morebooks (morebooks) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-07-15 22:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | adrien green, kaya washington |
Who: Adrien Green, Kaya Washington
What: A rough encounter with a werewolf gang looking to cause mischief
Where: By the Waterloo Bridge
When: 15th July, 1888
Rating: PG-13 (swearing, some suggestions of past violence, a brief tussle)
The concert they’d gone to this time had been a piano concert, including a premier of a young composer named Debussy -- his Arabesque had been the highlight of the evening, a lovely, flowing piece that had reminded Adrien of water and spring, light and beautiful, and not even he could be pensieve about it.
It helped that there hadn’t been any singing -- the pure music without the sound of a human voice let him enjoy the sounds and patterns without tugging too badly at his heartstrings, and he’d genuinely enjoyed the artistry of the performer, backed by a small orchestra for one or two of the pieces.
“I’d nearly forgotten how beautiful music for piano can be,” he said, quietly, as he walked arm in arm with Kaya. “When it’s played by a master… the emotion and variation in tone one can achieve is really quite astonishing.”
Kaya could do little more than chuckle at first; he certainly wasn’t wrong, and how much she’d enjoyed the concert had been more than evident throughout the performance, and on the quiet walk back to the Academy- however, she almost commented about how much emotion could be found on a certain normally stoic face in the same right.
Almost.
“It was beautiful,” she agreed, swinging her focus back to the dark walk, though she absently gave his arm a small squeeze. Expression of such emotion almost always translated to something tactile, for Kaya- and not just as a trait of her species. “Always been partial to violin, myself.”
“There’s a string quartet next month we might go to,” he said, nodding. “Bit too high for me, sometimes, but it can be hauntingly lovely. I think I might like the cello better though.”
“I wonder if they’re selling sheet music of…” he started, but trailed off, a slight frown on his face, the back of his neck prickling, something wrong in the air, enough to make him narrow his eyes and sharpen his senses. He cleared his throat, reaching over with his free hand to rest it on hers briefly, a question on his face, his expression tightening. “...of the Debussy,” he finished, still trying to sort out why the alarm bells were clanging loudly in his head.
Kaya wasn’t sure which she noticed first: Adrien’s sudden distinct pensiveness or the still-unseen reason for it- either way, the air had changed. Like the unpleasant charge the atmosphere took on before a lightning strike, the smell of ozone or something close enough to it pricked at her senses. Her nostrils flared, absently trying to pinpoint the what and where.
When the what clicked half a second later, the last thing on her mind was sheet music. The where was more difficult, thanks to the deathly-still air and the humidity, mixing scents in the air like soup.
“We’re bein’ herded-” she said low, halting her forward steps to send a long look at their rear, then across the dark street they’d just passed. Did she cross a territory line and not realize it?
Adrien’s entire body was a thrumming wire of tension by now, having picked up the scent a fraction after Kaya had, and he swallowed, mentally mapping out their path -- the Waterloo bridge was a choke point, and they were fast approaching the Thames -- if they turned to head down to the Westminster bridge instead, they’d still have the river to their left, pinning them in.
If he hadn’t had Kaya’s reactions to gauge things, he would’ve wondered if he were overreacting -- if the menace and adrenaline he smelled in the air was just his own past coming back to haunt him -- but it was there, and it was clear -- there was a pack of wolves following them.
Well-lit was better. Public was better. He was hyper aware, all of a sudden, how few other couples they’d passed in the last minute or so. “Should we loop back?” He asked, barely vocalizing, but knowing full well she’d pick up on it.
“They’re behind us-” Kaya’s jaw went tight; when she looked back to Adrien, there was a noticeable molten-pewter glow seeping into the brown of her eyes. “-and in front… Pro’lly came from somewhere close.”
Translation: looping back wouldn’t change a thing, and she doubt there was a lot of time to kill deliberating. The scents were thickening; though the footsteps were too far or too soft to actually hear, her senses clocked the faint rhythm as a ripple in the humid air.
“-whatever happens, you stay well out of it, y’hear?”
He frowned, biting back an initial response, and settled on an “I’ll do my best,” his voice low and tight. “To a point,” he added.
He knew full well what trouble he could get into if he joined in -- how it could escalate the situation from what might be a slight hazing into something decidedly bloodier -- something that would not go in his favor if it was his and Kaya’s word against theirs. He was a foreigner, a black man to boot, and he had a history (albeit a few decades old) of picking fights with wolves and rabble rousing, and being seen to break the Treaty was a serious offense. He also knew that if it looked like things were truly going south, he wasn’t about to leave her to their mercies.
Two of the wolves emerged from a nearby alleyway, swaggering and weaving some, and Adrien could tell they were that sort of piss drunk that makes men of any species far braver and stupider than they would be otherwise. He knew there were more -- there had to be -- but for now, they’d been sent to test the waters.
One of them spat at their feet.
“Traitor,” he called out in Kaya’s direction. “Fraternizin’ whore,” he added for good measure. “Whatchoo think you’re up to then, angin’ on ’is arm like ‘at?”
The second’s ire seemed mostly focused on Adrien, but he kept silent, a low, rippling growl of menace in his throat, his eyes boring into Adrien’s, his body coiled and full of hatred.
Kaya extracted herself from Adrien’s arm, hoping whatever came from the confrontation would be little more than a mild annoyance, but opting for caution. The two ruffians reeked of unrefined liquor, probably laced with just a little too much silver for the way they were holding themselves; that could end up being a double-edged sword.
Young, drunk, and angry was never a good combination, especially in wolves.
Kaya squared her shoulders at both, her chin low but her eyes up and locked- a stance of domineering defense; she may have crossed into their territory but anything within her reach was hers.
“Back to the den, youngins-” she growled dangerously, keeping her ears keen for signs of the others. They were circling, watching and listening, ready to pounce or run. Her goal was the latter. “Y’all want nothin’ t’do with me.”
“Ooooer,” the talkative one cooed menacingly. “Bitch got a tongue, ‘as she?” He lunged a bit, grinning a little too widely, while his silent friend continued his low growl, and a handful of scattered voices called out their approval of the jibe.
Once she’d dropped his arm, Adrien had moved behind her to cover her back, and the silent wolf had followed in a loose half circle, his eyes locked with Adrien’s, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
He knew, he knew that he couldn’t rise to the bait that was being offered, despite every nerve singing for it -- for now, at least, things were far, far safer with him keeping as out of things as he could. So he kept his mouth closed tight, his lips pressed firmly together, his hands loose, and, despite the fact that it made his chest clench, deliberately slid his eyes away from the wolf who was baiting him -- a sign of submission. For the time being, he was willing to humiliate himself to get them both out of this.
Kaya was visibly bristling, though she had far too many years in far more dangerous situations to twitch at the posturing. Keen on their position as well as where Adrien placed himself at her back, her defense was much more dictated by instinct than careful, deliberate control. She couldn’t force herself to stand down if she wanted to- not to other wolves.
If they’d been targeted by vampires, the story may have been a lot different.
“Clear the road-” she rumbled in the back of her throat at the talkative one, the feral glow in her eyes intensified, like a breeze over coals. “-or I’ll rip yours out’cher skull an’feed it to an alley cat.”
“Aww,” he replied, leering. “In’t that dis-gustin, the two o’ yer, all friendly-like. Makes me ill, it does,” he said, his voice lilting. “Ow you can stand the stink of ‘im, I’ll never know. You ‘is pet? You ‘is lap-doggie? Playin’ fetch?”
“Abomination,” the second one finally joined in, snapping and snarling with the force of the word, stepping up so that he was within arm’s reach of Adrien, breathing heavily, his eyes wide and wild.
The first lunged closer as well, a little unsteadily, laughing as he did so. “Fetch, bitch,” he crooned as he approached her. “Good girl.”
Kaya was having none of it. As soon as the first was close enough, she let loose on him with a single, powerful upward swipe across his snout- no claws yet, but with enough force to throw him back. She faced the other with her back and shoulders straight, her arms stiff and wide, ready.
The first wolf flew and landed hard, his reflexes clearly slower than he’d anticipated, and the second’s eyes darted over to look before shifting his stance from staring down Adrien to face the more immediate threat of Kaya, thumping Adrien with a shoulder hard enough to make the vampire lurch a little in the process, and his unavoidable motion made the wolf growl low and guttural.
A whistle sounded in a nearby alleyway, and the second wolf paused, clearly torn, but after a beat, spat contemptuously on Kaya and spun on his heel, stalking away. The first wolf, the one Kaya’d flung clear, had already faded into the shadows.
Adrien knew better than to think they were completely alone -- the wolves might be keeping their distance, but he wasn’t sure whether they’d stay that way -- and his hands shook as he reached for his handkerchief to hand to her -- the first thing he could properly think to do, even though it was ridiculous.
The threat of a crowd surrounding them, hemming them in, threatening harm, had made other past instances jump unbidden into his thoughts -- the Revolutionary soldiers who’d nearly lynched him in New York when he was a teenager, running away from his master to try to join up with the British -- the wolves who’d surrounded Corinne and ripped her apart, leaving him broken and half mad -- and he seemed rooted to the spot.
“I’m sorry,” he said, grating and low, yet another ridiculous thing, but his brain was working about as well as his legs were now that the spike of adrenaline had faded.
Kaya barely noticed anything besides the sound of retreating steps scraping the dirty brick walk, or the distant sounds of a bigger, possibly imminent threat. Later, after the adrenaline and primal instincts settled back down to a dull roar, she’d remember things from across the ocean she’d tried so hard to burn out of her head. For now, there was only the Threat, and when that had been removed, there was only Adrien.
Her eyes, still touched with flecks of molten gold in the fog, re-focused first on the movement in her peripheral vision- the cloth in his hand- then up to the vampire’s face.
“Why you sorry,” she breathed, letting go of some physical bristling in her shoulders to take the handkerchief and get rid of the unwelcome spittle on her jaw. “Ain’t nothin’ worse than either of us seen before.”
He jammed his still-shaking hands into his pockets, frowning. “If we weren’t walkin’ together, they wouldn’t have paid you much mind,” he said, feeling numb. “If you’d have been with the Academy man instead, they wouldn’t have bothered at all,” he clarified, and then his brain started roaring furiously at all the what could have beens.
“They could’ve killed you and had me hung for it,” he said, looking at her, his expression raw. “Or least they could’ve tried…” he shuddered at the thought.
That animal rage he’d felt while tearing through Corinne’s attackers had sent him to a dark place it’d taken years to dig himself out of -- a place he feared and hated, and knew would be all too easy to fall back into again.
Kaya had known Adrien long enough to recognize the look, the posture, the tone of voice; it hadn’t been a quick picnic, either- given their unique histories, it’d been months before they could even be in the same room together without heckles raising. After that, there were a few more months of single-word conversations on which to build, using their shared love of music and the fact that they were both immediately viewed as suspicious by almost everyone.
But there were always times when old ghosts came back to haunt them, one way or another.
“You stop that right now-” she uttered low, her voice having lost almost all of its edge. “Ain’t no kinda life, livin’ on ‘what ifs- not for you and not for me.” Kaya pointedly met his eyes, not unlike the way she had when she first started pulling him into more interaction. She put the piece of cloth in his hand. “We’re doin’ exactly what that treaty meant, are we not?”
His first impulse was to shift his eyes down and away -- to keep from being seen as a threat -- but this was Kaya, not the wolf who’d been trying his best to goad a response, so he forced himself to meet her look.
“Corinne was killed by a pack,” he said, quietly. “Right when things was just gettin’ started. Tore her to pieces while she was walkin’ back from a rehearsal. Nearly was the end of me.”
He pocketed the handkerchief absently, his hands a little steadier. “You’re right,” he said, ducking his head. “We aren’t doing anything wrong, and ain’t no good chewin’ over it.”
Kaya huffed, feeling a small, cautious trickle of relief loosen the knot in her spine; it was still tight, tense, and ready for a fight, but she’d take the agreement without question.
She’d process the new images of his dead mate being shredded by a pack of wolves later. It would do no good here.
“Good,” she said, turning cursory looks around them. “C’mon- let’s get back. Y’can stay with me long as y’need tonight.”
He very nearly protested that no, he couldn’t possibly, but his remaining options were bleak, and he didn’t trust himself to be alone -- Mac didn’t lace his drinks with Fae blood for obvious reasons, but he knew a few places that did, and the temptation to lose himself in a little oblivion would be powerful, and dangerous. And the thought of his empty apartment with reminders of Corinne everywhere he looked was downright painful. He shut his mouth and exhaled through his nose, giving her the barest of nods, recognizing the offer for what it was -- a kindness -- and started walking again.
He didn’t offer her his arm, even though he wanted to -- who knew if they’d need to flee or fight again, and he figured it was better to be prepared than not.
After a moment of silence, both their ears straining for any hint of the pack, he huffed a little. “Shoulda seen the look on that damn fool’s face when he landed on his ass,” he said, quietly, and was rewarded by the small ghost of a smile across her face.