I did what I did. But. I did my best not to waste… resources. Violence is a tool. Not my inclination.
Breaking things is Jacobi’s talent.
I can feel it in me now. But even then. It’s. Practical. In a way that I am. That destruction. Teeth and claw. Hunt and kill. That fits.
He’s something else. It’s beautiful, in a way. He’s… brilliant.
He doesn’t want to be yours. Because he sees it as a betrayal. That he wouldn’t, also, still, be hers. You and Iris are intruders. Thomas. Was an intruder.
That's the reason I agreed to turn you. Wolves were created to fight wars, but your violence is rare. It means something when you use it.
I'm sure he has more than one reason not to like me. [And Lark is fine with it. Most people out in the world dislike him. He'd wager a fair number here do, too, though they seem to be outnumbered by those who care about him, and who he cares about in turn.] What do you mean, he wouldn't still be hers?
[Not for the first time, Lark wishes he could take Warren back home with him. He has had to train that mentality into his pups and it doesn't always take, but it is always true: The shadow is more effective than the form.]
That is the one thing this place teaches us all. But I understand there are some things he may never adapt to.
[He's saying this and he means it, he believes it and has lived by it, but the port was painful in ways he's still not sure how to brace himself against. But pack is a safe, instinctive place.]
I need a break from running myself to the bone. Where are you?
It isn't until Lark is in the door and, out of habit, locks it behind him that the full weight of this godawful week finally show on his face. He looks at the door, starts to unlock it, and looks at Warren. "Should I leave it...? In case Jacobi or someone needs to visit?"
"Lock it," he says, because it's not like Jacobi isn't a big boy. He can wear his big boy pants for one night.
He doesn't approach, because this is... new? New for him. But his body language is open, accepting, trying to beckon him in. It's in his eyes: anything Lark needs, he'll give it if he can.
Lark has more people in his life he can trust, he can talk to, than he ever has before. But there are still some things he couldn't say to someone who isn't pack. And there are some things he couldn't tell even Iris.
"I made a mistake," he says quietly, hollowly. "And I don't know how to fix it. So I just wanted to be away from it for a while." Here, where he knows another set of teeth will protect him, even if there is nothing to protect him from.
He nods, because that he gets. That he knows. That he's... lived in for the last few years, really. Since it happened. Since his world exploded. He still doesn't know how to fix this, but he has hopes.
"I know you do." And as much as he wouldn't wish this on himself or anyone he cares about, he's glad that he can come here, that Warren understands and Lark could stop talking right now if he wanted, and Warren would still understand.
Which is why he pulls Warren into an embrace. He doesn't cling, Lark could never let himself do that, but he holds on and feels a little bit less alone. Being Lark, in his human form at least, the contact doesn't last long.
"I do," he says earnestly, looking back at Lark, "it's not certain. Nothing is, when it's important enough. But I've got my first steps. A decent path. And hope."
He glances down for a moment before he returns his gaze to Lark.
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Does he get along with Iris?
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I believe him for the moment. Whether that will remain true, I think, will depend.
Not on her. Not even on me.
He’s a professional, Lark. And his profession is destruction. He’s very very good at it.
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I did what I did. But. I did my best not to waste… resources. Violence is a tool. Not my inclination.
Breaking things is Jacobi’s talent.
I can feel it in me now. But even then. It’s. Practical. In a way that I am. That destruction. Teeth and claw. Hunt and kill. That fits.
He’s something else. It’s beautiful, in a way. He’s… brilliant.
He doesn’t want to be yours. Because he sees it as a betrayal. That he wouldn’t, also, still, be hers. You and Iris are intruders. Thomas. Was an intruder.
He’ll need time.
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I'm sure he has more than one reason not to like me. [And Lark is fine with it. Most people out in the world dislike him. He'd wager a fair number here do, too, though they seem to be outnumbered by those who care about him, and who he cares about in turn.] What do you mean, he wouldn't still be hers?
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More often than not, the shadow is more effective than the form.
[ But the question is… complicated. ]
Our third, Maxwell.
I can compartmentalize. Adapt.
He can’t. Or. He’s having trouble with it. He always has.
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That is the one thing this place teaches us all. But I understand there are some things he may never adapt to.
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But it won’t be… smooth.
Or painless.
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But somethings could be less painful.
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I need a break from running myself to the bone. Where are you?
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[ Jacobi is sleeping off the drink in his room. Kepler will find out tomorrow about his hand injury (possibly) but right now? Free as a bird. ]
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[Desperately.]
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Off.
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You're on the door lock.
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He doesn't approach, because this is... new? New for him. But his body language is open, accepting, trying to beckon him in. It's in his eyes: anything Lark needs, he'll give it if he can.
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"I made a mistake," he says quietly, hollowly. "And I don't know how to fix it. So I just wanted to be away from it for a while." Here, where he knows another set of teeth will protect him, even if there is nothing to protect him from.
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Now he walks forward and he offers an arm.
"I know what that's like."
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Which is why he pulls Warren into an embrace. He doesn't cling, Lark could never let himself do that, but he holds on and feels a little bit less alone. Being Lark, in his human form at least, the contact doesn't last long.
"Do you see a way forward with your mistake?"
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He glances down for a moment before he returns his gaze to Lark.
"Would it be easier to bury your face in fur?"
Jacobi had found it very helpful.
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"I made a mistake with Alec. And it goes back years."
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