RP:Howl for Revenge

From HollowWiki

Part of the Agitation Arc


Summary: After a game of basketball (and a brawl), Hudson and Ansel sport a swollen jaw and bloody nose respectively. In need of a little TLC, they head to the Dancing Destrier where Josleen visits with Alvina. Josleen recognizes the symbol the mage's ring imprinted on Hudson's jaw as belonging to The Order of the Shade. With a little A-to-B deduction, she concludes that the three men the total beefcakes dominated in basketball are the same men who hired the fermin to assassinate Josleen. Ansel loses his temper/control/mind, and rips out the door. Outside, his lycanthrope overwhelms him and he chases the mage's scent to get his revenge. Just as Ansel escapes, Alvina faints, and soon thereafter wakes screaming in terrible pain. Josleen leaves to fetch a doctor, then steals Hudson's thoroughbred horse Cleo and sets out to find Ansel. The trouble is she (like Hudson and Alvina) has no idea Ansel is a werewolf, and she searches for a human instead of a wolf. (Also, Cleo is stubborn and The Worst.)

In the mountains, Ansel-as-a-wolf finds two of the three mages and attacks over over hearing some important clues. A battle ensues and the mages flee. Ansel is burned and afflicted with temporary sickness. Josleen finds him back in human form on the floor, exposed and injured. She takes him back to his cabin to tend to him, but soon the reality of his lycanthrope hits her and forces her to rethink their relationship, to Ansel's dread.


The Dancing Destrier

It's not far to the hotel. Hudson explains the origins of Crazy Amy to Ansel on their walk there. She was basically the Moby Dick of women, and Sargaso right now was Captain Ahab. (Which makes Hudson Ishmael, a fitting role because he would be most likely to sleep on the job in the mizzen mast lookout post.) From a great distance/sanity, it had seemed desirable to harpoon (yes) her. Obviously she had a certain crazy/destructive element to her, but she - as Ansel no doubt observed himself - was very striking! Yeah, those are fake. How can you think those are real? lol Dude you need to get out more if you thought those are real. (Sargaso, who's on the ground so to speak, has confirmed they're fake but like really high end fakes.) Moving along. In any event, now Sargaso is locked into a perpetuating drama cycle, with some new crisis or random act of hostility occurring every 24 hours. She's trying really hard to make him commit, and for obvious reasons he is resisting. But he just can't quit. Because Captain Ahab. So they're going to destroy each other, probably. After an in depth discussion of the things Crazy Amy is purported to have done (not reproduced here), the men have moved on to a safe topic of conversation by the time they've reached the Dancing Destrier. Huds knocks. He's completely forgotten that he looks like a man who's been punched in the face. "It's me and Ansel," he comments, patting his pockets ineffectually. "I forgot my keys," he tells Ansel. Obviously.


Ansel was fooled by the fakeness, he is surprised for a moment, but then adds that they did look solid as a rock. Too perfectly sculpted if he overly thinks about it, but then again, he would feel guilty to stare too long. One, it would have gave the wrong message. Two, jealousy would probably come back and bite him in the butt if Josleen found out about Crazy Amy. He could not understand how Sargaso chose that woman, but he would shrug this off. It had to be temporary, right? Sargaso was not serious? Then again, Crazy Amy had some interesting story lines – curiosity strikes the mind. As they approach the Dancing Destrier, Ansel shoves his hands in his pockets. One bloody arm from wiping one bloody stained nose. The two men looked well put together, did they not? Ansel nods to Hudson in silence, waiting patiently for the door to open.


Alvina took her seat again beside Josleen and listened carefully. All of her attention was granted to the bard because she rarely spoke about herself. When she finished, Alvina gave all the words a moment to settle in the space between them. "I never thought it was anything else. And I can understand how that happens. It's scary...I was engaged for six years. My husband to be said he was going off to raise money for our wedding. I waited. For a very long time, trying not to let my love die, only to find out that he actually did come back...to another woman, some farming girl...You are not a coward." Her eyes study the hotel floors with a stern and remarkably aged expression. "We don't get to make the choice of who we fall in love with or when...or how long we keep loving someone who has moved on." A heavy sigh drops into her hands, cupped open on her knees. "You know yourself better than anyone. When the time comes, you should tell your husband...so that you have a chance at being happy." A knock interrupts her gross girly advice, followed by a muddled voice she recognizes as Hudson. "Just a second!" Alvina gives Josleen's hand a gentle squeeze, a sweet smile, and she's off to open the door...to a horribly swollen face. "Oh...My gods...she whispered, ducking out of the door frame to see Ansel is in no better shape. "Get in here," she hisses, ushering them inside, locking panicked eyes with Josleen.


Josleen sways into Alvina's side and smiles gratefully for her kindness. She wasn't planning on saying anything else on the matter; the men's timing is uncanny. And quick. Quick victory or quick loss? Ansel said he would come pick up Josleen after the game, and so Hudson's arrival heralds the return of her lover too, and reawakens the irritation she felt for him moments ago when Alvina confessed that once again the man failed to keep their secret. Still weakened by her recent assault, she's slow to rise and gather her purse and his coat. Alvina's astonishment, however, quickens her pace, and when she turns around to find Chipmunk Hudson and Nosebleed Ansel her irritation evaporates. "Baby!" she gasps. Cannot tell a lie, it is nice to be able to call him that in front of others, who know it all and don't judge them for it (ostensibly). She meets Ansel as he enters and cups his face in her hands. "What happened?" she asks with all the tenderness she can summon alongside her surprise. A stern look turns on Hudson, her hands still on Ansel's face. "What happened?" she asks the kickballer in a flat tone that on its own would not be accusatory, but juxtaposed to the TLC Ansel just got is as clear as a criminal charge. Naturally, Hudson is somehow at fault. Duh. For Hudson's benefit: Josleen is paler than usual, thinner, and her turtleneck sweater dress does a poor job of covering the gauze stuck to the side of her neck.


Hudson feels like he just got identified as the Responsible Adult in his and Ansel's party by Josleen. "Flesh wounds," he tells the women, going a bit wide-eyed at Josleen's appearance. She looks a little worse for wear too. What happened here!? Maybe don't comment in case she's like, not wearing concealer or something and going to flip out at him for being an idiot. This has happened in his life before. "We played basketball with some guys and got into it. Chillax, they look way worse," he explains, trying to move past the women to find the mirror and examine himself. Ah yeah, he's not at peak attractiveness. He misses his beard. It might have helped make him look less alarming. He pokes tentatively at his swelling jawline and cheek, wincing along the way. "Yo, for the record, we were defending your honor, Jos. I guess they were eavesdropping on our conversation and started saying all these obscene things, so... then we beat the [redacted] out of them," because what else could be done?! "Baby, can I get a drink from the mini-bar? I feel like [bleep]." He's earned that overpriced malt liquor beverage. His fingers hover over the imprint of the mages' insignia. "Man, I think one of them was wearing a ring and it left a mark, this looks ridiculous."


Ansel is rather amused that Josleen would blame it on Hudson, and his hands cup over her own and he lowers her hands down. “It probably looks worse than it really is, babe,” he adds. He is not about to go into detail at the vulgar comments about what they said about Josleen, though he does give her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder before moving about the room. “Tell me you have something to clean up this,” he points to his dried bloody face – this bothered him.


Alvina stares at Hudson as he moves to examine the damage, still using the closed door behind her to support her weight. “Hudson…” she whispered, taking a few slow steps towards him with her arms outstretched. All the blood had drained from her face now that both Hudson and Ansel were safe inside the room, and she approached Hudson like one might approach a dying man. “Of course…” came her soft response to his question. He could have all the drinks in the mini bar if he wanted, blow all the money they’d made at the Eyrie. Anything he wanted. Anything at all. Her hand comes against his swollen jaw, flinching for his benefit, and trying to mumble some healing words that might decrease the swelling but…it was no good. His face stayed just as puffy while the purple bruising continued to rise to the skin’s surface. Her bardic magic wasn’t working to even slightly improve his injuries? Internally, she ran around the confines of her mind in a panic. The insignia caught her eye. “Jos…?” She turned her body back to towards female, but couldn’t take her eyes off the mark. “Look at this…”


"My honor, hm?" Josleen replies ostensibly to Hudson, but her smitten approval and the suggestive undertones of her voice are all for Ansel. She fetches water and a fluffy towel and guides Ansel to sit down in a chair. Gently she cleans the blood off his face and inspects the damage. He'll be fine. Neither Ansel nor Hudson's conditions unnerve the veteran nurse of two wars (Hollow has the shortest wars ever), but her patient inspires fussing nonetheless. She furtively glances at Hudson and Alvina to ensure they aren't looking before peppering a few sweet kisses to Ansel's cheek and jaw, and a small nuzzle too. These are medically necessary, folks. Absolutely. She glances at the other couple a second time and is about to whisper something to Ansel when Alvina calls her name. "Hm?" She rights herself quickly like a kid caught at the cookie jar. She walks closer to Hudson to inspect his jaw/reassure Alvina that he will live to play another kickball game, but the mark brings her up short. Terror arrests her expression and posture. Alvina would be forgiven for assuming that Josleen's reaction suggests Hudson will be dead before sundown. Fainting also permissible. "...Was that from the other team? Who were they? Two elves and a gray elf, wasn't it?" She whirls around to meet Ansel's stare. "How did you meet them?" She's shaking her head as they answer, not really listening. Other thoughts and theories clamor for attention. "It's them. The mages likely responsible for all these events, and for -- you know..." Her hand smoothes over the wound on her neck hidden beneath gauze and a turtleneck. Her eyes widen as she realizes what Ansel might do, and she looks to Hudson to back her up as she places herself between the door and Ansel.


Hudson is all to happy to patiently endure Alvina's very well intentioned concern, his eyes following the movement of her hand as she tries and fails to heal the shiner on his jaw. "I'm fine, it just looks ridiculous. Er I hope it's healed by the time your dad is visiting, yeah?" he comments. Evidently a memo has gone out to the women to fawn over the men this instant. No complaints here. The male response is basically scripted. It's a flesh wound, etc. (Except it is.) And now Josleen is inspecting him, further delaying his acquisition of a cold one from the mini-bar. Her reaction is out of left field, and Huds is throwing eyebrows, looking askance at her, and then Ansel, as if Ansel could better explain his woman's sudden palpitations. "...Yes?" he answers her on the demographics of their basketball opponents. "So they were just dudes who were at the court and--" His gaze settles on the bandaging around Josleen's neck, and a lot suddenly comes into relief for Hudson and his rather lazy sportsman's brain. Josleen has assumed some sort of zone defense about the door, for unknown reasons, and is looking at him expectantly, so he grabs Ansel by the arm, trying to turn the other man to him. "It was two elves and a half-drow guy wasn't it? Holy sh-... we just left them out back there!"


Ansel cringed here and there as the woman cleaned the blood of his face. Certain places on his nose were bruised, so those kisses were a must! There was a content expression on his face as she cared for him, and his fingers would gently raise up to brush some of her hair (thanks Hudson for ruining this all with your darn indented face!). Though, that was not what was on Ansel’s mind as the two women began to investigate Hudson’s visage. The man would rise up slowly, cautiously. “Yeah? So what? A couple of elvish punks, no big deal,” the man’s brows are narrowing, he is looking towards Hudson for a questionable moment before casting a hazel gaze back to Josleen. He does not process her words right away until she is standing between him and the door and Hudson is grasping his arm. The wolf is flushed – utterly pale. Teeth are clenching, eyes are staring hard at the woman’s neck now. He then pulls away from Hudson before marching towards the door that Josleen was trying to guard. “Move,” the anger is built in his throat, but he is trying to swallow this down to keep a bottled grip on his voice. Uh-oh… The girl better move.


Alvina hasn’t heard any rumors about anything strange going on, except from Linn, but that doesn’t click in to place when Josleen’s eyes met Hudson’s wounds with unanticipated horror. The bard immediately feels a little light headed but resists the urge to faint when Josleen touches the wounds on her neck. The simple equation of Hudson & Ansel Injuries + Josleen Injuries = Some crazy dudes at the basketball court catches up with her in the midst of her panic. Both Hudson and Josleen are focused entirely on Ansel. Who could really blame him if the wolf decided to take off after those deserving idiots? Instead of playing the mousey female role that Alvina normally tends to, she takes a few quick and frustrated steps towards the door and frowns at Josleen like she intends to find the men responsible and do something about it. HA! She was hardly a fighter. “What do they look like?” Alvina demands with a taunt stance, stepping in front of Ansel like he wasn't there.


Something deeply repressed stirs within Josleen and sets her heart to palpitations. It doesn't break through her denial, but it stamps panic in her gut. "Ansel." Her hands lift, palms out, like trying to tame a wild, uh, wolf. "Babe... It isn't worth it." Alvina puts herself between Ansel and the exit, and Josleen grabs her and pulls her to the side, out of his way. "D-don't," she stammers. Don't what? Get in his way? Why? If pressed, Josleen couldn't explain it. The emotions come to quick, the knowledge too thoroughly buried to be of use. She stands before Alvina like a shield, with her arms stretched out protectively over the woman's belly. Keeping Alvina out of harm's way gets her out of the way too and the women skirt to the side. "H--son!" Not yet fully recovered, her voice cracks on his name.


Hudson observes that Ansel, who ripped his arm away with some surprising force, is having some kind of Episode, for which Josleen is in the way. And now... Alvina is in the way. Oh heck no. He has palpitations himself but Josleen seems to be handling the situation and has pulled her aside. Ansel is behaving like a rabid dog - maybe that's for a reason - and in a sense it appeals to Hudson because it's clear that these guys are responsible for harm to his girl. He would think that maybe revenge could wait a second, though, and that there's no need to ferociously mouth breathe and look homicidal. "Yo, Ansel?" he barks (yea, pun intended), in a moment's hesitation that likely gives Ansel all the time he needs to blow through the unlocked door and escape. WHO LET THE DOGS OUT? (Hudson.)


Ansel shakes his head and is looking at the door now, he is now trying to move past her – breathing is heavier. “Move, Josleen!” he spits. He is taken back as Alvina steps in the way, but this is enough time for him to charge towards the door as Josleen pulls her to the side and keeps her back. Thanks, Alvina (oh, wait… better thanks to Hudson! I just wanna tip my hat to you) because Hudson does not hold the man back, instead his words zip straight through Ansel’s ears and out the other, and well, by then, Ansel is charging through the door, swinging it open, and slamming the door behind him loudly.


Alvina looks at Josleen, feeling very tingly and strange all of a sudden. "Why are you..." the bard begins, watching Ansel fly out of the room with Hudson having been right there. Her lids blink once...twice...and then she's tumbling through time and space, trying not to lean into Josleen because she remembers in a fit of crazy courtesy, that Jos was injured. "Hudson..?" She asks the ceiling, before everything goes black.

Josleen holds onto Alvina as best she can, but her body is taxed enough as it is and her focus chases Ansel through the door. She falls to her knees with some semblance of control under Alvina's added weight. It isn't much, but it doesn't take much to knock over Josleen these days. "Huds!" As quickly as possible she tries to hand off the fainted woman. As soon as Hudson has a grip, the bard's racing out the door at half her top speed. "Ansel!" She tries to shout, but her voice cracks and whistles whenever she tries to summon its power. Hopefully she's made it out in time to catch him (or catch sight of his grisly transformation? :D). Whether or not she sees him, there's nothing she can do to stop him. One hand clings to the banister of the stair's top landing for balance as the other covers her mouth. Overwhelmed, tears brim in her eyes and tumble quickly. Still mostly running on panic and no sense of direction, she rejoins Hudsvina in their room. "I'm going after him." Yet she paces the room instead. "What do I do?" She asks no one in particular. "Oh gods." Finally she looks at Hudson and Alvina, the latter of whom needs care. But she has care: Hudson. Neither of them can be useful to Josleen now, and she take a step to the door to leave, despite the fact that it's illogical for big strong Hudson to stay here while weak Josleen chases a lycan, or vice versa, that medically-trained Josleen leave while Hudson imitates medical attention he's seen in plays. Logic doesn't get a vote in Josleen's mind right now. She's heading for the door.


It is apparent to Huds that Ansel is totally disinterested in conversing. That man is GONE. The door slams so hard Huds swears the foundations shake. No point in being like, 'hey mate, you're kind of a slender dude, perhaps we should WAIT A SECOND and I'll come with you and we'll get Sargaso, and then We Three Beefcakes of Xalious Are... going to beat these guys for real slash turn them into the authorities, slash,' ...yo, why's his woman fainting? All thoughts of going after Ansel and serving as backup come to a halt (how far could one man get anyway). "Woah, woah, woah!" he exclaims, and wastes no time in relieving Josleen. Huds hoists Alvina into his arms as if she were a mannequin, to the sound of a door slamming - there goes Josleen - and deposits her on the bed, head on the pillows. He goes through the bedside table, as if that might have something helpful toward reviving her, and then just settles for giving her arms a gentle jostle. "Baby, can you hear me? What's going on? Are you OK?" he asks her passed-out self. (Or maybe not, it is unknown if she is coming to.) Dang right he has no medical training or clue what to do here, but the context makes him a bit leery. He moves around to the mini bar - the ice is mostly melted, great - and retrieves a somewhat cold and damp beer, which he visibly debates pressing to Alvina's forehead. That... does not seem medically wise, so he doesn't. He's just staring at her somewhat uselessly - it's been his experience with passed out people that this is quite effective and watched pots generally do boil/answer questions upon awaking - when Josleen returns and begins verbally panicking. She doesn't seem to be soliciting actual advice. "No no no, just wait a second, Jos. Wait for Alvina to wake up, I'll go get him, I've got Cleo and can catch up," says Hudson in response, twisting open his beer as he stands sentinel for Alvina to wake. Josleen heads for the door anyway, evidently determined. "Yo. JOSLEEN. Freaking WAIT," he calls out after her, swallowing prematurely so that it burns. "Give Alvina a second, and I'll go."


Ansel is yards away, hands pulling through his ashy brown hair out of frustration, feet automatically moving out the Destrier and into the outside land. He could not control himself. Not this time. Civilians would look at him strangely if they saw him, maybe even out of panic. Some would gasp. Some would point. His eyes were amber, he was grunting in a fit of fury. As soon as he would be on outside land, his arms would begin to snap, but quicker. Soon there would be claws, hair growing out of his arms, legs turning into hocks. Soon he was on all fours, muzzle shifting, and, oh my Ansel, what big teeth you have! There was not a lot of pain that came with his transformation this time – pure anger was taking over his limbs, this was not even him anymore. Things were going to go down. The wolf was a mixture of ashy brown and grey fur – his fur sticking up high on his loin and the back of his neck as he began to charge forward in a vicious snarl. The first place where he would seek the men out would be the courts. Getting a scent and finding them would be key. The first on his list would be Big Mouth – guess why? Most likely the lead of the whole crew of the three mages, and the one who pissed Ansel off the most. Whoopie!


Alvina has a strange understanding of what's going on. Even in the warm darkness, she's panicked about Josleen but she's actually cheering for Ansel illogical. The full gravity of his anger doesn't reach her here. What a sweet gesture, she thinks, it's so romantic of him to protect her like that. Then the waves of pain jolted her in the warm miasma. She looked around the blackness, searching for a visible cause while the severely increased with each passing wave. Her eyes opened, purging her like bile from the slight comfort of ignorance and self awareness and she screamed on the heels of Josleen's departure. Hudson was there, he was yelling. Josleen was gone, going after the wolf, the rose colored glasses of romanticism faded in the waking light. Alvina reached out, grabbing Hudson sharply if he was in reach. "Go." She urged him, "I'm okay. She isn't." Her eyes said it all. Alvina was fine. She could deal with herself. Was she on a bed? Damn it. If Hudson stayed, she'd glare at him. "Go!" He was the only one who could intervene now.


There is no way Hudson can leave now that Alvina is screaming in pain. The pitch of that scream tells Josleen all she needs to know about what's going: they need a real doctor. Without shamans' magical salves and a clinic's stock of medical supplies, there's not much she can do. She isn't a gifted healer in the supernatural sense. "Stay with her," she says to Hudson. "I'll send for Dr. Kevorkian." Thankfully, this world's Dr. Kevorkian doesn't euthanize patients, but he does have a deadly halitosis that may leave patients wishing he did. Brilliant doctor though, from the Guild, highly recommended. She races downstairs to the bar where she addresses the barkeep by name and asks her to send the teenage courier, who she also knows by name, to the clinic, which is literally right across the square, to fetch the good doctor. Small town perks. He'll be here in no time. As for Josleen, she's racing out the door to hot wire Hudson's ferrari (climb not gracefully on Cleo's back). She kicks at the horse's side with her heels, pulls on her mane, and hysterically pleads with the horse, "Go! Just go! Gods damn it!" But Cleo barely stumbles left and right. She's a stick-shift, and Josleen's only driven automatics (castrated old horse's with dead eyes). It takes her several minutes to get Cleo to listen to every third command -- progress! In a sense, everyone is lucky that Josleen doesn't know how to take this baby to top speed, because she'd undoubtedly get herself wrapped around a tree and killed (or in literal terms, thrown and kicked). She and Cleo manage a temporary working relationship and she's off at a trot because Cleo simply refuses to gallop for this hysterical human on her back. The horse neighs once, and if Hudson were to look out the window, he'd see that Josleen is too far gone for him to catch up. Know who else isn't doing any catching up any time soon? Josleen, because she doesn't have the ability to follow scents, or make a truculent horse gallop (but also gets to keep her life, so win-lose). She can only guess he went to the basketball court first. Second trouble: Her denial is still thick and having missed his transformation, she's looking for a human and not a wolf.


Hudson grows less keen on chasing after Ansel as Alvina's scream pierces the air. She's grabbed him and is telling him to go, but he has become paralyzed by concern. Josleen can tell, evidently, because she's already on her way out the door. This is one of the few isolated times that Hudson isn't worrying about his horse in the hands of somebody else. (1) Cleo would manage Josleen, not the other way around, and (2) he's worried about Alvina. Remember when he thought he'd calmly drink a beer while she came to? "Josleen is going," he tells Alvina, sinking onto the bed beside her now that they're alone. He grips her hand with a non-beer-holding hand. "Baby, what's going on? You want to tell me? Are you hurting?" he asks, looking harried and directly at her abdomen. For a second he is less like the inadvertent, lightly deadbeat mostly unenthusiastic, potential dad-to-be that he's been up until this point. They don't get to discuss what's happening in great detail. There's a knock on the door, Dr. Kevorkian here in a helpful bluster of halitosis and medical equipment. Hudson briefs him on what had happened and lets him at Alvina, taking up a watch at the foot of the bed and looking inadvertently menacing with his swelled-up face and beer and sweaty basketball clothes.

Xalious Park and Mountain Path

Josleen guessed right when moving to the courts with Cleo, however, as Ansel approaches the court, the wolf does not see any of the mages. The court is vacant. Of course it was. The wolf would move towards a bench, sniffing the leftover scent of Big Mouth, trying to make his scent out of Stinky Pete’s foul stench. The scent is all over the court, of course and so he begins to do an outer loop around the location, trying to find the smell linger off to the side somewhere so he could follow it. The scent trails off west, and the power of the smell is fresh. Big Mouth was close. Very close. By the time Ansel finds his track, Josleen is in view, though the wolf ignores the woman, launching off to the west.


Cleo whinnies at the sight of an angry wolf and refuses to get any closer. Josleen eyes the wolf warily, but it doesn't seem interested in her. She squints into the dark in all directions in search of the mop of hair and tall, lean man she's risked so much for, and continues to take risks for even now. "Ansel?!" she shouts weakly. The wolf leaves, to Cleo's relief. The horse starts nibbling on grass, completely disinterested in the drama of the human on her back. Josleen doesn't know to follow the wolf west, but thinks back on what she's told Ansel of the mages. Based on what she knows he knows about them, she needs to stab a guess at where the 'human' went to, and her guess better be right. Time isn't on her side. Aha! She had told Ansel that she and Krice found a hide-out spot in the mountains to the west, near the southern gate to Craughmoyle, where they first found the mark of The Order of the Shade, the same imprinted on Hudson's jaw. She mushes Cleo several times before the horse starts trotting west indifferent to the bard's urgency. The scent leads the wolf to the mage's cave hideaway in the mountains. It's shallow, only a few feet deep, formed when a boulder shook loose from the mountain side. The lycan will arrive several minutes before Josleen, but both will inevitably be led there -- he, by smell; she, by logic. Only Big Mouth and Stinky Pete are there. The half-drow is gone. They sit on logs around embers in black and red robes. Their wounds from the brawl have been bandaged. Big Mouth looks worse for wear. "Quave is taking things too far. The Dark Imp asked for two specific regeants. We got it. His ambition will get us killed," says Stinky Pete. "Yes," agress Big Mouth, "but imagine the reward if we pull off this summoning. Right now, we're just peons to The Dark Imp. I'm tired of pats on the head. We pull this off, and we'll be...I don't know. His dark templars or something." Stinky Pete shakes his head in disapproval but says nothing. They share a bottle of dark cherry wine.


Nothing but heavy panting from the wolf. He was on a mission. Nothing would stop him now, and following the scent, scenery was looking familiar and the wolf was taking things that Josleen said and processing them, even though Ansel was not thinking one-hundred percent clearly. He is a few yards away now, hiding right outside the cave peering in at the two. The beast was in luck. He was not going to surprise attack, the wolf slowly begins to merge forward, growling within the opening of the cave, head lowered and fangs flashing in intimidation. The mages freeze in mid-conversation, Stinky Pete is now patting Big Mouth to grasp his attention. Big Mouth second glances at the rabid wolf. The man is reaching within his robe for something, which makes the wolf a little more hostile and ready to pounce at any given moment.


Big Mouth and Stinky Pete both are reaching for their wands and already muttering spells to protect themselves. Ansel is lucky his pounce is so quick and he manages to separate Stinky Pete from his wand, severely crippling the acolyte necromancer's repetoire of spells. Still, he doesn't need a wand for all incantations, and utters one to grant himself acid touch. Anything his hand touches burns flesh -- or in this case, fur. Big Mouth still has his wand and casts a curse on the wolf to make him sick. Initially, Ansel will feel the beginnings of flu-like symptoms, but the illness will worsen quickly. Josleen has not yet arrived (Cleo stopped to snack again), but by the time she arrives, Ansel will have in some way (for Ansel's player to decide) killed Big Mouth (and Stinky Pete too? Or he escapes? your choice).


Ansel is ready to pounce and he launches forward, but during mid-launch something halts the beast. For one, a hand that touches against the wolf's fur to defend burns Ansel and the wolf yelps slightly. The wolf pulls back, trying to find a different way to go forward, but all of a sudden, a twist in the wolf’s stomach and claws clenching the bottom of the cave. The wolf felt woozy and began to gag, as if the wolf was coughing up a hair ball, but he does not. Instead, the wolf curls into a ball. Big Mouth acts on if to kill the beast, but Stinky Pete halts the other man "No, leave it, let's just get out of here. We've had enough trouble for one day." The men now leave. Lucky them. And by the time Josleen arrives, the men would be gone, and Ansel would be there. Not wolf Ansel, bare Ansel. Human Ansel was paler than usual - he looked ill... The man would be in a ball, holding his turning stomach. Yikes.


Josleen watches the men go from a distance and tries to mush Cleo from a trot to at least a canter. Please, Cleo, please! She clamors off the horse quickly, nearly tripping herself over the reins, and races into the shallow cave to find Ansel's nude body, pale and dimly lit by the glowing embers of the mage's fire. "Ansel," she gasps as she falls to her knees at his side. She strokes his side to try and coax him to lie on his back so she can inspect him for wounds, (or burn marks?) "Baby..." She strokes his cheek with the back of her hand, then cups his jaw. Despite her gentle cooing, there's a real fear in her stare. The mantle of denial has lifted, and her behavior is on auto-pilot until she reaches a stable enough place to think about what she's just discovered. Ansel's a werewolf? It doesn't make sense or click, the same way it doesn't make sense when you find out a sibling has died. It's too much. The feelings are delayed. She has his coat and drapes it over his body for warmth. "What are you feeling, babe?"


Ansel turns over for her, which reveals a burn mark on the left side of his collar bone. The mark on his skin is fried and is a darker red, and bubbling from the acid touch. The man is trying to pull away from her grasp of his jaw. The room was spinning. The man was breaking a sweat – cold sweats. He needed space, he needed to catch his breath. He did not have time to think about the fear in her gaze, or even grasp that she was terrified of him. What are you feeling, babe? The man slowly tries to sit up before leaning to the side as he hacks up vomit. “If I see his face again,” he is hunched over, hands on the cold ground. He then shakes his head before gasping a little. He could not even think of the pain on his chest with the sickness that was overriding him.


Josleen releases his face when he moves for space and air. Fear or no fear, she's loyal to him, the human at least. She rubs his back as he vomits. The sickness spell will wear off in an hour then he'll be right as rain, but in the meantime, he'll experience the symptoms of a nasty flu. "Let's go home." She means his home again, though she refers to it as if it were her own too. They're far from his cabin, a good 45 minute walk when healthy. There's no way Ansel can make it in his present condition, and staying here is a bad idea too. Her parents' house is closer, but that's not an option. They're too far from town to fetch a cart. "Baby, I need to get you on Cleo's back. Come." She stands up and offers him a hand to help him up at whatever pace he can manage. "Deep breaths. We need to go. We aren't safe here." She helps him put on his coat properly so he isn't completely naked for the slow ride back to his cabin. If he manages to get on the horse's broad back (slowly, so slowly), Josleen will sit behind him and hugs her arms around sides to take the reins in front of him. In this way, she tries to keep him steady. It's hard to be the big spoon. That's normally his role. But right now, he needs her to do it. When they reach the cabin, Josleen gets off first then helps Ansel down. She glances over her shoulder at the house to see if Jenson or the boys have noticed their arrival.

Outskirts of Xalious Village (Ansel's Cabin)

Ansel shakes his head, he did not want to move. “No…” He is groaning and he is heaving again. You know how boys get dramatic when they are sick and need to be babied at their hands and feet? This is Ansel at this moment. Though, as she stands he slowly sways before extending his own hands out to help himself up slowly. Everything is dizzy and he sucks in air and releases it before continuing towards Cleo. The man would grasp the side of Cleo before inhaling to get up and get a leg over. The man is hunching slightly forward, an arm resting against his damp forehead. Though, as she tries to slip her arms around him, he sits up so it’s an easier reach. As the Cleo trots, this does not help Ansel’s dizziness. Hold it in, Ansel. An elbow goes up to his mouth. As they approach the cabin, Jenson is the first one who is outside. “What happened? He didn’t…? What did he do?” Jenson is moving closer to assist the two. Ansel still has a bit of the beast within his system, he could not help this, he was still angry. “I didn’t do anything! But next time, I’ll kill them!” He hisses before hesitating as if he was going to throw up overboard again.


Josleen simply shakes her head to Jenson. The women have met and have only a rudimentary understanding of each other's roles in the home -- something Josleen always planned to fix in the future, but now that future is less certain. She can't think about that now. The hate in Ansel's voice, his anger, sends a shiver down the bard's spine. Who exactly has she been sharing her bed with? Resting so peacefully at his side, unaware of his potential for violence. Ansel is still naked beneath his coat, and Jenson is approaching to take his other arm. Something possessive and territorial, wolf-like even, stirs within Josleen and she shakes her head a second time to Jenson, more vehemently. "Please find the boys and make sure they don't see this. I can get him to his room on my own. It's best if Shia and Dana don't know about tonight, don't you agree?"


Jenson automatically pulls back at Josleen’s reaction as she tries to assist the man. The blonde woman nods slightly. Perhaps Josleen has handled Ansel before in this state? Jenson has no clue, but she obeys and begins to take several steps backwards before pivoting and running off to find the two younglings. Ansel is still woozy, but the vomiting has stopped. The spell was wearing off, but still gave him some symptoms. “They almost killed you, Josleen!” He barks. “And it’s not going to get any better.” He pants, as if he is losing control again. The man then slides off the horse and he stumbles. He was raging. Perhaps it was best to just calm him down and get the man inside, clean up his wound, and put some clothes on him.


Josleen is glad Jenson doesn't make a fuss of things. But then Ansel's rage flares up again and she suddenly regrets sending away help. Surely he isn't capable of hurting her, right? But early today she didn't think he was capable of turning into a wolf either. She freezes when he barks at her, but quickly regains control of herself and coos, "I know, love. I know. But it's just me here now." She hesitates before snaking her arm around his middle and ducking under his arm to become his crutch. Not a great crutch, given her own sorry state, but she manages. She strokes his chest over the coat once to try and calm him. "Let's go inside. Let me fix you up." The illness and wound undercut his rage, make him a little less scary, but only just a little. She already knows the way to his bedroom and the adjoining bathroom. Any angry outbursts are met with similar gentle words, calming phrases and the odd touch, some of which are halting. In the cabin, she tries to coax him into a bath. He needs it, given that before all of this happened he was playing basketball, then went on a rage-fueled stomp across the village. He smells funky, but she doesn't comment on that. "A soak will do you good." If he agrees to sit in the bath, once he's settled she'll say, "I'm going to find some clothes and salve for that burn, ok?" She's rifling through his pajamas in the armoire when suddenly it hits her. The clothes warp away from her. Her vision grows long and tunneled. Her stomach flips. The surrealness of the moment breaks out in little beads of cool sweat along her brow. Her hands tremble as she pulls cotton pants and a long-sleeved pajama shirt from the stack that Jenson folded so neatly. She stares at the clothes in her hand, mind racing, unaware of the slippage of time. The bard is gone far longer than necessary to fetch some clothes.


Ansel is still looking past the strokes of comfort, but he does let her help him inside. So maybe it was helping slightly. As they make their way to the bathroom, he realizes that there is still a severe burn on his chest that is beginning to sting. He was feeling a little human again. The man was coming down from the high. The man is silent, mostly pouty, and well, he was coming back down to earth. He was realizing his surroundings, what was actually happening, what he actually just did. The man sits in the bath, and there is still a print of frustration on his visage. He is staring long and hard before she snaps him out of his daze – he nods her off. The wolf inside is fading and Ansel is now focused on the bubbling burn on his chest. The man reaches to pour some water on it and makes some hissing sounds as he tries to suck back the pain. Moments pass, and she is still gone. Though, he is sane enough to handle his own. The sickness is still turning in his stomach, but it is now fading, and he has energy to think. He gets up and wraps a towel around his waist before nearing the door to the bedroom. She looked pale – in shock. The damp man approaches her cautiously and he keeps a steady distance. “Josleen… talk to me,” his voice is gentle, he does not want her to run. They had never had this conversation, they both were pretending nothing was there. That he was just normal. They have been both in denial for so long; avoiding the subject.


Josleen didn't hear him get out of the tub or walk into the room. There's a humming in her ears, and only his voice breaks through. She looks at him standing there wet and injured and gentle again, and yet she can't bring herself to go to him. This morning there would have been no question about what comes next, but now the future looks uncertain from something as small as her next step to as long as the next year. She turns around and sets the clothes down on the bed behind her rather than giving it to him. "I forgot the salve," she says and excuses herself to fetch it from a separate closet, one further away from him. He can still see her though, and she steals glances at him to appraise his mood and self-control. He looks to be in control, or what she assumes is control. What if he never really is? And beyond her own safety, is it -right- to...lay with a werewolf? Has she unknowingly committed some sin (you know, aside from adultery)? Surely treating a werewolf's burns is alright, and he seems safe now. She returns to him and nods for him to sit down on the bed so she can better reach his burn and cover it in the mint-smelling ointment. She can't bring herself to look him in the eyes or say anything more.


Ansel frowns as she sets the clothes down. “Jos, I don’t c—“ She goes anyway, and he is silent, watching her closely. The man reaches to the back of his neck uneasily before looking at the clothes. He slips the bottoms on underneath his towel and places his towel to the side over the chair. He leaves the shirt off for now – mostly because the burn was on his collar bone to chest. He is keeping a steady gaze on her before sitting down on the bed. She is not looking at him, but he is looking at her. He then looks off to the side for a moment. “You had to know,” he runs a hand through his damp hair, his hair is slicked back down – a few strands are falling at a time. Those times when he was so different on those adventures, how did she not know something was up? “I haven’t always been this way, Josleen… Please, just talk to me?”


Josleen smooths the balm over his chest. Her gaze traces the contours of his body that she thought she knew so well. Always thought they were fixed, steady like the man, unyielding to the point of stubbornness. She wonders how they break when the beast takes over; imagines him covered in fur. It's hard to look at him and not feel a pang of love. But the love is undercut by a foreign horror brought on by his true nature. Is that why he's always so warm? Is that why he's so possessive? She starts reexamining everything he's ever said or done through this new lens. Does this change everything she thought she knew about him? If he truly loves her, why did he lie? "How could I have known when you never told me?" The words come through more bitter than she intended and she quickly screws the balm's lid back on and returns to the closet to get some space.


Ansel’s mouth gapes when she becomes bitter with him. As she goes back to the closet, he stands up. “Never told you?” He almost wants to laugh, he could not believe this. “Yes, Josleen. Let me just think of how I could’ve brought this up in a civil matter,” his tone was sarcastic. “I thought you suspected something! The first time we met, how else do you think we got out of that catastrophe? Or what about when Shia went missing? You think it’s easy to just bring something like this up for me?” His tone is rising, but he catches himself. Knowing that she knew what he was made him more hesitant about his attitude. This was a big reason why the man was so quiet, emotions were hard to control, but working with Josleen has given him better control. Learning how to talk to someone and remaining civil. He then snatches the shirt off of the bed and puts it on over his head, almost in a frustrated way, but also trying to be gentle of the wound on his chest.


Josleen shrinks against the closet door as his voice rises. Her heart races. It's a bit silly, isn't it, to suddenly fear his temper? She never did before. That's how quickly things can change. He calms down and she swallows hard and stands up straight again. She eyes him for a bit in silence, waits until he looks completely calm before saying, "The night Shia ran away... you could have killed me. If it wasn't for the woodsmen... you would have. You would have killed me." She repeats the final statement in bewilderment, her head beginning to shake side to side. "And Shia? Would you have killed him?"


Ansel is slowly breaking at her words. The man looks stunned and thrown off guard. This was not just another silly argument, and he was realizing she was actually serious. ‘You would have killed me’. The man is staring at her with eyes that are loss for words. She really felt this way? There is silence between the two before he forms a few words. “I—I love him… I wouldn’t have hurt him at all,” his eyes are shifting back and forth, he was second guessing himself… “You stayed, though, Josleen.” Did that mean anything? “And I love you, Josleen. I wouldn’t hurt you… or even try,” well, he was not positive. She was making him hesitant and think twice about the situation. She was hitting his insecurites.


"I stayed, because I didn't know that wolf was you." Or more accurately, because she repressed the knowledge that the wolf had to be Ansel. Denial is the family gift. If they survive this, Ansel will learn that first hand. Big 'if.' He repeats that he loves her and her faces cracks into a quivering frown. She whimpers. It's easy to state her fears, harder to act on them. 'I'm scared you'll kill me.' Easy. 'So I must go.' Hard. Impossible. "Is this why you never told me? So I'd love you and not be able to leave?" Her words may sound familiar to Ansel. He once accused her of the same stunt, but with an entirely different lie, the one about her marriage.


Ansel throws his hands up and faces the opposite way for a moment. His back was to her briefly. Suck in a breath, do not lose yourself, Ansel. How could she have not known that was him? He pivots around. “This was never a scheme so you can stay, Josleen. I just thought we never wanted to talk about it…” He then steps closer towards her. “I never asked for this, Josleen. I don’t want to be this way. This wasn’t my choice... But you love –me-, this is me,” he points to himself. Then again, he could have just forced her to listen to this like a good boyfriend... This just looks bad.


"How can we not talk about this?" Her face is red and patchy. She rubs at her collarbone until it feels raw. He reiterates that this is him and she shakes her head. "You should have told me sooner." Her voice is resigned. The fact he didn't tell her upsets her, but it isn't the most important point. Arguing about that isn't productive, anyway. Yes, he should have, but her record isn't clean on being upfront with secrets either. And she understands how difficult it must be to bring this up. But now that she knows, now that she understands how he loses control, and his true 'species', she has other more pressing concerns. "This is you. But there is another side of you, and I'm..." Scared? Her voice is pinched and peaky. "I don't know what to do." Pause. "If you had lost control in the room, with Hudson and Alvina holding you back, would you have torn through them to get out? Torn through me?" She isn't really asking. She's rambling, her mind racing, chasing nightmare after nightmare of 'what if' scenarios. And finally she voices the 'ick' factor. "...And you're...a...." She hasn't said the word 'werewolf' out loud yet. She hesitates. Saying it makes it feel more real. She isn't ready for that. And to say it in this way is such an utter rejection of who he is. She can't.


Ansel is feeling worst by the second. The way she is handling things throws him in a whirlwind. He cannot hold out much longer. The man’s voice is shaking. “Don’t be scared. You were never scared before? I’m working on it… I’m working on controlling it all.” The man is now still, he does not inch towards her anymore. “This is just a piece that you have to accept if you’re going to be with me…” The man’s eyebrows are narrowed. His gut is wrenching. He was fearful of her reaction. “Yes, yes, I might have killed them… Might,” he takes a breath. “If it was for you, I would’ve. Why would I kill you if you were the reason,” she kept rambling, he could not get past her and he was making everything sounds worst. Especially if he confessed that he might have attempted to kill Hudson or Alvina. “Or, I would’ve come to my senses. This is… something you’re going to have to understand…” She is hesitant and the man is trying to contain himself. He knew what she wanted to say and he stares at her long and hard. Hazel eyes are confused and damaged – he is hurt. His voice is cracking, but in a sad way – heartbreaking. “Don’t go… This is… your home,” he is stepping closer again. He is a few feet away now. “You love me. This is me,” there is tears brimming in his eyes, but they do not stream.


Josleen covers her mouth as Ansel admits that killing their friends is something the beast would do. Sweet Alvina, cool Hudson, good people looking forward to a future together. He inches closer and the look on his face is heart-wrenching. Despite all her fears, the love she has for him endures. The downside to being a master communicator, a calculating woman who assesses situations and weighs options, is that she can easily paralyze herself with indecision, especially when it comes to things like this. She can get so wrapped up and turned around in her head she forgets whats real, and to connect with what she feels. Ansel may not be as deft at managing his emotions as Josleen, but he feels them more instinctively. He's more primal that way, and physical. Perhaps also a side effect of his lycanthrope? But it's something Josleen could use a dose of right now. She's shaking her head again. "I-I need to think." Think in circles, most likely. Like a dog chasing their tail.


Ansel shakes his head. “No, don’t think, don’t think, Josleen, please?” That is even more frightening for him. He does not want her getting wrapped up in her own head. Also, there was a possibility of losing her. “Please don’t leave,” he could not help himself as he neared her inches closer, he is whispering. Eyes are closing and the tears are officially streaming (real tears, everyone, real tears – real men cry!). His face was red. “I was just trying to protect you. They’re not going to stop either…” His eyes open automatically, cue guilt tripping Ansel, manipulative, which was worst thing a man could do. Wow, Ansel, not cool. “They’re summoning something. The Dark Imp. You can’t leave, Josleen. They’re probably still after you. Please don’t leave." His emotions were everywhere, he was in full panic mode and this was obvious he was trying to keep her here... The man was a mess.


He cries so she cries. Her own tears spills and she feels overheated. She can't bear to see him hurting this way, but his pain doesn't change the facts. How can she not think about this? There's so much to unpack. Josleen could unpack an empty suitcase. "I know you want to protect me, I know. But babe... Ansel... Gods..." She presses her mouth into her hand. "I just need a little time to think." She holds up a hand to stop his advance. With all the kindness she can muster she explains, "I'm going to my parents' house. Don't follow me, alright? I'll be okay. I just need space." She sniffs loudly. "Clear my head. Make sense of everything. I... I won't run away. You'll hear from me again, I promise." But she can't promise she won't ultimately decide to leave him. She simply doesn't know. It's best if she leaves now, and she starts to go.


Ansel lifts both arms and grasps his hair with his hands. The aching pain of the burn on his chest is ignored. He shakes his head, tears still flowing. “Josleen, please. We can work through this right here.” As she halts him, he drops his hands from his hair that was now messy again – drier than before. ‘Don’t follow me, alright?’ He is breathing unevenly, so much anxiety, but he is collecting his sadness. As she brushes past him, he reaches out to try to grasp her hand, and if she would let him, he would try to pull her back around. “I chose you. And in any other crisis, I would choose you again and again. Don’t stop loving me the way I never stopped loving you,” the man would hesitantly lean in to kiss her cheek if she would let him. If not, he would let her pull away. He would understand. He would let her go, hand resting at his side shakily. The man would slowly back up near the bed, watching her leave from the distance. Cheeks damp, face like stone due to the shock of what had just happened.


Josleen stops when he takes her hand and turns around to face him. He kisses her cheek and she leans into him to embrace him tightly. He's so warm. Now she knows why. But all the same, his heat feels good. His hard body feels right against hers. She loves him too much to leave him like this. He's never been this broken before. She isn't callous enough to walk out that door and leave him to eat his heart out. Yes, she is afraid that a life with a werewolf is a life cut short, but it won't be cut tonight. She knows that accident isn't lurking around the corner now. She can stay, because she loves him and he is hurting. It's impossible for her to turn her back on his pain. She kisses his cheek then his lips. At first it's just a peck, a sweet reassurance that she won't leave right now, but the kiss quickly grows desperate and fatalistic. What if it's their last kiss? What if she can't find the strength to be with a werewolf, and she loses him because of her own cowardice? She wraps herself up in him, forgetting his burn and the pain in her neck where she was stabbed. She tears at him like they may never touch again. It's been a while too, since before the assassination attempt. Is it wrong to do this with a werewolf? She can figure that out tomorrow. She tells him everything she knows now -- that she loves him and wants him and he is good -- but is careful not to make any promises about the future. They fall asleep in each others arms, but before day break Josleen wakes up. He's a light sleeper, she knows. She gets up as quietly as possible and writes a note. It reads 'I need to think.' Hopefully she'll tiptoe out of the cabin before he realizes she's gone.


She is making this harder as she embraces him, but then he closes his eyes as she kisses his cheek and then his lips. They are so smooth, and the man pulls her closer, holding the side of her face. Desperate is right. Who knew what this man would do if she left. The injuries on the two were put to the side, however he was gentle with her. All the guilt would play in her mind, but in his, he is trying to leave her with the knowledge that he was still him – loving, passionate, sometimes gentle, and human… in a way. As they fall asleep, he keeps her close, and from all the emotion, the wolf is worn. However, this does not stop him from feeling her slip out of his arms in the morning. Perhaps she is getting food? Water? Relax, Ansel… The man closes his eyes again trying not to scare her away. Moments pass by too slow. Where was she? And as he sits up and looks around, he finds the note. The man stares at this for a long time. “No… No… Josleen?” He shouts and he is walking outside. “Josleen?” There are no signs of her anywhere. He is torn. He was too late. No promises were made. She is gone, and now there was nothing left to do but wait.