WHO: Jude & OPEN WHAT: Arrival & settling WHEN: Early Justinian WHERE: First the Vimmark Mountains, then the Gallows NOTES: Warning for giant ass wolf, giant wolf ass, nudity, violence.
Abby watches this entire performance, her arms folded across her chest. It's not that it's unclear what the wolf wants, she just feels a little crazy for acknowledging it out loud. But-
"Okay," she mutters, coming over to the crate, "Outta the way."
Yeesh. She gets the tarp free from the top, and hauls it off the crate completely. Does he want... what's in there? She looks at him, still holding the tarp by a fistful. "I think it's got training yard stuff in it."
Well, it's the tarp he wanted. Jude takes it in his teeth, tugging it gently from Abby's hands, swishing his tail once as a thank-you.
Then, with a very well-practiced toss of his head, he flips it over his back to let it mostly cover him.
Then, having learned his lesson, he trots well out of arm's length, but not entirely into the shadows, and shifts.
It sounds about as bad as one would imagine, but it's quiet and over in seconds. An elongating shadow mostly covered from view by the tarp -- and Jude's never asked if it's worse to see it, or to hear it? It's a sound that he's well-familiar with, but humans- who knows?
Jude catches the tarp with the grace of a man who's had practice with the maneuver, and wraps it loosely around his waist, standing to his full height with one hand out. (Not to shake, just to forestall the instinct to attack.)
Abby actually laughs as the tarp settles over him because she's so confused as to where this could possibly be going. Can the wolf tell it's about to rain, or something? The night sky is clear. He trots away, into the darkness.
If it pleases him to know, Abby finds it far worse to hear it.
The sound sends a chill down her spine and she straightens immediately, pressing a palm against the handle of her mace for comfort. She's ready, for anything. But not for a fully grown man to walk out of the shadow toward her, dressed in an old tarp.
Jude stays well out of reach. Not that he couldn't handle a good smack with a mace, but it would be a terrible day for everyone.
Leaving his hand up for the time being, he glances down at the tarp, and then back up to her face, then reaches down (with the hand that isn't holding it around him) to grab the edge of it and give it a swish.
It's not a skirt and it doesn't move like one, but hopefully it serves to break the tension. Especially when he follows it up with a serious answer.
"I'm a wolf shifter. Sometimes I wear fur, sometimes I don't."
Abby's busy wondering whether maybe she's lost her mind a little bit, and the crinkly swish of the tarp moving actually makes her do a spluttery, about-to-laugh sound. "Jude?"
Wow, this is so much more of Jude than she has seen before. Isn't he cold? The evening isn't that chilly but there is a breeze and... well, he's naked underneath of the tarp. Isn't he. The watch report she files for tonight is gonna be a really weird one.
The realisation hits her suddenly.
"Oh my god," she groans, and puts a hand over her face. "When you said pack–"
Jude laughs as Abby pulls back with the realization, sudden and loud and warm like rainy summer night thunder, like he never learned to hold it in. He echoes her by putting a hand over his face, realizing that he did come close but never actually told her.
"I did," he answers, still laughing at himself as much as her. His voice climbs an octave with the strain. "Oh, hell."
Yeah, that. All of that.
"My people, my pack," he confirms. "My family, blood or no blood, fur or feathers or scales or skin. We're not that picky."
"You're all wolves?" All shape-shifters, of some kind? Or is this a werewolf situation? Abby's eyebrows have shot up.
As much as she wants him to stick around and explain all of this, the dude is standing around wrapped clumsily in a tarp. That can't be comfortable. But... how do you tell somebody to go and get dressed and then come back.
Hrm. She elects not to say anything. For now, anyway.
But that doesn't quite track with what she's asking. "Most of us are wolf shifters. We take in the odd human, or bobcat, or grizzly bear, or fox, or hawk, or raven-"
Jude, she gets it.
"You're from another world with no shifters?" he asks, sounding a little solemn.
Okay... now Abby truly understands what it's like to be a Thedosian on the receiving end of brand new information about the infected. The casual delivery, the weird follow-up questions, the assumptions?
Jude allows for a very eloquent shrug, conceding the point with a thoughtful stillness in his dark eyes. They glint like an animal's when light hits them, reflecting back the torches and the moon.
"Shifters were hunted to extinction, once. They created legends to explain us. Werewolves. Forgot what we really were. That might be the case in Thedas."
Abby's brow furrows. She asks, "Why?" Which is probably naïve. It's a case of humans seeking to destroy what they don't understand, right. But- well, Jude is so friendly and helpful, and it sounds like he had a good pack with him. A pack that hung out in Yellowstone. Why go out of the way?
Jude smiles, one of his sadder, more somber ones, his eyes steady. He pats her shoulder. Even if she can guess, it's good to ask. To understand.
"The settlement of the west nearly wiped us out," Jude explains, as he would to one of the younger members of his pack, learning.
"A few hundred years ago, there was a bounty on wolf ears. We weren't seen as people." Not human, obviously, but still people.
"Given how native Thedosians treat any race that isn't human, it would make sense for them to hide. And for that matter, I've been told that shapeshifting "magic" is frowned upon. Haven't been told why."
She looks troubled when she adds, "Guess you couldn't keep the secret from them forever." Because of course, as Jude currently is, standing in front of her, she never would have guessed he could turn into a wolf if she hadn't just seen it happen. But what should his pack have done, never shifted again just to be safe? A denial of their nature. It isn't fair.
She sighs. "I don't think there really is a specific 'why'. Most people here are wary of any kind of magic."
He warms, brightening again. While he doesn't cover up the sadness, it's a natural part of life, he wants to make sure he won't hand it to her by surprise, either.
"Cup of tea would be alright," Abby says and shifts her weight, looking past him. She isn't stupid, she knows he means something a little more philosophical than that, but she doesn't know how to say something like 'a purpose?' to a guy she's met twice. So.
Cup of tea it is. It's not not true. "You might want to come with me to find one." Tarp outfit doesn't shield entirely from the cool night breeze.
Jude gives her a slow smile -- and just to be a little bit of a shit, shifts back. The tarp falls down between them, and he snags it with his teeth, pulling it back into place. Mostly.
It's far more comfortable, back in fur. He's so dark he nearly blends into the night, and would if it weren't for the torchlight.
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"Okay," she mutters, coming over to the crate, "Outta the way."
Yeesh. She gets the tarp free from the top, and hauls it off the crate completely. Does he want... what's in there? She looks at him, still holding the tarp by a fistful. "I think it's got training yard stuff in it."
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Then, with a very well-practiced toss of his head, he flips it over his back to let it mostly cover him.
Then, having learned his lesson, he trots well out of arm's length, but not entirely into the shadows, and shifts.
It sounds about as bad as one would imagine, but it's quiet and over in seconds. An elongating shadow mostly covered from view by the tarp -- and Jude's never asked if it's worse to see it, or to hear it? It's a sound that he's well-familiar with, but humans- who knows?
Jude catches the tarp with the grace of a man who's had practice with the maneuver, and wraps it loosely around his waist, standing to his full height with one hand out. (Not to shake, just to forestall the instinct to attack.)
"Evening," he says in greeting. As you do.
Nice night, isn't it?
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If it pleases him to know, Abby finds it far worse to hear it.
The sound sends a chill down her spine and she straightens immediately, pressing a palm against the handle of her mace for comfort. She's ready, for anything. But not for a fully grown man to walk out of the shadow toward her, dressed in an old tarp.
She stares at him, and doesn't move.
"What the fuck."
Wait. Wait– "Explain."
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Leaving his hand up for the time being, he glances down at the tarp, and then back up to her face, then reaches down (with the hand that isn't holding it around him) to grab the edge of it and give it a swish.
It's not a skirt and it doesn't move like one, but hopefully it serves to break the tension. Especially when he follows it up with a serious answer.
"I'm a wolf shifter. Sometimes I wear fur, sometimes I don't."
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Wow, this is so much more of Jude than she has seen before. Isn't he cold? The evening isn't that chilly but there is a breeze and... well, he's naked underneath of the tarp. Isn't he. The watch report she files for tonight is gonna be a really weird one.
The realisation hits her suddenly.
"Oh my god," she groans, and puts a hand over her face. "When you said pack–"
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"I did," he answers, still laughing at himself as much as her. His voice climbs an octave with the strain. "Oh, hell."
Yeah, that. All of that.
"My people, my pack," he confirms. "My family, blood or no blood, fur or feathers or scales or skin. We're not that picky."
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"You're all wolves?" All shape-shifters, of some kind? Or is this a werewolf situation? Abby's eyebrows have shot up.
As much as she wants him to stick around and explain all of this, the dude is standing around wrapped clumsily in a tarp. That can't be comfortable. But... how do you tell somebody to go and get dressed and then come back.
Hrm. She elects not to say anything. For now, anyway.
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But that doesn't quite track with what she's asking. "Most of us are wolf shifters. We take in the odd human, or bobcat, or grizzly bear, or fox, or hawk, or raven-"
Jude, she gets it.
"You're from another world with no shifters?" he asks, sounding a little solemn.
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She nods, slowly.
Adds, "I don't think so. But I'm pretty certain."
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"How do you not know?"
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She's clearly joking.
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"Shifters were hunted to extinction, once. They created legends to explain us. Werewolves. Forgot what we really were. That might be the case in Thedas."
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"The settlement of the west nearly wiped us out," Jude explains, as he would to one of the younger members of his pack, learning.
"A few hundred years ago, there was a bounty on wolf ears. We weren't seen as people." Not human, obviously, but still people.
"Given how native Thedosians treat any race that isn't human, it would make sense for them to hide. And for that matter, I've been told that shapeshifting "magic" is frowned upon. Haven't been told why."
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She looks troubled when she adds, "Guess you couldn't keep the secret from them forever." Because of course, as Jude currently is, standing in front of her, she never would have guessed he could turn into a wolf if she hadn't just seen it happen. But what should his pack have done, never shifted again just to be safe? A denial of their nature. It isn't fair.
She sighs. "I don't think there really is a specific 'why'. Most people here are wary of any kind of magic."
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Not a part. All. Jude doesn't view himself as part man, part wolf. He is one person, one soul. How is.
He gives a sigh.
"There are werewolf legends here, too. I'll keep looking."
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"Are there?" She didn't know that. "I... hope you find them?"
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He warms, brightening again. While he doesn't cover up the sadness, it's a natural part of life, he wants to make sure he won't hand it to her by surprise, either.
"Anything you want to find here?"
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Cup of tea it is. It's not not true. "You might want to come with me to find one." Tarp outfit doesn't shield entirely from the cool night breeze.
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Jude gives her a slow smile -- and just to be a little bit of a shit, shifts back. The tarp falls down between them, and he snags it with his teeth, pulling it back into place. Mostly.
It's far more comfortable, back in fur. He's so dark he nearly blends into the night, and would if it weren't for the torchlight.