Chance Encounter
Nov. 27th, 2012 06:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feredarStory: Chance Encounter
Year: 980 FY
Characters: Riluke, Mel
Warnings: Implications of abuse
Notes: This takes place in the Urban Fantasy AU.
It was almost dark and starting to rain when Riluke finished shopping. She wasn't particularly worried about it--she could hear vampires coming from streets away (one of the benefits of telepathy), and it was nowhere near full moon--more annoyed by the rain. That meant a taxi, and drivers never knew the basic shielding techniques anyone who lived in a city with a substantial non-human population should know. A lot of vampires could read minds, and that was discounting sirens and other alluring monsters who couldn't necessarily read your secrets, but could push things in that you didn't want. Riluke knew more than she cared to about a few drivers she'd had to hail in the past, and was not looking forward to having another's thoughts shoved in her face.
Metaphorically speaking.
But rain was rain, and even her umbrella wouldn't keep the brand-new cashmere sweater she was wearing dry, so she'd have to put up with it.
She was considering which corner would be best to try hailing from when she heard it. A soft but keenly distressed mental voice, spiky with guilt and grief, with the tell-tale traces of some kind of predatory non-human.
Riluke paused, considering whether or not to approach. Distressed could mean cornered, which meant especially dangerous, but he didn't read that way. She had misread before, but not often. She wasn't quite good enough to track exactly what kind of predator was attached to the voice--she was too far removed from the source of her family's enhancements--but that kind of distress was likelier from a werewolf than a vampire. And there was too much human in the voice to be a creature that hadn't started that way.
So much for the sweater. She opened her umbrella and veered towards the voice.
He was, as she suspected, definitely not a vampire. He was huddled behind a dumpster, lost and afraid.
:Hello?:
He jumped and looked around. He's never met a telepath before. Great.
Riluke switched to verbal speech. "Over here. I'm sorry; I should've done this first."
He looked out at her. "Who're you?"
He was fairly tall, and spoke with a soft accent. He was probably a few years older than her. Not much, though. Still college-age. A fairly well-kept beard, for a new werewolf. His clothes were too intact, too. He hadn't been running for long.
"My name's Riluke," she said. "Can I come closer? Just to get you under the umbrella."
He looked uncertain for a minute, then nodded.
She sat down next to him, balancing the umbrella so it shielded both of them as much as possible. "What's your name?"
He looked away. "Mel."
She nodded. "You got a place to stay?"
He flinched. "I..."
"How long have you been...?" She trailed off. Most people didn't like it spoken openly. Werewolves had a rough time of it. Rougher than vampires, in some ways, even though they were only dangerous one night out of every month, and reliably so. Probably because vampires tended to accumulate wealth, and could afford better lobbyists and lawyers to advocate for their rights.
All werewolves had to have a guardian, had to have a secure place to transform. If they got out, both the werewolf and the caretaker were left open to criminal charges. A werewolf, wandering alone, with no place to stay...
Riluke's father had found a place for her, when she'd asked, for her eighteenth birthday. She had a basement room that could be set up for containment by next full moon. And if he wasn't a new one, she could handle him. The first six transformations or so were hardest for the caretaker to contain.
Find out why he ran first. If his caretaker left him loose and he hurt someone, I can't get involved. But if he ran from his caretaker because of something they did...
She had to admit, despite the fact that what she was considering was probably the single stupidest thing she'd ever thought about, at least since she was a kid, she was curious about the lone werewolf.
"Three--three years."
"What happened to your caretaker?"
Mel didn't answer for a long moment, then took a deep breath. "He...he died."
And you're lying.
There were cases where caretakers abused their charges. Not many, and Mel looked too clean and well-fed and intact for that to be the case with him, but...abuse didn't have to be physical to make someone bolt.
"Were you involved?"
He shook his head emphatically, and shivered.
"You'll need a new one, you know."
He hugged his knees to his chest. "I know," he whispered.
You're a puzzle. And I'm curious. And if your old caretaker did hurt you...that isn't taken nearly seriously enough by the law. Grandfather will listen to me, and he has the contacts to fix things for werewolves all over the city. I have a responsibility to figure out what happened.
"Why don't you stay with me, at least for a couple days?"
He jerked and looked up at her, wide-eyed.
She smiled. "I can't promise anything long-term, okay? I don't actually own the house; my dad does, so I have to check with him. And set things up for the full moon. But I'm qualified as a caretaker. And I could use a roommate."
He didn't look quite like he believed her, but he finally nodded.
She stood up and held out a hand to him. He took it--his was warm and shaking more than a little. "Come on. Let's get a cab."
Year: 980 FY
Characters: Riluke, Mel
Warnings: Implications of abuse
Notes: This takes place in the Urban Fantasy AU.
It was almost dark and starting to rain when Riluke finished shopping. She wasn't particularly worried about it--she could hear vampires coming from streets away (one of the benefits of telepathy), and it was nowhere near full moon--more annoyed by the rain. That meant a taxi, and drivers never knew the basic shielding techniques anyone who lived in a city with a substantial non-human population should know. A lot of vampires could read minds, and that was discounting sirens and other alluring monsters who couldn't necessarily read your secrets, but could push things in that you didn't want. Riluke knew more than she cared to about a few drivers she'd had to hail in the past, and was not looking forward to having another's thoughts shoved in her face.
Metaphorically speaking.
But rain was rain, and even her umbrella wouldn't keep the brand-new cashmere sweater she was wearing dry, so she'd have to put up with it.
She was considering which corner would be best to try hailing from when she heard it. A soft but keenly distressed mental voice, spiky with guilt and grief, with the tell-tale traces of some kind of predatory non-human.
Riluke paused, considering whether or not to approach. Distressed could mean cornered, which meant especially dangerous, but he didn't read that way. She had misread before, but not often. She wasn't quite good enough to track exactly what kind of predator was attached to the voice--she was too far removed from the source of her family's enhancements--but that kind of distress was likelier from a werewolf than a vampire. And there was too much human in the voice to be a creature that hadn't started that way.
So much for the sweater. She opened her umbrella and veered towards the voice.
He was, as she suspected, definitely not a vampire. He was huddled behind a dumpster, lost and afraid.
:Hello?:
He jumped and looked around. He's never met a telepath before. Great.
Riluke switched to verbal speech. "Over here. I'm sorry; I should've done this first."
He looked out at her. "Who're you?"
He was fairly tall, and spoke with a soft accent. He was probably a few years older than her. Not much, though. Still college-age. A fairly well-kept beard, for a new werewolf. His clothes were too intact, too. He hadn't been running for long.
"My name's Riluke," she said. "Can I come closer? Just to get you under the umbrella."
He looked uncertain for a minute, then nodded.
She sat down next to him, balancing the umbrella so it shielded both of them as much as possible. "What's your name?"
He looked away. "Mel."
She nodded. "You got a place to stay?"
He flinched. "I..."
"How long have you been...?" She trailed off. Most people didn't like it spoken openly. Werewolves had a rough time of it. Rougher than vampires, in some ways, even though they were only dangerous one night out of every month, and reliably so. Probably because vampires tended to accumulate wealth, and could afford better lobbyists and lawyers to advocate for their rights.
All werewolves had to have a guardian, had to have a secure place to transform. If they got out, both the werewolf and the caretaker were left open to criminal charges. A werewolf, wandering alone, with no place to stay...
Riluke's father had found a place for her, when she'd asked, for her eighteenth birthday. She had a basement room that could be set up for containment by next full moon. And if he wasn't a new one, she could handle him. The first six transformations or so were hardest for the caretaker to contain.
Find out why he ran first. If his caretaker left him loose and he hurt someone, I can't get involved. But if he ran from his caretaker because of something they did...
She had to admit, despite the fact that what she was considering was probably the single stupidest thing she'd ever thought about, at least since she was a kid, she was curious about the lone werewolf.
"Three--three years."
"What happened to your caretaker?"
Mel didn't answer for a long moment, then took a deep breath. "He...he died."
And you're lying.
There were cases where caretakers abused their charges. Not many, and Mel looked too clean and well-fed and intact for that to be the case with him, but...abuse didn't have to be physical to make someone bolt.
"Were you involved?"
He shook his head emphatically, and shivered.
"You'll need a new one, you know."
He hugged his knees to his chest. "I know," he whispered.
You're a puzzle. And I'm curious. And if your old caretaker did hurt you...that isn't taken nearly seriously enough by the law. Grandfather will listen to me, and he has the contacts to fix things for werewolves all over the city. I have a responsibility to figure out what happened.
"Why don't you stay with me, at least for a couple days?"
He jerked and looked up at her, wide-eyed.
She smiled. "I can't promise anything long-term, okay? I don't actually own the house; my dad does, so I have to check with him. And set things up for the full moon. But I'm qualified as a caretaker. And I could use a roommate."
He didn't look quite like he believed her, but he finally nodded.
She stood up and held out a hand to him. He took it--his was warm and shaking more than a little. "Come on. Let's get a cab."