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spam; the last journal post
[Getting on board was a moment of chaos. He remembers turning a corner, expecting to find fur and blood in his mouth, expecting maybe to get torn up in return, expecting maybe a bullet from above to take him down, too-
But instead he's somewhere metal, somewhere that smells of strangers and strangeness, and he's bleeding a trail but he runs for safety anyway. If there is any. If there are doors, anywhere, that he can open without changing back, because this has to be the FBI's work and so long as they think he's just a wolf, maybe they won't slit him open and poke around inside.]
[ooc: Lark is a wolf, for now. He'll have to change back sooner or later even if he doesn't want to, so feel free to tag him as human or wolf, just lemme know which.]
But instead he's somewhere metal, somewhere that smells of strangers and strangeness, and he's bleeding a trail but he runs for safety anyway. If there is any. If there are doors, anywhere, that he can open without changing back, because this has to be the FBI's work and so long as they think he's just a wolf, maybe they won't slit him open and poke around inside.]
[ooc: Lark is a wolf, for now. He'll have to change back sooner or later even if he doesn't want to, so feel free to tag him as human or wolf, just lemme know which.]
[wolf]
[wolf]
When she turns back around to check, her 'girl' is a naked man, sweating and gasping on her floor, and that is almost worse. He was through her locked door. He was in her bed.
It can't even really be called a fight, it's over so fast. Furiosa is on him, a knee to the side (the injured one, brutally and deliberately) and a punch to the face that only barely just falls short of breaking bone.
She takes him by the throat, while his head is still rolling, and growls at him, pure interrogation. What she's asking she isn't sure, but he had better start talking or he will join the ranks of the neutered.]
[wolf]
He can't answer with her hand squeezing the way it is, and he snarls (soundlessly) and thinks about fighting-
But instead tips his head back a fraction of an inch, giving more to her, baring the rest of his throat, and his stomach, and fighting down every single instinct he has to do it.]
[wolf]
[She snarls, and only belatedly gives him enough air to answer. Barely, then letting go entirely, because she is a warden (even though it's taking her a second to remember it right now.) She slips all the way off him, and gets to her feet, ready to kick him if he tries to stand. Face or solar plexus, either is fine by her.]
[wolf]
[He keeps his hands up, his head back.]
I'm trying to find someone. He's like me. He's-
[The thing is, she's not the first person to see a wolf change. But Lark has made it a rule, a law, to kill the witnesses and devour every trace of them.]
They're cutting him up. He's still alive and they were already-
[The emotion, this time, is not fake. It's not even the slightest bit exaggerated. He's never seen anyone in as much pain as Blue had been, and he has never even imagined a worse fate than what those Marines had in store for him.]
If they know what I am, they'll do just as bad to me. It was safer to stay a wolf, get mistaken for someone's pet, and try to find him on my own.
[wolf]
[Furiosa says, flatly, and gives him a look, head to toe.
She stalks to the dresser, and digs in for a pair of pants, something the Admiral chose to supply in a linen, with a belt. Loose on his hips maybe and short around the ankles, but she throws them at him anyways.]
Put those on. And first of all, content yourself that time has stopped moving. Whatever is happening in your home, nothing changes, not with a single second that passes here.
no subject
He doesn't say it. Blue is dead by now. The rest of the pack, too. He's here alone, and something has clearly been damaged in him if he can't control the change.
He pulls on the pants and moves back against the wall, still sitting, still very pointedly beneath her.]
Where am I?
[His voice is so raw he almost winces.]
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[She isn't practiced enough to deal with this, but has to start somewhere.]
It's an afterlife. You've been brought here because someone in charge thinks you're doing something wrong. If you become better, you go home.
[She's acutely aware as she says it, that she sounds insensitive and deranged, in equal measures.]
We should find you your room and your communicator.
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I'm sorry.
[Looking up at her then, and then at his leg.]
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[A reluctant twist of a frown.]
What's your name?
[She offers him her hand. A help up.]
no subject
[He chuckles wryly and takes her hand, gets to his feet]
My name is Lark. What's yours?
no subject
[And from this angle, they can see her windows.
She points him at it.]
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[The softest whisper, but in the quiet of her room it's audible.
He is a master of control, but he has never been torn away from home like this, he has never been so far away from the wolves who need him, who are dying without him there to at least take their bodies home.
He isn't shaking. He's very still. You could mistake what he's feeling for wonder, unless you saw his face and the grief there.
And the rage.]
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Furiosa slips away to go get him more water, a glass this time.]
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[He asks, taking the water when she brings it, and adding very quietly but very earnestly:] Thank you.
[She could have thrown him out by now. Most people would have.]
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[She admits, right away, dropping into a crouch in front of him.]
The man in charge is called the Admiral. The way the system works is, you're here as what's called an 'inmate.' You'll have a few months to get your feet under you, to be okay, and then you'll be assigned what's called a warden. They're here to help.
From there, it's just- a crucible. At the end of it, you- pass on, I think, or else you're ready to go home and try to keep living, or else you become a warden yourself.
no subject
To get home, I'm supposed to follow a stranger's moral compass, instead of my own.
[He's not human. He hasn't felt bound by human law in almost twenty years.]
Why are you here?
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[Explaining, quietly.]
Some of us need it.
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It lets him turn his focus from himself, for a moment.]
How did you find this Admiral?
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[And dehydration, radiation poisoning, a concussion maybe.]
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[There are other questions he's not asking, and he's skilled enough at this to make it obvious he's not asking them despite his curiosity. It's hers to tell, if she wants.]
no subject
[Agreeing, going to stand by the door.]
You need to find your cabin, and I don't know how to help with that.
no subject