a life worth living for anita_dee part 3
“I was naked before, why does it matter?”
Seulgi breathes in deeply through her nose, eyes closed and trying to keep her tongue in her mouth rather than snapping. “I know you were naked before,” Seulgi says. “But am I naked when I go into the city? Am I naked now?”
“No, but that’s only because you don’t want to be,” Irene says, walking with perfectly placed steps among the forest floor with a quirk to her mouth. “You’re choosing to be clothed, just like I’m choosing to be naked. Are you afraid of being naked?”
“No,” Seulgi says, looking at her companion sternly. They’re about an hour from the new city where Seulgi is meeting Joy and Jongin. She’s already received contact from Janus that they’ll pay her in full at the terminal set up there while Krepala is still stalling. Where the money is, Seulgi is, naked shapeshifter or not. “I’m not afraid of being naked. I am perfectly fine being naked, I just like being protected.”
“Doesn’t it get uncomfortable though?” Irene asks, scrunching up her nose and plucking at Seulgi’s jacket. It’s interesting finally knowing what ‘Flower’ would have said during the long walks through the woods. Seulgi might enjoy it more if she weren’t constantly distracted by how Irene also seems to enjoy holding onto her rather than just standing close to her side.
“Sometimes,” Seulgi answers, trying to make the argument for clothing. Especially as they’re going into the city, she’s going to need Irene to be clothed among other civilians. Irene will attract enough attention for her looks; if she’s naked they’ll stand out like a sore thumb and that’s the last thing they need. “I like them though. They’re warm and soft and protect me from things that can hurt me.”
“Like Beasts?”
“Like thorns and brambles and twigs that could scratch me,” Seulgi elaborates and Irene gives her a slowly raising look. “Plus,” she adds, going out on a limb. “You know I don’t mind being naked. You saw me naked before.”
“But you were washing,” Irene points out, easily throwing Seulgi’s argument. “Humans are so strange. Covering up their bodies. Yours is so nice, but you keep wearing all this stuff-“ she begins poking at Seulgi’s outfit, tugging at her shorts and jacket and shirt, hands insistent and hot against her “- when skin is far better.”
As if to emphasize her point, Irene leaps a bit ahead with nymphlike agility, her long hair fanning out behind her as her body twists and moves freely. “Congratulations,” Seulgi tells her, trudging through the undergrowth and throwing her a poorly hidden amused look. “You’re very naked. And still getting clothing when we get to city.”
“What’s the point?” Irene sighs, shaking her hair back from her face. “I can just shift back into a wolf. Or a cat.” She leans into Seulgi, her eyes wide and bright with inquiry. “Which is better?”
“Well, I did buy a wolf-“
It is still hard to get used to, watching Irene’s human form disintegrate in ash-like debris into a completely different shape, this time the familiar one of a wolf.
“Shall I call you ‘Flower’ again, then?” Seulgi asks, looking down at the large wolf and earning a snort and a glare. Seulgi laughs, finally feeling comfortable to reach out and ruffle Irene’s fur, the familiar feeling calming her twaning nerves.
It’s been a few days travel, and despite how firmly Seulgi tells herself that Irene is ‘Flower’ the wolf, it’s been hard to swallow. Sure, Irene acts the same as the wolf, but also differently. There is a vast complexity to Irene that didn’t exist in the silent force of ‘Flower’. To add difficulty, Irene is far more affectionate than ‘Flower’ was, at least on the human scale. She is touchy, almost clingy, and curls up with Seulgi in the nights under the thermal blanket.
There is also the fact that Irene is stunning, a true beauty, and having her literally prancing around buck naked is distracting for the mercenary. That and how Irene keeps calling her ‘mistress’ instead of ‘Seulgi’ and stating her loyalties to her through the Maji bond Jongin had performed, Seulgi is fighting to keep her thoughts tame.
Which brings Seulgi to her biggest dilemma; what to do with her?
“We’ll get you something to wear after I pick up the pay,” Seulgi tells Irene, watching as the wolf walks along side her just as usual. “Don’t give me that look, it’s for the best. You can walk around naked as a wolf but not as a human. People will stare and get suspicious. I don’t want people getting ideas. No arguments,” Seulgi finishes with a firm look at Irene.
She gets a muffled snort in response.
It’s different walking through the city lines this time, the impressive size of Irene beside her, as large as a buck deer and with her massive tail swishing behind her. She’s a force to reckon with, and paired with Seulgi who already has a pretty solid reputation as one of the best in her field, they clear a path. The heads ducking away or turning to stare have Seulgi biting down a smirk in amusement as they pass by.
The borders of Janus are always flanked in the nation’s colors of green and black, the royal insignia branded on nearly every building. The people are similarly decorated, marking foreigners such as Seulgi, who wears her garments of almost entirely black and red and dull green, as outsiders. Hers are the colors of no nation, just as she is of none.
It’s not hard to navigate through the outer city here, most people far more organized than the mazes of Regal and the chaos of Krepala. The transmission to Joy is almost instant, getting a message ping that Seulgi waits to answer until after she’s dealt with a few things.
The Pit here, just like so many, is a mess of noise, people, and the whir of machines. Not looking for much of a job this time, Seulgi simply cues in the codes for the Utopica job and scans her own protected numbers, grinning as she watches her accounts raise by a hundred and sixty credits from the monarchy. “Knew it,” she murmurs under her breath, watching as the screen flashes in completion.
The job was definitely a high priority, especially considering what she did take out back in the Old Ruins. Quickly scrambling to new codes and encryptions, she turns to face the Pit to discover a wide berth has been given to her, most of those in the area avoiding her and the imposing figure of Irene, sitting and glaring with a curled snarl on her snout.
The image surprises a laugh out of Seulgi that has Irene turning to her curiously. “Good girl,” Seulgi says, grin in full force as she rests her hand to the back of Irene’s neck, the Shifter turning to her with a smug glint in her golden eyes.
People part for them like water running down a ridge. As much as Seulgi knows it draws attention to them, she also rather enjoys the way the usual gruff and obnoxious soldiers even get out of her way. She’s used to having to best them on her own as they try to shove into her way and having the clear path is extremely refreshing. Irene seems to certainly be enjoying herself, walking proud with her head held high, as tall as some men, with Seulgi’s hand resting between her shoulders.
The only moment when she resists is when Seulgi instructs her to wait outside of the market stalls as she barters for clothing. “Yes, you’re going to wear them,” Seulgi informs her sharply as the wolf looks at her reproachfully. A few minutes later, Seulgi almost yells in frustration as, while she’s picking over leather pants and a good jacket, Irene steps up beside her.
The vender, an older man with streaks of silver in his beard, nearly drops the items he’s trying to sell as Irene stares him down. “I want those,” the shifter says, pointing completely unabashed at a pair of high-waisted leather shorts and micro mail stockings. “Those and those,” she continues, pointing to a few cropped shirts and a brown leather jacket that.
“No,” Seulgi tries to growl, glaring at Irene as the shifter stands completely nude in the middle of the market stall and stares blithely back.
“You want me to wear clothes and I want those,” Irene tells her frankly. “Plus, the ones you chose are boring. I’ll wear those if I have them.” She smiles, angling her face cutely as she looks at Seulgi. “Or I can just stay naked.”
Seulgi ends up grumbling as she hands over a good twenty-seven credits for clothing for Irene. She’s thankful though when Irene emerges from behind the changing curtain of the market stall. The shorts hug her body nicely, the micromail tights transparent to show the markings against her skin as it extends down her legs to tickle the tops of her high leather boots. The jacket looks nice as well, the cropped top flashing skin as Irene brushes her hair off her shoulder to cascade down her back.
“I would ask how I look, but I’ll just assume from your face I look good,” Irene says, her eyes dancing in amusement as Seulgi shakes herself from staring.
“Are you satisfied with them?” she asks instead, looking up and down Irene’s clothed figure once more. As much as having her naked had been slightly jarring, having her clothed is almost more so. Seulgi shakes herself mentally.
“They’ll do,” Irene says lightly and waves to the red faced vendor as they leave. “They’ll just fall off when I shift.”
“Well, then that will be your problem,” Seulgi says, biting down on the issue rather than letting it stew at the back of her mind.
“Why?” Irene says, stopping with a frown in the middle of the crowded market.
“Because they’re yours,” Seulgi says shortly. The thing she dislikes about the Others most is when they, by all intents are free and their own, have a strange tendency to latch to humans. It’s almost servantile, and Seulgi has never been comfortable with it. Irene’s behavior, following after her is different now Seulgi knows she wasn’t a simple hunting wolf, because…
She’s not. Seulgi wanted a wolf, a companion and a fighter she would care for as a pet, but she didn’t want a person as a pet. That’s not her thing. It reminds her too much of how the nation leaders use their soldiers, sending them off as pawns for slaughter in the war machine that never seems to end. Seulgi doesn’t want to own a person, no matter what genus it originated from.
“You can go now,” Seulgi informs her, stepping back from Irene’s shocked expression. “You- I’m not your master. I bought you because of a miscommunication and you’re not my property.” Seulgi’s chest tightens. “You’re not anyone’s property.”
“I don’t want to go,” Irene tells her flatly, her face fallen. “You’re-“
“I’m a mercenary, and you’re not a hunting wolf,” Seulgi continues. “For fuck’s sake, the only reason you were under that impression was due to a bonding spell from Jongin, and that fixation implant before. So-“ Seulgi takes in a sharp breath, staring down the glare Irene is directing at her. “You’re free to go. Take the clothing as collateral, your half of the pay for the job we just got back from.”
“That’s not how business works,” Irene counters, stepping up close when Seulgi makes to leave. “I like spending time with you. You bought me, and technically I chose you as my mistress-“
“Stop calling me that,” Seulgi says, bristling and stepping back. The shocked look on Irene’s face has her letting out a long breath, pulling Irene to the side of the market street. “Look, no debts. Okay? I forgive them all. So go be free and do what you want. Go back to your tribe.”
“They’re dead,” Irene tells her flatly. “You’re my tribe.” Seulgi wants to groan in frustration. There is a large part of her that just wants to say ‘screw it’ and let Irene stay with her. The rational part of her knows how dangerous it is to travel in pairs, how easily that can be manipulated against her.
She’s… fond of Irene. First of her as a wolf, but more as a woman. She likes her, even if Irene tends to talk in circles, she’s a bright creature and Seulgi finds herself more and more interested in her even as she knows the dangers of that inclination.
Irene would do better to not tie herself to anyone. Shifters are trapped and hunted for good reason: war. They’re bound, like Irene supposedly was with the fixation implant, into servitude towards a militia, and used for their skills and with twisted loyalties and control to spy and shift. They’re treated as both prized gem and expendable commodities.
Irene attracts attention, both as a wolf and even more so now as a beautiful young woman. Despite her own misgivings, Seulgi feels protective of her, and the rational part of her knows Irene is safer away from her life. From Seulgi’s world, this world.
“I’m no one’s tribe,” Seulgi tells her flatly.
“You’re mine,” Irene tells her, and the defiance in her voice is so strong it rings. “I was bound to you, and you are my tribe.”
The communicator at Seulgi’s wrist pings and Seulgi almost swears in relief. The message is from Jongin, and she immediately opens it half furious. “You fucking bastard,” she snaps at the projected image of Jongin. “Where the hell are you?”
“What did I do?” Jongin asks, freshly shaven (finally) and looking entirely flabbergasted.
“You cocked up my life, you dipshit,” Seulgi snarls at him. “Are you at the Pens?”
“Gaogil,” Jongin answers, opening and closing his mouth like a guppy out of water. “What did I-“
“Don’t move,” Seulgi snaps, turning to glance at Irene. “I’m coming to you.”
“Who’s that?” Jongin asks, looking at Irene in confusion as Seulgi closes down the transmission.
“I’ll break his arms,” Seulgi huffs, running a hand through her hair as she looks up at Irene. The shifter is still frowning, staring at the communicator.
“I still can’t believe he called me ‘Flower’,” Irene says, and her voice is edged. “What sort of moron is he?”
“Want to tell him?” Seulgi proposes. She could do with a distraction, and the look on Irene’s face is enough to make her feel a bit better about this mess she’s gotten into.
✖
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” is the first thing Jongin says as Seulgi strides up to his table in the Gaogil Tavern. The next thing Jongin says is “please! I’m sorry for whatever I did ow! Ow! Ow that hurts!” as Seulgi’s vice-like grip tightens at the back of his neck and hauls him out of his seat.
“You shithead,” Seulgi snarls at him, dropping him back into his seat. He hunkers down, looking up at her with baleful eyes and a soft whine. Huffing with agitation, Seulgi pulls out one of the other chairs at the roughly scrubbed table and takes her place opposite him. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Who is she then?” Jongin asks, blinking in confusion.
“You sold her to me, you fuckwit,” Seulgi growls low. Instantly, Jongin’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, his face draining of color. Slowly, he turns to look up at Irene, who is presently glaring down at him with her arms folded over her bosom. She snaps her teeth at him, and Seulgi pushes down a smirk as her eyes flash gold.
“She…”
“I’m a shifter,” Irene tells him. Seulgi winces as her voice is just a bit too loud. Swiftly, she tugs her down into the chair next to her and then ignores the pleased look on Irene’s face when she turns to her.
“You sold me a shifter, dogbreath, not a hunting wolf, and I want my money back,” Seulgi tells Jongin. Half of it is in jest, because she does know that Jongin probably had no clue and was more excited about ‘Flower’s existence than the fact she might not actually be a wolf. “This is bad business.”
“If anything, I should charge you more,” Jongin grumbles at her, hunching over the table. “I sold you the highest pricing specimen on the market for dirt.” Irene lets out a low threatening growl at this and Seulgi stares at her long time friend. “I’m serious,” Jongin protests, though he withdraws a bit, looking at Irene warily. “Do you have any idea how much she’s worth?”
“More than you are,” Seulgi says with an edge to her voice.
“More than any job you could ever take,” Jongin tells her, his voice low and serious.
“So, what, you did me a favor?” Seulgi snaps, anger boiling under her skin. “I asked to buy a wolf, Jongin, not some hot selling market item you didn’t even know you had.”
“I wouldn’t have sold her if I’d know,” Jongin says, and his voice is softer with apology as he looks at Irene. “I’m sorry Flower.” Irene immediately snarls and bristles, Jongin’s eyes widening in shock.
“Do you have any idea how much she dislikes that name?” Seulgi asks calmly as Irene continues to glare at Jongin and Jongin shrinks back into his chair. Jongin was never built for dealing with people, to shy and awkward around them. He was always more comfortable with his dogs, his wolves and his breeds.
“A lot?” Jongin proposes with a weak attempt at a smile.
“I hate it,” Irene grinds out through grit teeth, her elongating nails digging into the table where she clenches it.
“Oh,” Jongin says and shrinks a bit more. “I’m sorry, I thought it was a nice name.” Irene snorts at him. “I can’t give you a refund.”
“Why?”
“Suspicion,” Jongin answers and his eyes remain on Irene. “It’d be strange if I sold you a wolf and then you showed up with a woman and sometimes have a wolf and sometimes other creatures and I gave you your money back.” His eyes slide over to Seulgi and they’re harder, more calculating, resonating to that deeper intelligence Jongin buries inside himself. “Do you really want more attention than Flower already gets?”
Ignoring the growl from Irene, Seulgi leans over the table to him. “What do you suggest I do? She’s bound to me because of your infernal Maji tricks and-“
“No, she’s not,” Jongin interrupts with a soft laugh. “That seal only works for the first few days while the dogs get accustomed to their new masters. The bond from then on is entire between the master and-“
“Mistress,” Irene corrects bluntly. Seulgi twitches.
“their pet.”
“I’m not a pet,” Irene says before Seulgi can defend her. “I’m more than that, you ignorant Witch.”
Gaping at her, Jongin shakes his head. “I never said you- I was just explaining-“
“You know nothing of how the bondings truly work, aside from the dabbling in the Maji crafts from Sector 51, you-“
“Irene,” Seulgi interrupts sharply as the other woman’s voice rises in volume and venom. Immediately, Irene stills, sitting back with a glare at Jongin but quiet.
Looking between the two of them, comprehension seems to dawn over Jongin’s face. “Ah,” he says, and a soft smile plays about his mouth. “You’ve bonded.”
“She’s my tribe,” Irene says simply. Jongin’s eyes widen. Something tells Seulgi that the implications of this are beyond what she knows and that they’re certainly incorrect.
“I don’t want a human bonded to me-“
“I’m not human,” Irene cuts in with a pointed look.
“-so fix it,” Seulgi finishes, glaring at Jongin.
To her immense annoyance (and dismay), Jongin laughs. Head thrown back and shoulders shaking as the sound radiates from him, he laughs until his eyes glisten and then, catching his breath, turns back to her sour face. “I can’t fix it,” he tells her simply. “She’s chosen you as her mistress.”
“I’m not anyone’s mistress,” Seulgi says flatly. “And I forgive all debts.”
“It’s not as simple as debts,” Jongin says, and looks a bit apologetically at Irene. “Why are you still with her if you’re not longer bound to your wolf form?”
“She’s…” Irene falters, and looks at Seulgi. The look in her gaze suggests something more than Seulgi knows or understands, a loyalty that she’s not familiar with and deeper flickers and colors that she doesn't know. Irene is her own person, and Seulgi isn’t going to keep her on a leash. “She freed me from the prison of the implant,” the shifter finally says, her voice edged. “I owe her my freedom.”
“I give it to you,” Seulgi says.
“It’s not that simple,” Jongin tells her and Seulgi’s frown increases. “These… these are oaths and pledges that are deeper than just our human versions. We don’t understand them here on earth, but-“
“They’re finite,” Irene says flatly, her eyes never having left Seulgi. “Until repaid.”
“So,” Seulgi says, churning through all the information. “If you repay this freedom to me, then our bond is over?” Irene doesn’t answer, only stares at Seulgi as if trying to speak with her beyond words.
“It would seem that way,” Jongin says, voice quieter as he looks between the two woman. “Though, I may be mistaken, but I also think that perhaps Flow-“
“Yes,” Irene says, cutting off Jongin. “Until then, I will be by your side and with you as is custom from our bond.” The constant insistence on this ‘bond’ keeps a crawl traveling over Seulgi’s skin, warmer and warmer as if sinking into her flesh.
It feels like even just this conversation is bonding them further.
“It’ll be safer if she’s with you actually,” Jongin tells them. “Though I would suggest you keep to your human form until out of sight. It draws less attention than you constantly shifting, which will easily get you both slaughtered. Or at least, Seulgi.”
“Awesome,” Seulgi says dryly.
“I won’t let any harm her,” Irene says almost viciously, her eyes alight with fire as she takes in Jongin. “None.”
“Oh good,” Jongin says, smiling in what Seulgi assumes he intends to be a supportive way.
The next few hours are spent with the three of them discussing in a quiet corner of Gaogil how Irene should behave to convince prying eyes she’s not a target. A brief respite to the bar tips Seulgi off about a job for Krepala she can take after she picks up her bounty from the Republic. The conversation with the barkeep is enough of a break for her to clear her head, looking back at Irene and Jongin crouched over the table in quiet conversation.
Irene is, if anything, more affectionate. Already latching onto the ideas and patterns that Jongin explains about integration into the human world (that Seulgi never would have considered), she leans into Seulgi’s space. She’s fiercely intelligent, enthusiastic about learning and almost vicious about her ideas and herself.
Yet there’s something so inexplicably soft about her, the way she laughs and tries to joke in the ‘human’ way that goes straight over Seulgi’s head but has Jongin in stitches. It almost makes Seulgi feel more human.
Standing at the bar and looking at the shifter and Maji, Seulgi realizes that’s what she’d wanted a companion for in the first place; to remind her of her humanity. Out in the wilderness, surrounded by war and her jobs to slaughter nameless combatants or Beasts, she was beginning to forget it. It’s lonely, forgetting who she is, and first ‘Flower’ and now Irene are bringing it to life once more within her.
It helps remind Seulgi why she’s out there, fighting monsters and taking these jobs. She’s fighting for those who can’t, for those who don’t have the neutrality and are just all stuck in this mess of a war machine.
It reminds her that there’s something she’s fighting for aside from money. Irene gives her something to fight for, in both herself and in the shifter.
The warmth in her chest, spreading wide and fast shocks her. As does the sudden turn from Irene, fixing her eyes swirling with so many colors and hues on her own.
The shiver in her chest is harder to ignore when Seulgi rejoins the table, giving them all fresh drinks. She doesn’t pull away when Irene leans automatically into her, hand slipping to rest against her thigh and inclining into her space.
For a moment, Seulgi almost forgets about the agreement that she’ll let Irene leave as soon as the repayment is complete.
Then Jongin places down his glass and the sound knocks her from her reverie, and she shoves herself back into the harshness of reality.
✖
In grand total, the sum from the Utopica job that took out seven thousand experimental soldiers as close to close to three hundred credits. It ranks the best paying job Seulgi has ever taken. It also appears the last at least semi-neutral well paying job that Seulgi will take in a while. Despite Joy’s initially disappointment in how her ‘baby’ turned out to be a woman much older than she who insisted on sharing a bed with Seulgi, the two had gotten along quite well.
Seulgi had left Joy in the Krepala borders as she and Irene left for a new job, something along the lines of taking down scouts from Nara.
If Seulgi has a bias against any of the nations, it’s Nara. The nation itself is founded on beliefs, radical ones at that, and operates most of its tactics through devotion and terrorism. The majority of the people she’s met in Nara are all brainwashed or terrified into silence, afraid that speaking up against the might of their ‘Gods’ will bring their deaths.
Seulgi would tell them otherwise if she didn’t see the spidering lines of the corroded implants under their skin, poisoning them and monitoring them constantly. They’re slaves, in the best of lights, to the priesthood that run the nation and almost all of them addicts to the ‘divine waters’ that are distributed to counteract the effects of the corroded implant chips.
Most of the scouts or troops sent from Nara in it’s guerrilla warfare system (they’d given up on missionaries long ago after the other nations condemned their demands for blood sacrifice) have the reputation of being the nastiest. Usually hyped up on ideals and various mutations of the latest drugs and stimulants, they’re labeled ‘Berserkers’ after the demons of the old world.
Normal humans until sent into the war, when they transform into insane violence driven monsters, fighting even past the point when a normal soldier would die. More terrifying is that they somehow have the Nyx, the Others in control of magic, or abstract energies, on their side.
In short, when the job came up, Seulgi had no issue in taking it and leaving the borders of Krepala to go and blow up half their Wilderness borderlands.
“Why do you hate them so much?” Irene had asked when she’d watched Seulgi read over the job details.
“It’s personal,” Seulgi answered her curtly. She doesn’t like talking about the Nyx. She doesn’t hate them, but they set her on edge. As much as she respects Wendy, the woman’s use of her Nyx blood and powers has always made her uneasy.
Even if Wendy and many of the neutral land Nyx use their powers primarily for healing, she’s seen it used for much worse ends.
She had thought the topic dropped as Irene let it go, instead turning to talk about the combat skills she used to know. Seulgi is fascinated by her stories, the shifter apparently once having been one of the prime warriors groomed for their tribe. She’d been trained in a sort of dance form of martial combat, showing a bit to Seulgi that left her breathless with how beautiful it looked. And how lethal.
“Shifters use their bodies,” Irene had explained after besting even Seulgi in hand to hand sparring. She was smiling and breathless and Seulgi found herself winded from more than just the kicks to her chest. “They’re our weapon, and we have to train them to perfection. They’re our tools, and we use them to speak, fight, and live.”
“It sounds exhausting,” Seulgi had commented, smiling as Irene had rolled off with an air of playfulness to sprawl in the leaves.
“Only if you make it so,” Irene had said and then laughed. Seulgi wasn’t really sure what was funny, but found herself joining in anyway.
The laughter has died by the time they reach the borders of the Nara Wilderness. The wood itself is different, the sounds of the animals and birds quieted to a hush and the trees twisted and almost alien.
“Remember,” Seulgi tells Irene, turning to her before the venture into the area. “You can’t-“
“Shift, I know,” Irene says, and smirks smugly at her. “I’m not stupid, I know how to not get killed. It’s not like I’ve never been in battle before.”
“Fighting as a wolf and fighting as a human are different,” Seulgi tells her, ignoring how this degree of worry is unusual for her.
“And you know from personal experience,” Irene goads, and then laughs a bit, dancing from Seulgi into the wood. “Take care of yourself, and let me take care of me.”
The walk through the area is tedious, constant scans from the processor chip for mines or life that seems to be nonexistent and Seulgi trying to keep her wits about her. Nara puts her on edge, and the last thing she needs to be is anxious when out here. Stress is a good thing, but not if it impedes her ability to function.
The only distraction she has is Irene, who looks almost the phantom of how she was when in her wolf form. She’s rigid with attentiveness and responding to sights and sounds and smells Seulgi can’t detect. Her eyes keep flickering between their rich brown to a mess of other colors, gold flickering to blue to red to green to red.
Seulgi had, at one point, nearly yelled out at her when she’d noticed Irene hosting a pair of what was clearly cat ears atop her human head, twitching for sound in replacement of her own ears. “Don’t do that,” Seulgi hisses, trying to calm her racing heart. The trees may very well be wired with surveillance, and they on film.
The scans from her own processor don’t indicate as such, but Seulgi knows when to trust instinct and when to trust technology. Technology has never saved her ass in a fight; instinct has.
“It was only for a second,” Irene pouts at her and in a flutter of ash the ears vanish. “Happy?” she asks with a huff.
“Euphoric,” Seulgi answers with a wan smile. She sputters and jerks back a moment later as Irene swoops far too close and licks her face. “What-! What did you-“
“Sh,” Irene tells her, scrunching up her nose pointedly and looking dead serious. “We have to be quiet.”
“You just-“
“You smell like me now,” Irene tells her, though there’s a glimmer to her eyes that speaks mischief. “Now it’s easier to keep track of you.”
“And you’re the one who kept calling me mistress,” Seulgi grumbles as Irene walks a bit from her, spanning the distance and keeping visibility. “Why do I feel like I’m the one being led around on a leash sometimes?”
After their first night in Janus, Seulgi had found herself with Irene as a bedmate. While this had been fine when Seulgi had thought Irene was a wolf, now, she’s much more aware of it.
“You didn't mind before,” was Irene’s argument with a note of dejected hurt in her voice.
“You were a wolf.” Seulgi long learned to give up on arguing with her on this, as Irene failed to see what difference this made at all. In her mind, nothing is different, especially seeing as humans were just strange animals that rejected being naked. The more time she spends with Irene, the more she feels as if she’s being slowly tamed by her, the notions and ideas she has about the world filtered through a completely different lens.
Irene isn’t human, but neither is she animal. It puts a whole different perspective on the wars and the stupidity of humans for fighting for power that Seulgi was already fed up with. Irene, in many ways, is smarter than Seulgi is, simply because she understands this on such a level that it’s natural to her.
It makes Seulgi all the more aware of her, cautious about her, and curious about her. Lying in the night in the small tent under the thermal blanket with Irene pressed warmly to her side, she wonders if the slow prickling crawl over her skin is a bond or something else.
A low whistle pulls Seulgi from her thoughts, looking up sharply to its origin. Irene is frozen a few meters away, poised behind a tree and staring into the wood. A second later Seulgi smells it, the acrid stench of burning flesh.
They’re close.
Catching Irene’s eye, she gives a small hand gesture to proceed carefully. With luck, they won’t have to take long. Just a few charges and some quick kills and the targets will be take care of quickly.
In a gully just after a large ridge is a small encampment. Looking down into it, Seulgi can recognize the insignia, the gray, red, and yellow branding on all of the materials. There are about six of them, men in minimal garb wandering about the camp. Their clothing, which doesn’t offer much protection, is typical of Nara.
Even at this distance, Seulgi can see the spidering black along their veins, seeping poisons into their bodies and killing them. She can also see the cases of the antidotes and, assumedly, their drugs for war. They once had used capsules placed in pulled molars, but too many were implanted incorrectly, and soldiers bit into them during meals, massacring entire villages when on rampage from the drugs effects.
At least that’s what Seulgi has heard from the reports that leak from Nara. Disturbingly enough, those are the nicer of the reports.
Carefully, Seulgi takes in the surrounding area. “Directory,” she murmurs, keeping her voice quiet. “Scan area within 100 meters of life forms and Nara operatives.”
“At present,” the implant replies, volume regulated softer in accordance with her own quiet voice. “Seven units within visual range. At 100 meters range, no Nara units active or present. At 500 meters range, no Nara units active or present. At distance 620, three units and one-“
“Confirmed,” Seulgi says, cutting the report off before it burdens her with unnecessary statistics. She’ll worry about the other three units and their… whatever it is after she takes out this group.
Unlocking one of the charges from her belt, she cradles the cylinder in her hand. It would be wise to take out the seven men below before any of them can react and get their fixes to attack.
Glancing to check Irene’s status, Seulgi breathes a low long breath upon seeing her. She’s crouched, poised and ready to fly down the gully into attack. Catching Seulgi’s eye, she nods once and sets back, waiting for cue to run.
Pulling back behind a tree, Seulgi quickly calibrates the charge, and then leans back to see the encampment once more. The crates near the center are curious, something she’s never seen before, but she doubts they’re good. They make as good a target as any, especially since this charge isn’t going to collapse into nothing. It’s just going to blow everything sky high.
Inserting the charge into one of the empty barrels of one of her hand cannons, Seulgi takes careful aim, setting the firearm to silent and propulsion only. Taking aim, she targets the side of one of the crates and fires.
The charge affixes instantly against the wood paneling of the crate, latching on and a soft beep at Seulgi’s wrist informs her of the count down. Without wanting to pause, she turns, motioning for Irene to follow her, and runs. She’ll worry about sound later, as for now she just wants distance between her and when that charge goes off against the crates.
“What were those?” Irene asks, easily running to her side as they sprint. Flinging herself down behind a rock that juts up in the wood, pressing back against it for protection, Seulgi turns to her wide inquisitive eyes.
“Nara infantry,” Seulgi explains, slightly breathless and keeping her voice down.
“No, I saw those,” Irene says. “I mean the other creatures. The ones trapped in the boxes.”
“The-“ Seulgi’s blood goes cold. “What boxes?”
“The ones in the center of the camp. They smelled so strange, and they-“
“Fuck!” Seulgi spits, twisting and fumbling for her pack, searching for the main external for the processor at her wrist. She knew those crates were suspicious, but- “They’re not creatures,” Seulgi spits, rushing for the override for the charge. How could she have been so stupid. “They’re-“
Seulgi’s fingers have just closed around the external when the charge goes off, the explosion blasting in a shock wave through the air and swallowing all sound. What’s worse is it’s accompanied by an almighty screaming wail, shrill and piercing, like iron against glass and twisting Seulgi’s stomach to curdle.
“They’re hybrids.”
The newest abomination from Nara that she’d heard gossip of months ago. The distorted mutation of the Beasts and the creatures that Utopica had made, perfected by Nara’s finest. They’re worse than anything before, infused with the impervious aspects of the Nyx, they’re creatures from nightmares.
Where humans and the Berserkers fall finally to death, these new hybrids were rumored to fight past death, instead awakened by it.
The wraith soldiers.
The screaming continues, rising higher and higher on the air and Seulgi pushes down the terror that fills her as she hastily grabs for both hand cannons. Turning to Irene, she says the only thing that matters; “stay alive.”
Flinging out behind the rock, Seulgi sees the first one. It’s crawling in a sort of spider-like gait over the ground, hissing as it moves so fast she can barely track it’s movement. It’s half blown apart, red skinned and seared yet still very alive and very much deadly.
It looks like the strange mutation between a human and spider, too many limbs and a gaping hanging jaw like something out of nightmares with glowing ice blue eyes. A true abomination.
More of them approach, crawling over the hill, about a dozen, and Seulgi doesn’t waste time before opening fire. At least the hits of the hand cannon seem to slow them down, their shrieking screams rising in volume as they approach.
The most useful thing the hits do is show the weakness of the monster’s limbs, tearing them clean off.
“Please don’t have a hydra gene, please for the love of sanity, don’t have a hydra gene,” Seulgi prays under her breath, running as fast as she can from the approaching hybrid and swallowing down her revulsion at the thing. She hits it twice square in between the eyes, blasting a hole larger and larger with every blast.
It takes another three shots, reducing the monster to a bloody mass before Seulgi moves on. She knows before taking down another that she’s going to run out of cartridges in the hand cannons, and the electromagnetic shocks from the weapons aren’t going to do much on Nara grade monsters. Ducking out of the way of a razor clawed foot, Seulgi manages to roll under one of the beasts, blocking out the violent screaming hiss it lets out that shocks into a screech as she twists up and slams the heel of her boot into it’s abdomen.
“Right twenty six launch!” screams Seulgi. She grits her teeth as the hidden grenade in her heel detonates and launches up into the beast and explodes. Twisting quickly to avoid the carnage from the charge, Seulgi twists and flings herself to the side just as another hybrid descends upon her.
Twisting to avoid the snapping jaws, she screams as one of the talons from it’s limbs grazes her side, cutting deep. Teeth grit and mind fogging, she grabs for one of the hilts at her waist. The brief click and the crackle of one of the emergency blades swings up, successfully decapitating the beast. A second later, the blade flickers out, and Seulgi stumbles to push up and -
“Stay alive!” shouts in her ear as she’s shoved to the side. Slamming to the ground, Seulgi grunts in pain as something heavy lands on her. The next second, a horrific snarl resonates through the air. Twisting to look up, Irene the woman is gone. In her place is an enormous black panther, the size of a small horse. In one leap it takes down one of the hybrids, tearing the abomination open before leaping to the next one.
Stay alive thunders through Seulgi’s veins as she pushes herself up, grabbing for one of the hand cannons and digging at her waist for a new block of cartridges. She takes down the next one with less ease and finesse, ending the fight with a labored shot to the thing’s spinal column before turning. Irene, a woman again, is standing bare, her body streaked in blood and evidence of a fight.
“You did well,” Seulgi begins, panting and feeling her body ache from the beating of the fight. Before she can continue though, a loud yell rips the air as a figure charges from seemingly out of no where. Seulgi barely has time to react before there’s a loud sickening crack, and the figure falls limp. As it crumples to the ground, Seulgi’s wide eyes find Irene standing just behind him, her teeth bared in a snarl and arms raised from where she’d snapped his neck in one swift move.
Swallowing down at the almost feral expression on Irene’s blood smeared face, Seulgi stills her quivering heart. “Berserker,” she says, looking down at the fallen human. “Good work.”
“Sick,” Irene says, and her voice is darker, as if still stuck in the animal within her. “They all smell sick.”
“They are,” Seulgi says with a bitter smile, looking around at the strewn bodies around them from the attack. Any other mercenary sent into this area would be dead. “They’re all of them very sick.” Her stomach twists into knots looking around at the bodies. “Directory.” There is a gentle crackle, and looking down Seulgi sees her wrist bleeding. The processor was probably damaged somewhat. “Scan of the area.”
“In radius, two units of Nara. Currently unstable.”
“Berserkers,” Seulgi says, and lets out a heavy breath as she looks back to Irene. “You shifted.”
“I lived,” Irene answers her. “As did you. I told you, my body is my weapon.”
Remembering her own emptied cartridges, Seulgi pushes her hair back. “How many was it?” she asks instead, pushing down the rising bile in her throat. She’s tired, and she knows this doesn’t bode well. This is now three nations she’s seen with prototypes preparing for war, meaning it’s closing in on them. A full war, the real final war. She swallows down and breathes out slowly.
“How many what?”
“That you took down?” Seulgi asks, looking up at the shifter. Irene is still bare, blood painting her in a gruesome mockery of art. She has gashes up her arms and some against her stomach, but they’re already closing. It makes Seulgi shiver, her own skin crawling as if trying to mimic it. “I counted my own at-“
“Eight,” Irene answers, her eyes hardening as she looks around the slaughter. “Including the Berserker sick one that was trying to kill you.”
Letting out a long breath, closing her eyes and pushing herself to her feet. She feels heavy, burdened with more than just the weight of her injuries, but also the weight of her conscious. Her heart. “Then it is repaid.”
The suck in of breath from Irene is expected, and Seulgi opens her eyes to see Irene’s eyes almost alight with fury. “What?”
“Your bond, your payment to me,” Seulgi says, pushing down the shake in her voice. It’s dangerous, and while she knows she wouldn’t have survived this attack if not for Irene, she also knows that Irene’s now revealed. Those Berserkers aren’t advancing because they know something’s up. Even crazed warriors know when they’re running into an unstoppable force. And Irene is just that.
“No,” Irene says, a low growl on her voice. “I-“
“You saved my life, now more than once,” Seulgi cuts her off, irritated at her own reluctance to do this. “I bought your freedom, and you just gave me my life. That’s a fair payment. It’s done.”
“The bond doesn't work like that!” Irene snarls, advancing with wildness in her eyes and Seulgi steps back. The action has Irene pausing, her eyes widening. “Don’t- you need me.”
“Why?” Seulgi asks. Irene isn’t safe, not anymore. She’s revealed in enemy territory, and the longer they stay together the more dangers they’re both in. They’ll go hunting for her, and if this ‘bond’ exists, Seulgi’s as much of a target as she is.
Seulgi will be selfish, explain that she’s selfish, taking care of herself first, making sure she’s alive and not in danger. It’s easier to do than to explain the complicated surge of protection knowing she’d just slow Irene down.
“Because you’re lonely,” Irene says, the words cutting into Seulgi.
“I’m a mercenary,” Seulgi says coldly. “We aren’t meant to be social or friendly people. I don’t live for a social life, I live to live, Irene.”
“That doesn't mean you’re not lonely,” Irene throws back, and steps closer. Again, Seulgi steps back, keeping a distance between them as she clenches her teeth. “I’m useful to you. I’m- it’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“So I’ll get another wolf,” Seulgi says, keeping her face stone even as she internally winces. She watches as Irene steps back, a shocked expression on her face. “I wanted one in the first place,” Seulgi adds, digging in the wound. “Are we done? Life for a life, it seems pretty fair payment.”
“But-“
“I’m not your mistress,” Seulgi snaps before Irene can continue. She can see the anger shaking through the shifter, the indignation and she can feel it herself. She’d be blind if she didn’t see how Irene liked her, how she was fond of her to the point of fierce loyalty and devotion. Putting her own life on the line for Seulgi to survive.
But Seulgi didn't ask for a human slave, a servant and pet to die for her in battle. She never asked for that guilt and that depth of connection.
“You’re not my pet and I don’t own you,” Seulgi finishes, turning away from Irene. “So, you’re free. We’re done. Go back to your tribe.”
This time, Irene doesn’t correct her with the familiar reminder that Seulgi has become her tribe, her family, her home. She just stands, smeared in blood and war with a stone-like expression and deep even breaths. She says nothing as she steps back, stopping to snatch her clothing before twisting and in a flurry of ash shifting into the stunning body of the wolf. Seulgi watches her go, a grim line to her mouth as she doesn’t call out for her, never bidding goodbye.
As she gathers up her things and pushes her hair from her face, cursing at the pain shooting up her arms, Seulgi closes her eyes to breathe. “Stay alive,” she murmurs to the earth, knowing that Irene can’t hear her.
✖
Seulgi breathes in deeply through her nose, eyes closed and trying to keep her tongue in her mouth rather than snapping. “I know you were naked before,” Seulgi says. “But am I naked when I go into the city? Am I naked now?”
“No, but that’s only because you don’t want to be,” Irene says, walking with perfectly placed steps among the forest floor with a quirk to her mouth. “You’re choosing to be clothed, just like I’m choosing to be naked. Are you afraid of being naked?”
“No,” Seulgi says, looking at her companion sternly. They’re about an hour from the new city where Seulgi is meeting Joy and Jongin. She’s already received contact from Janus that they’ll pay her in full at the terminal set up there while Krepala is still stalling. Where the money is, Seulgi is, naked shapeshifter or not. “I’m not afraid of being naked. I am perfectly fine being naked, I just like being protected.”
“Doesn’t it get uncomfortable though?” Irene asks, scrunching up her nose and plucking at Seulgi’s jacket. It’s interesting finally knowing what ‘Flower’ would have said during the long walks through the woods. Seulgi might enjoy it more if she weren’t constantly distracted by how Irene also seems to enjoy holding onto her rather than just standing close to her side.
“Sometimes,” Seulgi answers, trying to make the argument for clothing. Especially as they’re going into the city, she’s going to need Irene to be clothed among other civilians. Irene will attract enough attention for her looks; if she’s naked they’ll stand out like a sore thumb and that’s the last thing they need. “I like them though. They’re warm and soft and protect me from things that can hurt me.”
“Like Beasts?”
“Like thorns and brambles and twigs that could scratch me,” Seulgi elaborates and Irene gives her a slowly raising look. “Plus,” she adds, going out on a limb. “You know I don’t mind being naked. You saw me naked before.”
“But you were washing,” Irene points out, easily throwing Seulgi’s argument. “Humans are so strange. Covering up their bodies. Yours is so nice, but you keep wearing all this stuff-“ she begins poking at Seulgi’s outfit, tugging at her shorts and jacket and shirt, hands insistent and hot against her “- when skin is far better.”
As if to emphasize her point, Irene leaps a bit ahead with nymphlike agility, her long hair fanning out behind her as her body twists and moves freely. “Congratulations,” Seulgi tells her, trudging through the undergrowth and throwing her a poorly hidden amused look. “You’re very naked. And still getting clothing when we get to city.”
“What’s the point?” Irene sighs, shaking her hair back from her face. “I can just shift back into a wolf. Or a cat.” She leans into Seulgi, her eyes wide and bright with inquiry. “Which is better?”
“Well, I did buy a wolf-“
It is still hard to get used to, watching Irene’s human form disintegrate in ash-like debris into a completely different shape, this time the familiar one of a wolf.
“Shall I call you ‘Flower’ again, then?” Seulgi asks, looking down at the large wolf and earning a snort and a glare. Seulgi laughs, finally feeling comfortable to reach out and ruffle Irene’s fur, the familiar feeling calming her twaning nerves.
It’s been a few days travel, and despite how firmly Seulgi tells herself that Irene is ‘Flower’ the wolf, it’s been hard to swallow. Sure, Irene acts the same as the wolf, but also differently. There is a vast complexity to Irene that didn’t exist in the silent force of ‘Flower’. To add difficulty, Irene is far more affectionate than ‘Flower’ was, at least on the human scale. She is touchy, almost clingy, and curls up with Seulgi in the nights under the thermal blanket.
There is also the fact that Irene is stunning, a true beauty, and having her literally prancing around buck naked is distracting for the mercenary. That and how Irene keeps calling her ‘mistress’ instead of ‘Seulgi’ and stating her loyalties to her through the Maji bond Jongin had performed, Seulgi is fighting to keep her thoughts tame.
Which brings Seulgi to her biggest dilemma; what to do with her?
“We’ll get you something to wear after I pick up the pay,” Seulgi tells Irene, watching as the wolf walks along side her just as usual. “Don’t give me that look, it’s for the best. You can walk around naked as a wolf but not as a human. People will stare and get suspicious. I don’t want people getting ideas. No arguments,” Seulgi finishes with a firm look at Irene.
She gets a muffled snort in response.
It’s different walking through the city lines this time, the impressive size of Irene beside her, as large as a buck deer and with her massive tail swishing behind her. She’s a force to reckon with, and paired with Seulgi who already has a pretty solid reputation as one of the best in her field, they clear a path. The heads ducking away or turning to stare have Seulgi biting down a smirk in amusement as they pass by.
The borders of Janus are always flanked in the nation’s colors of green and black, the royal insignia branded on nearly every building. The people are similarly decorated, marking foreigners such as Seulgi, who wears her garments of almost entirely black and red and dull green, as outsiders. Hers are the colors of no nation, just as she is of none.
It’s not hard to navigate through the outer city here, most people far more organized than the mazes of Regal and the chaos of Krepala. The transmission to Joy is almost instant, getting a message ping that Seulgi waits to answer until after she’s dealt with a few things.
The Pit here, just like so many, is a mess of noise, people, and the whir of machines. Not looking for much of a job this time, Seulgi simply cues in the codes for the Utopica job and scans her own protected numbers, grinning as she watches her accounts raise by a hundred and sixty credits from the monarchy. “Knew it,” she murmurs under her breath, watching as the screen flashes in completion.
The job was definitely a high priority, especially considering what she did take out back in the Old Ruins. Quickly scrambling to new codes and encryptions, she turns to face the Pit to discover a wide berth has been given to her, most of those in the area avoiding her and the imposing figure of Irene, sitting and glaring with a curled snarl on her snout.
The image surprises a laugh out of Seulgi that has Irene turning to her curiously. “Good girl,” Seulgi says, grin in full force as she rests her hand to the back of Irene’s neck, the Shifter turning to her with a smug glint in her golden eyes.
People part for them like water running down a ridge. As much as Seulgi knows it draws attention to them, she also rather enjoys the way the usual gruff and obnoxious soldiers even get out of her way. She’s used to having to best them on her own as they try to shove into her way and having the clear path is extremely refreshing. Irene seems to certainly be enjoying herself, walking proud with her head held high, as tall as some men, with Seulgi’s hand resting between her shoulders.
The only moment when she resists is when Seulgi instructs her to wait outside of the market stalls as she barters for clothing. “Yes, you’re going to wear them,” Seulgi informs her sharply as the wolf looks at her reproachfully. A few minutes later, Seulgi almost yells in frustration as, while she’s picking over leather pants and a good jacket, Irene steps up beside her.
The vender, an older man with streaks of silver in his beard, nearly drops the items he’s trying to sell as Irene stares him down. “I want those,” the shifter says, pointing completely unabashed at a pair of high-waisted leather shorts and micro mail stockings. “Those and those,” she continues, pointing to a few cropped shirts and a brown leather jacket that.
“No,” Seulgi tries to growl, glaring at Irene as the shifter stands completely nude in the middle of the market stall and stares blithely back.
“You want me to wear clothes and I want those,” Irene tells her frankly. “Plus, the ones you chose are boring. I’ll wear those if I have them.” She smiles, angling her face cutely as she looks at Seulgi. “Or I can just stay naked.”
Seulgi ends up grumbling as she hands over a good twenty-seven credits for clothing for Irene. She’s thankful though when Irene emerges from behind the changing curtain of the market stall. The shorts hug her body nicely, the micromail tights transparent to show the markings against her skin as it extends down her legs to tickle the tops of her high leather boots. The jacket looks nice as well, the cropped top flashing skin as Irene brushes her hair off her shoulder to cascade down her back.
“I would ask how I look, but I’ll just assume from your face I look good,” Irene says, her eyes dancing in amusement as Seulgi shakes herself from staring.
“Are you satisfied with them?” she asks instead, looking up and down Irene’s clothed figure once more. As much as having her naked had been slightly jarring, having her clothed is almost more so. Seulgi shakes herself mentally.
“They’ll do,” Irene says lightly and waves to the red faced vendor as they leave. “They’ll just fall off when I shift.”
“Well, then that will be your problem,” Seulgi says, biting down on the issue rather than letting it stew at the back of her mind.
“Why?” Irene says, stopping with a frown in the middle of the crowded market.
“Because they’re yours,” Seulgi says shortly. The thing she dislikes about the Others most is when they, by all intents are free and their own, have a strange tendency to latch to humans. It’s almost servantile, and Seulgi has never been comfortable with it. Irene’s behavior, following after her is different now Seulgi knows she wasn’t a simple hunting wolf, because…
She’s not. Seulgi wanted a wolf, a companion and a fighter she would care for as a pet, but she didn’t want a person as a pet. That’s not her thing. It reminds her too much of how the nation leaders use their soldiers, sending them off as pawns for slaughter in the war machine that never seems to end. Seulgi doesn’t want to own a person, no matter what genus it originated from.
“You can go now,” Seulgi informs her, stepping back from Irene’s shocked expression. “You- I’m not your master. I bought you because of a miscommunication and you’re not my property.” Seulgi’s chest tightens. “You’re not anyone’s property.”
“I don’t want to go,” Irene tells her flatly, her face fallen. “You’re-“
“I’m a mercenary, and you’re not a hunting wolf,” Seulgi continues. “For fuck’s sake, the only reason you were under that impression was due to a bonding spell from Jongin, and that fixation implant before. So-“ Seulgi takes in a sharp breath, staring down the glare Irene is directing at her. “You’re free to go. Take the clothing as collateral, your half of the pay for the job we just got back from.”
“That’s not how business works,” Irene counters, stepping up close when Seulgi makes to leave. “I like spending time with you. You bought me, and technically I chose you as my mistress-“
“Stop calling me that,” Seulgi says, bristling and stepping back. The shocked look on Irene’s face has her letting out a long breath, pulling Irene to the side of the market street. “Look, no debts. Okay? I forgive them all. So go be free and do what you want. Go back to your tribe.”
“They’re dead,” Irene tells her flatly. “You’re my tribe.” Seulgi wants to groan in frustration. There is a large part of her that just wants to say ‘screw it’ and let Irene stay with her. The rational part of her knows how dangerous it is to travel in pairs, how easily that can be manipulated against her.
She’s… fond of Irene. First of her as a wolf, but more as a woman. She likes her, even if Irene tends to talk in circles, she’s a bright creature and Seulgi finds herself more and more interested in her even as she knows the dangers of that inclination.
Irene would do better to not tie herself to anyone. Shifters are trapped and hunted for good reason: war. They’re bound, like Irene supposedly was with the fixation implant, into servitude towards a militia, and used for their skills and with twisted loyalties and control to spy and shift. They’re treated as both prized gem and expendable commodities.
Irene attracts attention, both as a wolf and even more so now as a beautiful young woman. Despite her own misgivings, Seulgi feels protective of her, and the rational part of her knows Irene is safer away from her life. From Seulgi’s world, this world.
“I’m no one’s tribe,” Seulgi tells her flatly.
“You’re mine,” Irene tells her, and the defiance in her voice is so strong it rings. “I was bound to you, and you are my tribe.”
The communicator at Seulgi’s wrist pings and Seulgi almost swears in relief. The message is from Jongin, and she immediately opens it half furious. “You fucking bastard,” she snaps at the projected image of Jongin. “Where the hell are you?”
“What did I do?” Jongin asks, freshly shaven (finally) and looking entirely flabbergasted.
“You cocked up my life, you dipshit,” Seulgi snarls at him. “Are you at the Pens?”
“Gaogil,” Jongin answers, opening and closing his mouth like a guppy out of water. “What did I-“
“Don’t move,” Seulgi snaps, turning to glance at Irene. “I’m coming to you.”
“Who’s that?” Jongin asks, looking at Irene in confusion as Seulgi closes down the transmission.
“I’ll break his arms,” Seulgi huffs, running a hand through her hair as she looks up at Irene. The shifter is still frowning, staring at the communicator.
“I still can’t believe he called me ‘Flower’,” Irene says, and her voice is edged. “What sort of moron is he?”
“Want to tell him?” Seulgi proposes. She could do with a distraction, and the look on Irene’s face is enough to make her feel a bit better about this mess she’s gotten into.
✖
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” is the first thing Jongin says as Seulgi strides up to his table in the Gaogil Tavern. The next thing Jongin says is “please! I’m sorry for whatever I did ow! Ow! Ow that hurts!” as Seulgi’s vice-like grip tightens at the back of his neck and hauls him out of his seat.
“You shithead,” Seulgi snarls at him, dropping him back into his seat. He hunkers down, looking up at her with baleful eyes and a soft whine. Huffing with agitation, Seulgi pulls out one of the other chairs at the roughly scrubbed table and takes her place opposite him. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Who is she then?” Jongin asks, blinking in confusion.
“You sold her to me, you fuckwit,” Seulgi growls low. Instantly, Jongin’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, his face draining of color. Slowly, he turns to look up at Irene, who is presently glaring down at him with her arms folded over her bosom. She snaps her teeth at him, and Seulgi pushes down a smirk as her eyes flash gold.
“She…”
“I’m a shifter,” Irene tells him. Seulgi winces as her voice is just a bit too loud. Swiftly, she tugs her down into the chair next to her and then ignores the pleased look on Irene’s face when she turns to her.
“You sold me a shifter, dogbreath, not a hunting wolf, and I want my money back,” Seulgi tells Jongin. Half of it is in jest, because she does know that Jongin probably had no clue and was more excited about ‘Flower’s existence than the fact she might not actually be a wolf. “This is bad business.”
“If anything, I should charge you more,” Jongin grumbles at her, hunching over the table. “I sold you the highest pricing specimen on the market for dirt.” Irene lets out a low threatening growl at this and Seulgi stares at her long time friend. “I’m serious,” Jongin protests, though he withdraws a bit, looking at Irene warily. “Do you have any idea how much she’s worth?”
“More than you are,” Seulgi says with an edge to her voice.
“More than any job you could ever take,” Jongin tells her, his voice low and serious.
“So, what, you did me a favor?” Seulgi snaps, anger boiling under her skin. “I asked to buy a wolf, Jongin, not some hot selling market item you didn’t even know you had.”
“I wouldn’t have sold her if I’d know,” Jongin says, and his voice is softer with apology as he looks at Irene. “I’m sorry Flower.” Irene immediately snarls and bristles, Jongin’s eyes widening in shock.
“Do you have any idea how much she dislikes that name?” Seulgi asks calmly as Irene continues to glare at Jongin and Jongin shrinks back into his chair. Jongin was never built for dealing with people, to shy and awkward around them. He was always more comfortable with his dogs, his wolves and his breeds.
“A lot?” Jongin proposes with a weak attempt at a smile.
“I hate it,” Irene grinds out through grit teeth, her elongating nails digging into the table where she clenches it.
“Oh,” Jongin says and shrinks a bit more. “I’m sorry, I thought it was a nice name.” Irene snorts at him. “I can’t give you a refund.”
“Why?”
“Suspicion,” Jongin answers and his eyes remain on Irene. “It’d be strange if I sold you a wolf and then you showed up with a woman and sometimes have a wolf and sometimes other creatures and I gave you your money back.” His eyes slide over to Seulgi and they’re harder, more calculating, resonating to that deeper intelligence Jongin buries inside himself. “Do you really want more attention than Flower already gets?”
Ignoring the growl from Irene, Seulgi leans over the table to him. “What do you suggest I do? She’s bound to me because of your infernal Maji tricks and-“
“No, she’s not,” Jongin interrupts with a soft laugh. “That seal only works for the first few days while the dogs get accustomed to their new masters. The bond from then on is entire between the master and-“
“Mistress,” Irene corrects bluntly. Seulgi twitches.
“their pet.”
“I’m not a pet,” Irene says before Seulgi can defend her. “I’m more than that, you ignorant Witch.”
Gaping at her, Jongin shakes his head. “I never said you- I was just explaining-“
“You know nothing of how the bondings truly work, aside from the dabbling in the Maji crafts from Sector 51, you-“
“Irene,” Seulgi interrupts sharply as the other woman’s voice rises in volume and venom. Immediately, Irene stills, sitting back with a glare at Jongin but quiet.
Looking between the two of them, comprehension seems to dawn over Jongin’s face. “Ah,” he says, and a soft smile plays about his mouth. “You’ve bonded.”
“She’s my tribe,” Irene says simply. Jongin’s eyes widen. Something tells Seulgi that the implications of this are beyond what she knows and that they’re certainly incorrect.
“I don’t want a human bonded to me-“
“I’m not human,” Irene cuts in with a pointed look.
“-so fix it,” Seulgi finishes, glaring at Jongin.
To her immense annoyance (and dismay), Jongin laughs. Head thrown back and shoulders shaking as the sound radiates from him, he laughs until his eyes glisten and then, catching his breath, turns back to her sour face. “I can’t fix it,” he tells her simply. “She’s chosen you as her mistress.”
“I’m not anyone’s mistress,” Seulgi says flatly. “And I forgive all debts.”
“It’s not as simple as debts,” Jongin says, and looks a bit apologetically at Irene. “Why are you still with her if you’re not longer bound to your wolf form?”
“She’s…” Irene falters, and looks at Seulgi. The look in her gaze suggests something more than Seulgi knows or understands, a loyalty that she’s not familiar with and deeper flickers and colors that she doesn't know. Irene is her own person, and Seulgi isn’t going to keep her on a leash. “She freed me from the prison of the implant,” the shifter finally says, her voice edged. “I owe her my freedom.”
“I give it to you,” Seulgi says.
“It’s not that simple,” Jongin tells her and Seulgi’s frown increases. “These… these are oaths and pledges that are deeper than just our human versions. We don’t understand them here on earth, but-“
“They’re finite,” Irene says flatly, her eyes never having left Seulgi. “Until repaid.”
“So,” Seulgi says, churning through all the information. “If you repay this freedom to me, then our bond is over?” Irene doesn’t answer, only stares at Seulgi as if trying to speak with her beyond words.
“It would seem that way,” Jongin says, voice quieter as he looks between the two woman. “Though, I may be mistaken, but I also think that perhaps Flow-“
“Yes,” Irene says, cutting off Jongin. “Until then, I will be by your side and with you as is custom from our bond.” The constant insistence on this ‘bond’ keeps a crawl traveling over Seulgi’s skin, warmer and warmer as if sinking into her flesh.
It feels like even just this conversation is bonding them further.
“It’ll be safer if she’s with you actually,” Jongin tells them. “Though I would suggest you keep to your human form until out of sight. It draws less attention than you constantly shifting, which will easily get you both slaughtered. Or at least, Seulgi.”
“Awesome,” Seulgi says dryly.
“I won’t let any harm her,” Irene says almost viciously, her eyes alight with fire as she takes in Jongin. “None.”
“Oh good,” Jongin says, smiling in what Seulgi assumes he intends to be a supportive way.
The next few hours are spent with the three of them discussing in a quiet corner of Gaogil how Irene should behave to convince prying eyes she’s not a target. A brief respite to the bar tips Seulgi off about a job for Krepala she can take after she picks up her bounty from the Republic. The conversation with the barkeep is enough of a break for her to clear her head, looking back at Irene and Jongin crouched over the table in quiet conversation.
Irene is, if anything, more affectionate. Already latching onto the ideas and patterns that Jongin explains about integration into the human world (that Seulgi never would have considered), she leans into Seulgi’s space. She’s fiercely intelligent, enthusiastic about learning and almost vicious about her ideas and herself.
Yet there’s something so inexplicably soft about her, the way she laughs and tries to joke in the ‘human’ way that goes straight over Seulgi’s head but has Jongin in stitches. It almost makes Seulgi feel more human.
Standing at the bar and looking at the shifter and Maji, Seulgi realizes that’s what she’d wanted a companion for in the first place; to remind her of her humanity. Out in the wilderness, surrounded by war and her jobs to slaughter nameless combatants or Beasts, she was beginning to forget it. It’s lonely, forgetting who she is, and first ‘Flower’ and now Irene are bringing it to life once more within her.
It helps remind Seulgi why she’s out there, fighting monsters and taking these jobs. She’s fighting for those who can’t, for those who don’t have the neutrality and are just all stuck in this mess of a war machine.
It reminds her that there’s something she’s fighting for aside from money. Irene gives her something to fight for, in both herself and in the shifter.
The warmth in her chest, spreading wide and fast shocks her. As does the sudden turn from Irene, fixing her eyes swirling with so many colors and hues on her own.
The shiver in her chest is harder to ignore when Seulgi rejoins the table, giving them all fresh drinks. She doesn’t pull away when Irene leans automatically into her, hand slipping to rest against her thigh and inclining into her space.
For a moment, Seulgi almost forgets about the agreement that she’ll let Irene leave as soon as the repayment is complete.
Then Jongin places down his glass and the sound knocks her from her reverie, and she shoves herself back into the harshness of reality.
✖
In grand total, the sum from the Utopica job that took out seven thousand experimental soldiers as close to close to three hundred credits. It ranks the best paying job Seulgi has ever taken. It also appears the last at least semi-neutral well paying job that Seulgi will take in a while. Despite Joy’s initially disappointment in how her ‘baby’ turned out to be a woman much older than she who insisted on sharing a bed with Seulgi, the two had gotten along quite well.
Seulgi had left Joy in the Krepala borders as she and Irene left for a new job, something along the lines of taking down scouts from Nara.
If Seulgi has a bias against any of the nations, it’s Nara. The nation itself is founded on beliefs, radical ones at that, and operates most of its tactics through devotion and terrorism. The majority of the people she’s met in Nara are all brainwashed or terrified into silence, afraid that speaking up against the might of their ‘Gods’ will bring their deaths.
Seulgi would tell them otherwise if she didn’t see the spidering lines of the corroded implants under their skin, poisoning them and monitoring them constantly. They’re slaves, in the best of lights, to the priesthood that run the nation and almost all of them addicts to the ‘divine waters’ that are distributed to counteract the effects of the corroded implant chips.
Most of the scouts or troops sent from Nara in it’s guerrilla warfare system (they’d given up on missionaries long ago after the other nations condemned their demands for blood sacrifice) have the reputation of being the nastiest. Usually hyped up on ideals and various mutations of the latest drugs and stimulants, they’re labeled ‘Berserkers’ after the demons of the old world.
Normal humans until sent into the war, when they transform into insane violence driven monsters, fighting even past the point when a normal soldier would die. More terrifying is that they somehow have the Nyx, the Others in control of magic, or abstract energies, on their side.
In short, when the job came up, Seulgi had no issue in taking it and leaving the borders of Krepala to go and blow up half their Wilderness borderlands.
“Why do you hate them so much?” Irene had asked when she’d watched Seulgi read over the job details.
“It’s personal,” Seulgi answered her curtly. She doesn’t like talking about the Nyx. She doesn’t hate them, but they set her on edge. As much as she respects Wendy, the woman’s use of her Nyx blood and powers has always made her uneasy.
Even if Wendy and many of the neutral land Nyx use their powers primarily for healing, she’s seen it used for much worse ends.
She had thought the topic dropped as Irene let it go, instead turning to talk about the combat skills she used to know. Seulgi is fascinated by her stories, the shifter apparently once having been one of the prime warriors groomed for their tribe. She’d been trained in a sort of dance form of martial combat, showing a bit to Seulgi that left her breathless with how beautiful it looked. And how lethal.
“Shifters use their bodies,” Irene had explained after besting even Seulgi in hand to hand sparring. She was smiling and breathless and Seulgi found herself winded from more than just the kicks to her chest. “They’re our weapon, and we have to train them to perfection. They’re our tools, and we use them to speak, fight, and live.”
“It sounds exhausting,” Seulgi had commented, smiling as Irene had rolled off with an air of playfulness to sprawl in the leaves.
“Only if you make it so,” Irene had said and then laughed. Seulgi wasn’t really sure what was funny, but found herself joining in anyway.
The laughter has died by the time they reach the borders of the Nara Wilderness. The wood itself is different, the sounds of the animals and birds quieted to a hush and the trees twisted and almost alien.
“Remember,” Seulgi tells Irene, turning to her before the venture into the area. “You can’t-“
“Shift, I know,” Irene says, and smirks smugly at her. “I’m not stupid, I know how to not get killed. It’s not like I’ve never been in battle before.”
“Fighting as a wolf and fighting as a human are different,” Seulgi tells her, ignoring how this degree of worry is unusual for her.
“And you know from personal experience,” Irene goads, and then laughs a bit, dancing from Seulgi into the wood. “Take care of yourself, and let me take care of me.”
The walk through the area is tedious, constant scans from the processor chip for mines or life that seems to be nonexistent and Seulgi trying to keep her wits about her. Nara puts her on edge, and the last thing she needs to be is anxious when out here. Stress is a good thing, but not if it impedes her ability to function.
The only distraction she has is Irene, who looks almost the phantom of how she was when in her wolf form. She’s rigid with attentiveness and responding to sights and sounds and smells Seulgi can’t detect. Her eyes keep flickering between their rich brown to a mess of other colors, gold flickering to blue to red to green to red.
Seulgi had, at one point, nearly yelled out at her when she’d noticed Irene hosting a pair of what was clearly cat ears atop her human head, twitching for sound in replacement of her own ears. “Don’t do that,” Seulgi hisses, trying to calm her racing heart. The trees may very well be wired with surveillance, and they on film.
The scans from her own processor don’t indicate as such, but Seulgi knows when to trust instinct and when to trust technology. Technology has never saved her ass in a fight; instinct has.
“It was only for a second,” Irene pouts at her and in a flutter of ash the ears vanish. “Happy?” she asks with a huff.
“Euphoric,” Seulgi answers with a wan smile. She sputters and jerks back a moment later as Irene swoops far too close and licks her face. “What-! What did you-“
“Sh,” Irene tells her, scrunching up her nose pointedly and looking dead serious. “We have to be quiet.”
“You just-“
“You smell like me now,” Irene tells her, though there’s a glimmer to her eyes that speaks mischief. “Now it’s easier to keep track of you.”
“And you’re the one who kept calling me mistress,” Seulgi grumbles as Irene walks a bit from her, spanning the distance and keeping visibility. “Why do I feel like I’m the one being led around on a leash sometimes?”
After their first night in Janus, Seulgi had found herself with Irene as a bedmate. While this had been fine when Seulgi had thought Irene was a wolf, now, she’s much more aware of it.
“You didn't mind before,” was Irene’s argument with a note of dejected hurt in her voice.
“You were a wolf.” Seulgi long learned to give up on arguing with her on this, as Irene failed to see what difference this made at all. In her mind, nothing is different, especially seeing as humans were just strange animals that rejected being naked. The more time she spends with Irene, the more she feels as if she’s being slowly tamed by her, the notions and ideas she has about the world filtered through a completely different lens.
Irene isn’t human, but neither is she animal. It puts a whole different perspective on the wars and the stupidity of humans for fighting for power that Seulgi was already fed up with. Irene, in many ways, is smarter than Seulgi is, simply because she understands this on such a level that it’s natural to her.
It makes Seulgi all the more aware of her, cautious about her, and curious about her. Lying in the night in the small tent under the thermal blanket with Irene pressed warmly to her side, she wonders if the slow prickling crawl over her skin is a bond or something else.
A low whistle pulls Seulgi from her thoughts, looking up sharply to its origin. Irene is frozen a few meters away, poised behind a tree and staring into the wood. A second later Seulgi smells it, the acrid stench of burning flesh.
They’re close.
Catching Irene’s eye, she gives a small hand gesture to proceed carefully. With luck, they won’t have to take long. Just a few charges and some quick kills and the targets will be take care of quickly.
In a gully just after a large ridge is a small encampment. Looking down into it, Seulgi can recognize the insignia, the gray, red, and yellow branding on all of the materials. There are about six of them, men in minimal garb wandering about the camp. Their clothing, which doesn’t offer much protection, is typical of Nara.
Even at this distance, Seulgi can see the spidering black along their veins, seeping poisons into their bodies and killing them. She can also see the cases of the antidotes and, assumedly, their drugs for war. They once had used capsules placed in pulled molars, but too many were implanted incorrectly, and soldiers bit into them during meals, massacring entire villages when on rampage from the drugs effects.
At least that’s what Seulgi has heard from the reports that leak from Nara. Disturbingly enough, those are the nicer of the reports.
Carefully, Seulgi takes in the surrounding area. “Directory,” she murmurs, keeping her voice quiet. “Scan area within 100 meters of life forms and Nara operatives.”
“At present,” the implant replies, volume regulated softer in accordance with her own quiet voice. “Seven units within visual range. At 100 meters range, no Nara units active or present. At 500 meters range, no Nara units active or present. At distance 620, three units and one-“
“Confirmed,” Seulgi says, cutting the report off before it burdens her with unnecessary statistics. She’ll worry about the other three units and their… whatever it is after she takes out this group.
Unlocking one of the charges from her belt, she cradles the cylinder in her hand. It would be wise to take out the seven men below before any of them can react and get their fixes to attack.
Glancing to check Irene’s status, Seulgi breathes a low long breath upon seeing her. She’s crouched, poised and ready to fly down the gully into attack. Catching Seulgi’s eye, she nods once and sets back, waiting for cue to run.
Pulling back behind a tree, Seulgi quickly calibrates the charge, and then leans back to see the encampment once more. The crates near the center are curious, something she’s never seen before, but she doubts they’re good. They make as good a target as any, especially since this charge isn’t going to collapse into nothing. It’s just going to blow everything sky high.
Inserting the charge into one of the empty barrels of one of her hand cannons, Seulgi takes careful aim, setting the firearm to silent and propulsion only. Taking aim, she targets the side of one of the crates and fires.
The charge affixes instantly against the wood paneling of the crate, latching on and a soft beep at Seulgi’s wrist informs her of the count down. Without wanting to pause, she turns, motioning for Irene to follow her, and runs. She’ll worry about sound later, as for now she just wants distance between her and when that charge goes off against the crates.
“What were those?” Irene asks, easily running to her side as they sprint. Flinging herself down behind a rock that juts up in the wood, pressing back against it for protection, Seulgi turns to her wide inquisitive eyes.
“Nara infantry,” Seulgi explains, slightly breathless and keeping her voice down.
“No, I saw those,” Irene says. “I mean the other creatures. The ones trapped in the boxes.”
“The-“ Seulgi’s blood goes cold. “What boxes?”
“The ones in the center of the camp. They smelled so strange, and they-“
“Fuck!” Seulgi spits, twisting and fumbling for her pack, searching for the main external for the processor at her wrist. She knew those crates were suspicious, but- “They’re not creatures,” Seulgi spits, rushing for the override for the charge. How could she have been so stupid. “They’re-“
Seulgi’s fingers have just closed around the external when the charge goes off, the explosion blasting in a shock wave through the air and swallowing all sound. What’s worse is it’s accompanied by an almighty screaming wail, shrill and piercing, like iron against glass and twisting Seulgi’s stomach to curdle.
“They’re hybrids.”
The newest abomination from Nara that she’d heard gossip of months ago. The distorted mutation of the Beasts and the creatures that Utopica had made, perfected by Nara’s finest. They’re worse than anything before, infused with the impervious aspects of the Nyx, they’re creatures from nightmares.
Where humans and the Berserkers fall finally to death, these new hybrids were rumored to fight past death, instead awakened by it.
The wraith soldiers.
The screaming continues, rising higher and higher on the air and Seulgi pushes down the terror that fills her as she hastily grabs for both hand cannons. Turning to Irene, she says the only thing that matters; “stay alive.”
Flinging out behind the rock, Seulgi sees the first one. It’s crawling in a sort of spider-like gait over the ground, hissing as it moves so fast she can barely track it’s movement. It’s half blown apart, red skinned and seared yet still very alive and very much deadly.
It looks like the strange mutation between a human and spider, too many limbs and a gaping hanging jaw like something out of nightmares with glowing ice blue eyes. A true abomination.
More of them approach, crawling over the hill, about a dozen, and Seulgi doesn’t waste time before opening fire. At least the hits of the hand cannon seem to slow them down, their shrieking screams rising in volume as they approach.
The most useful thing the hits do is show the weakness of the monster’s limbs, tearing them clean off.
“Please don’t have a hydra gene, please for the love of sanity, don’t have a hydra gene,” Seulgi prays under her breath, running as fast as she can from the approaching hybrid and swallowing down her revulsion at the thing. She hits it twice square in between the eyes, blasting a hole larger and larger with every blast.
It takes another three shots, reducing the monster to a bloody mass before Seulgi moves on. She knows before taking down another that she’s going to run out of cartridges in the hand cannons, and the electromagnetic shocks from the weapons aren’t going to do much on Nara grade monsters. Ducking out of the way of a razor clawed foot, Seulgi manages to roll under one of the beasts, blocking out the violent screaming hiss it lets out that shocks into a screech as she twists up and slams the heel of her boot into it’s abdomen.
“Right twenty six launch!” screams Seulgi. She grits her teeth as the hidden grenade in her heel detonates and launches up into the beast and explodes. Twisting quickly to avoid the carnage from the charge, Seulgi twists and flings herself to the side just as another hybrid descends upon her.
Twisting to avoid the snapping jaws, she screams as one of the talons from it’s limbs grazes her side, cutting deep. Teeth grit and mind fogging, she grabs for one of the hilts at her waist. The brief click and the crackle of one of the emergency blades swings up, successfully decapitating the beast. A second later, the blade flickers out, and Seulgi stumbles to push up and -
“Stay alive!” shouts in her ear as she’s shoved to the side. Slamming to the ground, Seulgi grunts in pain as something heavy lands on her. The next second, a horrific snarl resonates through the air. Twisting to look up, Irene the woman is gone. In her place is an enormous black panther, the size of a small horse. In one leap it takes down one of the hybrids, tearing the abomination open before leaping to the next one.
Stay alive thunders through Seulgi’s veins as she pushes herself up, grabbing for one of the hand cannons and digging at her waist for a new block of cartridges. She takes down the next one with less ease and finesse, ending the fight with a labored shot to the thing’s spinal column before turning. Irene, a woman again, is standing bare, her body streaked in blood and evidence of a fight.
“You did well,” Seulgi begins, panting and feeling her body ache from the beating of the fight. Before she can continue though, a loud yell rips the air as a figure charges from seemingly out of no where. Seulgi barely has time to react before there’s a loud sickening crack, and the figure falls limp. As it crumples to the ground, Seulgi’s wide eyes find Irene standing just behind him, her teeth bared in a snarl and arms raised from where she’d snapped his neck in one swift move.
Swallowing down at the almost feral expression on Irene’s blood smeared face, Seulgi stills her quivering heart. “Berserker,” she says, looking down at the fallen human. “Good work.”
“Sick,” Irene says, and her voice is darker, as if still stuck in the animal within her. “They all smell sick.”
“They are,” Seulgi says with a bitter smile, looking around at the strewn bodies around them from the attack. Any other mercenary sent into this area would be dead. “They’re all of them very sick.” Her stomach twists into knots looking around at the bodies. “Directory.” There is a gentle crackle, and looking down Seulgi sees her wrist bleeding. The processor was probably damaged somewhat. “Scan of the area.”
“In radius, two units of Nara. Currently unstable.”
“Berserkers,” Seulgi says, and lets out a heavy breath as she looks back to Irene. “You shifted.”
“I lived,” Irene answers her. “As did you. I told you, my body is my weapon.”
Remembering her own emptied cartridges, Seulgi pushes her hair back. “How many was it?” she asks instead, pushing down the rising bile in her throat. She’s tired, and she knows this doesn’t bode well. This is now three nations she’s seen with prototypes preparing for war, meaning it’s closing in on them. A full war, the real final war. She swallows down and breathes out slowly.
“How many what?”
“That you took down?” Seulgi asks, looking up at the shifter. Irene is still bare, blood painting her in a gruesome mockery of art. She has gashes up her arms and some against her stomach, but they’re already closing. It makes Seulgi shiver, her own skin crawling as if trying to mimic it. “I counted my own at-“
“Eight,” Irene answers, her eyes hardening as she looks around the slaughter. “Including the Berserker sick one that was trying to kill you.”
Letting out a long breath, closing her eyes and pushing herself to her feet. She feels heavy, burdened with more than just the weight of her injuries, but also the weight of her conscious. Her heart. “Then it is repaid.”
The suck in of breath from Irene is expected, and Seulgi opens her eyes to see Irene’s eyes almost alight with fury. “What?”
“Your bond, your payment to me,” Seulgi says, pushing down the shake in her voice. It’s dangerous, and while she knows she wouldn’t have survived this attack if not for Irene, she also knows that Irene’s now revealed. Those Berserkers aren’t advancing because they know something’s up. Even crazed warriors know when they’re running into an unstoppable force. And Irene is just that.
“No,” Irene says, a low growl on her voice. “I-“
“You saved my life, now more than once,” Seulgi cuts her off, irritated at her own reluctance to do this. “I bought your freedom, and you just gave me my life. That’s a fair payment. It’s done.”
“The bond doesn't work like that!” Irene snarls, advancing with wildness in her eyes and Seulgi steps back. The action has Irene pausing, her eyes widening. “Don’t- you need me.”
“Why?” Seulgi asks. Irene isn’t safe, not anymore. She’s revealed in enemy territory, and the longer they stay together the more dangers they’re both in. They’ll go hunting for her, and if this ‘bond’ exists, Seulgi’s as much of a target as she is.
Seulgi will be selfish, explain that she’s selfish, taking care of herself first, making sure she’s alive and not in danger. It’s easier to do than to explain the complicated surge of protection knowing she’d just slow Irene down.
“Because you’re lonely,” Irene says, the words cutting into Seulgi.
“I’m a mercenary,” Seulgi says coldly. “We aren’t meant to be social or friendly people. I don’t live for a social life, I live to live, Irene.”
“That doesn't mean you’re not lonely,” Irene throws back, and steps closer. Again, Seulgi steps back, keeping a distance between them as she clenches her teeth. “I’m useful to you. I’m- it’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“So I’ll get another wolf,” Seulgi says, keeping her face stone even as she internally winces. She watches as Irene steps back, a shocked expression on her face. “I wanted one in the first place,” Seulgi adds, digging in the wound. “Are we done? Life for a life, it seems pretty fair payment.”
“But-“
“I’m not your mistress,” Seulgi snaps before Irene can continue. She can see the anger shaking through the shifter, the indignation and she can feel it herself. She’d be blind if she didn’t see how Irene liked her, how she was fond of her to the point of fierce loyalty and devotion. Putting her own life on the line for Seulgi to survive.
But Seulgi didn't ask for a human slave, a servant and pet to die for her in battle. She never asked for that guilt and that depth of connection.
“You’re not my pet and I don’t own you,” Seulgi finishes, turning away from Irene. “So, you’re free. We’re done. Go back to your tribe.”
This time, Irene doesn’t correct her with the familiar reminder that Seulgi has become her tribe, her family, her home. She just stands, smeared in blood and war with a stone-like expression and deep even breaths. She says nothing as she steps back, stopping to snatch her clothing before twisting and in a flurry of ash shifting into the stunning body of the wolf. Seulgi watches her go, a grim line to her mouth as she doesn’t call out for her, never bidding goodbye.
As she gathers up her things and pushes her hair from her face, cursing at the pain shooting up her arms, Seulgi closes her eyes to breathe. “Stay alive,” she murmurs to the earth, knowing that Irene can’t hear her.
✖