magic in her veins.

wolfman

Wolf's out near the church again. Sniffing around. Making sure nothing was left from his little excursion here the other night.

Broad daylight now. Sun throwing his shadow down at his feet, dark and etched. Shockingly warm these days for the heart of January; almost spring-like. Wolf's jacket is open, his hands bare.

Just sitting there on the church steps. Some people think maybe he's a beggar, look for a jar or a cup to deposit a few coins in. Most pass him by without a glance.

--

Stays there half an hour. Maybe an hour. Sees nothing, hears nothing, smells nothing strange. Rises, without preamble and without forethought, the way animals might from rest. Stretches, working kinks out of body and bone.

Comes down the steps. Turns at the sidewalk and walks down the street; a block, two, purposeful. Ends up outside that shop. Folds his arms across his chest and puts his face close to the window, peering in.

witch

Maybe it's magic.

When he's out by the church she isn't at the shop. When he gets up and peers into those windows, she is. Maybe it's coincidence, and maybe it's the law of attraction, and maybe it's nothing at all. In the end, this is the outcome: he looks in the windows and she is there, talking to a young brunette behind the counter. She has a bag in her hand.

She feels something lurking at the corner of her vision when she turns. Looks. Sees him outside.

Smiles at him. Different than she would have, the last time he found her here or perhaps the time before that. Would have scowled, or ignored him. Maybe smirked. Now she smiles. There's flickers of light in her eyes. Looks like she's pleased to see him. Actually pleased. Turns to the clerk briefly to say goodbye. Gestures at him through the glass. Brunette looks a little unsettled but forces a little smile, says goodbye to Devon,

who comes out the door a little later, carrying a paper bag. Just like she was the night he saved her life.

She stands up on her toes, and wraps her arms around him.

wolfman

Wolf hasn't been to this shop since that night. The night he saved her life. Funny he doesn't think of it as such. Thinks of it as: night girl came to live with him.

Looks a little funny, standing outside like that. Arms folded and shoulders rounded, head lowered. Sticking his neck out to peer into the shop, like a canine trying to see farther. Takes his eyes a moment to adjust and then he sees her. Her smile makes him smile too, faint but present. He untucks one hand to raise it, a wave-less wave.

Brunette clerk just looks uneasy. Girl comes out, though, and that's what matters. Has a little paper bag, which makes the wolf sniff almost instinctively. Then she wraps her arms around him.

He's surprised, as he always seems to be. What is it he said before? Not used to watching out for other people. Might as well have said, not used to having other people around. Not used to other people caring for him. His folded arms are a barrier between them, and then he unfolds them, slides one around her in a returned hug.

"Buying stuff for your potions?" They draw apart. He peers into her bag.

witch

Smells like lots of things. Oils and candles and bundles of herbs.

She sways into him, still on her toes, her whole body pressed up against his. Whether he hugs her back or not; she just hangs off of him. There is no drawing apart, for her. He moves back and she grins, her body bowing forward.

"Among other things. I've been trying some new... recipes," for lack of a better word. "Stronger stuff."

wolfman

Girl hangs off him. Fine. Wolf doesn't let go after all. Moves back, but then she's just leaning into him, and he ends up tightening his arm. Picking her up. Setting her back down closer to him, feet between his.

Pedestrians eyeing them funny as they pass. Pass with a good berth, of course.

"What can you do, anyway? Never really asked."

witch

"Yes you have."

Which is somewhat true. He's probed a bit. Not much, and with very little success. She touches her fingertips along the back of his neck. She lets him move her about. He often does. Usually they are naked. Sometimes she hates it. Right now she doesn't mind. She strokes him, looking up at him.

"I can do a lot of things," she tells him quietly. "Sometimes I don't know what I can do until I've done it, though."

wolfman

"Never really asked."

Emphasis changes the meaning a bit. Probed a bit. Not much success. Now he's asking again. Maybe because of where they've been, the path they've taken. Maybe because of what she said to him the last time they talked.

Then wolf's quiet a while, listening. Girl touches him gnetly, intimately. Not erotically, but then: none but a lover would stroke him there, like that. Wolf allows it. Wolf accepts it. Wolf indulges in it, quietly, drawing breath with it.

"Like what?" -- just as soft.

witch

Devon likes being up against him. Stays there, even with her feet under her. Bag dangles from her wrist. She's wearing tight jeans, some to under a big shearling-lined coat. Watches him closely with those eyes of hers, bewitching eyes, as though intending to draw him into them.

"Hangover cures," she says, sly and amused, like that's all it amounts to.

Her fingers circle him. Pet him slowly, lightly, in that spot connected to cubhood, to vulnerability, to intimacy. She grows a touch more serious, quiet: "Things that quicken healing and prevent scarring. Soporifics. Painkillers." Presses her lips together, then opens them. "I've experimented a bit with... real potions. Fairytale stuff. Brews for strength, teas for clarity." Quieter, still: "Something you can slip into someone's food or drink to make them more likely to trust you."

Devon's cheeks have color in them from the tension of telling him this. "They're difficult to get right, the harder they are." She licks her lips slightly. "I can read fortunes. Which isn't hard, but... sometimes I get things that even the person I'm working with doesn't know. Or things that haven't happened yet. Or visions, sometimes, like I said."

A deep inhale, then. A murmur: "I've been practicing finding things. A pendulum over a map or the like. But it's the same. It's not perfect. It's difficult."

For a moment it seems she might say more. But she doesn't. She just looks a little uncomfortable.

wolfman

Almost tells her not to drug him without telling him. Almost, but doesn't. Knows she won't. Can't explain how he knows, but he knows.

Still has an arm around her. Loose but secure, a band across the back of her waist. And girl with her bewitching eyes: she pulls back the curtain just a little. Tells him: this and this and this and this. These are the tricks of her trade. These, and --

a silence there, where there may have been more words. Wolf tilts his head a scant few degrees.

"What is it?"

witch

Maybe he doesn't think of what trust it takes for her to say all that. That she could be making him lust for her, trust in her, every time they share a meal. Could make herself more beautiful to him. Could -- if she can increase strength with a brew -- possibly weaken him. Apparently could knock someone out with the right dram dumped into their soup.

There are wolves who would kick her out of their homes and drag her by the hair before the village council to be bur--

another time. Not now.

He doesn't jerk back. Doesn't push her away from his body, hearing what he hears. And what he hears is dangerous. No mistake about it: she can do things that only seem innocent if you don't think too hard about them. Someone who can toy with the body and divine secrets from emptiness. Not someone you can easily trust.

Still he presses for more, and Devon recoils a bit. Her fingertips stop stroking him so gently, just laying there. She tightens up, shrugging her shoulders. "That's it. I'm just worried about what you think, is all."

witch

[manipulation + subterfuge]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 7) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

wolfman

[CAN I TELL SHE'S LYING :[ ]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

witch

["That's it" was a blatant lie.

"I'm just worried about what you think" was completely true, but 'scared of how you might react' is closer to what she really means.]

wolfman

Wolf's eyebrows coming together, and down. Wolf's got a fierce face. Dark slashing eyebrows, lean cheeks, angles and edges. Looks at her a long time, and girl can tell even before he says it that he knows.

"That's not true."

Soft. Soft, and without blame or recrimination. Doesn't even say: you're lying. you're a liar. Just: that's not true.

Sighs a little then. Just a soft exhale. Free hand comes up, cups the back of her head. Something protective about that, his big paw curved over a fragile point on her anatomy. His lips touch her brow and his eyes close.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me now."

witch

not true

And there she goes. She shutters. Starts slipping her arms away from him, drawing back. Even if he doesn't say it angrily, even if he doesn't threaten her with his words. He doesn't have to. Look at what he is. His mere existence is a threat. She steps back, but he arrests her: touches her hair, stops her movement a bit.

Devon is no fool. Devon can read the stars if she likes, as easily as her cards or the leaves at the bottom of a cup of tea. Devon can tell that his hand doesn't seek to control, only protect. Only cover her, and keep her safe. He leans in and he doesn't mean to bite her, rend her. Kisses her brow, and for once it doesn't make her feel like a child.

don't have to tell me

now

She flicks her eyes up. "Do I ever?" she wants to know, though she says it quietly.

wolfman

Another time and what she's confessed would get her dragged to a stake. Another lifetime and maybe that's how she ended. Wouldn't even just be the humans. Wolves too; they'd fear her power. And why not? To alter, to change, to cloud the senses and sway the mind. Left unchecked she could twist their will to hers. Make them no more than dumb animals, brutish and primitive. Beasts of burden to ride into battle.

Even now there are those who would fear and revile her. Hate her for her scentless, untrustworthy nature. Hate her for that magic that flows in her veins.

Wolf covers her head with his paw. Kisses her as though to mark her: a seal of protection, invisible as a scent.

--

Mouth quirks; rueful. "No."

witch

Probably fathered by the Wyrm. Who knows her father, anyway? Who is to say he wasn't a Spiral, secretly? No wonder he fucked a mortal instead of one of his own kin. Look at her: look at how she looks, those eyes. Try finding her scent, you won't. What is she. Look at what she can do. Wouldn't it be just like the Wyrm, to send them something that looks and feels like just what they want, only to turn the knife when it's too late to do anything.

Could be this lifetime. Could be any lifetime. Same rumors. Same fate. But this is the life she knows for certain. This is the one she has.

--

That answer makes her smile. Thinly, wanly. But it's a smile. "All right," she says softly.

"Did you come looking for me, or did you just happen to be out?" she wants to know a moment later, changing the subject.

wolfman

That smile's wan. But it's a smile. And this time when he kisses her, it's on the mouth. Leaning down to her, eyelashes closing down to his cheek.

Loosens his embrace, after. Half-turns, so even if she's holding on she's tucked against his side now. Points: down the street, and across.

"Had a hunt atop that church couple days ago. Came by to make sure it was still clean. Then remembered this store here. Thought I'd see if you were there. Long shot but what do you know.

"Took the bus out," he adds. "Wanna take it back with me?"

witch

This time when he kisses her, it isn't about protecting her or making her feel safe or reassured. He kisses her and she kisses him back. She can hear their mouths meeting. That makes her smile against the kiss. She notices his eyes closing. She takes a little sip of air through him, her hand touching his shoulder, smoothing over it.

They draw apart and her eyes a a little glassy. Doesn't want to move away. She only glances at the church for half a second, turns back to him. She doesn't understand why he's saying any of this until, halfway through, she remembers that she asked him.

Before he kissed her.

"Yeah," she says, of the bus. "I'll let you smell the stuff I bought." Grins up at him, and leans into his side, carrying her bag at her side.

wolfman

"Better smell good," wolf grouses.

Only he's not really grousing. Only there's a smile in his tone, if not quite on his face. His arm falls easy and heavy across her shoulders. She leans into his side. They stroll down that street together -- that long street with all its history, all its notoriety.

Find a bus stop.

Wait to go home.