Jude Adjei (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foolsmakeitcolder) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2022-06-10 04:18 pm
foolsmakeitcolder) wrote in faderift2022-06-10 04:18 pmEntry tags:
foolsmakeitcolder) wrote in faderift2022-06-10 04:18 pm
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You're a kind man. Wouldn't feel right taking you up on that. Not without you knowing.
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[Like, who the fuck is ever ready for a wolf to transform into a (very handsome) man. Who is ready for that! Even the most even-keeled person would have a bit of a start at that, right? Certainly Fenris does: his stomach dropping like a stone as he sees the shadows on the walls shift: strange shapes, the crackling of flesh and blood and bone shifting— an Abomination, surely, or some kind of demon, some monster from some other dimension, it doesn't matter, he's already thrumming with lyrium by the time the creature rises—
— and speaks. Gently, in fact, offering up a hand to prove that he is that selfsame creature.
Fucking hell.
Fenris stares at him for a long few seconds, caught between shock and fear and exasperation all at once . . . before exhaling sharply, the lyrium thrum ceasing as he lowers his hands and deactivates his markings.]
How kind.
[No, it is, just give him a minute to adjust. His heart's pounding, his air distracted— belatedly he goes over to grab one of the blankets that now lives on couches, because he and Astarion are those kinds of people now, he guesses. Tossing it at Jude, he stands back.]
Some guard wolf . . .
[Ataashi is still asleep. Like, she had a big day, but still.]
You . . . who are you?
[A better question than what are you, anyway.]
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Jude's been lucky so far that no one's thought werewolf. That could fuck up everyone's day.
So he sheepishly -- if a man his size could be said to look sheepish -- and catches the blanket against his body, moving to wrap it around his waist. It's not big enough to fit over his shoulders properly.
He loops it, ties it with the put-upon air of someone with practice, and lifts up his hand to show Fenris the green anchor shard on his palm.]
Jude Adjei. A wolf shifter. Came through one of the rifts just a few weeks ago.
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[Right. Okay. Fenris stares for a long few seconds, then rubs his face. He has only heard of one shifter in the past (and he has the wrong idea of the order of operations, here), and that was a rumor, little more. But it's not any stranger than anything else that happens around here, he supposes, and so soon nods shortly, taking it in.]
Welcome, then, though I do not know how pleased you are to be here. Still: welcome, for what it is worth. I can find you some clothing, if that suits you; I can also offer you a bed if you do not wish to travel through the streets in the middle of the night.
[But ah . . . before he goes to be a good host:]
Your shifting . . . you would do well not to reveal that talent to too many others here.
[It's gently said.]
People are volatile, especially of late. And they do not take well to that which is new or unusual— especially if it bears the mark of a Rifter.
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So he hangs on Fenris's words, trusting in them, trusting that he means it and isn't saying he can stay when he doesn't want him to. He doesn't know enough of him to assume otherwise, and all Jude can do is live up to that trust.]
Coming to realize that most people here don't take to "different" all that well.
["Most", he says- though Fenris is cut from a different cloth. Everything about him is unusual. Another, smaller smile-]
Thank you. I'll take some pants, if you have any I won't rip.
[-and that smile widens:]
And your name, now that I've hopefully finished scaring the shit out of you.
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[No, he totally did, and Fenris doesn't bother trying to further deny it. With a little huff he disappears through a doorway— and as is her wont, Ataashi rises, trotting after him in quiet neediness. Stay close, and absently he strokes her behind the ears as he heads into his rooms.
He has . . . not a lot of clothes, honestly, and fewer still that might fit someone like Jude. But eventually there's something: a pair of somewhat stretchy trousers, form-fitting but with a great deal of flexibility. A boon in battle, and assuredly useful now. He throws them Jude's way as he emerges and half-turns away, giving the poor man some privacy. Ataashi, who cares very little for such concepts, stares at Jude openly, whining softly in her throat as she does. Is she scared of him? Probably a little! He smells like a wolf, but he isn't a wolf! This is not Astarion! What the fuck!]
Fenris is my name. And no, they do not. Though to be fair . . . we've had a great deal of different this past decade.
. . . how did you— you are a mage, then?
[What is a shifter, anyway, beyond the very obvious explanation of someone who shapeshifts.]
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The trousers are low-slung on his hips and the ankles come up to frame his calf muscles, but Jude doesn't mind. It's better than a blanket or a sheet, or most recently, a tarp.
He ventures out from behind his furniture then, tilts his head to address the pup trailing by Fenris's leg. He rumbles out something low, soft, on the edge of human hearing, though Fenris's elf ears may pick it up. Something the wild ones understand, even if he can't speak to them as he would a person.
Ally. Safe. Shelter.]
No. I can't do any magic, not the way non-shifters see it. Just born with two forms.
My pack's the same. But they're not here. As far as I know, I'm the only one in this reality.