5, because it suits picking up where we left off . . . inwhichwarJuly 18 2012, 18:49:46 UTC
[They've settled into a comfortable rhythm, her and Ben. It's not so very different from how her life was before -- it still revolves around a comfortable cycle of home to clinic and back with occasional departures in between -- but it seems more . . . well, more something, with him in it. Complete, maybe. Or happy.
He was a good decision. She thinks as much every day.]
[And Ben is happy, for the first time in twenty years, for the first time since he lost Janni. The hooded wariness has disappeared from his eyes, he's far more relaxed, and this just feels right to him. Maria's the only Master he's ever actually wanted to please since Wynter, and she makes it easy.
Right now he's sitting on the sofa with his stocking feet up, tapping away at a keyboard. No one's going to read the memoirs of a slave, but it makes him feel better to write it down, to have a record of it somewhere.
Most of it, of course, is downright painful to both remember and write. He stops for a few moments and scrubs a hand over his face.]
[Maria is tucked into the opposite corner of the sofa with her bad leg propped up on an ottoman, nursing a cup of tea and a book. The dropping-off of keyboard sounds is what catches her attention, and she takes note of her place and looks up.]
Volchok.
[It isn't prying, she's decided, if she doesn't outright ask what the matter is.]
Mmph. [There's a certain amount of catharsis, he's found, in talking about these things with her.] Well. I'm doing it out of order, just as I think about stuff, right?
We were okay, when it first started. We had a patron that kept our Pack together, and he was good to us. Kind of a creepy old guy, but he loved us, I think, in his way, and most of the Pack had sort of... "belonged" to him anyway, before it all went to shit.
And I had a buddy. Ian. [Ben swallows.] He was a good guy. Big, strong. He tried to kick my ass once and got it kicked instead. After that, we were friends. You know how it is.
So, we were altogether for a good twenty years, give or take. You get pretty tight, that amount of time. But slavers don't care about that, and they broke us up, scattered the Pack. [He and Janni had run, and not gotten far before they'd killed her and recaptured him. He'd just as soon not revisit that just yet, and so he goes right past it.]
I ended up in the fighting pits. God knows why, other than the fact that I'm a better fighter than I look like at first glance and underdogs are popular. [He snorts.] I was on a cane at the time. You can imagine how the crowd reacted to that.
[The face she pulls is eloquent enough to make up for the lack of verbal response. She has nothing but contempt for the pits, for the people who run them and the people who attend. Too much mindless brutality; even at her worst, that kind of widespread slaughter would have sat ill with her.]
Seriously. [He reaches over for his Mountain Dew -- she buys him Mountain Dew! -- and takes a sip.] They kept us separated, so we wouldn't form attachments, you know. Mostly we didn't see each other until we got into the ring.
And so one day, they tell me it's a fight to the death. Most of the time, they don't do that. Werewolves are too rare and valuable for anyone to want to lose one, not to mention the fact that, you know, the wolves don't like doing it. But if you refuse, they'll shock one of you until the other one puts you out of your misery. [He closes his eyes.] It's awful.
Yeah. [Ben concurs completely.] So. Anyway. They shove me out into the ring. The door at the other end opens up. And it's Ian. We blink at each other for a couple of seconds, and then charge across the sand--
And hug.
[He huffs out a bitter, bitter laugh.] Crowd didn't like that much.
[Maria has a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, because she can't imagine any way this story ends well for anyone involved in it, and she hates, with all of her, that her wolf has so many stories like this, and that he's carried them alone for so long.]
And we've got this quick back-and-forth convo going, because if we hold it too long then one of us is gonna get electrocuted to the ground. I told him I didn't want to do it, and he said we had to because they had Leah.
[He huffs out a breath.] Leah was his Mate. They started dating because I twitted him into finally asking her out.
[His hands are shaking now.] This was a pure hand-to-hand. No weapons except us. And if we didn't make it look good, then they'd punish us and punish Leah.
Hell, at that point, I decided to give him the win. What the fuck did I have left to live for, you know?
[Maria nods, barely, but she doesn't say anything. It's not because she doesn't care, or because she isn't listening, it's because she's listening and she cares and she is horrified and heartsick and knows anything she says will be utterly, terribly inadequate.]
[Ben hardly notices; he's lost in the reminiscence and might be rambling a little.] We gave the crowd their money's worth. Stretched it out, made it last. Came closer and closer to delivering the coup de grace on each other half a dozen times apiece, always dodging at the last second. He'd try to close with me, I'd flit aside, we'd both do some damage. You know.
[Except she can. Ben slides off the sofa and onto the floor, and leans against her leg, resting his forehead on her knee. Carefully. He closes his eyes and continues.] He didn't even mean to not dodge. He slipped. Or tripped. And instead of barely scoring his thigh, my claws went deep and hit the artery.
We'd already both lost a lot of blood. And he didn't take long at all to bleed the rest of the way out. I held him while he died.
He was a good decision. She thinks as much every day.]
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Right now he's sitting on the sofa with his stocking feet up, tapping away at a keyboard. No one's going to read the memoirs of a slave, but it makes him feel better to write it down, to have a record of it somewhere.
Most of it, of course, is downright painful to both remember and write. He stops for a few moments and scrubs a hand over his face.]
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Volchok.
[It isn't prying, she's decided, if she doesn't outright ask what the matter is.]
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We were okay, when it first started. We had a patron that kept our Pack together, and he was good to us. Kind of a creepy old guy, but he loved us, I think, in his way, and most of the Pack had sort of... "belonged" to him anyway, before it all went to shit.
And I had a buddy. Ian. [Ben swallows.] He was a good guy. Big, strong. He tried to kick my ass once and got it kicked instead. After that, we were friends. You know how it is.
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[It's not just a wolf thing or even just a male thing. Everyone does it, in one way or another.
She leans over to set her book on the side table and then leans in towards him, cradling her mug in both hands, listening with her whole self.]
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So, we were altogether for a good twenty years, give or take. You get pretty tight, that amount of time. But slavers don't care about that, and they broke us up, scattered the Pack. [He and Janni had run, and not gotten far before they'd killed her and recaptured him. He'd just as soon not revisit that just yet, and so he goes right past it.]
I ended up in the fighting pits. God knows why, other than the fact that I'm a better fighter than I look like at first glance and underdogs are popular. [He snorts.] I was on a cane at the time. You can imagine how the crowd reacted to that.
Reply
[The face she pulls is eloquent enough to make up for the lack of verbal response. She has nothing but contempt for the pits, for the people who run them and the people who attend. Too much mindless brutality; even at her worst, that kind of widespread slaughter would have sat ill with her.]
Reply
And so one day, they tell me it's a fight to the death. Most of the time, they don't do that. Werewolves are too rare and valuable for anyone to want to lose one, not to mention the fact that, you know, the wolves don't like doing it. But if you refuse, they'll shock one of you until the other one puts you out of your misery. [He closes his eyes.] It's awful.
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[There's more to it than that, but it's very vulgar and very quiet and very not-in-English.]
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And hug.
[He huffs out a bitter, bitter laugh.] Crowd didn't like that much.
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[Maria has a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, because she can't imagine any way this story ends well for anyone involved in it, and she hates, with all of her, that her wolf has so many stories like this, and that he's carried them alone for so long.]
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[He huffs out a breath.] Leah was his Mate. They started dating because I twitted him into finally asking her out.
[His hands are shaking now.] This was a pure hand-to-hand. No weapons except us. And if we didn't make it look good, then they'd punish us and punish Leah.
Hell, at that point, I decided to give him the win. What the fuck did I have left to live for, you know?
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I'd decided I wasn't going to dodge his next one.
And then he didn't dodge mine.
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[She sets her tea mug aside, very very carefully, as if she's afraid something is going to break if she moves wrong.
And this is why she doesn't pry, because she hurts for him, and she can't do a damn thing about it, and she is not very okay with that.]
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We'd already both lost a lot of blood. And he didn't take long at all to bleed the rest of the way out. I held him while he died.
I can still hear Leah screaming from the stands.
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