It didn't seem like forever, when they knew he wouldn't have a cell phone until he was a Cliath. It didn't seem like forever because they were literally lying around in bed, touching each other with a sort of gentle intimacy neither had ever known before, talking about the future. Making plans. Maybe six months, maybe a year -- that wasn't so long. They could wait. They could stand to be apart. It's nine months later now and everything feels different than it did at the aquarium, holding each other's hands and simply being together, sharing each other's warmth.
One could say that the changes in Lukas have been greater, that nine more months in training, nine more months of bonding with these cubs, nine more months of simply growing up, have made him into a different person. All of that is true. But he's had Danicka's letters. They were writing to each other almost every week for awhile, going from a few paragraphs to a few pags, front and back, pouring out everything. She sent him a care package, sent him a lock of her hair, told him that she remembered his body, warm to her cheek, as though it was something she ached for. And then he reached out to her, mentioned what they'd already talked about, and she recoiled, bolting into the woods
very much like a fox.
Danicka has changed, too. Their lives went in divergent directions for just a few months and it's hard to tell why or how, when they felt so close. When they were so close -- even for just a night. Sometimes she looks at December and January, two months of utter madness, and it feels like everything she did happened in someone else's life. Like she doesn't even know how that person is. Which doesn't help much, because she doesn't know who she is, either. So this is what she writes to Lukas, when he is lying back staring at the stars, preparing to earn his name. She tells him she doesn't know who she is and tries to explain why what she feels with him scares her, but when she sends that letter, she has no idea if it even makes sense, or if it will make a difference.
In the days after Lukas's Rite, Danicka is simply living her life, trying not to think overmuch about hearing from him. She doesn't know when his Rite will be, exactly, so she calls on reserves of patience that no one would attribute to her and she works. She actually begins participating in Yelizaveta's tutelage again, finding that the girl's Russian has fallen apart, her fingers tie into knots on the piano, and she is a little shit that needs some discipline and humility. In the three weeks or so after she writes back to Lukas, she takes over the household from its state of everyone simply trying to do their jobs in general. She sets up an actual schedule for visits from maids, rather than simply leaving it til it gets horrendous. Yelizaveta must be washed, dressed, fed and her assignments done on time before her tutors arrive each day.
Danicka stops snapping at Giselle to shut up when she whines about never getting to be educated and they go to get a computer and applications for a community college, because it's not prestigious but it's inexpensive and there are online courses she can take. So of course Giselle asks her if she'll do it, too, and Danicka simply stares at her, blinks, and says:
Well, I suppose I could.
It's March 28th when her phone chimes with a text. She isn't taking classes yet, those don't start until summer, but she's sitting cross-legged on her bed reading a thick textbook called 'Python Programming: An Introduction to Computer Science', because there are introductory coding classes and they looked interesting and she's very confused at first but it's starting to make sense. She eventually moves to her belly, a post-it note stuck on her laptop to remind her to buy a notebook and pens or pencils so she can take notes while she reads things.
It's warm outside, though the nights are still chilly and it's not oppressively hot yet. Her phone chimes a second time before she gets to it, and she picks it up and reads it and her eyebrows shoot up at the name. She adds him as a contact first, squirming back into a seated position, contemplating what to tap back.
I'd love to. Ping me again when you get closer!
And a few moments later:
Actually, just head to the plantation. I'll send directions.
LukasLukas only knows 'the plantation' from Danicka's return address. When they punch it into the GPS it turns out New Orleans is a very long way away.
Ill be there tmrw, says Lukas's return text.
And so they drive nonstop. In shifts. Day and night, two cubs awake at any one time while the other two sleep, rotating from driving to keeping company to sleep, and back around again. They're coordinated and practiced at this. It's not so different from guard duty at Stark Falls, after all. They cut across the country, following the Great Lakes as far as Cleveland; crossing the Midwest into the South; cutting through Alabama, Mississippi, and all the while Benny's talking about pack names every time he's awake, and most of them are horrible.
They reach Louisiana in the afternoon of the second day, which is when Lukas wakes up and yawns in the backseat, tapping Hana, who's driving, on the shoulder.
"We're almost there," he says. "My friend's working for some really uptight Fangs, so I think I better go alone to start out. You guys oughta go ahead and introduce us to the local Sept."
Benny, yawning from the passenger's seat: "What are we calling ourselves? I still think Fraggers is awesome."
"No," Hana says, rolling her eyes, " 'Fraggers' is not awesome. It's like the opposite of awesome."
"We'll just say we're a pack," Lukas says. "Maybe when we're officially bonded and stuff we can get a real name." He's texting as he speaks: Almost there. 20 minutes. Should I just show up?
DanickaTomorrow, says Lukas, and Danicka's lips give a flickering, tremulous little smile -- flickering because she has to be serious, even when she's alone, tremulous because she's still so uncertain of what this means, and what he's like, and how he feels and everything.
So she puts her phone aside and grabs her Python book and reads the same sentence four times before she realizes she should prepare the rest of the staff, call the Sokolovs, school Yelizaveta on not being an insulting little monster to Shadow Lords, and maybe get the placed cleaned up and buy a cow. Not a life one, just most of a dead one.
Danicka hops off her bed.
A text comes the next day, midafternoon, and he gives her twenty minutes notice. She could strangle him. Danicka texts back: Sure! I think you may have to
She stops, and deletes, and just hits 'Call' instead.
LukasLukas jumps when his cell phone rings. So far he hasn't given anyone his number yet, except Danicka. He's never heard the ringtone. He's never turned it down. While he's fumbling around trying to take the call, Rolf wakes up, peering blearily around. Though he's the oldest of them, nearly twenty, he's the one to ask: "Are we there yet?"
"Hello?" Lukas is saying, phone to his ear.
Danicka"Hi!"
It's her. She sounds different on the phone than she does in person but not by much. "Hi, it's me." Of course it's her. "I was texting and then realized it would take about four texts to say this, so: I called the Sokolovs yesterday for permission and everything, so you guys are good to stay here while you're in town, or at least til you find your own place to stay. But the grounds are apparently covered in spirits and wards and stuff, so there's this sort of ritual you have to follow when you get to the gate, okay? Do you have a pen?"
Lukas"Oh!"
Lukas sounds - well. He sounds the way he sounded nine months ago, but not. His voice might be a little deeper now. He's a lot more awkward, on the phone with the girl he has a very longstanding crush on, who told him not too long ago that she was not really interested, thanks and sorry. Danicka can hear him shifting the phone away a little and telling the others -
"Dani
ka," and this is the very first time he's ever spoken her name to his pack, but none of them wonder for a second who 'Dani
ka' is, "says we can all stay on the plantation. So... I guess let's nix the Sept idea. We'll go find them together tomorrow."
Then he's back on the phone with her, listening, and when she gets to the ritual he says, "Hold on a second, wait, lemme find a pen," and then there's scuffling around in the background and muffled voices. When it clears up he says, "Okay, got one. Hey wait. Benny, how I put this on speakerphone? I want Rolf to hear this too."
More scuffling. Then his voice sounds a little different, farther away: "Okay, go ahead. Rolf's our Theurge, by the way."
Rolf waves as though he expects Danicka to be able to see him. "Hi! I'm Rolf!"
DanickaSpeakerphone.
And the way he says her name, distant for a moment as he tells the other cub-- Cliaths! in the car with him who he's talking to. Her heart is triphammering inside of her chest, but it doesn't affect her voice. They have no idea who 'Danicka' is, except if they make the right assumptions she's the girl who made Lukas cry, for fuck's sake, even if she did send them bubblegum and magazines and stuff. She bites her lip, and his voice changes, and he tells her Rolf is listening.
"Oh, I know!" she says. "You told me. Hi, guys," she says, presumably to all of them. "Um... okay. So when you get to the first gate you have to get out of the car. There's actually a drive, but if you don't get out apparently it'll be too disrespectful. After the first time you can drive in, but, yeah. So that's the first step, is walking inside instead of driving. Then you'll walk for awhile and if you stay on the road and you're being respectful and everything you're in the clear, but then you'll come to the Gentlemen.
"You'll know them as soon as you see them. They're these enormous oaks lining the road, eight of them, and they're all mangled and stuff. But you have to try and notice the spacing, because there apparently used to be eight more of them before the outer drive was widened. So like... you have to find the places where the other eight trees used to be, four on each side of the road, before you get to the surviving ones. And if you don't pay your respects to the Gentlemen that are gone, then the Gentlemen that are still there will ...do stuff to you or something. So you have to do whatever it is you do to pay your respects to a tree that isn't there anymore, and then if the surviving eight Gentlemen rustle their branches it means you can pass by them."
Danicka takes a breath. They hear the flip of a page; she apparently took notes, too. "Then there's the fountain, and apparently that's 'awake' or something? I don't really know what you're supposed to do there, but the Sokolov's Steward mentioned it. And then before you get to the steps up to the door you have to talk to this statue of a heron and -- oh, you have to touch it, too -- and say something about submitting to the laws and traditions of territory of another or something while you are guests here and defend it as though it were your own and yadda yadda yadda, annnnd....
"Okay. I think that's it. After that you can come and go and drive your car up and all that. There's like sixteen rooms in this place so -- there's four of you, right? I got four rooms ready all close to each other. So yeah."
LukasWhile Danicka is reading from her notes, Benny and Hana are grinning at each other in the front seat because this is awesome! and Lukas is listening very intently and Rolf,
well, Rolf barely looks like he's listening at all. And even a year ago Lukas would have been irritated, would have snapped at him to pay attention, dammit, this is important. But now Lukas has the idea that Rolf is probably paying closer attention than any of them. It's just how he is, he and his spacey eyes that like to stare off in strange directions, he and his silences when he's pondering something Very Very Important indeed.
"Okay," Lukas says, clicking the phone back to non-speaker, "I'm back. Yeah, there's four of us. Including me." She knows their names; he's written about them a hundred times. "I guess we'll be taking a little longer getting through the rituals, so ... I'll call you again when I'm there?"
DanickaThey're going to stay at a real life Louisiana plantation along River Road, probably with four posters and thick blankets and there are spirits crawling everywhere. So what if they're technically going to be on the territory of some very uptight Fangs? And the truth is, the Sokolovs are miles upon miles away. The Fangs that are on the property are Kin, and they are far from uptight. The wine cellar is almost as big as the kitchen, but they don't need to know that yet.
Danicka can hear the difference when it changes, and knows she's off speakerphone. Lukas says he'll call again, and she's quiet for a second, then: "Yeah! I mean. Um. I'll be waiting. Talk to you soon, Lukas."
She says his name the way she's always said it, familiar and tender with those syllables, those slurred consonants. And they say goodbye, and they hang up, and she waits.
LukasThey're nine months older than they were. Yet here in the presence of his friends - his packmates - Lukas feels like they're both suddenly younger. Feels like they're suddenly the teenagers they are, fumbling toward something like a first, blind date. He's so awkward. He's so nervous, and so excited, and so wary:
what if she doesn't like him anymore?
At the plantation, Hana pulls to the side when they reach the gates. And they pass through together on foot, Rolf pausing to touch the great wrought-iron gates like maybe he's saying hi to them. Hana and Benny are chattering as they head up the drive, but that subsides soon enough. Something about the place speaks of silence, of grandeur and a lush, hidden majesty.
Lukas is the one to find the first blank space where one of the Gentlemen was felled. They pay their respects and find the next one, and the next, and each time there's a moment of silence, there are bowed heads, one of the fresh Cliaths gets down on his or her knees and presses hands to soil, worshipful.
The surviving Gentlemen rustle them on their way. This time, Lukas is the one to lay his hand on one. He thinks the bark feels warm to the touch, but he's not sure.
When they come to the fountain, they step aside for Rolf. It seems entirely natural that he is the first one to approach the awakened spirit there, and though Danicka gave them no instructions, the Theurge seems to know what to do. He lays his hands on the rim first, bends over the water for a long time. Then he runs his fingers through. Flicks droplets over himself, closing his eyes. Touches wet fingertips to his lips and then - without warning - spits clear saliva back into the fountain.
Hana is shocked. Lukas thinks he understands, though, and flicks her a look that keeps her from launching an outburst. "Water for water," he murmurs.
Hana waits until Rolf is done before replying, "He could've been more sanitary about it."
At the door, Lukas is the one to touch the heron. He is the one to swear the oath of guesthood, as is proper, and he swears on behalf of his entire pack. After that, there's only one thing left to do:
lift that great bronze knocker, and knock.
DanickaIt is eerily quiet when they leave the road and enter the grounds of the plantation. They can see the oaks from far away, and the white-painted wrought iron railing of the belvedere atop the house. There is a breeze, springtime easier to live with than summer's oppressive stillness, but it is not hard to imagine the spirits here awake, watching, guarding what is precious. There's no intercom for the gate, and they have to physically get out and push it open. The driveway is wide, covered in white gravel. Ahead of them they can see a bridge going over the pond, the fountain to the left, sending water into the sky. There are lilies and reeds in the water, half man-made, half-natural.
The gravel crunches under their feet, and they have to leave the road to look through the grass, finding what are essentially the scars of trees once felled -- the story is actually ghastly, involving the deaths of 16 men and the great flood of the river, but that doesn't matter. These oaks are even more elderly than their brothers on the rest of the property. They were once perfectly formed but now hold grotesque shapes, branches drooping in mourning, bark turned almost black though they thrive within. Eight scars, eight graves, and when they stand between the empty land and the trees ahead, there is a moment where they wonder what to do, whether it worked.
Not with a breeze but all at once, the branches of the eight standing Gentlemen shudder, leaves shaking free and falling, the wood creaking with movement. They can pass. When Lukas touches one, it does indeed feel warm, though no sunlight touches that side in this shade. It gives a soft moan.
Crouching by the bank of the fountaining pond, Rolf touches the water. It's ice cold despite the warmth of midday, chilling his fingertips. He flicks it over himself, touches his lips, and spits. They are not bound by a totem yet but the spirits seem to understand that one speaks for all, that they are a pack. After all, spirits remember a time before totems took packs under their wing, a time when packs were literal brothers and sisters, descended from an alpha mother or father, drawing their own offspring into the pack. The bond is true enough. They cross the bridge and the splatter from the fountain hits their skin,
suddenly warm.
The bronze heron stands in a small circular garden, its beak uplifted, and it is warm as any metal sculpture that stands in the sunshine. It does nothing, but the oath is sworn all the same, and they climb the steps up to the creaking veranda with its benches and rocking chairs and
the door flies open. A girl of about twelve, slender and graceful and absolutely stinking of Fang breeding, bolts out. Her hair is long and dark, tangled and needing a trim at the ends, a brunette ribbon streaming out behind her. She wears a knee-length skirt and a simple white blouse, both handmade, her feet bare. She has pristine blue eyes, flashing with anger. "Come back here!" she is snapping, and even Rolf cannot see what she is chasing, tearing down the steps and around the house, across the grass into the smaller, younger trees that flank the property. "I tagged you!" the girl is yelling. "I did! It's your turn!"
No adult chases after her. The door lies open. Nobody is waiting to greet them immediately, because nobody heard a knock, but after a few seconds there are footfalls, bare feet soft against large Persian rugs. A young woman with long, golden blonde hair walks around the door, a curious expression on her face that erupts with surprise and a slowly unfolding -- slightly goofy, slightly quirky -- smile. She's wearing carpenter jeans and a too-small mauve t-shirt, her skin already taking on a warm color from living this far south, already in the middle of spring.
Danicka, unlike Lukas, has not shot up in height very much. Nor has her body changed much -- she doesn't look quite as scrawny-thin, but she's still quite slim, her hair much longer. No one would mistake her for a 5th avenue rich girl today. "Hi!" she says, and
there's an awkward beat, then, "Oh, god! Come in! It's cooler inside. Do you guys want something to drink? Are you hungry?"
LukasWhen Lukas pictured plantation, he had some vague faux-Versailles in mind. Vast white palaces, mile upon mile of perfectly manicured lawns.
The reality here is so very different. The land is so old, and it feels wise and dark and feral at once, imbued with its own alien savagery. The manor is nearly hidden amidst live oaks quite possibly older than the country itself, dripping with moss and vines. The air tastes thick, wet, even though it's only March. It is a wild land, and on it, Danicka has grown wild as well.
When Lukas sees her, he's thunderstruck. He can't think of a thing to say. All those months pouring his heart out on paper, all the things he wrote and mused on and discussed, and now that she's finally here again all he can do is stare. She looks different. She looks good. She still looks like Danicka, and
he remembers with sudden poignancy the last time they met, the way she seemed barely to touch the ground at all as she leapt into his arms.
Benny is looking at him sidelong. Several seconds have gone by since Danicka offered entry, drinks, refreshment. Hana is sizing Danicka up. She's used to being the only female; instinct tells her this may be a rival, and so she starts tallying up the score. She's younger than Danicka. She thinks she's not as pretty. She's certainly never made a boy stop in his tracks and stare like that. But she's a werewolf so that must count for something. Rolf is turning to look after Yelizavieta, curious in his mild and mildly spaced-out way, and since Lukas is still staring, Benny's the one to finally step up to plate.
"We are totally famished," he says, grinning. Rolf and Lukas are the tall ones in this pack. Benny's barely taller than Danicka, and while Danicka has grown out of scrawniness, Benny has not. "And if you serve, like... iced lemonade in a crystal pitcher like they do in those movies, we are so down for some."
He sends an elbow not-so-discreetly into Lukas's side. Lukas grunts from the impact, and then walks up the steps to the porch. Now he's closer to Danicka, and yes, he's taller, inches taller, the last boyishness of his face is fading. He swallows.
"Hi," he says, like an idiot.
DanickaThe pack is dressed like they just took a 30-hour road trip down from upstate New York. Hanna has her hair up, no makeup, kinda sweaty, her bag's strap across her chest. Danicka can sense what's going on in that girl's mind, but Danicka is barefoot, and not wearing any makeup either, and the truth is that Danicka isn't a rival to Hana for anything. But she still feels it, and she glances at Hana briefly, but chooses not to meet her eyes. Rolf is overdressed for the weather, older than all of them, looking around him with a half-squint that signaled who he was to Danicka instantly. Then there's Benny, who at least is being polite.
And Lukas. He's shockingly taller and his hair has gotten a little longer, he's cleanshaven but he has a 5 o'clock shadow from driving down, and Danicka can see the definition of his chest through his shirt. He's staring at her, and she knows it, and her cheeks color slightly because it's hard not to notice that Benny also has to elbow him in the ribs to get him to wake up.
"Um... well we don't really use crystal, but we have some lemonade and iced tea. It's really good if you crush some mint in it and add honey." She's talking to Benny, but she glances over at Lukas. "Christian is doing a perimeter check, but Rick and Giselle are inside. I think Lizzy just ran out."
Lukas finally says hi. Danicka's grin at that is lopsided, and she doesn't know what to say, so she just beckons. "Come on. We were just finishing lunch. It's just cold roast sandwiches and chips and stuff, but there's plenty."
The entryway -- in fact, the entire front hall -- is opulet and grand. The Greek Revival style was long ago updated to something more Federalist, but the wood floors are shining and there are enormous rugs lining rooms. They can see the parlor to their right, but Danicka leads them down a hall and through the grand dining room -- which is covered in white sheets draped over everything, never used by the staff here -- and out another door and down a path of flagstones to a greenhouse-like kitchen behind the mansion. The smell of honeysuckle and magnolia blossoms is thick in the air, and the swaying of branches of willows and oaks and magnolia trees.
In the kitchen, which is larger than the dining room they passed through, there are a few ovens -- some ancient, some modern -- and two enormous fridges and a deep freezer. In the center there's a long table with two benches, the wood heavy and gnarled underneath but polished smooth on top. Sitting there is a man in his mid-twenties, older than all of them, with coarse black hair and a scruffy jawline, bright green eyes and the stink of Fianna on him. He's heavily muscled, with scarred knuckles wrapped around the base of a bottle of beer. Across from him is a delicate young woman of about Danicka's age, her hair white-blonde, her eyes wide and fair, her skin porcelain, her legs reminiscent of a gazelle's in length and grace. She is, however, wearing jean cutoffs and a baggy yellow t-shirt, barefoot as the other two females, eating a salad and a quarter of one of the roast sandwiches.
Which are on a plate. The meat is not sliced thin from a deli but cut from the haunch of meat they roasted the night before, thick slabs of it in between just-as-thick slabs of homemade bread, jars of mayo and mustard and the like on the table with butter knives stuck in them, a bowl of salad and a bowl of apples, a few bags of different kinds of potato chips and cheese curls and tall pitchers of iced tea and lemonade clinking with ice as it melts.
Danicka introduces the two groups: "This-is-Benny-and-Hana-and-Rolf-and-my-friend-Lukas, they're his pack. This is Rick, he's one of our men-at-arms, and that's Giselle, Lizzy's nanny and future sister in law," she says, pointing people out. "So, um... dig in. There's beer in the left fridge, but don't take stuff from the top shelf, okay?" She keeps glancing at Lukas. Has been since the front door, but she doesn't know what to say yet. Still. No idea. No earthly clue.
LukasLike the young wolves they are, the proto-pack follows Danicka through to the kitchen in the back. Their stride is long and low, a little cagey - they feel the claim of those who own this land so very acutely. Their eyes everywhere, taking in the details, sometimes widening in wonder because
wolves or not, they are also teenagers, youngsters who have never seen such opulence before.
They cluster together in the kitchen. They are introduced, and Hana is staring at the salad with mixed disdain and self-consciousness, knowing that when she 'digs in' she'll go straight for the meat. Benny is eyeing Giselle until he hears future sister in law, and then he pulls his eyes away with some disappointment. They are both of them younger than Lukas, and they are at that age where the difference between one year and the next is vast.
"What's on the top shelf?" Rolf asks. His head is tilted back; he and his half-squint are studying the rafters. And Lukas, making a supreme effort, manages to stop staring at Danicka long enough to approach the table.
"Hey," he says to Giselle and Rick. "Thanks for the food."
When he picks up a sandwich, that seems to be some sort of unspoken cue. Hana and Benny immediate grab sandwiches of their own. Hana is shameless: she lifts the top of the sandwich off and starts eating the meat. Benny is looking for mustard. He likes mustard on beef. Lukas is chewing his first bite, trying to think of something to say. He's never been with Danicka with other people around before. Well, no, that's not true. But he thinks she's way past the age where Let's go play with your Legos! would engender a positive response.
DanickaNo one here is entirely comfortable. The young Cliaths know they're on the territory of another wolf, can sense it, have sensed it since they set food on the grounds. The spirits are okay with them, they're guests and will not be harmed, but hospitality can be revoked so easily, and they are so young and inexperienced,
and Fangs are such assholes.
"Rick and Christian's stuff," Danicka answers Rolf. "They're Fianna," and that is all that needs to be said about that. Some of the bottles on that top shelf are brown, plain, without labels -- home brew, though perhaps not brewed by Christian and Rick. Some of it is just expensive, rare, hard to come by in Nawlins. Hearing that said, however, makes Rick give a smirk, drinking a little more. He doesn't say much, but his eyes settled on Lukas for a moment when the Ahroun wasn't looking, thoughtful.
And he's looked at Danicka, too, and the truth is, he understands people a lot better than he lets on. The ways they're connected. The ways they look at each other, or the significance of the moments when they don't. He eats his lunch, and holds out his hand to Lukas when the kid approaches, giving it a firm shake before he goes back to his own meal. There are plates -- heavy stoneware things, white and speckled -- stacked at the end of the table. They were expected. Look at how many sandwiches.
Danicka already ate, it seems. She just starts serving, getting down glasses and pouring tea and lemonade, or grabbing bottles of beer and --
well, when she gets one out for herself she holds it against the edge of the counter and slams her hand down on the bottlecap to get it off, the motion quick, practiced, familiar. So, too, is the way she drinks the beer.
And then it's pretty much just awkward for a long time. Not for Rick, no. He's just chowing down, and Giselle is looking at Hana while the girl scarfs meat, her eyes more than a little intimidated. Rick is very aware of the fact that one of the males he's sharing a table with is 1) an Ahroun, 2) of a tribe he doesn't trust very far, 3) absolutely pining for Danicka, and 4) so far does not know that the other Cliaths and the twelve year old are the only people on the grounds who have not also fucked Danicka. He intends to keep it that way, so he doesn't talk much. Not that he would anyway, but there you are.
Danicka eventually does sit down, and she's eating some chips and drinking her beer, and starts talking. It doesn't make it any less awkward, really, because discussing the drive down and the weather isn't exactly free-flowing material that gets everyone relaxed, and what she wants to do is get him alone, maybe they can talk, maybe --
so when lunch is over, she clears her throat, and asks: "So... do you guys want to see your rooms, then maybe we can get your stuff and... I don't know. Play frisbee or something?"
LukasSo they eat, and while they eat Danicka is getting them their lemonade, except then Benny wants a beer and Danicka goes to get it and Lukas says, quiet but very level:
Get it yourself, Benny, you know where it is.
And after that there's no more serving. Everyone gets their own stuff, which suits them all just fine because it lets Benny pack down two and a half beers before Hana takes the last half-bottle for herself. Benny protests, but not a lot.
The atmosphere is stilted and awkward to begin with. It remains that way between the Cliaths and their new acquaintances, but amongst themselves, Lukas and Rolf and Hana and Benny soon fall into their own familiar associations. Hana eats two sandwiches' worth of red meat, and doesn't touch the bread at all, which Benny teases her relentlessly about until Lukas breaks it up. Rolf spends a very long time studying the table top, but then he's actually the only one to really try to engage Giselle and Rick, asking them questions about the plantation, smiling when they answer in a way that teaches him something new.
And somewhere in the midst of all that, Lukas drifts over to find a chair or a stool,
and that stool is next to Danicka.
When lunch is done, the Cliaths gather up their plates and wash them themselves. They didn't have kin or maids at the cub cabin, and some wise guy had put up a sign over the sink: YOUR MOTHER DOESN'T WORK HERE. They're used to this, and two of them scrub while two of them dry; it's all very regimented and practiced. Lukas is on drying duty. He's folding the rag neatly when Danicka offers rooms, and frisbee. He nods rather eagerly.
"Hana and Benny could probably use a nap. They've been up a long time. Maybe we can play frisbee later?"
And Rolf, who's sometimes a little sharper than one might expect, glances between Lukas and Danicka. He volunteers: "I'd like to go visit with the Gentlemen after we set our stuff down, if that's all right. Frisbee later sounds like a good idea."
DanickaAlready over by the fridge, Danicka smiles to Benny as she gets out another beer, and Lukas says what he does. For him, for what he is, it's extraordinarily calm. But for everyone else in the room, the tension ratchets up by one or two more degrees -- because it's him. Because of what he is. Danicka pauses, but she smiles again: "It's fine," she says. "I don't mind."
But later on, when Benny finishes his beer and wants another one, he doesn't ask. He gets up and gets it out of the fridge himself, and Danicka glances briefly at Lukas, who is eating another sandwich by then. She presses her lips together and glances away again. Later on, at the other end of the table, Rick finishes his lunch and says he's going to go track down Lizzy. He invites Rolf, if he wants to go, lets him know that they're free to move about the grounds, and if Rolf hears anything from the spirits that he thinks they should know, he'll pass it along to the Sokolovs. Giselle decides to go with him, since Lizzy is her charge to begin with, and then it's just the Cliaths and Danicka, who doesn't break into any of their ribbing or comraderie but watches, gently amused.
She notices when Lukas scoots over closer to her, when he sits at the corner of the table near her seat. It's impossible not to. He's so very large. Heat radiates off of him enough to brush against her skin, and she suddenly remembers sitting by him in the aquarium. She remembers feeling his arm against hers, and she also remembers his arms around her when he picked her up, because she leapt into his arms.
She remembers sex with him.
The Garou get up as one, startling Danicka a bit when they all start gathering plates, putting away food. It takes her a second to figure out what's even going on, til Hana is filling up the sink with water, and she breaks in -- startling the Cliaths in return -- and says: "Guys, um... there's a dishwasher. Like right there."
Having been without such a thing for years now, the world tips on one end for the Cliaths. They don't have to wash and rinse and dry. Score! is either the thought, or the words right out of someone's mouth. Lukas, of course, gruffly insists that they clean up anyway, so they rinse and load and it's regimented, routine, all of them functioning as one, a unit, a pack.
Danicka watches them, and is filled with ache, seeing how they gather around Lukas, and how he leads them. An idiot could see the bond between the four Cliaths, the ease they have with each other. It makes her incomparably sad, and she can't understand why.
After the washer is loaded, she speaks up about rooms and frisbee, and Lukas says that two of them are probably tired. Those two glance at each other, Hana quirking an eyebrow, and Rolf just flicks his eyes back and forth between the Ahroun and the kinswoman and decides to be helpful. Danicka's cheeks color a bit, but she nods. "Cool," she says. "Well, let's do the grand tour, and then maybe you guys can go get your stuff and settle in or crash or whatever." She smiles. It's nervous.
The grand tour really is rather grand. They go back to the house and get led through room after room. Two dining rooms -- formal and informal, and the only way to tell the difference is that one is kind of bigger and more red and the other one is round and smaller and yellow. There's the parlor as well as the living room (also hard to tell the difference, but the parlor is covered in white dropcloths and the living room looks more used has an enormous fireplace), the library, the stairs down to the laundry room and family room, which houses a ping-pong table and a television that does not get cable and looks like it doesn't get turned on very much. There's more rooms than any of them know what to do with, and several of them are held in dropcloths, abandoned, unnecessary. They go up the freestanding helix staircase that follows the curving interior wall of the foyer and hallways of bedrooms and a solar and sitting rooms unfold before them.
"Lizzy and Giselle's rooms are that way, facing the river," she says, pointing to the west wing. "Mine is across from theirs. Christian and Rick are right here," she goes on, pointing to two facing rooms that are near the central staircase leading up to the attic and belvedere. "And over this way," as she heads to the east, "are your rooms, at least for as long as you stay. Benny, this is you," she says, pushing open the door to his room. And that's when they get a feel, really, for where they are.
Benny's room is larger than a hotel's by far. The bed is an enormous mahogany four-poster, covered with a red and gold coverlet, the floor carpeted in a leaf-and-diamond pattern. Facing the bed is a fireplace, and the windows are covered by thick brown drapes. There is a little breakfast table by one with two chairs, and a slender door near the wardrobe. "And Rolf is right next door." She goes on, showing them the blue-painted room with a smaller bed but satin coverlets, wood floors and a rug instead of carpet. It's a much smaller room, and there's no fireplace, but: "It shares a bathroom with Benny's room, I hope you don't mind that it's so small."
Rolf doesn't mind. His room is blue! The canopy looks like a sunburst.
"This room is for Hana," Danicka says, crossing the hallway to show them the room that is even larger than Benny's. It's red and gold again, but brighter, the fireplace mantel white rather than mahogany, with a huge mirror over it. She has a separate bathroom, though truth be told the bathrooms are all rather small -- claw-footed tubs with showers inside, a toilet, a sink area with mirror, only enough room for one person to really be in there at any time. Still: they are Cliaths, fresh from the cub cabin, and each one of them has a room with a huge, soft bed, fine covers, private baths. As she's letting Hana look around, Danicka mentions: "You look about Giselle's or my size," which is true enough. Giselle is even more on the thin side than Danicka, but the girls are of reasonably similar heights, all of them slim, though Hana has more athleticism and health to her frame than either of the other two will. Also: larger breasts than Danicka. "If you want to come raid my closet while you're here it's totally fine, I've got way more clothes than I really need. Or we can go shopping or whatever if you guys need more stuff. You really should see the Riverwalk and all that. Um. So anyway."
She backs out, and seems vaguely embarrassed, not good at this Overtures of Female Friendship thing, and goes to the corner bedroom, opening the door to a suite just as large and opulet as Hana's, with a black marble fireplace and a carved bed with black covers and pillows of gold and brown and black. It, too, has a doorway to a private bathroom, and like every room they've seen so far, a pair of French doors that open out onto the upper veranda ringing the mansion. "And this is Lukas's room," she says, of the accomodation that also faces the oaks, as well as overlooking the pathway to the kitchen. Hana's is the only room of the foursome's that looks out to the river. There are empty rooms here and there, but Danicka's tour isn't grand enough to bother with spaces they'll never use.
She is still barefoot, wiggling her toes against the floor. "So... is that...good for everybody? Do you guys need anything like soap or whatever? You have towels and everything..."
Danicka trails off, pressing her lips together, looking at a vague point just past any of their eyes.
LukasThey're all very impressed with the mansion, though truth be told, they're more interested in seeing their rooms than the library, the two dining rooms, all that. That's all well and good, but it doesn't really belong to them, and it doesn't belong to their kin, either. Their rooms, though: those are their territory, if only for a while, and if only by the grace of their hosts.
They're gleeful about their rooms. Benny lets out a whoop and goes flopping onto the bed. Check this out, guys, FOUR POSTS. Hana tries to seem unimpressed by hers, because come on, what Shadow Lord would be impressed by Fang stuff?, but she can't stop smiling and she's nearly bouncing on her toes. When Danicka offers to share her wardrobe, Hana darts a glance at her packmates, worried that somehow seeming interested in girl things would make the guys respect her less. But Rolf smiles and says he bets Danicka could make Hana look prettier than Giselle. Hana smacks him upside the head for being gross, but while Rolf is ruefully rubbing the back of his head wondering what he did wrong, Hana turns away to hide a happy blush.
None of these Cliaths come from very wealthy families. Lukas had a wealthy childhood, but that was so long ago and so brief a time that he doesn't really remember anything past the orange trees, the cook making kolaches. He can't even remember what those kolaches tasted like. Hana was the middle child of an astounding seven, born and raised in Nebraska where her parents owned a large farm. Large enough to give the kids a comfortable upbringing, but nowhere near privileged. Benny is actually upper-middle, his parents a lawyer and a doctor like some storybook, but they weren't in the really lucrative specialties - his father a defense attorney for the state, his mother an immunologist. And growing up in Manhattan like he did, six figures didn't actually stretch very far.
Then there's Rolf. Rolf bounced around from foster home to foster home as a child. Every time someone picked him up, they hoped they could "fix" him somehow. Maybe he was just autistic. Maybe he had a learning disability. Maybe they'd be the magic parents who wouldn't give up on the poor kid; they'd make him right somehow, damn it. And weeks turn to months and months turn to years, and Rolf would still be failing his classes, inattentive at school, no friends to speak of. Sometimes he'd talk to himself in his room. And sooner or later his family would just decide enough was enough, something wasn't right with the kid, someone else could deal with him.
A social worker who happened to be kin finally got assigned to his case. Strings were pulled. He was taken out of the system, adopted by a kin of Stark Falls, but really that was just a formality. His family was the Sept. The first real home he's ever had was the Caern. So of course he's not disappointed by his room. It's small, but that just means it's cozy and safe, and plus,
it's blue! Not even Lukas's room is blue. His is all dark and impressive, and it looks all Alpha Of The Pack, and Rolf thinks Lukas is secretly very proud that his room is so dark and impressive and Alpha Of The Packish, but of course Lukas always tries to be modest and polite and non-braggy and all that. Rolf, on the other hand, still thinks his little blue bedroom is better. The canopy looks like a sunburst. He thinks it must be very happy to wake up under that canopy every day. And anyway, that seems to be the end of the tour, and Danicka is sort of trailing off awkwardly, and almost as one Hana and Benny announce that they were totally gonna go explore their rooms some more and move in and stuff. And Rolf puts his hand on Danicka's shoulder as he passes, and it's contact the way animals do it: without ulterior motive, without purpose except to make contact, forge a bond.
"Thank you for your hospitality," he says, very serious and humble. "I promise I'll be a good guest."
Then he's gone, too, and it's just Lukas and Danicka standing in front of his room. While they were touring he was thinking he should ask how long they could stay here, they should probably get their own place sooner or later because it's not really safe to have so many Garou under one roof as the kin, and besides they might overstay their welcome, but
as soon as his packmates have turned the corner all he wants to do is hug Danicka. So he asks, whispering:
"Can I hug you?"
DanickaRolf gets smacked for suggesting that Danicka could make Hana 'prettier than Giselle'. The comment doesn't earn him a smack or a glare or anything from Danicka, but she does look a trifle bewildered. He means well. She doesn't say aloud that she'd be surprised if 'looking pretty' was Hana's biggest goal, doesn't say aloud that the offer to share clothes has nothing to do with Girls Being Pretty. Most of her clothes are much like what she's wearing now: jeans and a t-shirt. Most of her clothes are, in fact, not very different from what Hana is already wearing. All she knows is that they probably don't have a lot of personal possessions, the cubs. And she doesn't have much that is truly hers that she can share, can offer.
She doesn't really play with Legos or crayons anymore, after all.
She isn't a very strong person, Danicka. She doesn't know quite what to think about all that stuff herself. The comment strikes her as an odd one, and she can't quite really explain why, but in the end it doesn't matter: he's a Theurge of the tribe. Danicka just gives a thin smile and goes on showing them their rooms, giving them some distance, trying to remember her place.
That smile is a little more full when Hana and Benny whoop and decide to head off to get their stuff and 'move in' and hang out in those enormous, old-fashioned rooms. Rolf, poor and happy Rolf, touches Danicka's shoulder and all four of them can see how she flinches. All four of them can feel -- not a shock of fear -- but the instinct of prey from Danicka, furtive and so easily terror-stricken, even if she contains it enough not to physically jerk away from the touch. They can see only that flicker of a flinch, that extension of will to remain still, not to bolt, to pretend she doesn't mind, that it's okay, that in fact it was very nice and sweet and everything.
They can see the strain at the corners of Danicka's eyes, so relatively calm until now. Or maybe only Lukas can see any of it. Truth be told, that mask of ease and appreciation comes down so quickly, the others might not even notice. "You're welcome," she says. "I'm sure you will be."
She's smiling. And Rolf and Hana and Benny go into their rooms and yes, it's just the two of them, and Lukas really hasn't said much of anything since he showed up. 'Hi' and some thank-yous and a little bit to Benny, but he's stayed close to her. Within arm's reach ever since the kitchen, like it's unconscious. Danicka turns to face him and he asks, whispering, if he can hug her.
"Yeah," she says quietly back, and the strain is less now, the smile less perfect.
LukasLukas wanted to touch Danicka, lay his hand reassuringly on her back, when she flinched from Rolf's well-intentioned but ultimately unsuccessful overtures of friendship. He didn't know how she would react, though, and so he didn't. He wanted to touch her even before that. He's wanted to embrace her, scoop her up in a hard hug, since he saw her.
Didn't dare, though. Remembers her last letter: friends. And the one before: don't want a boyfriend. Doesn't quite know where that line is drawn.
There's a bit of an awkward pause when Danicka says yes, he can hug her. Then he stops thinking about it; steps into her, wraps his arms around her, closes his eyes and hugs her. It's a tight, close embrace. He takes a deep breath as he's hugging her, and tries to remember not to let his hands stroke her back; tries to remember not to nuzzle her.
DanickaGod, she's warm to the touch. Her shirt tugs up when she reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck, exposing more than the inch of her belly that was visible before. He can still enfold her in his arms easily, feel how lithe she is, how fragile -- though that might only be when compared with him, it's hard to tell. She's hugging him tightly, both of them closing their eyes a moment after the other one can't see anymore. Lukas is trying not to cross any lines; so is she. Trying hard not to hurt him, even as he tries to hug her without suffocating or crushing her.
They can hear Benny and Hana hollering at each other not ten feet away, though. Danicka gave them all rooms close to one another, giving extra measures of privacy to Hana -- because she's the only girl -- and to Lukas -- because he's the Alpha. But still, it's all shared space. And two Fianna kinsmen in their twenties with combat experience and guns sleep in the bedrooms between one wing and the other. Not that it would mean much, but they're there.
Danicka draws back slowly, probably long before Lukas is ready to let her go -- if, in fact, that time would ever come. She looks up at him as their arms are sliding apart, and simultaneously feels like she's bursting with things she wants to do and say and yet
can't say anything.
So she smiles, and it's this warm, slow thing, her hands resting on his arms for a moment. "I'm glad you're here," she says quietly. "Maybe we could... go on a walk sometime or something. Maybe talk."
Lukas"I'd love to," Lukas replies instantly. Then, half-abashed by his own eagerness, he winces at himself. "I mean ... "
and there's a pause there. Her hands on his arms make it hard for him to think, so he reaches up and takes them in his instead. That doesn't make it any easier, but it makes him feel connected to her, which he likes. Lukas takes a moment to think.
Then: "Listen, I remember what we said in our letters and all. And ... everything I said last time still stands. I'm not gonna push. I know it's been a long time since ... that night. But it's just ... really good to see you again, Danicka. I've really missed you."
DanickaHis eagerness makes her mouth flash into a little grin. She drops her head to hide it, though, hair falling across her face. It isn't even solely pleasure; there's amusement at his instant backpedaling. As if she didn't know how he felt, staring at her the minute he arrived like that, unable to look away. Creating a seat near her, just to be near her. She wonders if he realizes that she saved his room for last. That his packmates are not dumbshits and went off to do other things. That everyone here seems to know there's something going on, and have made themselves scarce.
Danicka lifts her head again as he moves her arms, holds her hands. Somehow it feels just as intimate, maybe moreso. Even formal, in a way. She wonders what he's about to say, nervous, but then he says it. More words than she's heard him speak since June of last year. Her heart thuds, but she wants to be smart. She knows how she feels -- what she wants, and what she's not ready for. Even if how she feels changes when she's around him.
She gives the tiniest nod. "Okay," she whispers. Then, because that's a stupid answer: "I've missed you, too. You look... really different."
LukasLukas looks a little startled by that; it says something about his vanity, or lack thereof, that his immediate response is to say, "I kinda let my hair grow out. I was just really busy and didn't get a chance to get it cut. I'll get it cut if you liked it better the other way."
DanickaDanicka blinks, caught off guard. He's still holding her hands. He's stayed so close, trailing along near her every step, scooting over to sit by her. He doesn't want to push. He isn't going to push. But she knows how he feels. He'll cut his hair if she likes it better the other way. Danicka's stomach does a couple of somersaults of unease and amusement and ache and guilt.
"No, I mean... it's your hair, you should do whatever you want with it. You're just... taller. And bigger. You look older, but it hasn't even been a year." She takes a breath, and almost holds it. "I just didn't expect you to have changed so much. But I guess that's sort of the point of it all."
'It all'. His training. The rite. Becoming what he is now: Ahroun of Thunder, alpha of his pack, not even eighteen yet. She gently eases her hands out of his, lowering them to her sides. "I should... let you all get unpacked and everything. Just come find me if you need anything, okay?"
Lukas"Oh." And now he looks rather pleased, his hand self-consciously riffling through his hair, around the back of his neck as she lets go. "I guess I grew some."
Which is the point of it all. His training, the rite, the Becoming. He's a full-fledged member of the Nation now. Finally. He has rights, he has privileges. And strangely, he feels more uncertain, more unsure of himself than he ever did. She's leaving. He doesn't know where they stand. He wants very much to call her back, but he thinks that might be too much too fast.
So he just nods. "I'm gonna unpack," he says, "and then maybe take a shower. I guess I'll meet you out on the lawn for frisbee later?"
DanickaShe is walking away. Again.. She had to do that once before, left the aquarium before he did, her skirt sashaying around her legs. She's smiling this time, though, no tears in her eyes, though there's something else there hard to understand. Danicka looks back at him over her shoulder. "Yeah," she says, and so it is.
They park Benny's car in this old rickety garage full of ancient and rusting tools, the door pulling up and open by handles. They take luggage up to those bedrooms of theirs that are empty of any smells but, well, Danicka's, but those are dim remainders from the time she spent cleaning up and setting the rooms up. It fades the first few times a breeze comes through. The Cliaths get to meet Christian later, after there have been naps and the like -- he's a clean-cut fellow, not as tall as Rick, his musculature more trimmed down, and from the way he smiles and how easy his manner is, one would never imagine how many people he's killed from rooftops with a high-powered sniper rifle.
Giselle has found Lizzy, and Lizzy has to practice her piano in the parlor. Danicka is in charge of that, sitting beside her on the bench and helping her turn the pages, correcting her when necessary, but Lizzy is quite accomplished for a twelve year old. The afternoon passes lazily, quietly -- at least while some of the Garou are resting. A clock ticks, and Giselle sits outside on a rocking chair reading a book. Christian and Rick go downstairs to play ping-pong.
Outside, the Gentlemen tell Rolf their story. They were so proud and straight once, tall and perfectly formed, til the great flood came and wrecked so many of the grounds. When the road was rebuilt their brothers were torn from the ground, and sixteen profiteers concoted a dangerous scheme to float the oaks downriver to sell, riding atop them. Their bodies were never recovered, nor were the abducted trees. They have mourned ever since, letting their bark blacken and their boughs droop, twisting themselves into agonized visual memories of loss. They have been awake since they were saplings, planted here by the Fangs who built the property, but they were abandoned during that time. No werewolves protected this land then. They were forgotten for thirty, forty years before the Sokolovs re-took the grounds. They are thriving now. But the river and the humans took their brothers. They will hold both back next time.
Eventually Hana and Benny get up, and they are still a good few hours from sunset, and Hana wants to know who is up for frisbee, which quickly becomes Ultimate Frisbee instead. They split into teams, Rolf and Christian and Danicka going with Hana, everyone else on Lukas's side. Including Giselle, who shrieks whenever the frisbee comes near her. Rolf likes to quietly watch it sail past. Benny is so busy trashtalking Hana that he sometimes misses what's going on, but at least Rick seems to be both athletic and competitive, with no compunction whatsoever about letting Lukas know Danicka and Christian's weaknesses. Unfortunately, Christian is doing the same for Hana, telling her everything he knows about Giselle and Rick. It's a fun game, as improvised as Calvinball, and they have so much room to play. Wide green lawns ringed by trees, the sound of the river just past them all. By the end of it, everyone needs a shower.
Lizzy has been watching them from the back garden pavilion, her legs akimbo, finally not running around. She seems like a normal kid briefly, til they approach and she informs them: "You're all really red."
"Lizzy," Danicka hisses under her breath, though the Cliaths think she means their flushed cheeks.
"Except that one," Lizzy says, pointing at Rolf. "He was all white and yellow before!"
"Come on," urges her governess, half-dragging her inside by the arm. "You know you're not supposed to do that unless people ask you to..."
It's Rick and Christian who make sense of it for the Cliaths, shaking their heads as they stride up alongside. "Auras," says Rick, like one might say 'women!' or 'bosses, amirite?'
Dinner is a bit busier than lunch was. Danicka and Christian are in charge of it tonight, but anyone who comes into the kitchen is welcome to work if they help -- and of course they do. There are potatoes to peel and green beans to wash and cut, spices that need to be rubbed into chickens. Danicka does most of the work with the poultry, pushing sliced oranges and lemons under the skin, stuffing the chickens with onions and sage and so forth. It takes time to roast, but that just means time for everyone to go wash up and change into clothing that -- if not nicer -- is at least not grass-stained.
Hana does end up in Danicka's room, going through some of her tops, while Danicka lounges on the bed and asks her if it's weird being the only girl. Hana asks about Christian, and tiny alarm bells go off in the back of Danicka's head. "But he's old," she says, feeling like a huge hypocrite.
They eat in the kitchen again -- easier than carrying everything up to the house. Yelizaveta, however, eats inside, in the smaller dining room, with Giselle for company. Which means out in the kitchen, they open a couple of bottles of wine and stay out there for a long time, even after Giselle sends Lizzy up to wash up and do her reading and needlepoint.
"We should get her a computer," Danicka is saying, and it sounds like an old argument.
"Her parents said no," counters Christian.
In reply, Danicka holds up a half-empty bottle of red and waggles it in front of his face. "Your mortality is dangerously flexible, sir," she tells him, and he snatches the bottle out of midair, taking a swig from it before handing it to Rick.
"All I'm saying is, she'd have more to do than go quietly insane. She has no friends. She has no contact with the outside world where she isn't constantly chaperoned. She could learn a thing or two."
"So get her a computer," Rick says. "Give her yours."
Danicka looks at him like he just suggested she give the girl her left eyeball.
And so it goes. They clean up after dinner, shredding chicken to put in sandwiches the next day, covering boiled potatoes with plastic wrap, putting more dishes in the dishwasher and setting aside the others to be washed -- later, they say, when the Cliaths begin to clean some pots and pans. "Later," Danicka says, putting her hand on Lukas's arm when he begins to insist, no reason to let them just sit there. "It can wait til later."
Her eyes meet his for a moment there, glassy with wine and her cheeks pink, but they separate again, just as confused as before, as awkward.
And so it goes...for yet another day. They wake late, everyone's times staggered -- except for Rick and Christian, who seem to get up with the sun to do perimeter checks. Lizzy is bored, bored, bored, and she follows one Cliath after another around, asking annoying questions, talking nonstop, talking sometimes to people they can't see. She ends up hanging out with Rolf for a considerable part of the morning, because he doesn't seem to mind her questions. He asks her his own, and her honest answers don't bother him. They talk about her playmate, Harriet, who died of a fever and was buried here before the rebuilding of the levees disrupted her grave, and so many other graves.
At lunch they talk about going into New Orleans proper some night, showing the Cliaths around, but the Cliaths need to get going anyway, find other Garou, talk to the sept. Rick and Christian know a thing or two about that; they give Lukas names, a couple of phone numbers, the location of a few bars and businesses they know of.
In the end, it's three days since the Cliaths arrived before Danicka ends up leaving everyone to go on a walk in midafternoon. She doesn't tell anyone, she just is there one minute and a little while later Lukas notices she's gone. Not upstairs, not in her room, not in anyone else's room, not up on the belvedere, not out in the kitchen, but
from his portion of the veranda upstairs, he can see her. The sunlight turns her hair gold. She's wearing boots that thump against her mid-calf, torn jean cutoffs, and a long-sleeved shirt with wavy patterns all down the front and arms in black.
LukasFrisbee loosens everyone up. Hana and Benny are loud and extroverted regardless, and they get more so. Rolf is just happy to be there. He's happy to watch the bright yellow frisbee sail over his head. It's so pretty against the blue sky. Giselle shrieks every time the frisbee comes near her, but then she can't really be blamed because by this time Hana and Benny have turned it into a full-contact sport and are tackling people to the ground. Lukas catches it for Giselle sometimes, laughing because she's ducking and covering her head, and this is how they become something like friends.
Summer is on the way. It's still cold up north where the Cliaths come from, but they so quickly get used to the temperature here. Shirts come off, and then shoes, and Hana - not to be outdone by the boys - tucks the tail of her t-shirt through the collar. Everyone sweats, everyone runs, everyone gets breathless and exhilarated.
They play until the shadows are long on the lawn. No one remembers the score, and no one really cares. When they head back to the house the Cliaths are sweaty, overheated and happy, pushing each other and laughing all the way across the lawn, pounding up the porch steps like a small herd of elephants. Lizzy calls them red. Benny laughs, but no, she meant something else, and that something else gets her dragged back inside. Rolf looks sort of sad. Everyone helps cook, everyone separates, everyone takes a shower, everyone gets dressed again for dinner, and
it's a little less awkward this time. The Cliaths aren't such an insular little unit. Benny talks to Christian and Rick, trying very hard to be All Grown Up. Hana tries to engage with Lizzy, but that doesn't go very far so she switches to talking to Danicka instead. Rolf is sitting next to Lizzy, and he mostly plays with his food, but sometimes he lets the girl eat something from his plate. Lukas wanted to sit next to Danicka, but Benny and Hana got there first, so he sits next to Giselle and they end up talking about ultimate frisbee, and how to catch the thing properly.
Just pretend you're Xena, he says at one point. Which launches a long discussion of who was more badass, Xena or the blonde chick that was like the anti-Xena.
After dinner, there's a moment when Lukas's eyes meet Danicka's. They're standing at the dinner table and everyone else is ferrying dishes so they're sort of alone for a moment and her eyes are bright and her cheeks are pink and
he almost kisses her
but then Rolf comes back to grab the wineglasses and Lukas has to turn and say, Just leave them, Rolf, we'll get 'em later. And the moment is past.
Days go by. After the first day they're not really all together very much. Sometimes Rolf is sitting with the Gentlemen. Sometimes Hana and Giselle go shopping, though it soon turns out Hana's more interested in sports equipment and gadgets than lingerie and shoes. Lukas and Benny talk to Rick and Christian, and then they go looking for the Sept, and eventually contact is made and the Cliaths are introduced and
there starts to be talk of maybe moving out, claiming some turf, settling down and Getting To Business. The pack is divided. Rolf really likes his room. Hana likes the company, and Benny likes hanging out with Hana. They're BFFs. Lukas doesn't want to be far from Danicka, either, but his instincts tell him this is not his land, never will be his land, and he should find his own territory. Protect it, protect his pack.
He's not sure what he wants to do, and he's trying to figure out it one evening, looking out over the lawn and the dark, lush flora that spills over the edges of the lawn - the oldness and wildness of the land always underlying and challenging the manicured gardens laid onto it - when he sees Danicka walking outside. She's so golden, her hair looser and longer here than when he saw her in New York; the sun cuts through it and crowns her in gold. Her shadows follows her, long across the grass. He straightens when he sees her. Impulse grips him, makes his heart beat fast. He swings his legs out of the window and simply
drops
to the ground some ten or twenty feet below, landing with a thump and a grunt, jogging across the lawn to catch up with her. Their shadows cross long before he reaches her.
"Hey," he says, a little breathless. "Where're you going?"
DanickaGiselle has no idea who Xena is. She and Rick are heavily accented, though from vastily different languages. Christian and Lizzy understand some of her French, but when Lukas begins trying to explain the Warrior Princess, Danicka just scoffs that he is such a nerd. Christian, in between bites, asks calmly:
"So what are you going to play first when World of Warcraft comes out?"
"An undead warlo--" Danicka begins to answer instantly, then colors brightly and drops her eyes to her plate again, while Rick casually offers his hand for Christian to high-five him.
Over the next couple of days, they learn about living on the plantation a bit more. Going into town -- not even New Orleans proper, just the nearest hub of civilizaton -- is a big deal, and it's hard to get there without Yelizaveta begging to go along. Actual shopping is quite a trip, and Danicka goes with Hana and Giselle, and Hana teases Lukas saying they taaalked about him, but she won't tell him what was said while she and Danicka were at Radio Shack.
Just like on the first level, there are benches and chairs on the upper veranda, places to sit when one leaves their room and wants to watch the sunset or simply look out over the grounds. That's where Lukas is when he sees Danicka, and he jumps the railing and drops to the grass, but she's far enough away she doesn't even know he's there. She does notice him when he gets closer, when she hears his breathing, and her hair whips outward as she turns to look at him. A small smile touches her face.
"Hi," she says back. And: "Just... walking. You know that old garden I wrote to you about? I was just going to go over there." Her steps are slowed a bit. "You can... um. You can come if you want."
Lukas"Okay," instantly. Of course. Of course he wants to come, and of course he comes along. He's quiet for a while - catching his breath only accounts for about twenty seconds of it. After that he's just quiet, but somehow it feels right to be quiet. This hour, this land. He can hear birds calling in the thick trees, and turns to look at Danicka.
"We're starting to think about moving out," he says quietly. "We love it here. But we came here to maybe do something about that vampire problem in the city. At least put a check on some of the more flagrant ones. And it doesn't really make sense to live here if we're going to be at work in the city most the time."
There's more to be said. He doesn't know where to begin. After a while the silence has gone on too long for him to continue, anyway, so he's quiet again.
DanickaDanicka has no need to speak, nothing to say. She lets him catch his breath and it seems that it's fine if he doesn't say anything at all, but he tells her they're thinking of leaving. Her chin turns, her eyes looking at him for a moment. "Oh," she says, but she doesn't have anything to add. Well: not yet. She looks away again, processing, and the silence goes on between them a little longer.
She reaches over, and she takes his hand, lacing her fingers in between his.
Through the trees, he can see the crumbling black-brick walls of the garden she's told him about, and the arch where there used to be a gate. "Careful," she says, showing him the rusted hinges still stuck in the mortar, sharp edged and dangerous if you aren't watching. Her hand is still holding his, but there's no path to this garden, and no path inside of it. Vines crawl over the walls. There are large weeping willows, one so ancient its boughs droop and dip, swaying long strands of leaves to brush the ground. There are a few magnolia trees, and their leaves drop three hundred and sixty-five days a year, so the ground is littered with them. They have broken walls of the garden. One of them is twenty feet wide, the others its children. He can hear a pond somewhere, smell waterlilies.
Magnolia blossoms and water lilies are two of the most primitive flora still in existence. The place hums with antiquity like this, with wildness taking over cultivation. Danicka leads him through thick undergrowth, and he can feel flagstones where they have been long buried by time. It even feels darker here, long before sunset.
"I guess we knew it'd be temporary, when you guys came out here," she says, walking with him towards a low wall with a semi-smooth top.
LukasHer hand laces with his. And perhaps he should be angry; yet another signal he doesn't know how to interpret. But he's not. His hand jerks a little, surprised. Then it wraps tightly around hers.
They walk. Grass turns to hedges, many of them rambling out of control; hedges turn to ancient oaks, and then willows. The dark, fecund scent of rich earth, black soil: a crumbling wall marks where the garden begins. A long time ago, someone tried to tame this land and failed.
"I'll stay if you want me to," Lukas replies. This is something he would have long since lost if he hadn't met her until Chicago, until his twenties: a sort of uncomplicated, unafraid willingness to give up everything in the name of love. Or at least, for the possibility of it. It is neither commendable nor reproachable; it simply is. "I can figure out a way to make it work. But -- "
and a hesitation. A deeper reason now.
"I guess I don't really know if you want me to stay," he says quietly. "And I don't know if I should. Because ... you want your freedom. And I..."
They stop. They're at the low wall. He looks at her. Perhaps she sits, but he's restless now, shifting, looking toward the west, back to her.
Quietly: "I just want you."
DanickaHe'll cut his hair if she wants him to. He'll stay if she wants him to. Danicka looks at the ground, watching her footing, and her heart is beating faster but she's not sure if it's fear or not. She feels him holding her hand so tightly, like he's afraid she'll let go -- and of course he should be. They walk to the low wall and she slips her hand away, somehow knowing he won't resist if she wants to take her hand back, and pushes herself up to sit on the wall, her legs dangling down. Like this, she's almost eye-to-eye with him when she looks at him again.
"I want to be near you," she says. "I... sometimes wonder if all this weirdness and these feelings are because you weren't here, because when you are around that's all I want. But when you aren't, and I can think clearly, I just..."
Her throat moves as she swallows. She looks down, thinking for a bit. "I feel like if you and I are together, it's like... endgame, you know? It's not like we can just date and be together and if it doesn't work out then we go our separate ways. You're not just some guy or another Kinfolk or something."
LukasHe does know. He understands completely. Endgame. That's a good way to put it. Whatever search, whatever quest he didn't even know he's on - it ends with her. Whatever question he didn't know he had - the answer is her. He knows it's insane. He knows it's so soon, so fast, too soon, too fast. But he also knows how he feels, and every fiber of his being tells him this is right when he's beside her.
And the truth is, that frightens him, too. It frightens him to feel so very committed when he barely even knows her. When he's barely even begun to live, himself. Maybe, he muses, if she weren't so resistant, he would be. Maybe if she wasn't so quick to flee, he would be much more frightened of the storm in his heart.
He's quiet now, watching her as she sits on the low wall. It would be so easy to just lean in and kiss her, he thinks. He doesn't think she would want him to, though, and so he doesn't. He thinks for a while.
He says, gently, "What is it you want to do, that you think being with me will keep you from doing?"
DanickaThat question is shockingly easy for her to answer. Maybe he didn't realize it when he asked, but he's so different from her, he feels so much certainty that it should frighten him, and it does frighten her. But she doesn't answer it, at least not right away. She looks over at him, his face, those eyes of his. Her mouth curls at one end, but the smile aches, her brows drawn together. "Why? So you can promise that it's okay, I can do it all, none of it will bother you and you won't stop me?"
It's a rhetorical question. She looks to her toes once more. "It isn't just that talking to our parents and my brother and all that would kinda seal the deal forever and ever and we'd just be mated and I'm not ready for that," she says softly. "I really do feel ... I don't know what to call it. When I'm with you it just feels right. I don't want anything else. Or anyone else.
"While I was down here and you were up in New York, though, I wanted everything. I didn't want to settle down when I was eighteen. I could do anything and it felt so good, but now you're here again. Which is what I wanted. Just to have you nearby. And every night you've been here I keep hoping you'll just... show up at my bedroom door and start kissing me."
Danicka takes a breath, whispers: "I miss that, too." She shakes her head. "But I'm not even nineteen yet. You're... seventeen, for god's sake. I mean, what are we, living in the 1800s?"
LukasLukas listens to all that. A flare goes through his eyes: the idea of showing up at her bedroom door in the dark, with the scent of magnolias curling around them; kissing her, keeping quiet, making love to her in her big soft bed. He doesn't really consider that she might want it differently. Not tender and slow and gentle, but
a little rough, really. The way it was the first time with them. Rough and primal, her nails on his back, her legs wrapping high around his ribs. Or - her face to the mattress, a pillow between her teeth. He doesn't let himself think of that. That could be part of the problem, part of the distance that's mysteriously grown between them in nine months. Danicka was never the good little girl in New York City, but she is still something pure, almost untouchable, in Lukas's mind. He doesn't really know who she is.
At least he knows that much, though: he knows he doesn't know her. When she's finished, and when the rueful little smile has flickered and faded on his mouth, he ends up answering her first question, rhetorical or not.
"That's not why I asked," he says. "I asked because I thought if I could hear what you wanted, then maybe I could understand you better. I'm so ... hung up on you, Danicka, but I don't even know who you are."
DanickaShe's thought about it both ways. About his hands cupping her face to his, then lifting her up and holding her against him, carrying her to bed, getting under the covers, whispering to each other, biting back gasps, kssing away moans. More since he arrived, she's thought about it other ways. About having him between her legs, licking at her cunt, looking up at her as she writhes. She's thought about him bending her over, his arms wrapped around her, holding her. She's thought about how he looks when he strips down to jeans or shorts while the pack is lazing around or running about, how the sight of his body makes her heart beat faster, makes her want to hide in her room and touch herself.
She's thought about how he'd feel if he knew what she's been up to the past few months. Now she thinks about how hung up she is on him, too, and how she's thought of him no matter what she was up to, and the way he looks at her like she's so good, so perfect, she's all he wants, he wants all of her, and it turns her stomach to a block of ice. Danicka doesn't think he could possibly understand all that. She doesn't understand, herself, how she can want him so badly and want to run away at the same time.
"I didn't want you to be hung up on me," she says quietly, after a glance at him. Her shoulders are tight, close to her body. "I wanted you to... live a little. Explore and learn and just have your own life, all to yourself. Because we're kids. We're supposed to... be total idiots and get into trouble. Date whoever we want. Fuck around and get fucked up. Make mistakes so we can learn who we are. That's all I've wanted. But at the same time I feel like mu future's already written. And it's with you. And if I screw it up now then ..."
She shakes her head. She doesn't know. So she swings her legs a little bit, sighing. She leans over, elbows to knees, hands over her face. "I bet you hate me right now."
Lukas"I don't hate you," he says immediately, vehemently. "I can't imagine hating you."
Then a quiet. And she's not looking at him; she's not looking at anything. He's looking at the trees, shadowy even in late afternoon. The air is so thick with the smell of plant life here. It's a different world from anything he's ever known before.
"But I guess I can't really understand what you're saying, either," he admits after a while. "At first I thought maybe you just didn't ... like me the way I like you. And that would make me very sad, but I'd understand. What I don't really understand is finding what's right and wanting to move on from it. To find what's wrong? What would be the point?"
And now he's biting his lip, frowning and nervous at once. He doesn't want to upset her anymore than she wants to upset him. "I'm not trying to sound judgmental or harsh," he adds. "I just ... I really don't understand."
DanickaAfter awhile she lifts her face from her hands, sighing. She looks at him. Her smile is wan, tender, aching. She doesn't have an urge to prove him wrong, tell him that she's fucked Rick and Christian -- and Rick and Christian together -- repeatedly, that she knows what Giselle tastes like, that thanks to her Giselle took some bad shit and was vomiting and Rick nearly bounced her off a wall. She doesn't want to tell him that she knows how she reacts to several different very hard, very illegal drugs. She doesn't want to tell him that she's teaching a little girl to lie about a very powerful gift so that she'll make a better prize as a mate. She doesn't want to tell him all the reasons he should judge her, look down on her, hate her.
Just like she doesn't want to tell him that she wasn't just not-a-virgin when they met but that she'd gotten pregnant, she's been here before, dreaming with someone about running away together, being together, settling down and raising a family, to hell with their youth -- especially because this feels so different. Lukas feels different. Being with him, thinking about him, being near him and being apart from him -- all so different from that. And from everything else.
"To find what's wrong," she repeats, and gives a little nod. "How do you know something is right and good if you have nothing to set it up against? How do you know who you really are if you haven't seen the worst of yourself as well as the best? And... maybe just to know. To know everything that's out there, all the things you could be so you know what one fits the best. What parts you want to take back with you."
She takes a breath, and looks down. "Back to the inevitable, settling down, being a mate, having children, all of it." She swallows. "Except I know we could work it out. I know we could find a way for you to be that guy, the one I end up with, I think we could swing it. And I know you'd let me have a life. I know you don't want to just stick a stake in me and call me yours and never let me leave the house again or something. But... I don't want to like... just use you for that."
Danicka doesn't speak for a few moments. She looks vaguely miserable all of a sudden, thoughts coming over her. "Oh, god, I really am horrible," she says, hugging herself. "I'm sitting here telling you I want you and it feels right and we could be together but not now, wait til I've had my fun, don't go anywhere." Her eyes close, her brow wrinkled. "I'm sorry, Lukas. I am so, so sorry. Because I do ...like you. A lot. But I feel what you already are to me and it scares me and I don't think I'm ready for this. I'm not."
LukasLukas is just quiet for a long time. In a way, it's nothing he hasn't heard before. It's different, though, hearing it straight from her. Right from her lips, the same ones he kissed
a lifetime ago, it seems.
The anger is still in him. It's deep inside, churning, and he keeps it down because he knows it will frighten her. He turns away, though, folding his arms across his chest, head down. A bit of time passes. There have been a lot of silences in this conversation; in a way he wishes he'd never followed her out here. What was he thinking? What was he thinking when he tried to pursue her, be with her ... love her?
"Is that what you're asking me to do?" he asks at last. "Wait til you've had your fun. Don't go anywhere. Wait for you and hope that one day you'll be ready? Or would that make you feel too pressured, too?"
-- he's angry. He can't help it. He draws a deep breath, tries to calm himself, tries to remember all those lessons of cubhood, childhood, an Ahroun is only a monster without control, all that. It's slipping through his fingers, and his fingers are clenching into a fist, and he turns to the low wall and braces his hands on it, his shoulders rounding; hopes that if he holds on like this he won't
(turn on her)
do something he'll regret forever.
"I know what's right and good because I feel it," he grits out. "As for everything that's out there, Danicka, chances are I won't survive long enough to see most of it. So instead of trying to sample a little of everything, I'm pretty okay with trying to hold on to the best of it.
"Like I said, if you're just not into me, that'd be one thing. But this whole... I like you but I haven't had my fun yet -- I don't get that. I just don't. I never asked you to be my mate. I never asked you to start having cubs. There's nothing inevitable or settled or -- all I want, all I would ever ask of you, is for you to be with me. Whatever you're doing, I want to be a part of it. That's all. But if you can't commit to that because the big wide world out there just has too much cool stuff in it for you to sample, then ... well, have at it. I guess we'll see where we are if and when you're done playing around."
DanickaMaybe this is what she wants: Lukas to be mad at her. No cool, 4-line letter telling her 'fine'. No longer one later, saying he understands, he doesn't want to guilt her out. Him here, staying close to her, adoring her like he has for the past few days. There's a reason she hasn't just come to his bedroom one night and done everything with him that she's been thinking about for the past nine months. There's a reason she tried to tell him, months ago, that she wasn't ready. Maybe it'd be easier if she'd just told him she didn't care, she didn't really like him.
She thought it would be better to be honest.
The way he's standing, the way he's talking, is making her feel panicked. She can feel herself beginning to sweat, and she can feel her heart racing. He looks like he's about to break the wall she's sitting on in half, shatter it down to dust. She's thinking about her mother, so much older and more experienced than Lukas is and still not able to stop herself. She knows exactly what love from an Ahroun can look like sometimes. Danicka watches him, sitting as still as stone, hoping he forgets she's there, or at least doesn't hit her too hard, or that she passes out before the pain gets too great.
And it's Lukas. This is the boy she likes, and thinks she might want to be with, thinks she could maybe even be happy with, and the fact that she fantasizes that she could have a happy life with him terrifies her. She thinks she has to be going mad to believe a thing like that.
There's so much she could say to everything that comes out of his mouth, but when he finishes, when he looks at her again, she's motionless, her face drained of color, her eyes a little glassy and wet, her body stiff with tension but just limp enough to take a blow. Just enough to make her look like she's about to pass the fuck out. "Je mi líto," she whispers, barely audible, and it doesn't even sound like she knows what she's saying. "Je mi lito, Lukáš."
LukasAnger fades when he sees her like that. Twists into painful remorse. He doesn't have enough experience with kin to know how normal or abnormal this might be. He knows, though, that she wasn't like this a moment ago, when she was talking to him, when she wasn't terrified of him.
And he's just silent now. He bows his head, he masters his emotions, he straightens and turns and sits on the wall. Lukas has the wisdom to leave a good half-foot between them. He can hear insects and birds, the first sounds of summer.
"Me too," he says at last. He's not apologizing for the same thing at all. A moment goes by; then he looks at her again. "The last thing I would ever want to do," he says softly, "is hurt you. I hope you can believe that."
DanickaShe's still not moving much -- no sudden movements -- and she's watching him without blinking, on the verge of tears, as he tries to breathe and calm himself. He turns and levers himself up, sits on the wall beside her, but he gives her several inches. It doesn't feel like enough. She can still feel his heat, pulsing off of him in waves, and it bothers her that she can't imagine a future in the next ten minutes where she doesn't have to prepare to be struck,
and she still wants him so much. Is still so glad he's here, and she's not alone, and he's not in New York. Still so glad he's close again, and she can at least see him and hear his voice. Still wants to feel him inside of her again, his hands on her waist, stroking up her back, panting as he watches her ride him. Slowly. Danicka is repulsed by herself. She doesn't understand this. She thinks she has to be out of her mind. Out of her mind to feel this way about him and not say yes, yes, everything, all in. Out of her mind to feel this way about him when she is also so very scared, so very sure it can only end badly.
Danicka inhales slowly after awhile, ragged and shaky, and does not wrap her arms around herself because she's worried that might make him get angry again, feel rejected or something, storm off so he doesn't start hitting her. She can't think of many men she's known who haven't, eventually.
Lukas says what he does, right after she thinks that, and Danicka starts to cry.
LukasDanicka starts to cry, and Lukas doesn't know what to do or how to do it. He wants to make it better somehow. He doesn't know how. He's not entirely sure that leaving her alone, going away and letting her be, isn't the best way. He thinks of her the day they arrived, awkward and unsure and so happy to see him. He can't for the life of him figure out why this is so difficult when it feels so right.
When he finally does touch her, it's very careful, very ginger. If she jerked away, gasped, flinched, struck him - he wouldn't be surprised. If she doesn't, though, his hand comes gently to her shoulder. And after a moment, moves to her back, rubbing gently, slowly.
He doesn't tell her it's okay, it's okay, just like he didn't quite tell her he would never hit her. Both of those might be lies. He doesn't tell her not to cry, or not to feel sad, because he can't be sure that she doesn't have every right to cry. In the end, all he can really give her is this: warmth and contact. And time.
DanickaShe doesn't flinch away. Rolf, poor Rolf, who seems fucking gentle for a Garou, particularly a Theurge of a tribe that prizes the power of Theurges and trains them to bend the spirits to their will, just tried to thank her with a hand on her shoulder and Danicka flinched. Letting Hana try on her clothes and going shopping with the girl was fine, but the Ragabash bumped her shoulder against Danicka's for the exact same reason -- simple animal closeness -- and Danicka dropped the package of earbuds she was looking at, her hands jerking suddenly and her breathing changing. She'd covered it a moment later, but Hana saw it. Hana knew.
But when Lukas touches her shoulder, rubs her back, Danicka doesn't flinch away. She turns and leans against him, hands covering her face, then parting so she can wrap her arms awkwardly around him from where she sits, side by side and six inches away. "I'm sorry," she says again, through the tears. "Lukas, I really am sorry. I'm just... I'm not ready for this. I just can't bear to lose you, either."
LukasLukas wraps his arm around her when she leans into him, and he feels familiar and new at once. The body she wrapped up in her arms nine months ago is gone; only a memory of it remains in the body she leans into now. He's so much more solid now, his musculature so much thicker, the bones of his frame filling out day by day. He still smells the same, though. And the way he hugs her against his side is so like the way he hugged her just like this when they watched fish swim around and around on Coney Island.
She apologizes again. He grimaces a little, says, "Please stop saying you're sorry, Danicka. I know you are, but... it doesn't really help."
And that's cold. And he knows it, so he keeps his arm around her, tries to will her to feel what's not in those words. Wills her to feel how much he really does care about her, and care for her, even when his anger flickers to the surface.
"I can't... promise you that I'll wait forever. Or that I even can. But for what it's worth, I do want to wait for you. No -- I do want to be with you. And for that, I'll wait as long as I can."
DanickaA part of her wants so badly to tell him everything. All of it. All the reasons why she's a bad person. All the things she's done and all the things that have been done to her, damaged her, made her unfit for things like this -- things that feel this right, and this pure. Sometimes even at her worst, when friends are sick and yelling at her and she's so high she doesn't know who she is, it feels like it makes more sense than memories of the Affinia, or Coney Island, or playing frisbee on the lawn of a vast plantation in the sunlight. Those things are for people who are not like her. Who have not seen what she's seen since she was three years old, her mind so easily injured.
She saw and felt the difference in him three days ago, marveled slightly at how he'd changed, all of it so quickly and so vast. Maybe if she stays a total mess he won't want her anymore. Maybe if she never makes up her mind about anything he'll go find someone else, love someone else, be happy, and she won't keep hurting him, she won't feel like she's ruined him before he's even had a life.
Danicka draws back, wiping her tears with the heels of her hands and sniffing. "If you can't... I won't hold it against you, or blame you." She looks at him, meets his eyes for a moment. "I really won't, Lukas. As long as you're my friend, I... just want you to be happy."
A beat, there, then the truth: "Even if you don't want to be my friend anymore, I want you to... have good things and see stuff and ...'sample' it." She glances down. "Especially because you might not survive."
There's a little while where she doesn't say anything, and then she takes a breath, letting it out slowly. "I go to New Orleans a couple of times a week usually, or at least the nearest town. Sometimes just to go out and see the city. If you're okay with it, I'd want to hang out with you. All of you, really. I like Hana and Rolf and Benny. And... it'd be nice to have some friends around my age that aren't delicate little Fangs, you know?" She licks her lips, looks over at him. "I could show you guys around more and... I don't know. Just hang out. But I understand if that'd be too hard for you, or if it would make you sad."
LukasBefore Danicka is quite done with her sentence - because you might not survive - Lukas is interrupting her, twisting inside, barely able to choke the words out.
"Stop. Stop. Danicka, please stop talking like this is goodbye."
So then there's that little pause where they don't say anything. And he's drawing his hand back to himself, leaning his elbows on his knees, curling himself up without even realizing it. And she's taking a breath, and he's just trying to remember how to breathe. She talks about going to New Orleans. He wonders if she even understands what she's asking of him: to know that she doesn't want him like that, not right now, can't handle it right now; to know that she still wants to see him. And hang out with him. And be his friend,
when he can't seem to forget what she smells like, tastes like, feels like.
"I don't know," he says slowly. "I think... Hana and Rolf and Benny would be happy if you were their friend. But ... I don't know, Danicka. Let's just take this a day at a time and see, okay? Right now I just ... it's too much to think about. I don't know."
Danicka"I get that," Danicka says gently. And she does. Of course she does.
And of course Lukas thinks of his packmates: would it be good for them to have Danicka around? Yes. They'd be happy. They like her. It's good for Garou to be near their kin, even if they don't want that kin to sew clothes and cook meals and clean up messes, it's good to be near one's kin. He thinks, perhaps, of Hana in particular, how she's been when there have been other young females around who are not part of the pecking order, who she doesn't have to prove herself to constantly -- and not prove herself as a Garou, as they all do, but prove herself deserving of Gaia's gift in the first place, prove that she's no less a scout or a warrior because she's female, when even the most progressive-minded werewolf still thinks any woman who demands respect should just go join the Black Furies and leave the menfolk alone.
But he has to think of himself, too. Of Danicka saying It's not! when he begs her not to talk like this is a goodbye, crying it out as though he's the one pushing her away with those words, begging him to not see it as a goodbye, because she doesn't. Of seeing Danicka and knowing what she smells like, how she tastes, what it's like to have her naked and in his arms and wrapped all around him, loving him --
Danicka does understand. To want and to not be able to bear too much closeness. More simply: to not know. To be overwhelmed. She nods. She thinks one of them should leave, but this place feels like her own. She isn't going to walk away and leave him here alone. Not here. Not this place, where she hides from ghosts, herself, and her future. So she sits, her hands laced together on her lap, and goes silent.
Time passes, and Lukas awkwardly asks her if she wants to go back, but there's something tense in his tone, uneasy, not ...open. And Danicka doesn't want to walk back with him. She's been wanting to hold his hand for the past three days -- for the past nine months -- and she got to do that. Now the thought of walking back that same path, not touching, makes her feel... well. Like a horrible person, for taking that indulgence. His hand. Touching him.
"Nah," she says quietly. "I think I'll stay out here for awhile."
So he goes back, on his own, because they both want to be alone right now. Even if being alone isn't what either of them really want, not deep down, not where it matters. Danicka slides off of the wall after awhile and sits against it, nestled in the undergrowth. She smells magnolias. She listens to the pond. She thinks of ancient flora, here since before she was born and on this earth since before their species was. Her eyes close and she tips her head back, inhaling it all, and knows that this is prayer. This is where there is wild growth, and the gentle nudge of just enough order, and the presence of slow rot, leaves dropping and replenishing the ground, water slowly making solid matter collapse, time destroying things at their own pace. This place has balance she's never known before. She never wants to go, and yet she knows she has to. Eventually.
After a few more days -- awkward days, stiff days, where Danicka focuses on actually doing her job with Yelizaveta and Lukas and his pack work on finding a place to live -- the Cliaths move out. Secretly Giselle is relieved, but she does like them, and she knows Danicka is going to be just like she was back in early November, because of this Lukas boy -- all quiet and melancholy, sad over her own decisions even if she doesn't regret them... or doesn't know if she should regret them. Yelizaveta clings to Rolf, telling him she orders him to stay, but that rankles and Danicka chastises her for being so rude to Garou, and the girl runs away, crying long after the pack has gone, rocking on her bed with her hands over her ears, alone with the ghosts again.
But she is twelve, and very dramatic. Danicka apologizes quietly to the Shadow Lords, promising she'll work on Lizzy's manners before they visit again. She mentions visiting again with a brief glance at Lukas, not sure if he'll ever set foot on this property again. She hugs Hana, and makes sure they all have her number. It's Rick who takes Lukas aside as they're leaving and suggests, in his heartily accented and ungrovelingly respectful way, that if they're able, some kind of gift to the Sokolovs in New York wouldn't be a bad idea. All told they only stayed here about a week or so, but it felt like longer. Never quite felt like home, but it was good. Their lives henceforth won't ever be like this again.
The branches of the Gentlemen rustle as they pass by this time. The gate is just as heavy to close as it was to open. It's April now. It's only going to get warmer.
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