Tracey Davis {can kick your ass} (tracingadavis) wrote in reduxpitch, @ 2016-10-24 01:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !thread, character: nikolai krum, character: tracey davis |
WHO: Tracey Davis and Nikolai Krum
WHAT: Werewoofs
WHEN: {backdated} Saturday, 22 October
WHERE: Tracey’s caravan, dragon reserve, Wales
RATING|STATUS: Tracey's mouth is its own rating | Completed doc
There was so much going on in Tracey’s life, and yet so very little at the same time. Outwardly, everything was much the same, with the exception of Charlie being gone. And Daphne...off doing a boy, apparently. In her head, though, nothing was simple. And if there was one thing Tracey hated (besides idiots and things that had no point or purpose), it was an abundance of feelings. She knew that she probably loved Daphne. She’d told Galinda as much, which was the first time she’d said the words out loud since before they broke up the first time. But Daphne was human, and Tracey was dangerous if she wasn’t extremely careful. The brunette said repeatedly that the Lycanthropy didn’t matter to her, didn’t bother or sway her, and Tracey wanted to believe that, she really did. The problem was that if she did believe her, as she’d done in her dream, then there was a good chance she’d slip up and kill, or turn, the most important person in her life. She didn’t want to put stock in it, and she would never have let anyone else say or believe that about another wolf, but with herself, with Daphne, she was just plain scared. So Daphne moving on should have been a good thing, right? It was, for about a minute. Until she found out that moving on involved a man. Tracey was so angry about that part. Another woman she could have handled. Another woman wouldn’t have been competition. But a man? A man brought into question Daphne’s sexuality, which she’d only just come to grips with. A man meant Daphne had needs that Tracey couldn’t meet. A man seemed to, somehow, invalidate what they had...or had had, in the past. And then there was Galinda, who stirred up more feelings, not just about her, but about the werewolves. Tracey always had a lot of those feelings, but she didn’t like politics or arguing, and thus usually kept them to herself, as she did everything else, unless someone was being a shithead about it, in which case she had to say something. But Galinda wasn’t being a shithead, she was just being insecure and down on herself, and that made Tracey feel decidedly uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why, but it bothered her deeply that the other girl had such a low view of herself because of things that were integral to who she was. All of these things made Tracey Davis a pretty unpleasant person to be around. Not that she was pleasant most days, but more unpleasant than usual. So when a knock came to her door on her day off, she may or may not have actually growled, both to herself, and when she opened the door. “What?” -- While Nikolai had met some rather lovely people since returning to Europe, he had long-since passed the point where he thought this whole thing was a good idea. He was getting nowhere at work and he missed New York so much that it hurt. But still, he had set himself on this course to do what he could to better the lives of people like him, and though it seemed that he’d nearly reached the limit of his ability, he was not quite ready to give up. The first few weeks had been meetings and brainstorming and looking dashing in well-cut suits to prove to the average human that werewolves could be civilized and weren’t nasty, hairy beasts. It was exhausting being this poster-boy, having to display an extreme just to hope to sow a bit of trust for people like him. And, best he could tell, no one here wanted him to do it. Sure, the odd wolf he’d talked to had been open to his ideas, but on the whole he was met with either negativity or outright hostility. It was terribly disheartening. But he trudged on. Literally, today, across the expanse of the dragon reserve. He’d visited this place once before out of professional curiosity. He was pleased to find that it was not unlike the reserve he had established in Alaska for North American lycanthropes, though with some significant and understandable differences. The residents of his own project were human beings (sort of), didn’t require keepers, and the majority of them didn’t live there full-time. But beyond that, the principles were much the same. For lack of anything better to do with his time between meetings, he’d been working through the werewolf registry list, and Ms. Davis was the next one on it. He knew nothing about her, though her choice to live out here in the wild places made him suspect she might be a bit of a kindred spirit. So, when she answered the door in anger, he was surprised. He’d faced too many angry beasts in his career to let this surprise show beyond a slight lift of an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” -- An angry beast was probably a very apt way to describe Tracey Davis on her off days, though she’d have taken the arm of anyone who dared say that to her face. That didn’t make it any less right. She lived out in the middle of nowhere taking care of giant, flame-throwing creatures because she didn’t want to deal with people or knocks on her door. She didn’t like people. “Of course not, I live in this inviting, populated place because I just love--” she started, sarcastically, before a slight breeze picked up and she got a whiff of the reason he was there. Well, Tracey didn’t know that fact was the reason. “You’re a werewolf.” The words came out an irrefutable statement, but not an accusation. -- Both eyebrows went up at the beginning of her angry rant and a look of faint surprise broke through the calm mask. What this would mean to anyone who knew Nikolai was that he was, in fact, completely shocked. He supposed he should have expected something like this, he had shown up unannounced to a quiet, woodsy sanctuary. He had perhaps let himself believe too much that this person would be like him, someone who welcomed the chance to breathe in nature with a new friend. As she broke off, the brief expression of surprise faded into a slight smile. “I know I am,” he said simply. “And I know you are.” He bowed his head slightly and then offered her his hand. “I am Nikolai, perhaps you read some things I’ve written, though perhaps not. I am not so vain as to expect everyone to to have memorized my rambling thoughts on lycanthropy.” A slight shrug. “If this is a bad time, I apologize for disturbing you. I can come back… Or not.” -- She stared at him and ignored his outstretched hand. Let no one ever accuse Tracey Davis of being polite. But that wasn’t why she didn’t shake his hand (though it would be a lie to say she’d never ignored that polite greeting from basically everyone else). She didn’t shake it because she was too busy sizing him up, and wondering why he’d come to her door, when no other werewolf had, either before the registration list had been published or since. It was interesting because she’d met Galinda with both extreme interest and curiosity, but now that another one--only the third she’d ever met--had come to her door, she didn’t know if she even wanted anything to do with him. If she examined that, some of it probably had to do with her hatred of men in general, and some to do with the fact that her space had been invaded against her will, but Tracey wasn’t really the introspective type, and didn’t think too much about why she didn’t want him on her doorstep. That being said, she was a little curious about other werewolves, and that was the single reason she didn’t snarl at him to leave. It was a vaguely irritated breath she took and let out before she stood back from the doorway. “I guess you can come in.” -- Nikolai’s hand hovered in space for the span of several beats before it curled and dropped to his side. He was not offended by her refusal to be obnoxiously civilized. They may have both looked human on the outside, but there was something wild inside both of them that didn’t always believe in human niceties. More than that, he was a stranger in her territory, and it wouldn’t be at all surprising if she chose to drive him off. But she didn’t. She invited him inside. On the list of things he’d expected of this meeting, that was toward the bottom. He inclined his head politely and climbed into her home. He kept his head down and his eyes averted, focusing on maintaining nonthreatening body language. This was habit because he was well aware that he was larger than most and could be rather intimidating. He did not presume Tracey to be weaker than he, but it would be inappropriate to enter her safe space with any sort of attitude that could be viewed as aggressive. He found a space to stand, hands folded. “I promise not to take more of your time than you’re willing to spare,” he said softly. “I have been working with the…” He paused to let out a quiet sigh and to roll his eyes slightly. “The Werewolf Support Services.” He said this with only a note of sarcasm given that he thought the entire system was a complete joke. “I’m hoping that I can do a better job than they have at making life a little easier.” -- The snort that came out of her was unladylike at best. A joke indeed. Sure, the Werewolf Support Services had offered her ‘support’ over the years, when she’d first been bitten, when she’d graduated from school, but even as an 18 year old she’d had her shit together better than they did, and she’d never taken them up on anything. The only hopeful sign she’d ever seen from the Ministry was the fact that, apparently, now they had a werewolf on the payroll. At least she knew now that they’d actually met a werewolf. “And what, exactly, would the Werewolf Support Services have to offer me now?” Nothing against the broad shouldered wolf in front of her, of course, but she didn’t really think there was a reason for him to be there. The Ministry had done enough damage to werewolves. -- Nikolai was pleased to see that his assumption about Tracey’s feelings had been correct. He had not yet met a werewolf in this country that was satisfied with the way that their government approached handling its lycanthrope population. Not that the US was any better. He’d regained consciousness in a sterile hospital room following his attack and the only ‘support’ he’d received was a lecture on his responsibilities as an infectious non-human. This was exactly why he did what he did. “The usual drivel,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Really, I’m more interested in what you might do for me.” He looked more directly at her, though still avoided the eyes. To a human, this might seem untrustworthy, but to a wolf, it was non-threatening. Nikolai tried to live in balance with his beast half, and maybe he took body language and behavior more seriously than others did, but it had worked for him so far. “I am an outsider,” he said simply, “I share a condition with you and the others, but I have not lived through the exact same circumstances. Sure, they’re similar where I have lived, but that doesn’t give me the right to stride into your country and declare what needs fixing. I need input for that. Guidance.” -- What she could do for him? Tracey frowned and looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Alright, let’s assume that Tracey was the type of person who sometimes did things for others. She still wouldn’t be inclined to help out an organization not capable of doing the job it was set up to do, that had never actually done the job it was supposed to. But that was probably the reason he was asking for her ‘guidance’. Because it was ineffective and needed a new path. “And you came to me?” It seemed a little incredulous that this random werewolf from another country would single her out for help, not just because she didn’t really have any inclination to help him or the Ministry--she didn’t even know him--but also because it just didn’t make sense that he would randomly find her name and track her down. Unless, of course, he was trying to ask as many of the werewolves as possible, in which case that sounded like a very monotonous and boring job, and Tracey was glad she had her job instead of his. -- The woman’s question made Nikolai smile faintly. He hadn’t been terribly clear on that point, had he? But he’d already said quite a number of words in a row already, it had, at the time, seemed like it would have been too much of a deluge of language to keep talking. “Not just to you, no,” he said gently. “But that doesn’t make your opinion any less valid.” So far, he’d had almost no positive reaction to his request. He’d had doors shut in his face and threats shouted at him all up and down the island, and so her hospitality - in the absence of any sort of welcoming behavior - was quite uplifting. “The registry list was a complete disaster,” he said, “but it has provided me an opportunity to know just who to speak to. I have been working through that list.” -- His response didn’t exactly make her feel better, though it did at least mean he would have had no idea what he was getting himself into when he knocked on her door. Tracey supposed that meant she should be nicer to him, because he was a werewolf and a stranger, but he was also a man, and Tracey didn’t particularly care for men. At least he could admit what a fuckup the registry thing was. “Anything useful yet?” she asked, taking a seat at her small, two-person kitchen table, indicating without indicating that it would be polite to sit down if he wanted. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she was curious about what kind of suggestions he might have garnered so far, but she was a judgmental asshole, and she quite enjoyed having opinions about things. -- Nikolai hesitated a moment before cautiously approaching the table. When he didn’t get shouted at or a dirty look, he took that as, at the very least, permission to sit. So he did. He settled in the chair and folded his hands on the table. He had a feeling that this might be the extent of her hospitality, and that was fine. He hadn’t even been expecting this much. “Not really,” he admitted with a half shrug. “Mostly polite disinterest, though there has been the occasional cursing and threats to my physical body and my next-of-kin. It has been… Disheartening? But.” He spread his hands. “I believe that things can be better, but I think that may mean a level of unity among our kind that this community hasn’t seen before. I’d like to believe that is possible.” -- Tracey raised an eyebrow at his comment about threats of violence. She often used threats of bodily harm herself, but she was rarely serious, even when she was angry, and she liked to think that she didn’t resort to that over things that didn’t really require that kind of response. Tracey was arguably the most angry person she knew and even she could manage to invite this stranger werewolf into her space, listen to him talk, and dismiss him without having to get angry or threaten him. This was why she hated people in general, really. “They sure as hell couldn’t get any worse,” she scoffed, “not without doing some weird shit with the laws.” She had to modify her response as, naturally, things really could get worse if shit hit the fan, but the lack of werewolf support services, in general, probably couldn’t. “You seem to have a lot more faith in people than I do.” -- “Well,” Nikolai said, “I suppose it is possible that someone could push through something that would hurt us, but I feel it would be against the public mood right now, so I can only hope such legislation would be unsuccessful.” He shrugged. “But there could always be further work on legislation in our favor.” He went distant a moment, considering the possibilities. At her second statement, he returned to the present and gave a half smile. “I’m an optimist. I have to be. It’s not easy being this way, even without people treating you like you’re naughty and diseased. I need to believe that it can get better.” -- She shook her head sadly, almost feeling sorry for him. Optimists were the worst, saddest creatures imaginable, really. Right up there with Idealists. Both were pointless and would only lead to disappointment. That was why Tracey was always prepared for the worst case, always ready for a fight. That way, any positive outcome was a welcome surprise and there was no room for disappointment. “You paint a pretty picture,” she told him, leaning forward on her elbows, “but I’m pretty sure it’s about as good as it’ll ever be. I want us to be accepted as we are too, I just don’t think it’ll happen. They’re too afraid of us beasts.” Not that Tracey was really doing her part to dissuade anyone of that belief. -- Nikolai’s shoulders sagged just slightly. He hadn’t really known what to hope for, not at this point after so many slammed doors and accusations of mental instability, but some sort of mutual feeling might be nice, some thought that it could be done with a little work. But maybe there was an opening through what she had said. “I believe,” he said carefully, “that they are afraid because they don’t understand. They fear because they don’t know if we might hurt them. If they had some idea, some… Education?” He frowned, wondering if that was the right word, then waved his hand because it didn’t matter. “Maybe they would be less afraid?” He shrugged. “Or that is wishful thinking.” -- Tracey wasn’t stupid. Her response wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear, but that wasn’t her problem, it was his. She didn’t owe him, or anyone, anything. If Nikolai had wanted anything in particular from her, he should have said so, instead of trying to lead her to what he wanted. Tracey had never really been a good follower, not even to Pansy; she only seemed like it because she hadn’t had much reason to go her own way back in school. “You think people would be less afraid if we shoved a werewolf at them? What makes you even think most people care about us at all? I’m all for werewolf empowerment and being proud of what we are, but I don’t know that that’s good for us.” If Nikolai wanted to step out and be the new face of werewolves and educate the public, that was his choice, but Tracey wasn’t going to be a part of it. She didn’t think it would accomplish anything positive to give everyone else a specific werewolf face to target. -- Nikolai shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but it’s the best idea I have. It’s human nature, isn’t it, to fear what they don’t understand and to be angry at what they fear? The best thing I can think of is to try and rectify the root of the problem.” He didn’t think he was getting anywhere, so he reached into his outer breast pocket and extracted a rectangular card. “If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it, and this is how you can reach me.” He set the card down on the table and slid it halfway across. Printed on the paper in crimson ink were his contact details. “Thank you for your time,” he said, pushing his chair back. “If I don’t hear from you again, then… Good luck out there.” |