World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - Boundaries [Fin]

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[night of 6 Aug 2008]

I feel so goddamned stupid....

Staking out the house had made perfect sense. Had continued doing so, in fact, right up until she started doing it. As she spent her third - or was it fourth? - hour leaning up against a tree at the corner of Wyton and Hilgard, staying as close to the shadows as possible and desperately hoping that some passing cop wouldn't decide she was dealing or selling something, it seemed a whole lot less sensible.

Then again, the other option - walking up and ringing the bell - didn't sound all that palatable either, given what she knew. Once again, her cold hand ran along coarse bark until it met the bare, grooved wood of the marking she had first noticed nights earlier. Memory of exactly what that mark meant came back to her, and dead or not, she shuddered with the phantom pain. No, walking up and ringing the fucking bell was definitely off the menu.

Waiting here at the bounds was 'legal', she knew... and if the owner - who I sure as hell bet is that Declan guy - didn't notice her at the edge of his territory, he would have to be one hell of a piss-poor excuse for a werewolf.

[Owns-The-Night]

Sarah's patience, close as it was to snapping, paid off in the end. A lean, broad-shouldered figure clad in t-shirt, trainers and shorts emerged from the UCLA campus grounds. He moved easily across the streetlit road, obviously just come back from finishing a run, his gait a tireless lope all-too recognisable to Sarah, even if he was in the Hishu form.

Declan was sweating nicely, feeling the burn of his thighs and calves and welcoming it as an old friend. Two hours boxing in the gym, then another hour running to burn off nervous energy and stop him going fucking crazy. He slowed as he reached his front gate, breathing steadily, and paced back and forth for a moment.

Suddenly he stopped, his hairs prickling as the he realised that there was a slender figure watching him from the shadows of a tree. A tree carrying one of his markers. The Uratha turned full-on towards her, his silver gaze studying her impassively. He neither moved towards her nor away, but merely watched intently, seeing what she would do.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Well, you've got his attention; better damned well do something with it.

Calling out in a voice loud enough to carry to the alerted man without being so loud as to wake up the neighbors, Sarah asked, "Mind if I come over and talk with you for a moment, Declan? It's Sarah; we met at the party a few nights ago." As she did so, her hand ran over to and around the marking on the tree; if he was what she was pretty sure he was, he'd know that she was making clear that she was aware of and trying to respect his territory. At least, that was her hope.

[Owns-The-Night]

Declan noticed, all right. He looked from the tree to her, and smiled wryly at the red-haired young woman. Definitely Wolf-blooded. He glanced around once, scenting the air to make sure she was alone, then nodded.

"Come on in. You're invited." He said with a wave of his hand, motioning her over to him. As she approached, he opened to gate and waited there watching her.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah nodded back. Good enough, she thought as she sent a bit of her precious vitae to flush out her skin to at least the semblance of life, then emerged from the shadows to stalk her way to and through the open gate. Her eyes flickered back and forth; given some of the packs she'd dealt with in the past, it wasn't unreasonable to half-expect more of Declan's kind to be hidden about, waiting to see if this visitor would need to be dealt with in more violent ways than a mere turning away. That none emerged didn't really do much to reduce the edge; she managed a nervous smile to her host and a murmered, "thanks," before assuming a respectful posture.

"Figured when you mentioned your place up the street at the party that this had to be yours. Unless I've done a bad recon job, all of UCLA and this house are yours, right?"

[Owns-The-Night]

He looked her up and down nodding in both acknowledgement and approval. "Yeah. It's mine. I'm guessing you want to talk, so come on in."

With that he led the way up the short path past the chainlink fence. The yard was well-kept, even having a small garden area under the front window. The house itself was a two-storey affair, otherwise indistinguishable from the other's on this street. Declan led his visitor around the side path and onto the back porch. A moment's work with keys and Sarah stood on the threshold of the kitchen as Declan entered, flicking a switch and flooding the room with dim golden light.

The kitchen was as unremarkable as the outside of the place. About the only thing that stood out was the absolute lack of clutter. No cups left by the sink, no utensils left out, no mail or newspapers left piled up on the counter. The place did not seem sterile as such; just well-kept and unlived-in to the point of being spartan. Declan crossed the tiled floor and opened his refrigerator.

"Don't mind me." he told Sarah as he rummaged for, and procured, a carton of juice. "I'm thirsty enough that if you dumped my ass in the Pacific, it'd be a damn dustbowl before the first splash had stopped. You want anything? Got juice, a few beers, and milk." He stepped to one side, leaving the fridge open as he raised the carton to his lips and drank greedily, his throat working as he swallowed.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

As had Lucien's palace several nights before, the spartan nature of Declan's more humble abode rested well with Sarah's sensibilities. The beverage options, on the other hand, didn't do a thing for her other than to remind Sarah of her own unholy thirst.

"I'll pass, if that's OK. Funky digestion." Watching Declan chugg his juice certainly wasn't helping any; every swallow brought the veins out in stark relief on his well-muscled neck, a temptation with every pulse.

Still, even if she had been crazy enough to try a move on a werewolf in his own den, he wouldn't have been on the menu. Juan had made that point very, very clear to her, shortly before he brought her to meet the Ajo Runners: "Never feed from them if you can help it, Sarah. Their blood runs hot, and will excite your beast beyond your control."

Clamping down hard on her hunger, Sarah tried for conversation. As she was anything but a stellar conversationalist, her point was as subtle as a brick. "You said this is yours. Is that a plural yours, as in part of a pack, or just yours and yours alone? Lawson's Pride back in Barstow mentioned a pack somewhere near UCLA, but they didn't say anything about it being on the campus itself."

[Owns-The-Night]

"It's mine alone. I don't have a pack... yet." Declan said as he lowered the half-empty carton. That might have to change he mentally added, pondering Amber and the lady cop.

"Nearest pack to UCLA is over Topanga way, west of here." he nodded in the general direction, setting the carton back in the fridge and shutting the door. He leaned against the counter, hands braced on the edge, and regarded her with quiet curiousity.

"You're wolf-blooded, aren't you? And you're not from L.A, or you'd likely already know about the Topanga pack. So what brings you here?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Topanga... the park up in the hills to the northwest, right? Good to know." Sarah was making mental notes at the same time as she tried to determine how much to tell this lone wolf.

Then he asked a rather pointed question of his own. For a long moment, she considered dodging the truth; after all, she was on his turf, and if things went bad there was little doubt about his rather quick and brutal victory. But when push came to shove, Sarah knew that she'd likely have to work with Declan from time to time... and that she still couldn't lie worth a damn.

"I... wasn't quite wolf-blooded, though most of my family is either blooded or the real deal. I was raised around that, back east, so I'm more than a little familiar with the culture. In fact, they sent me out to find my younger cousin, a young wolf-blood who took off about three years ago heading west. But that was before. Now..."

Colour drained from her skin, taking the already-pale Irish flesh to a deathly pallor. Heart and breath stopped as one, and the slight scent of life she had previously given off faded to a very, very slight whiff of tilled soil, if anything.

"...now, I'm this. Depending who you are, 'this' has a number of names, but the one that the packs seem to know is Dead Wolf."

[Owns-The-Night]

Vampire! Declan's relaxed posture changed slightly, the air subtly shifting as he went from laid-back to coiled. He had been warned about them, told they were seldom to be trusted and often could be rivals for territory in cities. He didn't attack or threaten Sarah, however. For two reasons.

Firstly, she knew the ways and had respected his range. He had invited her in and to attack her now, unprovoked, would be a breach of his honor. Secondly, he was made more curious.

"I wasn't told about anything called a Dead Wolf." his silver eyes narrowed as he studied her pale skin. "You're a lee- vampire?" He showed no embarassment at the faux pas, still watching her intently.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

All things considered, his reaction could have been a lot worse. A whole lot worse. Sarah had spent many a night healing up from bad first impressions with various of her former kin. So she didn't so much as flinch as Declan's change in posture (or his beginnings of the popular slander, "leech"). Maintaining her own respectful posture, she tried to explain.

"Vampire, yeah," she nodded. "A couple years ago, when I was on my way to find the Ajo Runners over in Arizona. The desert killed my car, and about three days later killed me. What brought me back picked me because of my relationship with the Ura... Urath..." - she struggled in an effort to wrap her imperfect mouth around First Tongue, then gave up and simply said, "werewolves. Sorry, never have been able to pronounce the words right.

"According to the legend, the first of my line had been turned right before he was due for his First Change. His cousin tried to bring him back; bit him, stabbed him with silver, even fed him some of his blood, trying to make the wolf overcome the curse. It... well, it didn't completely work. But some things stuck. We're tied to an auspice, for example; mine's the crescent moon. If I actually hook up with a pack for the long haul, I can contribute to the totem. Hell, given enough time and I'll eventually figure out the trick of turning into a wolf; my sire could, and I don't think I'm far off from it. But yeah, I'm still... what I am."

With all the cards spread out in their hideous glory on the table, Sarah waited to see what her host would do.

[Owns-The-Night]

Declan regarded Sarah with wary interest as she explained, his silver eyes keenly noting the visual cues of her undead nature. He pondered for a moment as his eyes ran down her form, then back up to her eyes in a gesture that was as evaluative as it was unconsciously sexual; the primal part of him making any platonic study of the female form well-nigh impossible.

"That's quite the tale." He nodded as she finished. His body cooling down from it's exercise high, he was aware of cold wet t-shirt sticking to his torso. "Listen, I'm goin' to grab a shower before I end up making a puddle on the floor here. Make yourself at home."

He gestured for Sarah to follow and led the vampire into the lounge. There was little concession to modern life here: no DVD player, expensive sound system, or state-of-the-art electronics. A 6 year old television sat silent and dark in one corner of the room, an old-model computer sat on a desk opposite that. There were two chairs and a couch that had seen better days, in front of a long low coffee table upon which were loosely stacked a few magazines. Declan walked towards his bedroom as he gestured towards the couch and chairs.

"I'll be right out, feel free to turn on the t.v." With that, he shut the door to his room and jumped into the shower. One vigorous scrubdown later (with soap and shampoo that was as inoffensive to his nose as he could get: some organic mild mint & tea-tree blend that had been the only thing that didn't make him sneeze when he took a good whiff of it) and the werewolf walked back into the lounge barefoot, dressed only in jeans and towelling off his short dark hair.

"Right. So tell me 'bout this cousin of yours."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

For about ten minutes, Sarah wondered if Declan would come back from his shower with a large knife. Or a shotgun. Or if an unmentioned pack would come storming in from all directions. When he returned without obvious weaponry or obvious intent of doing her harm, the vampire visibly relaxed a bit.

Then he moved on to business, and Sarah realized that it was possible that the lone wolf may actually be willing to give her a hand.

"Kid had all the stars lined up right or tea leaves in order or whatever it is that tells the shamans who's gonna turn and who isn't. Unfortunately, she also was very much a free spirit. One fine winter day at the age of sixteen, she grabbed one of the clan's old pickups and lit out for points unknown and never came home again. That was about three and a half years ago.

"I find out about all of this on a drive home from UCSF. My dad showed up at my dorm and tells me I'm leaving school, that the family needed me for something. Wasn't about to get in an argument with someone who can bench-press a tractor when he's pissed, so off I go. By the time I got back up to Massachusettes, Grandma Wren is standing there in the half-human form, and tells me that I'm the lucky girl who gets to go hunting for Amber. I've been on her trail ever since... with this little metabolic change along the way."

[Owns-The-Night]

"Damn, a whole extended family of us? Bet the get-togethers are hell on the furniture." Declan shook his head and chuckled, not quite able to hide his interest in that, despite the mention of the savagely beautiful female he had met the previous night. Damn, they were at the same fucking party! Looks like Fate does deal some bitching hands. He resolved to keep that quiet for now until he could sound out Amber. Independent-minded himself, there was no way he would be part of taking someone against their will just because they wanted to live apart from the clan.

"So you've tracked your cousin to L.A? Figures that if a kid's runnin' away from home, they'd cross the entire damn continent to do it." He shrugged and tossed the towel over the back of the couch. "Well, I don't know how much help I can be to you. I can keep my eyes open for Amber, if she's still callin' herself that, and let you know." He tilted his head at her curiously. "Do you have a number I can call, or a place to drop off a message?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Get-togethers were... well, they were something alright." She didn't elaborate; her own experiences at the Wren clan shindigs were ones of abject servitude, and they were memories upon which she preferred not to dwell.

"I'm not exactly in the white pages. Hell, I don't have a phone. But I'll tell you what. If you'll give me permission to cross your territory now and then, you can leave a note of some sort on the student post column on campus, and I'll check it out every few nights or so. At this point..."

Sarah hesitated, not sure how much to say. "...well, at this point, I'm just hoping to make contact with her; not sure what to do beyond that point. Going home... well, going home like this is something I'm not sure I can do. But yeah."

She stood, obviously ready to clear out of this man's space. "Thanks for the directions, Declan. And you know, if you don't mind me saying, maybe you should think about talking to the crew up there at Topanga, too. Going it alone can be damned rough on a body." She stuck her hand out, only belatedly realizing that he may very well not want to touch it, let along shake it.

[Owns-The-Night]

He took her hand without thinking, only belatedly realising that although she walked, talked and looked like a woman her hand was cool to the touch. She was a dead thing who gave the illusion of life, and something inside him snarled and champed it's teeth against the cage of his higher brain.

He steeled himself and shook her hand anyway: the girl was alright, even if she was dead. He recalled the conversation with Morgan, and how he had said that all a body could do was play the hand Fate dealt them. Well, Sarah was doing that. He relaxed a little, his handshake ending on a warmer note as he smiled wryly.

"They're the ones that guided me through my First Change. But I'm not much of a follower or joiner. Don't get me wrong: I want a pack, but I'm not goin' to be part of a pack where I'm not the top dog just because of some seniority bullshit. Thinkin' of startin' my own up p'raps, one day." He shrugged. "I made First Sarge in the Rangers due to bein' a cussed alpha-male type before my Change, and damned if I'm going to play puppy-dog now." He grinned, and there as much aggressive good humor in that baring of teeth as there was challenge to the faceless hordes of would-be-alphas out there.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

A thoughtful, almost wistful, look crossed Sarah's face, and something akin to hope shone in her dead eyes.

"If you ever do put that pack together..." she began, then stopped. She knew full well that the odds of tolerance by any pack for more than the most distant of associations weren't good, let alone acceptance. Still, her soul and her blood drove her to seek that company. "Well, I'll go talk to the Topanga pack, not that I expect much there. But maybe someday, we'll talk. Take care, soldier."

With that, the undead creature headed for the door and the endless night that waited beyond.