuffy, but she thrives in her work and loves helping people. She’s the one to ask the most questions/the one to have the most answers. She’s also loves birds!! Swablu, Cirrus, is a testament to that. She loves him and he can usually be seen perched on her head sleeping.

-------- Cypress Base--Base Leader, Hades--Apprentice, Lethe Hades: The leader of the north mountain base, Hades is a confident transman who leads with a rather cool head. In his past he was a very feared individual known as "Hel, ruler of hell" due to his grip on the gang life of the region. He's done things he's not proud of and would likely never talk about. A skilled climber and dedicated to his job and training of his partner Drednaw Cerberus-- he's just a supportive dad figure. Has known Russell for many years, and as mentioned, is a sort of father figure to Lethe.

(Hades and his art belongs to @edwardsbraid btw!) Lethe: The least energetic of the apprentices, Lethe is a troubled but soft hearted boy who didn’t intend to become a Ranger at all--he was living by himself with no income for years, on account of having no parents to speak of (abandonment issues ahoy)--his recommendation to the academy was a complete accident, but the school had free boarding and it gave him a purpose, so he took the opportunity while he had it. While he loves what he does, and has made two good friends out of this, he’s struggling to come to terms with his issues and struggles to keep up with his peers. He tends to be a trouble magnet, so the plot hammer will not be kind to him umu. He’s a bit indecisive, timid and an easy crier, but he genuinely loves pokemon/people and wants to be of use to everyone somehow. He’s not much of a logistical thinker but he’s definitely not a push over physically, which comes in handy--he has no partner pokemon for plot reasons that i will reveal later.

---------- Red Oak Base (Base is still in development so this portion is likely to be updated in the future)--Base Leader, Bridget--Apprentice, Alex

Bridget: Bridget- A senior base leader with a strong sense of morality and an attitude to back it, she has no trouble rearing in even the most stubborn of rangers. Only the most confident and worthy are able to perform an apprenticeship under her and are expected to take over all Union duties alongside the Base Leader role. In times of peace and outside of work, she enjoys quiet days in her cottage with her trusted Luxray (Queenie) and looking after her Granddaughter Fraise. Her base is integral to communications between the south and north sides of Asnia Rangers, because geographically it’s in the exact center of the region (and her area has the best weather of the two sides). This is typically where all the leaders and apprentices meet up for important meetings and such.

Alex: Bridget’s apprentice and a stubborn lad--he and Bridget are often bickering with each other. He’s a dumb little hothead who likes to challenge people and bicker with his mentor. He and her fight like siblings and poke fun at each other’s age (he calls her Granny). Will do things just because someone says he can’t (IE try to lift a log twice his size just because someone said he couldn’t), eagerly and affectionately combative. Possibly has a crush on one of the other apprentices but umu thats a topic for later.

(Both Alex and Bridget belong to @humanblt!)

--------- Willow Base--Leader, Russell, Apprentice-- Hestia Russell: A former violent tempered and loud mouthed delinquent, used to be Hades literal partner in crime and has been his close friend for many years--eventually, after some personal events that i’ll get into later, Russell got tired of his crime sprees. He has since turned over a new leaf and is a quiet, amicable young man who wouldn't hurt a fly--he’s determined to get as far away from his past as possible, to the point where he dropped his real name and decided to go by Russell. He refuses to hurt people if the need isn't dire, and has been labeled as a weenie for his pacifistic behavior/even temper. While soft hearted, he can be stern, and isn’t afraid to be tough when needed. Dearly loves his town and his new life as a peacekeeper. Terrified of ghosts/creepy places (ironic because he works in the spooky part of Asnia--the local ghost types like to pick on him). Usually seen helping old ladies across the street and chopping fire wood--very sensitive about his age and scarred face, and cries when someone points out a gray hair. Has a Corviknight, Cobalt, who is usually perched at the top of the base. In charge of keeping people out of the deeper part of the woods behind his town. Has a long term crush on Carys and clams up when she's around.

(art done as a collaborative by me and roseheart-exe) Hestia: Hestia is a cryptic but very sweet and dedicated girl from regions unknown. She often gives off the vibes that she knows more than she lets on, and often speak in riddles or vague non sequiturs. Locals tend to be unnerved by her general disposition, comparing her to a “ghost, at best”. She hates fire, is creeped out by dolls of any sort, and is easy to startle, despite her best efforts to appear calm and collected. Hestia tries to be kind and amiable, and loves her few friends very deeply, but she’s incredibly stubborn and refuses help when she needs it. Her upbringing made her a firm believer in self reliance. She dislikes people who pry or ask too many questions, and worries over others constantly. She looks up to Russell as a mentor and is especially close to him. Her Pokemon is a Lampent, Chandelle (Chandy). She’s never seen without her hat or her lantern, which glows very dimly--she’s very possessive of them and avoids questions regarding either. Incredibly difficult to make her cry: some people are convinced she can’t. Very sensitive, feelings hurt easily--May or may not be pining after one of her base colleagues, who we will get to in another post. Tends to go “Teehee” when dodging questions or lying. Cadi’s current greatest enemy, because Hestia wanders at night and has accidentally startled her sheep on multiple occasions.

------- Seabream Base--Leader, Ripley--Apprentice, Melanie Ripley: Ripley: A beachside base leader!! Very beautiful, but also very terrifying to many. She broke a man’s arm once, and while the context has been lost to time, the reputation she got from it remains strong. Isn’t afraid to flex her reputation when it suits her. Has a mermaid-esque beauty that has earned her a fan club. Her base members are her family, and she is a fierce mama bear when it comes to protecting them. Has a Sharpedo, Shin. Became close with Hestia after a few plot related happenings.

(Ripley and her art belong to @nimikyu!) Melanie: A bright and upbeat former lounge singer working under Ripley, loves nothing more than making people smile and smiling in return. Incredibly patient and impossible to piss off, and loves writing letters to her friend in Pinnate base and sending her little gifts. Tends to be a bit oblivious when not working, often described as having her head in the clouds. Takes her job more seriously than she lets on, and works incredibly hard to meet her Leader’s standards--she admires Ripley more than anyone--Melanie also is incredibly popular because of her former status as a singer so she gets way more attention that she bargained form--but she’s an entertainer at heart and tourists love her, which is why she’s in charge of them/in charge of making sure they don’t wander places they shouldn’t. Has a Wingull, Rio, who sometimes delivers her letters. Makes necklaces as a hobby.

------- Pinnate Base--Leader, Carys--Apprentice, Rudy Carys: Cadi’s older sister--A mild mannered, surprisingly strong young woman from Galar. Much calmer and levelheaded than her baby sister, although, sometimes she's too calm, and can come off as overly-relaxed and airheaded. An incredible swimmer, she also works part time as a life guard in her spare time. Cheerful and smiley, eager to help, spends alot of time with the local kids/local elders. (Not to say that she doesnt have a temper, because if you set her off you'll be subjected to Cadi 2.0). Tries to offer help to her sister often, only to be vehemently refused over and over. Can beat all the sailors in her town at arm wrestling, wears sunscreen on her face to encourage others to do the same. Runs a very tight ship and values teamwork and bonding. Has a Swampert, Johanna, who helps keep an eye on the weather/preform water rescues. Vocally skeptic about the supernatural, as an important side note.

(Fantastic art done by @bastart13 !! check their art out its gorgeous)

Rudy (bio will be updated periodically)!: A bit of a no nonsense, kind of moody boy--He has alot of respect for Carys in particular because he tends to be blunt and she's the only one who isn’t phased by it and doesnt let it affect her opinion of him. He reminds her alot of Cadi, so she's used to it and knows how to handle the teenage angst. Has a Sandyghast, Gobi! Sometimes Gobi loses their shovel and has a little flag instead.

(This little man belongs to @liimonpriince)! And that’s the gist for all the major protags--supporting cast will come next, and then we’ll get to the bad guys :)

#Pokemon ranger #peach rambles #ocs #region stuff #holy moly this took so loooooooooooooong #but here as i promised #more region stuff yeehaw #hopefully i didnt miss anything

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timetowritesomefluff · 6 years ago

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Hey~I just found your blog and I really like it. I was wondering if you could ship me with a Teen Wolf and maybe Harry Potter character. I'm a Transman (pre everything). I'm not so tall,have brown hair and eyes. I love reading, drawing and watching movies/shows (huge nerd). I also love to travel, take walks in the woods or near a lake. Im very loyal and honest,can be quiet at first. I'm sarcastic and have a dark sense of humor. I can be very stubborn but I like talking about nothing and all.

Here you go, sweets. Hope you like! 💙

Allison is so, so. SO. Smitten.

This girl meets you as the third man to Scott and Stiles’ trio, and she’s such a bright red that Stiles’ asks if she got sunburned or something.

Unlike Scott, your relationship with Allison wasn’t so overprotective; you trusted her, she trusted you, in an almost immediate, unspoken agreement. It was that level of respect that bound you inextricably.

Allison still dated Scott, but there was always that specialness between you two; a friendship at first, the kind of love that never dies.

It meant that when her life started imploding, when her mother died, she broke up with Scott, and she began to distance herself, you were the one person would could still get through to her, that she would still talk to. You were too stubborn to give up on her, and honestly that’s what kept her going some days when she didn’t know who or how to trust.

You were her strength and her soft spot; and Allison was afraid of losing any more people she loved. Afraid more of losing you without ever having you in the first place. Allison didn’t want you to never know how she felt, so finally she just marched up to you—intending at first to just KISS you rather than stumble through words, but got scared at the last second and stepped back.

“I uh, you got—you got a, um, bug. There. On your shirt. I got it.”

“A bug? I thought for a second you were going to kiss me, or something.”

Allison saw the glimmer in your eye; you were teasing her. And that nervous feeling in her stomach melted away as you both laughed; it was easy for you to close the gap between you two, to take her in your arms and run your fingers through her dark hair, to kiss her as if you two had all the time in the world.

Morning walks became a consistent thing; where you two could just BE yourselves with each other, not be a hunter or the victims of another supernatural attack. It was the one time that life felt consistent for her.

Allison would, without fail, always find something for you—a flower, a dandelion, a pretty leaf, a caterpillar, a pretty rock.

“I love the color of your eyes,” Allison breathed, smiling just enough for that dimple on her right cheek to make an appearance.

Her breath fogged between you in the chilly, autumn morning air. It was cold enough to give you a reason to lean into her warmth. She played with the hair at the nape of your neck, still staring at you as if you were the rising sun.

“When the sun hits them, it’s like they’re on fire.”

It felt like fire, where her fingertips grazed the edge of your jaw. The kind of fire you were happy to burn in.

You and Allison would just honestly have this amazing relationship of just mutual respect, honesty, and love and omg it’s just so cute

Sirius Black had a reputation. He was practically the black leather jacket incarnation of cool, right?

So the fact that you made him so nervous that he accidentally put his hand in the pudding dish as he was leaning on the table while talking to you was something he never exactly lived down.

He babbled, blushed, and became a clumsy fool. You were smart, you were handsome, you were adventurous and FUN. And Sirius brought out a level of playfulness in you, making you feel safe. He always made you a priority: something that became clear when he’d always CONVENIENTLY run into you on your evening walks along the Dark Forest, claiming he was always lost even when you could clearly see Hogwarts just over his shoulder, because he just wanted an excuse to walk with you in silence, or talking, and almost always laughter.

You two would talk about any and everything: books, homework, the latest prank the marauders were planning (Sirius liked to bounce most of his ideas off of you, first). It was on one of these walks that Sirius’ hand just kept glancing off yours, every time sending a pleasant shock up your arm, until your fingers suddenly were tangled and oh no suddenly you’re holding hands

This man came from an abusive, oppressive home that made him feel like there was something wrong with him, like he was broken. And he’d be damned if he ever let his boyfriend (hello, that’s you) feel that way.

Black would be so, so protective of you. Someone uses the wrong pronouns on purpose? Suddenly they’re hexed so that they smell nothing but pickles, dirty socks, and rotting celery for a month. And it wouldn’t be just Black who had your back. ALL the marauders would be fiercely protective—thinking of you as the fifth man to their posse.

Sirius wasn’t really a teacher, he got impatient really quickly. But teaching you the patronus charm gave him an excuse to touch you, guiding your hand when it wasn’t really necessary with his other hand sliding around your waist.

“Something happy,” he reminded you. “Try to remember something happy.”

You didn’t have to remember anything. You WERE happy, incandescently. Sirius’ smile was blinding as your patronus as it bloomed from the end of your wand, and he cast his own quickly enough that the creatures interacted, and began to play with each other; a testament to your playful, easygoing, happy relationship with each other.

Hermione stumbled on you reading, which alone would have been enough to pique her interest. But she stumbled on you reading not somewhere predictable—she found you reading at the base of the Whomping Willow. You looked up at her stunned face, and smiled shyly.

“How…how is it…why aren’t you…whomped?”

The Whomping Willow had grown used to seeing you take your walks since you were a first year; eventually even anticipating you. Like a cat. You had a calming presence, and eventually it came to even LIKE you around your third year. So you just smiled, and closed your book as you stood up.

“I’m Y/N.”

Hermione shook your hand, taking in the page-turning calluses, the ink spattered on your fingernails from a productive morning of drawing, and the important detail of just how mesmerizing your face was.

“I’m Gramione Hanger. I mean hErmIONe GrANger!”

It was a steep path to budding romance.

Hermione, like the Whomping Willow, began to relax around you. The stress of her classes just suddenly seem so unimportant when she was listening to you ramble on about some intricate plot theory of a movie/show/book. And Hermione pushed you, too: she knew how smart you were, and how determined. She brought out the best in you, and never doubted for a second that you could succeed in anything you put your mind to (unless it was dethroning her and getting the highest grade in Transfiguration, then it was a competition—but I get the feeling that would just turn her on).

And when it came to defeating Voldemort, there was no one as fearless as you. Hermione loved that about you, and it wasn’t the fear of losing you that had her reaching silently for your hand one evening without explanation, but the realization that you were the absolute best and bravest person she knew, and she wanted to be with you.

Hermione wasn’t really all that interested in travel before she met you: but when she saw the way you explored new places, the way you found adventures in everything, she began to fall in love with it almost as much as she loved you. She’d read EVERYTHING about a place before you’d go, or while on a trip, and sometimes it was annoying because ‘yes, Hermione, I understand that the Eiffel Tower was constructed in 1887 and is over a thousand feet tall, I don’t care.’ And then sometimes when she’d research about a place and find secret passageways, or paths to hidden waterfalls, it was pretty useful to have a nerdy girlfriend.

She’d laugh as you charm a bouquet of cherry blossoms from the tip of your wand and hand them to her with a flourish. She’d dab a lingering kiss on your cheek, eyes bright. And you both felt you were exactly in the place you were meant to be: with each other.

#teen wolf imagine #imagines #allison argent imagine #sirius black imagine #askanswered #hermione granger imagine #you all need cuddles

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sploink · 2 years ago

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Gotta share this because holy shit I am losing my mind. It’s just baffling. (The last part is sad so don’t read past the tea if you don’t wanna get sad.)

So my family set a $25 limit for each person for Christmas this year. We only have 3 people to buy for so its a great option. Very easy just get one gift that you know someone will want or has asked for. Personally, I am very easy to buy for. Nerdy stuff. Gag gifts. Socks. I actually asked for socks.

This year it seems my family forgot who I was entirely and got me:

A coffee mug that says “If You Can Read This You Are Too Close”

A bag of Japanese loose leaf tea

Not really disappointed, I didn’t ask for anything but socks so whatever. But, what? The choices???

These people have known me my 30+ years of living. I would be ecstatic if this all ironic or meta. A joke, a silly gag, but no, my family honestly were smiling like “LOOK! A MUG! YOU LIKE CUPS!! AND TEA!! FOR THE MUG!” They were proud of themselves. ???

I waited for the punchline, the gotcha, just kidding, lol you almost thought, moment.

Nope. That’s it. They actually thought I wanted these items.

Of course I’ll use the fuck out of that mug now since they are proud of being good gift givers. They bought it for me which is really sweet (still don’t understand why they bought me a mug you begrudgingly buy for your boss,) but what the fuck the tea??

The tea. I’m actually laughing holding this fucking bag of tea. I don’t drink tea. At all. Never have.

Better yet it’s loose leaf tea, I don’t know where to begin there. This is North Carolina, the shit business loose leaf hot tea doing in my immediate vicinity?? The utter audacity. Aside from the choice in tea. How will I even make that shit I don’t own a fancy tea steeper? thingy? Am I supposed to use a fucking pasta sieve? Coffee filter? Eat it dry?

But hey, I decided to look into it. Searched the type of tea by the brand and all that. THIS BAG OF TEA IS DISCONTINUED. It’s fucking old. Lord above knows how old. I’m afraid to open that shit. Someone in my family just fucking reached deep in the pantry and went “uuuuhhjjdjhhhhh fuck it, give him this I guess.”

What the fuck??? I mean??? Ok???

Sad time.

Got a surprise gift from my Aunt (we do not buy each other gifts she’s rich as fuck and can buy herself anything she wants). It’s a shirt. Ok?

It’s a women’s shirt.

I am a transman. MAN. This is not new information to her or anyone else in my family. It’s really difficult to find clothing that fits and makes me comfortable so I ask people to avoid shirts/pants as gifts. But this one. Wow. It is a very soft and pretty shirt? Flowers and leaves, some succulents, pale green. Perfectly pleasant. Ok, she picked it out and will ask if I like it so I tried it on to take a picture before I donate it. Maybe she thought it was unisex or something? Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt here. Maybe I’ll use it as a sleep shirt, it IS pretty soft.

Put it on. Mistake.

The cut enhances the waist. The neckline dips to show what would be considered a “tasteful” amount of tiddy (I don’t have those anymore so now my scars are slightly visible instead also if I still had those puppies I’d show an obnoxious amount of tiddy like the old days cause tiddy is good I just don’t want them attached to me or reminded that they used to be there)

I looked like a soft lesbian with chest scars. Oh hell no. Love y’all. But I’m not a lesbian, not a women, I’m a gentle person but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna wear women’s clothing the fuck? I’d rather eat that bag of old crusty loose leaf tea and die than feel dysphoria that bad again. Merry fuckin Christmas.

#sploink speaks #long post #trans #christmas #rant

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jediabicus · 3 years ago

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Off-duty Leaf Ninja. . . . . . . . . . . . #ootd #naruto #kakashi #ootg #inkedandtrans #theking #transfashion #transman https://www.instagram.com/p/ClgnM6Yu9Jg/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#ootd #naruto #kakashi #ootg #inkedandtrans #theking #transfashion #transman

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lgbt-crossing-blog · 7 years ago

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Hello! Mod Marshal is here to kick off this blog! We are officially open for business, including making requests as well as posting our own headcanons!

I am a pansexual transman and my interests include studying, coffee, robots and video games! I also love my datemate, Mod Punchy!

I have played Animal Crossing ever since picking up Wild World as a kid; I also play New Leaf & Pocket Camp (you can always ask for my PC friend code).

I hope we all have a good time on this blog!

#animal crossing #acnl #acpc #mod marshal #intro #marshal #transgender #pansexual

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clansayeed · 5 years ago

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 4: Thrown to the Wolves

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Turns out there have been some unusual fatalities hiding under the city surface. Nik decides to go on the defensive and find a protection spell for Taylor that requires a rare ingredient only found in the hands of the Bayou werewolves.

*this chapter contains brief narrative of Taylor’s trans experience; this is solely framed around my personal experience being an AFAB transman and does not speak for every trans experience

[READ IT ON AO3]

Mid-yawn Garrus slides something in front of him that smells like the first bitter chill of winter with a peppermint leaf for garnish.

“That’ll put a little pep in your step —” the fae hesitates, mutters something under his breath, before he gives an affirmative nod, “— yes, yes it’s the Garrus guarantee.”

“And what could it do on accident?” Ivy asks beside; pulls the concoction over before Taylor even has a chance to grab the straw.

“Why, milady, I’m not sure I like your tone!”

“And I’m not sure I trust anything sans liqueur made by your hand.”

Garrus visibly wilts and takes the drink back.

Taylor can’t help but feel like he’s somehow offended him by not drinking. Doesn’t mean he’s going to start just to make someone else happy, but —

“You look like a man on a self-guilt mission. Not necessary, my mortal. I relish the challenge.”

It’s a relief to look up and see Garrus’ determined smile. But he is tired, and tries not to yawn again with his mouth uncovered.

“Dunno why —” —yawn— “— I’m so tired anyway,” Taylor mutters, “I was passed out for a few good hours at least, right?”

Krom looks up from his notebook — now positioned at the bar with the rest of them instead of on his own. “Unconsciousness doesn’t provide the same type of relaxation that willing sleep does. You’re basically running on empty.”

“Oh,” then to Garrus, “you wouldn’t happen to have a coffee pot, or, uh, coffee cauldron?”

“Alas, no, but —”

“‘But’ there is a world beyond these walls. Or have you boys forgotten?”

Like the Stooges all three heads turn in sequence to focus on Ivy and her look of bemused exasperation. For a bespelled revenant she’s awfully expressive. Ivy insists the look is au natural but Garrus admitted to seeing her apply a little bit of rouge to her risorus†cheek muscles like a contour when she wasn’t listening.

“If you’re in the mood, Taylor, we could head out and nab you a few shots of espresso. That’ll keep you moving.”

“Or he could just go back up to Ryder’s and nap,” mutters Krom with every intention of not being heard.

Ivy scoffs. “Well that’s no fun.”

And while the thought of leaving the safety of these four still-strange walls doesn’t really appeal to what little sense of self-preservation he has, Taylor would be lying if he wasn’t already starting to feel the downsides of a caffeine addiction.

But… “Ryder said the wards of this place would protect me — that whatever attacked me is still out there.”

“Well sure it is. But it’s daylight sweetheart — and I’m gonna go out on a severed limb when I say this but I doubt that beastie has a glamour.”

He glances over to the entry door where the tails of Ryder’s leather coat had vanished hours ago. “Should we wait for him?” Aren’t bodyguards for tailing along after all?

But Ivy doesn’t seem all too thrilled with the idea.

“Let the man work. He’s a buzzkill anyway. I’ll be with you — and I’m a lot more durable than I look.”

But Taylor must still look doubtful. Because she walks around and places her purpling hands one on his shoulder and the other on Krom’s — jostles him out of his concentration with a “Hm?”

“Between Krom and I you’ll be just fine.”

“Wait — I’m coming along?” The stone troll asks in surprise.

“Are you really passing up on the chance to enter a small-town java house? All those future playwrights and lost poets just begging for you to observe them in their natural habitat?”

Judging by the look on his surprisingly-expressive (for, you know, a guy made of stone) face no; no he’s not.

If Ryder trusts them enough to leave Taylor in their company for the last few hours as he has then it’s for a good reason, right? He’s safe with them, right?

“Garrus?” Taylor throws him a look and a raised eyebrow. Might as well make a whole thing of it with no man left behind after all.

But the fae declines with a polite shake of the head. “Nah; someone’s got to be here to keep Ryder from raising an army to find you, should you be unfortunate enough to return after him.”

“And the bar.” Krom adds; earns a thoughtful look from Garrus’ sparkling eyes.

“Indeed. But maybe bring me back some of their little human product for me to experiment on, darling? I’d appreciate it.”

There’s absolutely no way Krom could miss the eyelashes being fluttered his way… yet somehow Ivy and Taylor are the only ones who notice.

Still the granite that make up his cheeks go a little rosy in color. “S-Sure.”

“You’re a shining star. A real…” he taps his chin in thought of an apt compliment, “muscovite mica?††”

Somehow it’s so bad that it works — if Krom’s duck-and-fluster is anything to go by.

Ivy packs up her bag, Krom pockets his notebook, and Taylor leaves a hand-written note assuring his competence and agreement in being whisked away to leave with Garrus. They’re even at the door when Taylor looks between them with a moment of ‘duh, you dimwit’ and uses his body as a door shield.

“Your faces.”

“What — something wrong with my tusks?” Krom claps a hand over his mouth sheepishly. Ivy though — she can’t be bothered and yanks the mortal aside with ease.

“Relax, honey. Remember that it takes — Krom your tusks are pearly as always relax — a powerful charm for the average mortal to see through glamours. To them nothing will be out of the ordinary.”

“So, wait, what will I see?”

And there has to be a certain twitch to her grin — something that ticks all of her visible muscle tissue more than average.

“You’ll see my best angle. Which, for the record, is all of them, but in all our monstrous bliss.”

Krom huffs. “Speak for yourself.”

“Less talky more walky!”

She ushers them out into the early morning light.

Not that he doubts Ivy — it only takes about twenty minutes in her presence to know her confidence isn’t just well-placed but well-earned — but it still takes Taylor a few hot minutes and some very intense stares at passersby to fully assure him that their glamours are infallible.

Which definitely doesn’t help the nerves he gets when he starts thinking about why he alone can see through them, but that’s a low-priority problem.

“I can’t believe it,” the trio turns down a familiar corner, “that you guys were so close all this time. I took this way to rehearsal once when they were fixing the pothole in my complex parking lot.”

“That’s why I picked that theatre, actually. Short walk to Garrus’.” Krom comments — doesn’t realize what he’s said until he looks at Taylor and Ivy snickering together in confusion.

“And where’s your place, Krom?”

He points somewhere off. “A few blocks that way.”

“So farther than the Shift, huh?”

Either he can’t or won’t answer. But it’s enough for them to let it go.

Another block of pensive silence before Ivy thwacks the back of his legs with her leather bag. “I could read your mind but the spell doesn’t work well out in fresh air. So drachma for your thoughts?”

“Well…” he debates saying something else but doesn’t, “I was just thinking since we’re so close to my place maybe we could stop by? I could grab a bag?”

Grab Kristin’s bag. Fuck. He still needs to go find her at the hospital. But Ryder promised to take him when he’s safe. Can’t risk her life again.

And maybe he anticipated them being against it because he’s surprised at Ivy’s greedy grin.

“Oooh, can we peek through your stuff?”

“Uh… sure?”

“Then I’m down for an adventure.”

“It’s not —”

A finger adorned in a lace glove shushes him. “Hush, little mortal boy. Let me have this.”

Lucky for him Ivy doesn’t even think to ask him to chip in for the coffee. Lucky for the baristas she’s got more than drachma in that handbag.

“Your usual, Ivy?” Asks a handsome man at the register, and it’s pretty obvious why he remembers her order. While they trade witty banter Taylor helps Krom pick out a bag of coffee beans for Garrus to play with — he’s no expert but since it sounds like he’s the only one who’ll be drinking it he’s a little selfish.

While Krom heads to the counter he snatches his drink up and chugs it with no regard for manners. Yes the steaming roast scalds the living crap out of his tongue but the quicker the caffeine kicks in the better.

Doesn’t mean he’s not sheepish when he tilts the cup for the last possible drop and Ivy’s laughing in his face. Only she’s allowed to laugh — especially since she buys him a second to savor.

There’s a second of panic when Taylor pats his pockets — keys, wallet, where is the phone — and remembers Vera high-tailing it with a cellular hoard. He debates mentioning her (and the funny difference between who and what) to his new friends but thinks against it.

Low-priority problems and all.

Immediately Ivy besets the place with exuberance. Pokes this and lifts up that and starts to rummage around his kitchen cupboards like she’s searching for the Holy Grail. Krom is slightly less obvious with his intentions but definitely zeroes in on the sole bookshelf and it’s contents.

Taylor doesn’t know what to think. So much has changed in the last twelve hours — changed in him, in the company he keeps, even in how he views the world around him — but not in here. Even Kristin’s half-drunk teacup from his dramatic confessional still rests on the kitchen island.

“You eat a lot of fish.” concludes Ivy while shutting his freezer. “I don’t know of any creatures who have a diet solely of fish that isn’t environmental.”

“I — sorry?”

“You can tell a lot about a creature based on it’s nest. But this is some pretty mortal stuff.”

There’s a snort behind them; Krom actually shady side-eyes his small collection.

“Unless you count an obsession with Oscar Wilde.”

“I just like —”

“Nah nah,” Ivy argues, “that’s still very mortal of him.”

While they continue to discuss their findings Taylor starts inching towards his room. “You guys do that. I’m gonna… uh…” They don’t seem to mind him leaving them hanging.

First and foremost — he changes. Rids himself of the smell of sweat and grave and something that’s left his jeans a little sour (he has a vague flashback to the instant before passing out and tries to tell himself it’s the body’s natural response to terror, totally normal and not at all embarrassing).

The rest is just shoving things into a bag. A crumpled-up duffel he got with a gym membership that ended up being a waste of money with the lack of inclusive changing rooms. At least it was good for something.

The circled date on his bedroom calendar catches his eye and Taylor’s so very glad they stopped by.

He’s got a needle halfway in his gut when Ivy wanders in like she owns the place. Stops and stares with wide, glassy eyes.

“Shouldn’t a medical professional be doing that? Can I watch? Does it hurt? I forget what it feels like to have flesh. Ooh look you can pinch it!”

Taylor tries not to move the syringe too much while hastily batting away Ivy’s probing fingers. “Stop—Stop Ivy please! I don’t want this to break under my skin.”

He doesn’t mean to sound so strained — but it gets her to back off in the doorway. Doesn’t stop her clinical analysis of his every move though.

“Now can I ask questions?” She asks only when he’s secured his bandaid and disposed of his needles. It feels strange to say but only because up until now there’s only been one other person to see him like that.

“I guess.”

“What is it?”

She picks up the little bottle and stares intently at the contents. Only when he’s got the rest of his supplies packed up does he pluck it from her and add it to the set.

“Hormones.”

“Are you deficient?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then why do that?”

“Because you can’t be deficient in something your body barely makes.”

“My question stands.”

Taylor purses his lips. It’s no ‘getting caught with a binder in gym class’ but it’s not exactly his favorite topic of conversation either. Ivy waits patiently, though, blinking owlishly.

“I mean — I’m trans,” that’s not the part he’s had an iffy time discussing, “I’m not shy about saying it. You — do monsters… I mean can they be…?”

“If I’m understanding right then yes.”

“Okay. So. Us mortals don’t have magic to fix all our problems; or… not on a normal day. So instead we just…” He reenacts his injection, miming the plunger in hand.

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s a needle. Kinda.”

“Does it help?”

That’s something he answers with no doubt in his mind. “Immensely.”

“Okay then,” she pops on her heels, “if you’re grabbing a bag though can we take your boxed cheesy noodles? Krom wants them but he’s too shy to ask.”

One conversation as casual as the other. Thank god — he can only monologue with a script to follow.

“Sure. You got it.”

“Great!” She squeals and claps in delight before rushing off.

Yeah, pretty great.

Less so when their quest brings them back to where they started — everything much the same except for the grim frown Ryder refuses to shake.

“See, what’d I tell you? Safe and sound.” Garrus says by way of greeting; flashes them a look when Ryder’s back is turned and rather than disposing of the rest of the hunter’s drink he discreetly knocks it back himself.

“Do you have a death wish?!”

He doesn’t give Taylor a chance to answer; rounds on the pair of Ivy and Krom instead. “In what world is it a good idea to take a kid with a target on his back on a coffee run?”

Krom shrinks back (quite well despite his size) but Ivy isn’t having it. Stands up straighter with her hands on her hips and focuses the empty fire of her eyes straight into Ryder’s soul.

“Don’t you talk to me that way, Nik Ryder. Or would you rather I take my pound of flesh owed literally?”

And judging by the look in her eye she’s not kidding. Makes Ryder falter before fixating back on Taylor.

Only Ivy isn’t done. “Oh no no no, don’t you harass him either. Poor thing was wilting in the dark here.” She throws an arm over his shoulders and pulls him in for a strangely cold hug. “We’re here and there’s not a hair out of place on his chinny-chin chin. So get over yourself.”

Now she’s done; pushes past him with a not-so-subtle shove that doesn’t look like much but sends him staggering back on uneven footing.

Taylor holds up a finger before Ryder can even try.

“I needed to get some stuff from my place. Thanks for the concern though.”

When he walks passed the hunter follows doggedly at his heels. For a guy who was content to let him leave the apartment last night he’s certainly put on a nannying personality.

“I get that,” it’s obvious he’s trying to keep a level tone, “but things are a lil’ bit different than they were last night.”

Excitedly Garrus takes the bag of coffee from Krom — ushers the troll to join him into the back to start experimenting. Taylor swivels on his stool to where Ryder stands with arms crossed.

Ivy watches with interest. “Meaning…?”

Though he was all words a mere moment ago, Ryder seems to have to come to grips with whatever needs to be said. Steels himself and sets his jaw so hard Taylor can hear his teeth grind together.

“Denna and Carlo are dead.”

The sass drains out of Ivy in one fell swoop.

“What — both of them? How—when?”

“Carlo two nights ago — vamps were keepin’ it quiet as long as they could until someone could get a word up the coast. Denna the night before that.”

“In-house hits?”

“That’s what I thought — ‘specially what with Carlo’s debts to the Smoke. But it wasn’t an ordinary killing. There’s a body.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Don’t believe me?”

“Vampires don’t leave corpses, Nik.”

“Well Izzy wants you to do the autopsy, so you can see for yourself.” He fishes a crumpled up piece of paper out of his pocket and lets Ivy snatch it from him.

If they weren’t suddenly no laughs and all hard frowns Taylor might applaud them for their character. But this was the same Ivy who laughed herself to tears when she explained to him how she became her own possessed corpse — if she’s not laughing it’s probably for a good reason.

She clutches the paper in a sinewy grasp. “And Denna?”

Ryder just shakes his head.

“It’s a miracle I got to her body before the mortals did.”

“Busy boy…” She grabs her things in a rush. Is halfway to the door when she turns back and scampers over to peck a kiss on Taylor’s cheek.

“I’ll be back later, sweets,” when her lips are close to his ear; “do whatever he tells you now. Stay safe; stay alive.”

Then she’s out like it never even happened. Leaves the air hanging uncomfortable with the woodsy scent and stale coffee on the back of Taylor’s tongue.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s happening?” he finally asks.

“That depends,” Ryder steps closer and takes a tentative seat on the stool to his left, “on whether or not you really wanna know how much danger you’re in.”

What a loaded statement. No, no he doesn’t. But… “I have to, don’t I?”

A flash in Ryder’s gaze; pride maybe — or pity.

“Carlo de la Rosa was head of the vampires in town. Nothing fancy or formal; he was oldest and had the most ties to the community. I think he was cousin to the first mayor or summin’. Either way… he’d been around a long time.”

“Old vampire was important, got it.”

“Good. So —”

“So he’s dead though.”

His sigh sounds so… defeated. Not a good look to have on a bodyguard, really.

“Yeah, yeah he is. And his kin tried to cover it up. Vampires don’t leave bodies, Taylor. They leave piles of ash. That’s one of those facts of nature things; stuff that doesn’t get messed with. If there’s a body then there’s a chance it’s still alive. But… not this time.

“Hopefully Ivy’ll have some answers. She’s pretty well-known in the local community; dunno if she mentioned. Her services cost an arm and she won’t hesitate in takin’ a leg, too, but she’ll figure out what happened faster than I could.”

No wonder Ivy is the way she is, then.

“And this ‘Denna’ chick?”

“Now that is a fuckin’ mystery,” Ryder growls, “one I almost don’t want solved. Real powerful shapeshifter — she had herself enough faces to form a one-woman zoo. Whatever was strong enough to take her down isn’t something I want to meet on a lonely night.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes Taylor suspicious. Makes him bring a leg up against his chest and hug it tight — like whatever’s hunting these people down is lurking just out of sight.

And maybe it is.

He sort of gets Ryder’s panic, now.

Ryder’s a direct guy. But right now he’s anything but.

Taylor’s a little disappointed that it takes him as long as he does to come to the final conclusion — one Ryder must have reached hours ago.

“You think that the thing that killed those two was the same thing that was after Krissy and me.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“And we still don’t know what it is.”

“No, we don’t.”

“But if it did kill them… it’s —”

“It’s dangerous; but we knew that. So instead of focusing on the shit we know let’s focus on the shit we don’t. Like how to keep you safe.”

He’s not overly fond of the fact that knowing how to keep him safe is the first thing on their list of unknowns but hey, it’s on a list somewhere and that’s a good thing.

“I’m filled with equal parts terror and caffeine —”

A loud cry interrupts him; followed by a bang and light blue smoke beginning to unfurl from the bottom of the back room curtain. Somehow it only adds to the aesthetic of it all — doesn’t it?

“— so; any ideas?”

Instead of answering — you know, like any normal person would — Ryder just hops off his stool and bounds up the steps to the second floor two at a time.

“Is that a yes? Or a no?” Taylor calls; realizes just as the blue smoke starts to tickle his nose that he’s not gonna get an answer.

“Ryder?” He calls up — why does the smoke smell like a seafood restaurant? — then leaps up and stumbles after him. “Hey, Ryder! I asked — wait up!”

If he thought the outdoors smelled like Bayou before he was sorely mistaken — in the actual Bayou it’s more swamp and something peppery in the air.

“Come on. Kristof ain’t exactly a fan of tardiness.”

He jogs to catch up to Ryder’s coat-tails. Whoever Kristof is, the fact that Ryder’s devil-may-care attitude is put on hold to meet his needs says a lot about him; that he shouldn’t be kept waiting being the most vital.

Large tiki torches line the darkness around them — chase away the world beyond the well-worn earthen path they walk towards their destination. Fireflies hover around the flames with interest; who are you, bright light, and why do you tower before me? Taylor also catches sight of what look like dried flowers tied to the base where the flames are hottest.

They make the air smell sickly sweet and heavy.

“Whats on your mind?”

He looks over to see Ryder watching him instead of where they’re headed. Not like there’s much chance of getting lost with cattails walling off their winding road.

What a loaded question. “What isn’t?” He poses his own instead.

Ryder actually laughs. And it doesn’t sound laced with sarcasm or spite. He makes a note to check the hunter’s breath for that whiskey when he gets a chance.

“Well, ya got me there.”

But he also knows there’s a truth to be posed. “Uhm, I mean if you really wanna know —”

“Sure, sure.”

“Okay…” Not that it helps him narrow it down… “Well right now I’m having flashbacks to this scripted miniseries I was in during college. Part of our junior final — my first and only time in front of a camera, too. It was called Endless Summer and I’m pretty sure we bought these exact tiki sticks wholesale for the fake jungle.”

It’s a good memory and Taylor’s smiling remembering it. Only when he looks over Ryder isn’t as amused.

“Really? All this goin’ on… and you’re thinkin’ about that?”

“It’s not my fault werewolves know a good bargain when they see one.”

“Do us both a favor — don’t mention that to anyone we’re gonna meet.”

Up ahead the sounds of nature start to give way to voices and music; the tapping of lap-style bongos and a few acoustic guitar chords. Honestly he’s just glad there aren’t any moonshine jug flutes or washing board banjos.

Taylor takes a moment to get his thoughts back on the path in front of them and tries again.

“I never really thought about if there was more to the world or not, you know? Like if people asked me about ghosts or aliens or Bigfoot I didn’t actually care. I used to be really into fantasy books and movies growing up but I knew it was all stage makeup and props and green screens. And once you know how the magic is made… well for me it made it all pretty mundane.”

There’s a soft snort beside him. “That’s the problem with mortals — you get too busy searching for answers and settle on the first one you get.”

“Well no offense but I’m pretty sure the average person doesn’t automatically believe in faeries and — and Bayou werewolves.”

“What makes you so certain?”

The look Ryder gives him bores a hole straight into his chest. Makes Taylor take a second to doubt himself even though there’s never been anything to doubt before.

“I just am.”

“And look where that got you. All that certainty down the drain and a crazy unknown evil comin’ at ya.”

Speaking of… “Are you sure we’re safe here?” He looks around but doubts the flowers and their scent are more than decorative — especially not where that thing is involved. “Why wouldn’t this Kristof guy meet us at the Shift? You know… with wards and stuff.”

They round a bend; there’s a small wooden pergola at the end of their journey and louder noise beyond. What looks like the distant lights of windows on a cabin.

But Ryder stops him with a palm flat on his chest. Taylor pulls back on uncomfortable instinct. He’s sweating enough as it is.

“Make no mistake Taylor,” he warns, “whatever’s huntin’ you aside — no one is ever safe. Not even at the Shift. If something is powerful enough or pissed enough to want to get to you then it’ll find a way.

“As for the Pack…” He throws a grim look forward. “Consider everything you know about werewolves to be a lie. They can change whenever they want. The wolf is as much a part of them as it is separate.

“I wouldn’t normally fuck with this route or Kristof’s Pack but the wolves have a monopoly on most of the native plants. It’s how they keep their lifestyle intact. And in order to do this protection spell Ivy so generously gifted you — we need something only they can provide. And we’re about to bare the backs of our necks to an Alpha to get it.”

The hunter only seems satisfied when Taylor’s face goes pale. Suddenly he’s regretting not having more than coffee before their outing.

“Do you mean that, uh, literally? Or…” He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t have to. Ryder’s face says it all.

Oh boy.

Ryder gives his arm a light smack and they continue forward. “Chin up — if there’s one thing that can be said for these guys its that they know how to have a good time.”

Judging by the large bonfire that comes into view — dims the torches around them into just another speck from a firefly in comparison — heck yeah they know how to have a good time.

As a fan of city amenities himself, Taylor was expecting something a little less permanent out here in the middle of nowhere. Where even their cab driver — “why don’t you own something cool, like an off-road motorcycle?” “I do own something cool: this coat” — had a hard time finding a place to drop them off without debating charging them for getting swamp on his tires.

But the two-story cabin looks pretty permanent. As do the trailers parked around it. Some of them with wooden supports to keep the wheels from sinking in too low — some without wheels at all.

This isn’t a place for the wolves to gather — it’s where they live, and breathe, and thrive.

Taylor tries to stop at the makeshift gate but Ryder keeps going — makes him jog to catch back up.

“Can we just walk in here?” He asks in a hushed breath.

Ryder nods. “Something to remember as a mortal, kid. We’re intruding in their space on means of just existin’. So don’t half-ass it; act like you belong even if you don’t. The rest’ll follow.”

Here’s hoping he can.

“I told you to stop calling me kid.”

“You really wanna work out nicknames now?”

“No — but, I dunno — on the ride back to town, maybe.”

For the most part those gathered don’t seem to pay much mind to two strangers. Small groups sit in plastic lawn chairs around fire pits with cans and bottles. A young couple laugh together while stringing up globe lights around a trailer awning. Someone must be grilling in the distance and it smells amazing.

There’s a high-pitched squeal and from a thicket of tall grass beyond bursts half a dozen children and their dogs at play — careless youth stumbling in the earth underfoot as they play some game of chase.

Wait, are those really dogs, or…?

“Aw hell naw, I know I ain’t seein’ what I’m seein’ right now.”

So much for whole-assing their intrusion.

They’re stopped just short of the porch steps leading up to the cabin. A group of three men — more muscle than men — and an equally ripped woman stand from their chairs with all eyes focused on them.

No, not them. On Nik.

Nik who’s suddenly smiling all casual and friendly — no warmth to it or crinkle in his eyes but definitely trying his best to seem at ease. His expression and body language is totally different. That of a friendly man — maybe not the most personable, but one of those ‘its the attempt that counts’ types.

Taylor recognizes it right away; the masquerade, the donning of a persona. Playing the part. It’s impressive; disturbing, but impressive.

A flat-palm gesture keeps Taylor back while his bodyguard takes a few steps up. Well he tries; one boot on the creaking steps and the three (brothers, they look like) look ready to rip his throat out. Teeth bared and white-knuckled grips threatening to break their beer bottle necks.

“Back off, Ryder.”

“Y’ain’t welcome here. Guess you gotta death wish tho’, huh?”

“Now gentlemen,” Ryder schmoozes with a thicker emphasis on his accent than normal, “that ain’t exactly in the Mardi Gras spirit.”

“Au contraire, y’ piece-a shit,” one snarls, “the Hunt is tradition fer us. And I don’ think Kristof’s picked this year’s pelt yet…”

Taylor isn’t the only onlooker to the not-so-smooth talking, however. Shifts over slightly to watch the woman where she stands back and watches; sips her drink like they’re discussing the weather.

For a pack of wolves she’s lean in an almost feline way. Skin dark-née-umber under the yellowed porch light with muscles rippling just beneath the surface. Hair cropped close with the hint of a tattoo at the nape of her neck that fades into obscurity beneath her tank. Her nostrils flare and then bam — golden eyes on Taylor that make him shrink back and pretend he didn’t see a thing. There’s a power in her gaze. A force to push him away — to make him submit. Is she the Alpha that Nik mentioned…?

Nik realizes he’s getting nowhere with the brothers and, much on the same wavelength of thought, ducks and swerves his head to try and catch the woman’s attention.

“Octavia, now, let’s not start anything. You know Kristof’s expecting me.”

Octavia steps forward and the bodies part around her. Like they’re aware of her every movement and breath. Taylor’s never ‘studied’ animal behavior outside of brief affairs with the animal channel when there’s nothing else on but this is what he imagines pack mentality is like.

It’s beautiful — or it would be if it weren’t so nerve-wracking.

When she speaks Octavia’s voice is rich and husky — more eloquent than her companions and with the trademark Cajun swing oft imitated but never well. No — she’s the real deal.

“Oh I’m well aware, cher, just as I’m sure you’re aware of how hard I tried to dissuade him from meetin’ with you.” There’s no flirtatious edge — only hard, clipped words. Like a commander barking orders. It definitely makes the men around her back up — back down.

Nik hazards another step forward; backs off down to Taylor’s level at the twitch of Octavia’s upper lip — the flash of teeth.

The hunter’s persona is gone now. He knows it won’t get him any open doors. “I wouldn’t come if it weren’t important.”

“You shouldn’t’a come at all. Not after what you done.”

“We both know I was just doing my job.”

Something about it makes the tallest man snap. His bottle breaks in his hand and he’d lunge forward if another doesn’t hold him back.

“That’s ‘cuz ya in the business-a’ murder, fuckin’ dick!”

But it’s definitely not just Taylor who stands surprised when Octavia rounds on her own with a hand curled in the back of his mousy hair — just shy of his neck.

“Watch ya’self, pup. Don’t let an outsider get you all riled up. Control. it.”

And he’s got a pretty good idea of what ‘it’ is based on the way the man’s bared teeth look a little too sharp. Watches as he shoots rapid looks between Ryder—unmoving—and Octavia—unyielding—until he ducks his head. It must be the right thing to do because she lets go and soon the two usher their brother inside.

The tension isn’t gone but it does ease up. Gives Nik the chance to regain his two steps like he’s pressing in on territory but knows not to go too far. Octavia mutters something under her breath before looking back their way.

“I asked Kristof to meet me outside of the Pack turf to avoid this sorta mess.”

She huffs at him. “Yeah, well, it was a dumb thing to ask. ‘Specially during Mardi Gras.”

“Well… yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Whatever it is must be important then.” Her chin jerks up. “Something to do with whatever that is?”

Ryder looks back — exchanges a look of confusion with Taylor that definitely isn’t an act.

“Whate — that’s a kid, Octavia. A mortal kid.”

At least it makes her laugh; though probably for the wrong reasons. “Ha, and I’m a terrier. Half the trouble ain’t your ugly mug ‘round these parts but the stench of whatever you’ve brought ‘long with ya.”

He’d probably be a little more offended if he hadn’t seen how they treated Ryder on principle. Whatever history was between him and the wolves made for bad blood all around. Maybe it was just being transferred his way.

Maybe even after the two hours he’d spent in the dingy apartment shower trying to scrub off the feeling of moldy decay he still smelled like death.

Or maybe they were all assholes; Nik, Octavia, the werewolves too. That made for a much more reasonable explanation.

“You reek of trouble.”

Takes him a moment to shake off his thoughts and realize Octavia’s looking right at him again. Same eyes, same ferocity. Defending her pack.

But since he hadn’t said two words good or bad to her it was a little shitty on her part.

“Second puberty’ll do that to you.” He snaps back; hands on his hips, elbows sticking out. Taking up as much space as he could. Hadn’t the animal channel once said something about scaring off bears by making yourself look larger?

Not that it scares her off. But it does quirk up her lips a smidgen.

“Yeah,” her nose twitches, “that too.”

“A-hem,” Nik actually snaps to bring the attention back to him, “if we could get back to the matter at hand? I ain’t leavin’ without my meeting, Octavia.”

“I know, I know.”

She leaves her bottle on the porch railing. Doesn’t gesture for them to follow but opens the screen door to head inside regardless. “Just had to give them time to warn him, that’s all.”

“We spoke on the phone. He knows.”

“This is Kristof we’re talking about, cher. Don’t be surprised if he takes a swing for the heck of it.”

Ryder scratches his cheek — tries to cover up the somber anticipation of the thought as he and Taylor join her inside.

Most of the party is out by the trailers but there’s definitely an air of something afoot in the cabin’s wooden walls. That with old rugs lining the hallways and a small homemade bar in the corner gives the place an air of sophistication one wouldn’t expect from the outside.

If dozens of taxidermy heads mounted on plaques could be considered sophisticated, anyway.

Some, Taylor recognizes; elk with towering antlers and what has to be some sort of mock up sabertooth — a tiger’s head with a walrus’ tusks or something. He turns to ask Ryder if it is indeed a fake but they’re already ten steps ahead. He jogs to catch up.

Avoids the pointed glares of the brothers at the small bar for the sake of peace.

They stop at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Beside them a door half-open lets light and the soft melody of a piano ease out.

“He’s up in his office.” Octavia stops halfway up the stairs and jerks her head in Taylor’s direction. “Keep the pup down here; whatever you’re up to having something reek in his nose ain’t gonna help your cause.”

He looks to Nik with wide eyes. “No way. I’m coming with you.”

“Remember what I said about baring your —”

“But what if it —” he stops himself; remembers they aren’t in the same sort of friendly company the Shift provides, “— you know what I mean, Ryder.”

He does. From the look in his weathered eyes he really does. Actually makes him throw a look back to Octavia — but the she-wolf isn’t budging. Isn’t just on the stairs as a guide now but a barrier.

Ryder sighs and his voice sounds one word short of pleading. “Can he at least stay inside? He’s new to all this. Like — born new.”

Taylor plays it up; puts on his best and most pathetic face for the woman. Doesn’t know if he should be glad or a little insulted that it actually works.

She jerks her head to where the piano can be heard. “Fine; he can wait in the Trophy Room.” And fixates Taylor with a hard look when she says, “Whatever you break, pup, you best be ready to replace with somethin’ of your own.”

It’s enough… hopefully.

“Stay out of trouble.” Ryder’s warning sounds more like a fond farewell. Some bodyguard, he wants to shout back —but knows it’s something neither of them can control.

He waits until the last edge of leather coat vanishes up the steps and out of sight. Knocks on the side door awkwardly — seems like the polite thing to do — before nudging the door open with his boot.

Oh it’s a Trophy Room all right. With more mounted heads than he ever hoped to see in his life scattered around the wall with other trinkets from what must be Kristof’s victories. A tusk hung here, what looks like the tail of a human-sized scorpion there. A row of frames hanging over a small stone fireplace.

And the piano in the corner facing the drawn plaid window curtains. The player with his back turned, hunched over; fingers dancing along each key with the grace that only comes with hard work and dedication.

He finds an ottoman made from a tree stump and takes a seat in silence.

There are worse places to hang out.

He hopes.

#nightbound #choices nb #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #cal lowell #garrus #ivy #krom #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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