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LavvytheJackalope

Battle-ready Werewolf

PostPosted: Tue Feb 21, 2017 10:55 pm


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                  #997495

                  At first, Leon wasn't sure if he was being ignored. He thought again of how Julian seemed to think that his voice annoyed Odin. Was the werewolf just going to brush him off, in spite of the fact that he just told him he was handling all of the trades now? Or had he mistaken his meaning before? Was Odin going to simply cut him off from all of his previous contacts, and only deal with the connections he made himself? That would make things considerably more difficult. His stomach started twisting in his guts, feeling cold and hard. He just needed to hold up until lights out. He could manage that much. But Odin had forbidden him, so what would happen if he caught him? The guy might look like an oaf, but another hard lesson the fairy had learned in prison was not to underestimate the men around him. Ever. Admittedly, he had made some pretty fatal errors in his first year. He was lucky that he hadn't ended up much worse for it. But he had, without really realizing it, looked down on the other inmates. And he was a fool for believing they couldn't tell, and simply writing them all off as 'stupid thugs.' Oh so wrong. Sure, maybe a lot of the inmates didn't know what the word 'asinine' meant when used in a sentence, or couldn't do math beyond basic addition and subtraction. They weren't book smart like him, but these men were plenty clever in other ways, worldly and learned in fashions where Leon himself was still little more than a dull child. They might not have done well in calculus, but they knew how to read body language and posture, how to distinguish lies from truth, who to befriend and who to leave well enough alone. These things, which came so naturally to them, were like a foreign language that Leon had only just started to learn. Outside he may have been able to look down on these men, to tout his higher education and his advantages granted by his birth, to flaunt his intelligence. But here? Leon was the ignorant fool. Not them. It had been a hard lesson to swallow, but an important one. He'd had his position on the bottom of the totem pole taught to him rather forcefully, since inside he had little to offer other inmates in exchange for the things he lacked. Muscle. Endurance. Intimidation. Social nuance. Connections. All very necessary things here which the fairy was completely without. So was it really any wonder if he was used and abused, walked all over, or taken advantage of? What else did he have to give?

                  So Odin may have been a brute, but he was the fairys 'owner' now. In prison, that meant more than anything else. He wouldn't make the same mistakes as before. By all accounts, Odin was capable, observant, and domineering. He hardly knew the man, who was little more than a stranger to him, but he had every reason to assume that Odin would sniff him out and be none too pleased for it if he kept on going behind his back. But what was worse? A broken jaw, or the itch? It was a tough call, and so far the itch was winning out. A part of him knew that it was at its worst because he'd been left out to dry for so long by the alchemists. And while it made his cravings terrible, it also meant that a lot of the initial hard work had been done for him. This was the final, worst wave of it. If he could just ride this wave out, sweat away the last of the chemicals in his system, it would be easier for him to give it up in the long run. He could quit, really and truly, and not have to run the risk of pissing Odin off and getting something broken or being tossed to the dogs, so to speak. Watching the werewolf go to the ground and go about his workout routine, he thought he could get back into exercising again himself. Sweat it out and start being able to eat more again. He could build his health back, bit by bit. He could be clean.

                  This was a conversation he'd had with himself a number of times. Almost every time the alchemists started withholding substances from him in order to get his body to produce more dust. Every time he told himself this time would be different. This time he had a real reason to. This time he had the willpower. This time he'd do it just to rub it in Pikes stupid smug face when he didn't need it anymore. It never stuck.

                  Honestly, 'yeah' hadn't been the response Leon had been expecting, either. He'd anticipated maybe some kind of questioning, like 'why?' 'what do you want?' 'who is he?' and the like. What surprises him more, however, is Odin readily hauling his entire muscled self off of the ground and readily striding over to the vampire himself. Wait. Wait no, that wasn't what he had in mind. Reggies group were very frequently called 'Runners' because of how readily they bolted from any situations that might get them in trouble. Reggie was already considered to be pushing it by getting dust from Leon. If Odin scared him off, then the fairy would have to go without cigarettes, too. He doubted many people would still be heartily willing to trade with him after the little trio had openly snubbed the alchemists. He'd honestly been relieved to see the vampire nodding at him across the yard. As his usual debates with himself over quitting went, he knew he'd at least need to be able to smoke. But when Odin started crossing the yard towards him, Reggie looked like he was really considering living up to the 'Runner' nickname. Leons first thought was to go after him, trail along at Odins side to either talk him out of snapping the runner in half (because, for all the fairy could read of the younger mans expression, that was what was on his mind) or at least make it look a little like a death march. When a hand caught his, however, his first instinct was to halt at once, flinching a little at the contact. Typically, Pike and the alchemists could halt the fairy with a stern word. Another lesson he'd had to learn quickly. Most of them were well enough aware of how fragile Leon was, and didn't want to worry over leaving obvious bruises where the guards would see. So grabbing, even gently, was reserved for occasions when Leon was really in trouble. So it took him a moment to stop cringing, remember that Pike was missing and the alchemists were giving him the cold shoulder, and the one holding his hand was Julian. The gentle touch is foreign, and he isn't sure how to respond to it. Julian has held his hand in times before, but this is a little different. It reminds him at once of Noel. Normally, Leon was the one holding his little brother back, with little more than a gentle squeeze of the hand and a low voice saying 'this is a bad idea.' Julian wasn't far off the mark.

                  'You can't keep doing this.' was, oddly, actually a big relief to hear. He'd gotten started using during his time in prison. The people surrounding him wanted him addicted. They wanted his dust. His body was a high school lab experiment. None of them cared about his health, or his well-being, beyond keeping him alive enough to give them what they needed. Sure, some alchemists, like Paul, were kinder to him, didn't see the need to take more advantage than necessary or be abusive. But no one ever said out loud to him what he'd said silently to himself a thousand times by then. 'You can't keep doing this. Julian was right, of course, and Leon knew it. Everything about continuing his use was counter-intuitive. He was using shitty, diced s**t churned up by desperate men in prison. It was even less safe than your run of the mill contraband you could get on the streets. Made even more dangerous now, of course, by the fact that the alchemists were openly hostile towards him, Odin, and Julian. Anyone who wanted to get in their good graces could easily 'trade' Leon a sour batch of something. Even if it didn't kill him, an alchemist could do worse. To speak nothing of what Odin would do, as Julian reminded him. Leon had a front row seat to the werewolf snapping the wrist of a man twice his size to make a point. He didn't want to imagine what he would do when he was pissed. Still, it was a strange sensation, having someone worry about him, to hold his hand to try and keep him from doing something foolish. He dropped his eyes, not trying to pull away from Julian or release his hand. He looked rather chastised, and nervous. He glanced back at Odin, by then engaged in talking with Reggie. He fumbled for a response. Yes, by all logic, he should have relished the fact that Julian was legitimately trying to help him, and jumped at the chance to rid himself of the plague. But Logic and the Itch had butted heads many times before. And the result had always been the same.
                  "I'm... I mean, I'm not. I don't have any..." With his other hand he rubbed absently at the sore spot on his neck, tugging his collar up a little higher while his ears turned red. Had Julian really figured it out so easily? How much did he expect? Did he simply know that he'd gotten something in a trade? Did he have any idea just how low his old friend had sunk for the stuff? Gods all, he hoped not. He prayed that Julian didn't have the faintest inkling of what depths he'd gone to, how far he'd been gone. But things didn't usually go the way Leon prayed. Julian might not have known all of it, but he knew enough. Leon kept his eyes on the ground. "It's... I... I know." his tone went defeated "I know I should. But it's... I can't explain it to you, it's.... I don't know how I could. Without it, I'd... I'd just...." Fall apart. Crumble into a thousand tiny fragments and simply go mad. Cease to be. Be forever. Both. He couldn't. Couldn't couldn't couldn't, no matter how much he said he could. "I'm.... I'll try. I'll do it."

                  Couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't.

                  On the other side of the yard, Reggie eyed the approaching werewolf cautiously. He had, indeed, weighed his options when the burlier male stalked over, but in the end he held his ground. He smiled the barest bit at Odin, not a smirk, but more a simple sigh of visible nervousness. Submission, in a way. He set one foot a little further behind him, but didn't yet take a full step back. He rubbed his palms against the front of his pants, momentarily looking blindly for pockets and settling for picking at a seam when he found none. The dark-skinned vampire wasn't a coward, per se. But he was careful. Discreet, when he could manage it. Like the other runners, he just wanted to keep out of trouble as much as he could. He'd been rather optimistic, in fact, when Leon had shifted hands. One of the alchemists had introduced him to the fairys stimulant dust, and he didn't doubt it had been tampered with. But it felt amazing. More than good. It wasn't really a high, but the nervous system sending all of those crazy signals certainly had his brain firing off all kinds of different hormones. He couldn't even breathe without shuddering in pleasure when he'd breathed the stuff. It was something the vampire would never be able to describe. It wasn't addictive in the chemical sense, but it was just as addictive as anything else that made you feel amazing. But he'd never fancied trading with the alchemists for it. The whole point of their little ring had been to avoid trouble, and trouble was all the alchemists were. The drug-spinners were practically the definition of 'prison politics.' The werewolf, on the other hand, seemed somewhat similar to the runners, in that he and his were isolated. Not much in the way of alliances. He hoped that would make things simpler. He wouldn't have to barter with the alchemists or go behind their backs about it with Leon. And, really, he didn't mind the little fairy. Kinda felt bad for the guy, honestly. And having Odin towering in front of him, growling out his words at him, 'what do want?' did nothing to lessen those feelings. Still, if the rumors were to be believed, the fairy had crossed the yard to Odin himself. He hoped the little dude knew what he was doing.
                  "Jussa sniffa dust s'all, man. Tradeja' pack." It really was an incredibly basic trade. Reggies sister brought him a few packs of cigarettes every week when she visited with his nephew. Mostly, what he didn't smoke, he traded for other, simple things. Those cheap a** bbq chips he liked from corner stores that they never had inside, trading off chores and stuff like that. When he and Leon had made their trades in secret, that had always been their arrangement. A portion of dust for a pack of smokes. Whole damn pack. That was how much he wanted that stuff. Still, dealing with the werewolf was a far sight from sneaking around with the fae. He did his best to present the right balance of 'don't wanna fight' and 'not afraid' because that was an important line to walk. His shoulders were slumped, not squared, and he kept his stance loose, the one foot behind him, as if he was prepared to take a step back, but he looked the werewolf in the eye when he spoke.




                  Lyrca

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                  ███ ☂ l o c a t i o n ♦ Saxon City Prison
                  xx ███ ☁ m o o d ♦ Anxiousxx ███ ♥ w i t h ♦ Odin, Julianxx ███ X
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PostPosted: Sat Feb 25, 2017 11:50 pm


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LavvytheJackalope

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                                              Leon didn’t follow Odin like the werewolf expected. Odin didn’t look over his shoulder as he approached the shady ******** that wanted to talk to one of his belongings. So as he stood there realizing he was by his lonesome, he quietly reminded himself that he’d have to teach the morons not to get too far from him. He was itching to glance back at the two like an obsessed madman. Would the alchemists be threatening them? Would someone have by accidentally let a basketball slam against the fairy’s neck leaving him paralyzed from the neck down? Holy s**t get a hold of yourself. Odin lectured himself. Luckily, he didn’t need to worry about that stuff with the vampires standing in front of him kept his attention just fine.

                                              So after asking what the vampire wanted, he listened carefully to hear: ”Jussa sniffa dust s'all, man. Tradeja' pack." Cigarettes were ******** disgusting. Odin hated them. The clouded toxic smoke wrapped round his lungs and burned his nostrils, always causing his eyes to water up as though someone had lit a fire beneath the surface. Odin always got laughed at when his friends took smoke breaks and he went with them. Odin the cry-baby. Mocking him for tearing up. It was pathetic, but that s**t used to really get to him. They mostly poked fun at him because his reactions were always over the top. Eventually, whenever a cigarette came out Odin would walk damn well down the street until he was far enough away that he wouldn’t be stuck in the clouded s**t-stained air. He couldn’t understand why anyone smoked.

                                              But the cigarettes wouldn’t be for Odin.

                                              He didn’t need anything. His commissary had plenty enough money and if he needed more all he had to do was write up Ian to get his brother to steal from their father (or give Odin more money out of his own pocket). The werewolf wasn’t sure what Julian and Leon’s financial deal was… But he had been leaning towards forcing the lot of them to skip out on prison food and live off twinkies and bags of shitty chips from here on out. Surely that had to be better than getting poisoned eventually, isn’t it? The werewolf wanted nutrition though. He wanted to have enough meat to keep him satisfied and be able to continue gaining muscle. Something in him would snap eventually if he tried to keep his current build off nothing but junk food. Since he started eating a lot more he bulked up nicely. And yes, a lot of that was thanks to the inedible piece of s**t prison food. It was selfish but Odin wanted to keep a balance between commissary food and prison meals. Even if the prison meals were all half eaten from here on out.

                                              With the werewolf mentioning Leon, Odin finally had his chance to look back at the two. Julian, standing there like a goofy ******** moron on his own. Leon, no broken neck or nothing. See paranoia? ******** you. Getting him worked up over nought. As Odin’s neck stiffened, turning to gaze at the vampire again he found his posture squaring up. Taller. Not his usual slouch. This was different. A new feeling. Not the need to try and look tough or cool for the audience but… Power? It felt powerful, someone coming to him asking if he could do them a favor. Having something to trade other inmates. Odin didn’t know much about Leon or his dust, just that it had been used in drugs the alchemists tried to conjure up. It wasn’t until now he realized just what Leon was. How valuable he was.

                                              "That’s fine.” Odin voiced up. He glanced back at Leon, the piece of s**t looking like he was in the process of dying due to his withdrawals. Unfortunately for Leon, Odin didn’t know s**t about fairy dust. If it was difficult to produce or hurt or was uncomfortable. He didn’t know if Leon even wanted to make the trade. There was no time to pull Leon aside and try to talk about it though. Odin would have this trade take place, then wait for an opportunity to ask the fae if they were going to play this game. Leon might not want it. Moving in on the alchemist’s turf might be even more dangerous. Spitting in their faces and mocking what he took from them by selling that s**t around. If they did trade it, Odin would have to be careful and try to keep it on the down low. After giving the snowy haired fairy a nod, Odin turned his attention back towards the vampire. His natural reaction was to threaten. Hand over he dust and threaten the vampire to keep quiet about it. His mouth seemed to be glued shut though. Unable to process what he wanted to do next.

                                              Odin never dealt with contraband within the prison walls before. Did Leon have any on him? Did he need a 24 hour notice to make it happen tonight, then he'd be able to hand it to Reggie? For ********. Odin might look like a moron if Leon needed to pull Odin to the side and give him the notice that he didn't have the dust Odin just agreed to hand over. He tried to keep his poker face up. His I know what I'm doing face. Inside, he was cracking, begging whatever Gods were out there that Leon pull some of the dust from his sleeve like one of those cheesy magicians and give the other male what he asked for.
                                              tab

Lyrca
Captain



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Crew

Distrustful Guardian

PostPosted: Sun Feb 26, 2017 7:07 pm


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                                                                                                                                                    --i'm just so tired of waking up on the ground

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                                                    • He kept their hands clasped lightly, despite their uneven heights. A positive contact, rare and fleeting, in this place where both of them were more likely to be punched. The azurette's thumb swept back and forth over the side of the smaller man's, soothing, as Leon's line of sight tried to rest anywhere else, a fly on a windowsill, trying to escape. Julian knew, of course. It could never be as simple as asking. The asking was only an effort at reminding the fairy that he wouldn't be alone, that there were other repercussions for his actions besides the obvious. The inkwell listened to his brother's words, the breaks between them, the places where they went slow, and then tumbled quicker, water over river stones. I know.., he said, I know I should. But.. And Julian only nodded minutely, accepting because there was no other answer that he could give. He couldn't stand there and condemn Leon for this. Not with all that the fairy had gone through in this place. It was exactly as he'd thought when he was laboring through his letter to Ben-- still unfinished. The ivorette had been in prison so long, there was only now, there was only here. The future was a filmy image, grainy, impossible to make out. His only escapes had been rationed to him, and he'd lost his safest supply when Julian had walked him back across the yard to Odin. That he'd been willing to go with the azurette with so little warning, so little explanation, was a miracle in itself. Or perhaps a testament to the desperation Leo had been feeling.

                                                      "
                                                      It's alright.. It's alright, little bug." Calm and gentle, never pulling his hand away. Positive contact. It's alright if you lie to me. I expect you to lie. I forgive you. It isn't something you can help yet. Julian had so rarely in his life demanded anything, even when doing so would only be natural from the perspective of others, or maybe might influence things in a better direction. It was as if the inkwell carefully portioned the times when he would speak frankly, openly. And now couldn't be one of those times. He'd gone far enough already, couldn't alienate his brother by pressing further. But Leon had to be aware-- "We'll help you. Both of us. Even if we have different methods."

                                                      It was something he'd need to explain to the blonde, as well. He'd have to find his voice for a few moments, if only to make sure Odin knew. That Leon was delicate. That he'd already been mistreated. That he could be hurt badly by the odd shove, even if it wasn't intended. If the fairy fetched up against metal bars the way Julian had in Hotts' cell.. Something like that might be enough to finish the smaller man. It wasn't as though the azurette himself had walked away unscathed. The fingers of his other hand rose reflexively, combing through the long strands of bluetealcyan at the nape of his neck, and then up slightly, feeling along the little curve of flesh that had split. It was back together now, an odd crescent of tissue that would become a scar eventually. The area around it was still tender, the bones beneath not settled into their old solid shape yet. The parts of the brain responsible for sight were back there, weren't they? It was what he told himself whenever there were moths in the corners of his vision. That it was a physical issue. Something that would go away once he was better again. Nothing else. Not a demon.

                                                      He shifted slightly, guiding Leon forward a few steps as Odin turned to look at them. When had he started to be hyper-aware of the werewolf's body language? Where he was looking, where he went, what he was doing? Most likely it had begun to happen as soon as they started sharing a cell, Julian subconsciously trying to gauge the weather and avoid the path of any particularly bad storms. So much of their communication was done by not communicating that it made interaction between them a confusing minefield for the azurette, who was often left simply making up what Odin must be thinking. He was slowly learning. Catching signals that may or may not exist in something as simple as a look, an alteration in posture, the sharp quality of an exhale. He'd held Leon back before, not just to speak with him, but because of the image that it presented. This wasn't a chat between friends. If Odin was to be taken seriously by the other factions in this place, he would need to be perceived as a decisive leader, capable of settling issues on his own. He had broken Hotts' face, an alchemist's wrist, ostensibly in order to police the borders of the little kingdom he now owned. The violence had been terrible, But necessary, something at the back of his head insisted. And trade was something else. Determining ties-- or a lack thereof-- with other inmates, other groups, was probably even more important for a band as small as theirs. To be seen taking-- or to be perceived as taking-- advice from people who had likely been labeled "pets" or "resources" would only weaken the blonde's position.

                                                      "
                                                      He won't let them hurt you."

                                                      The words were quiet, an effort at reassurance. And the thing was, Julian believed them. Because Odin, for all that his temper was hard to read, for all that he wore a near-permanent scowl, for all the times that he tossed the blue-haired boy around like a ragdoll-- when the time had come to hand Julian over, he hadn't. Not once, but twice, even though it would have benefited him. If the werewolf had shoved him across the hall to begin with, then he wouldn't have to worry about outside threats. The inkwell would have been the dues paid for him to join Hotts' little club, and Julian-- he'd even agreed to it. Penance, for what he'd done. Safety, for someone he'd wronged without meaning to. Instead, Odin protected him. Brought Leon back to him. Surely, if there was anyone inside this place besides the fairy who deserved his trust, it was the blonde.

                                                      So Julian crossed the dusty grass, his hand still in the ivorette's until they were almost there. Only then did he let go, stepping back slightly, establishing himself as no part of the proceedings. It never occurred to him that everything about it probably made him look like he was Leon's handler.


                                                      lyrca
                                                      lavvythejackalope
PostPosted: Wed Mar 01, 2017 1:13 pm


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                  #997495

                  The soft tone, the gentle contact, is alien, and off-putting. It feels like a lie. People didn't act like this in prison, and when they did, it was a trap. A joke. A form of humiliation, at best, or the lead to a spiderweb at first. If it were anyone else here, holding his hand, speaking so sweetly those words, 'It's all right,' his knee jerk reaction would be to pull away. Far away. It was a trap, it reeked of it. Only the memories from far away, from another world and another time, when he was another Leon who was either very deeply asleep or, more likely, dead, kept him still. He wanted to believe those words, because Julian was the one saying them. Because Julian held his hand like this before, when they hid between tall flowers in back gardens and darted to and fro. Because Julian trusted him when he fluttered up and into the branches of trees and showed him where to put his hands and feet to climb. Because Julian acted like his brother even when Noel didn't.

                  But Noel was his brother. Julian had gone his own way, severed completely from the St.Judes. Leon and Noel had taken the path laid out for them. Julian wasn't there when Noel barked orders at him, or when they argued and he pinned his twin. Julian wasn't around to see the bruises on his wrists where Noels nails bit into him. And that was no ones fault, really. It was no ones fault that Noel vanished. It was no ones fault that Leon was sent to prison. It was no ones fault that none of them could come visit him, or paint some pretty picture of what life might be on the outside. There was no one. There was nothing. There were the wall of his cell. There was Pike and the alchemists. There was flinching and keeping himself alive and occasional, gifted bits of sweet ******** relief. All he wanted in the world was to fly away, to shrink small and hide in the trees or the rafters to a small, quiet space. Anywhere to be alone and safe and out of reach of prying hands. But he couldn't fly. He hadn't flown in years. Remembering, holding Julians hand, that he even could, almost made him want to cry. He wanted to forget that he'd even been able to fly. It was more cruel than people realized, keeping a fairy earthbound. He'd often wondered if this was what ghouls and vampires felt like, when they weren't given enough rations. It was how he felt; starved. He was starving for so many things. For freedom and flight, starved for security and privacy, starved for positive touch like this, and starved of the ability to trust. So much so that even Julian seemed like a sketchy figure. How much did he really know the younger man, after all? He was trying to lull him, to make him feel safe and secure, that couldn't be denied. The question was, to what end? Was it sincerely for his comfort? Or to make Odins life easier? Wasn't that where his loyalty lay, now? For all he knew this was just another power play, an elaborate setup to benefit the two of them, regardless of how it affected him in the end. But Julian who he defended as a child wouldn't do something like that. They'd watched each others backs, and in a lot of ways, this place is the same. An oversized playground full of bullies. The rules were largely the same, just with grown-up consequences. He wanted to trust the child Julian, even if it was the man who stood in front of him now. When had he gotten so tall?

                  We'll help you. Both of us. Even if we have different methods.
                  'Help' was an interesting concept. He thought he'd understood it before, but he wasn't so sure anymore. But all he could do was nod. Julian wanted to help him, and he wanted to believe it. So he tried to.

                  He'd been glancing back at Odin and Reggie every few seconds. He felt exposed, out in the yard. Over the past several years, he'd never gone anywhere without at least one or two alchemists flanking him, both to keep him in line as well as to make sure no one else tried to swipe anything that wasn't theirs. He was never anywhere unattended. A few times he'd likened it to princesses in stories, like the women in feudal japan who weren't allowed to do anything themselves, or even walk on their own in some cases. They only sat in their silks and did as they were bade, as they were expected. Those women were prisoners, and so was Leon, in more ways than one. As a child he'd always wondered why those women never just got up and left, gave the lords what for and run away to become some badass samurai on their own. Well, he wasn't a child anymore, and he knew that the world didn't work that way. He could either sit politely or go out into the woods to be eaten by the wolves. But he hadn't kept sitting politely. What was this the equivalent of, he wondered? He glanced from Odin to Julian. Did that make the werewolf some rouge ronin who made a habit of stealing away nobles? It was a ridiculous idea, but, somehow, translating all of it into a silly storybook tale made it easier for him to think about. So was the rouge dealing with bandits, then? He glanced back, grounding himself once again in reality. This wasn't a fairytale. They were in prison, with people angry with them. And if Odin or Reggie said the wrong thing, he wouldn't even have cigarettes to tide him over. He just needed to make it to tonight. He could handle it, then. He wasn't sure what to make of Odin nodding at them, but he wanted to go to the werewolf and the vampire. He'd wanted to in the beginning, hoping at at least get some say in what happened. But it seemed, whatever dealings had been steeled upon, so he wasn't sure what the nod meant. Fortunately, it seemed, Julian did, at least.
                  "He won't let them hurt you."
                  A hopeful part of him really wanted that to be the case, wanted to be able to feel safe and protected in the werewolfs shadow. Another part of him remembered that, sooner or later, he was going to have to dust someone to preserve that. But the colder part of him simply reminded the rest of him that it was only a matter of time before things turned around. Sooner or later Odin would be the one hurting him instead. It was just the way things worked. And he couldn't quit.

                  From an outside standpoint it no doubt looked like a tiny hierarchy had been formed in their little ring. Odin was the leader, Julian was his, and Leon was at the bottom. Or maybe Leon was Julians pet? It could be anyones guess. Leon himself wasn't sure exactly where he stood with the two, one a stranger and one only less so. No matter what the case was, Leon was in no position to argue. So he let himself be led across the yard, trying to quiet the anxiety in his stomach over what had transpired between Reggie and Odin. Still, they were both still standing there, neither one with broken bones. And Reggie did tend to live up to his groups name of 'runners.' If things had gone poorly, he wouldn't still be standing in front of the werewolf.

                  Reggie, for his part, nodded when Odin said it was fine, favoring the larger man with a grin. When the ink mage and the fairy approached, he nodded, only slightly, towards the two. But it was only a polite acknowledgement. He continued to look at and address Odin, despite the fact that when they'd gone behind the alchemists backs, he'd been conferring with Leon directly. He might do his best to stay out of prison politics, but that didn't mean he didn't know how they worked, and like hell was he eager to piss off the werewolf. Doubly so since he was now the one controlling his supply of dust.
                  "Cool." was all he said in response, tugging an unopened pack from where it had been tucked into his waistband and handing it over to Odin. There was no need to be secretive about this part, of course. After all, anyone was allowed to have cigarettes. Leon, once Juian had led him over to them, glanced between Reggie and Odin, relieved to see the cigarettes being passed over. It meant a lot of things, not only that he'd have cigarettes, but that he could keep trading with Reggie in the future. It was a good start. Other trades, of course, would be more complicated. But things going well with the Runners would open the doors for others of Leons 'associates' to start bartering, too. Granted, most wanted the dust, but some, like Maddox, wanted other things. And some of the things they could offer (well, most, if he was being honest) were exactly the things Odin had forbidden him from using. He would have to be careful who he asked Odin to negotiate with on his behalf. Hell, he still wasn't even sure what he'd promised Reggie in return for the pack this time. Odin didn't know their usual pact. So, glancing between them, he spoke up, hoping to sound casual.
                  "So, uh.... usual?" Reggie finally looked away from Odin to nod. the vampire glanced between them briefly, unsure whether or not it would be rude to speak to the fairy instead of him. But it seemed like the werewolf had beckoned his charges over, so maybe he wouldn't be faulted if that seemed to be the intention.
                  "Yeh. Same spot."
                  "Uh, I think Josh took that one."
                  "Huh. Didn't know Josh could read." the vampire chuckled, seeming a little more at ease. "The astrology one then? With the red cover?" A few years ago Leon would have corrected the vampire. It was astronomy, a much more respectable and wholly scientific field. But he knew which book he meant, and he'd learned not to point out things like that. Not here. So instead he only nodded.
                  "Sure."
                  "Cool." the vampire readily redirected his attention back to Odin, and Leon squeezed Julians hand again. His palm was getting sweaty, and the ink mage could probably feel him trembling slightly. "We good?" Reggie asked not Leon, but Odin, tone casual. He was definitely more at ease with things seeming to have gone well, but he also didn't bother trying to act like the werewolf didn't put him on edge.




                  Lyrca

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                  ███ ☂ l o c a t i o n ♦ Saxon City Prison
                  xx ███ ☁ m o o d ♦ Anxiousxx ███ ♥ w i t h ♦ Odin, Julianxx ███ X
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LavvytheJackalope

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Lyrca
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 04, 2017 11:05 am


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LavvytheJackalope

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                                              Odin had that bad feeling that began to swell inside his gut. Bad It told him. This is bad. But when did he ever listen to his gut? ”Cool.” Reggie said, playing it off simply as he held a box of cigarettes out to the werewolf. He took them, opening the box up and glancing inside to see all the cigarettes were neatly lined up. None were crushed or broken. This must’ve been a really nice prize within the prison walls. Cigarettes were probably difficult as s**t to get your hands on when you worked for a dime an hour.

                                              He didn’t care about the cigarettes, and he certainly didn’t think the vampire would’ve gone through the effort of emptying a box of cigarettes, fill it with fake ones, then put the massive amount of time into making it appear unopened. It wasn’t about that. The paper. He took the small piece from his waistband that read Treat? It had been mocking him the entire lunch time. Before coming to prison Odin googled a lot about it and tried to prepare it. The male learned that a lot of people will write small messages and slip them to one another in the visitor section if they didn’t want people to monitor their conversations. You were supposed to tell the person visiting to eat the thin sheet of paper. That was the only way to speak in private. Odin was sure if that’s how paranoid you’re supposed to be about visitors, the same went for inmates. So with the small piece of paper in the cigarette box he’d have a chance to flush the piece of paper properly later. None of the guards would see it. No inmates would stumble across it who weren’t supposed to. Odin wouldn’t have to appear to have any associates or friends within the walls.

                                              After the piece of paper disappeared within the case, Odin shut the top and tucked it away. It was all said and done with now. Reggie had already turned his attention to Leon, the two talking about books. Ah. So that’s how it worked. Odin’s brow arched in the air slightly as he glanced at Leon. If that’s how he made trades, that’s probably how he would try to get drugs. Odin didn’t know how to set up eyes in the library. He didn’t work there. He was only allowed to spend time there during the few hours of freetime. He was sure the guards wouldn’t appreciate him digging through all the books making a mess of things each day. Could he make friends with someone who worked with Leon? Obviously, if Odin tried to offer more dust in return for eyes to be kept on the fae, Leon would know about it. Odin didn’t have anything else to offer. He should have spoke to his brother more. Ian might’ve been able to bring Odin something of worth. Ah, s**t. What am I doing? I’d never use Ian like that. He couldn’t even imagine what his father would do if he found out Odin tried to do something so questionable with his son.

                                              ”We good?” Reggie asked.

                                              Odin glanced back at Leon and Julian before slowly nodding. It felt crazy the man was putting so much attention on Odin, re-establishing that the other two were nothing more than items. That their voices didn’t matter. Only Odin’s did. Second class citizens. Prison had it’s own slave statuses. People who were stripped down to items and forced to listen to their masters. It was up to Odin how people treated them. It was up to Odin what they were allowed to do. It was up to Odin if they ate or starved. It was up to Odin if he felt like selling them off or using them for his own gain. That thought was one of the scariest he’s ever had. Near strangers still. He didn’t chat with them, he didn’t grab beers with them at the pub at the end of a workshift, he didn’t know these two. And he was the make-or-break when it came to their lives. The male never saw himself as a monster even though he’d done some ******** s**t in the past. All drug addicts do. Not the typical jumping-a-stranger, either. Odin was the type who would steal someone’s wallet then spend two hours trying to help them backtrack and find it again. He’d been manipulative and shady in the past, unable to get anyone to like him unless he was drugged up and cracking jokes. Nobody liked a sobered Odin. But that was all he had in here.

                                              ”Come on.” The werewolf responded, nodding towards his two belongings. He didn’t look back at them when he turned. He simply walked back to the area he claimed for the day and glared around the yard trying to see if anyone was paying them any mind.

                                              No takers. Everyone around them was still in their little worlds minding their own business. Odin turned his attention back to Leon. He had a lot he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how to approach it all. How many packs did he smoke a week? How often was he looking to trade his dust? Did it hurt to make? Odin still didn’t know how he felt about it all. On one hand, he loved the idea of getting on some people’s good sides. If he could make trades and build some relationships, he’d have buffers to put between them and the alchemists. Even Hotts would probably be asking Odin for the safer alternative to drugs. He’d be able to make great strides when it came to his social life within the place. But who cared about a prison social life? Why did Odin give a s**t? It felt like those petty high school friends he was so desperate to make happen when he was a child. He didn’t like them or care about them. The only thing he did care about was them liking him. It was so hard to tell if he was trying to fall into peer pressure and doing this for the sake of his appearance, or if he was trying to do this all for the sake of his safety. Was both an option?

                                              ”How many people you make those deals with?” Odin finally found a good way to word it. There had to be some type of leeway, if the fae felt like lying and saying just one or two people. Or he could claim he would willingly give it to anyone who wants it that’s gonna pay for it. It was an open ended question that just made Odin feel like he was getting used to the people Leon spoke of. His acquaintances. Leon got to answer, Odin didn’t have to make it look like he was troubled by it or unsure of himself and this whole dust business they were slowly getting sucked into.
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2017 10:27 pm


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                  He wasn't sure how he felt about being ignored by Reggie. Sure, it was the same as it had been with the alchemists. He and the vampire had only done trades just the two of them on the down low a few times before, when each of them was certain it wouldn't kick up trouble. But, in those times, at least, the blood drinker had looked at him. Spoken to him, asked things of him. Like he was a person. It was foolish, but some, naive part of the fairy had secretly hoped that maybe he could go back to being a person again. But no. He was still only an object, here. Just as he had been for years. Only now he'd switched ownership. Nothing else had changed. He wondered again if this had been a good move on his part. Everything from this point on hinged on his decision to trust Julian, whom he hadn't seen in years. Well, to be fair, he hadn't seen anyone from the outside in years. He hadn't been a person in years. By the looks of things, he wouldn't be for years to come. Wasn't it better to stick with the devil you knew? At least he could track Pikes habits, detect when he was in a better or worse mood. He could see things coming, with the alchemists, and no one outside of their circle bothered him. No one would mess with the alchemists as a whole, if they could help it. This Odin character, on the other hand… literally the only thing he had for Leon was that Julian seemed to trust him. Julian, whom he hadn't seen in years. Julian who, live everyone else in Leons life, simply forgot he existed. He couldn't hold it against the ink mage, really. Julian had slowly distanced himself from his own family - and thus the Fenwicks – years before he'd been thrown into the prison system. But that didn't change the fact that, realistically, Leon hardly knew Julian the adult. And he certainly didn't know Odin the inmate. The more the fairy thought on the decision, the more he couldn't help but feel it was a poor one. Now he had a single protector, whose intentions were largely unknown to him, instead of a small armada that he could largely predict. Julian had mentioned using Leons dust as a threat, and that was a terrible idea too, the more he thought on it. People got years added onto their sentences for using powers like that. He'd gotten off lucky once years ago, but he wouldn't get that lucky again. He got some leeway as a fairy, but not that much.

                  But the choices had been made. The carton was handed to Odin, just as trade items had once been handed to Pike before. And just like before, he was beckoned like a pet or a thing when his owner concluded his business with the vampire, not so much as a glance in his direction. The fairy gave Julian a worried glance before sighing and, just like before, trudging along as he was told. He watched Julian as he walked. Julian was the one who knew how their wall worked. Yeah, 'wall' was the best word Leon could find to describe Odin. His expressions were about as varied as a brick wall, and he was, in theory, supposed to be their defense. Gods all, he should have stuck with the alchemists. Still, Noel had always made Leon painfully aware of how people-illiterate he was. His best option was to watch Julian and try to follow his lead. So he stuck close to the ink mage. Probably a little too close but, again, he was clueless when it came to social interactions. No doubt he looked like the pet of the werewolfs pet. He tended to hover in the space to the side and slightly behind Julian. It was the spot he'd gotten used to standing in whenever his alchemist guard dogs were around. A fairy was an easy target to pilfer from, so he'd typically been accompanied. He was so engrossed in watching Julian that Odin speaking to him caught him a little off guard. He blinked, glancing between the mage and the werewolf for a moment, unsure. God, the three of them sounded like the beginning of a bad joke. 'So a Werewolf, and ink mage, and a fairy wind up in prison…'

                  “H-how many? Ah, well….” That was a tricky question. Did he mean Leons personal trades, or how many people had traded for the dust? Both? The fairy fidgeted slightly, rolling his neck to pop it. “Uh, the alchemists had probably twenty-seven… maybe closer to thirty, I'm not entirely sure. That were using the dust. Uh, me, I have maybe...” his eyes went down and to the side, looking at Julians feet as he ran the mental math in his head. Truth was there were several inmates he'd made backroom deals with when the alchemists weren't looking. Less than ten regularly, but there were occasional odd drifters. Santiago, an elf in a similar position, had practically begged Leon for dust before he was made to 'pay up' on a trade which essentially made him the b***h of a rather rough metamorphose, to try and make the experience more bearable. He hadn't had much of anything worthwhile to trade, so the alchemists had rejected him. Leon had given in to pity the first two times the elf asked, but after a certain point his body had been stressed enough with the burden the circle had placed him under, and he'd had to abandon his little charity case. Of the remainder, how many did he want Julian to know about? How many did he want Odin to know about? “...five, maybe six, depending on uh. You know. Shifted affiliations and, uh, whatnot. Most all of 'em work that way.” He glanced back in the direction of Reggie and the other runners, who seemed to be giving the vampire a disapproving round of looks. “There's regulars, but… things are always changing.” And in other ways, things were always staying completely the same. For example, not once during the exchange did the fairy look Odin in the eyes. He looked everywhere else; the yard, Julian, his feet, the fence, the sky, Odins feet, the space just behind Odins left shoulder. But never his face. A habit, unconscious and trained. He fidgeted all the while, picking at his nails, rubbing his neck, pushing his hair back. He was ever shifting, unable to stand still. Seemingly even more so, when put under the spotlight of being asked a question. His throat felt raw and dry, and his skin felt uncomfortable, like a suit that fit him too tight. He wanted to get out of it.

                  He just had to hold out until lights out. He'd go back to his cell with Mallory, he'd be back by then. The ghoul would mind his own damn business, like always, and he'd be able to do what he needed to do. He tapped the toe of his left shoe on the dirt behind him, shifting the little plastic baggie inside. Just until lights out.




                  Lyrca

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                  ███ ☂ l o c a t i o n ♦ Saxon City Prison
                  xx ███ ☁ m o o d ♦ Very Anxiousxx ███ ♥ w i t h ♦ Odin, Julianxx ███ X
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LavvytheJackalope

Battle-ready Werewolf

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