While Wolfeite spent the majority of his time in the Rift, he did not spend a great deal of time in Negaspace as a whole. There was little to no point in having to play nicely with all of the other agents who looked at him as though he would explode at any moment, or possibly as though they thought he didn’t belong with the rest of them.
He could have cared less about their opinions. None of them were as strong or as talented as he was, at any rate; Wolfeite did nothing that was not beneficial in some way to himself, so he saw no reason to play games or pretend.
But he was interested in some, simply as a matter of abject curiosity, because in order to get higher, he had to break a few spines to get there, and it didn’t matter which side they were on. If they were in his way, they would be disposed of, and the observations of those that mulled about the Castle and around Negaspace were the first step.
He had not, however, expected a civilian.
She was long haired and slender, standing off in a corridor of the Castle on her own. Wolfeite stopped dead in his tracks, golden eyes narrowed into an expression of suspicion and wariness, the mask pulled up over the lower half of his face. She did not fit the profile of any of the Negaverse agents he had met so far, whether in civilian form or powered up - in fact, she did not look the slightest bit familiar whatsoever.
What is a civilian doing here?
Wolfeite took a step closer, ears alert and up as he came to a stop a few feet away from her.
“Who are you?” he said, without ceremony, voice a low rasp.
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A small girl perched on the edge of a short outcropping, swinging her legs back and forth just barely off the ground. She wasn’t that high up really, barely higher than an average chair, but it made the childish smile on her lips seem as if she enjoyed her current seat. She was in civilian form, something she wasn’t exactly comfortable with, but something they told her was necessary. Her other form was too flashy, they said. Too noticeable, they said. Like a dark beacon in the light.
Too bad she really couldn’t care either way.
Currently she just liked her outfit, a simple tank top fitted to her body along with a pair of shorts and some sandals. To any onlookers she really would appear a normal civilian. Still she preferred her other form, the one she considered her ‘true’ form. She had grown her hair in a attempt to be somewhat closer. It would never reach the length she wanted it, she wondered idly if someone kept clipping it. It currently was pinned up in a pair of pigtails, giving the appearance (besides her height) of being even younger than she was.
Wolfeite would be greeted with nothing to start. The girl continued to stare off in the distance, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Green eyes were glassed over, even though they were looking right into his golden. When he spoke up it took a moment, but eventually (some) life returned to those eyes. They never truly focused entirely, but he now had her attention. Brows furrowing together, she tilted her head in curiousity. Hands now on the ledge she sat on, she leaned forward.
And blinked.
“Puppy!” Was all the warning he got before she launched herself off her perch, attempting to wrap her arms around him and squeeze the life out of the new ‘cute’ thing in front of her.
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She was so…
Small. Not small like some of his…teammates, for lack of a better word, were, though Wolfeite hardly thought of them as such. Small physically, though it was hard to tell just how small while she was sitting down, the rocky outcropping not all that high, and giving the impression that she was, quite possibly, a child that was unquestionably and confusingly in Negaspace.
He did not understand. There should have been no unattended civilians here, not when the place was crawling with agents. Those who were civilians were always accompanied by the General who was in the process of recruiting them, or perhaps taking them to see a General Sovereign for whatever reason. There should have been no simple civilian just...sitting.
It made him both suspicious and irrationally annoyed. Wolfeite stared at her thin face, at the brightly colored hair and the simple outfit. She’d given no answer nor reaction to his question, and that, if possible, made him all the more irritated.
”Answer me,” Wolfeite snarled, voice slightly muffled behind the cloth, though his eyes were fixed on the girl, glowing gold in their rimmed black pits. ”I said - “
The sudden and abrupt twist of the girl towards him - and the launching of her body at him - made Wolfeite let out a hiss of startled anger, staggering back, his ears flattening back against his head of dark hair. It was only through the sheer amount of barely restrained self control that he stopped himself from sinking claws into her back to pry her off of him, Wolfeite’s tail lashing violently back and forth behind him.
Instead, gloved hands closed on the girl’s shoulders, and he shoved her roughly away, or tried to, at the very least.
”Who are you?” he asked again, and his voice came out like a growl, the ever persistent rasping low note overtaking every syllable. ”Speak.”
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She had yet to meet a puppy-man before. Sure she had seen youma, who hadn’t? Being down in the negaverse from time to time always had wonders. But for someone like Sabine, an ‘older’ corrupt without any memories, every day normally brought something new.
She took his lack of reaction (Tail wagging was a dog thing right?) as an invitation and found herself reaching up to try and ‘pet’ the ears she saw too. Did he have a set of human ears too? Too bad for her a moment later she was pushed away, his hands firmly gripped on her shoulders. The height difference between them should bother her, but really it didn’t.
At the command, she found herself wondering. “Do you speak dog too?” It was a wonder really, she wanted a tail and ears! Of course she kept ignoring his question, clearly she was right here what else would she be? It wasn’t like just anyone could crawl into the negaverse. “Woof.” She replied, smiling at her own creativity.
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It was an effort not to go with his instinctive reaction of simply sinking claws and teeth into flesh and tearing; the self restraint was only because Wolfeite wanted information and understanding more than he wanted violence at the present moment, his gaze narrowing as he looked down at the girl in front of him.
His ears were still flat against his hair. Wolfeite jerked instinctively away from the girl’s attempt at petting his ears, a dull red flush starting to work its way across his cheeks because no - no, he was not going to a complete stranger learn that weakness.
Her question, however, stopped him in his tracks. Wolfeite’s teeth clenched together behind the mask, gritting almost painfully hard.
To get the answers you want you have to do what works.
He didn’t want to listen to his own advice. Wolfeite’s tail slowly stopped jerking back and forth, instead settling into a more settled sort of sway, though his ears remained where they were, every part of Wolfeite rigid with tension and wariness.
“I speak youma, if that’s what you mean,” he said, a hiss through his teeth. The woof made his hackles rise, made the annoyance flare. Wolfeite tamped down on it.
“Do you have a name?” he tried instead, because it was clear he was getting nowhere fast.
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“Who’s to say Dogs can’t speak Youma too?” She quickly quipped back, her tone light and curious and not malicious in the slightest. If he spoke youma maybe others, dogs included, could too? The fact youma had their own language should have been a revelation for her, instead she didn’t put much thought process into it.
Not when he asked the right question. “OH.” She bounced on her heels, seemingly at ease even though the half-youma still had a tight grip on her shoulders locking her in place. “I have Many names. Some i like more than others. Some given to me, others people have told me are my name.” Musing, she looked towards the ceiling. Not really thinking much of it, she reached up and touched his wrist lightly with one hand while continuing. “Sabine, Lyra, Ammolite…” A pause. “Though i like Ammolite the most. It sounds pretty, plus it is Lite Ammo backwards. Almost like a weapon, don’t you think?” She smiled with teeth at this, her eyes flicking back towards his, still not entirely focused on Wolfeite in front of her.
“What’s yours?”
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He could not figure out how old she was, whether she was even meant to be here, or whether she had simply gotten lost in all the corridors and pathways and nooks and crannies that the vast Negaspace and its Castle held. Wolfeite stared down at her with a muted expression on his face, his gaze sweeping across her innocent expression, the tone of her voice light, almost airy.
He’d been called a dog enough times already by people who weren’t worth his time; he wondered where she came from, whether she was mocking him or not. Was it a setup? Maybe some other General had simply left her here on purpose, or maybe one of the General Sovereigns had decided to test him. Or her.
I have many names.
Wolfeite’s head lifted, and slowly, very slowly, his ears rose from their flattened position, his narrowed eyes still fixed on her face. The girl’s fingers danced along his wrist, and while he could have easily snatched his hand away, he left both of them where they were, holding firmly to each of her thin shoulders to keep her in place.
Lyra, she’d said, and Ammolite. The civilian name was almost completely disregarded, because he cared little for who someone was outside of their powered identities. And if this girl had a powered identity it meant that she was not just a mere civilian, simply...acting as one. Or looking as one.
Wolfeite’s ears were pricked upwards now, intent, listening.
“Wolfeite,” he said, after a moment, and his gaze had shifted, turned calculating, curious even as the girl’s - Lyra - Ammolite - was vague, not quite focused, staring off into the distance somewhere above his head, or perhaps the ceiling. “I am General Wolfeite.”
She had given him two names, not including the first, clearly civilian. His lips pressed together.
“What are you, Lyra and Ammolite?”
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“Hmmm.” She pressed her lips together, seemingly thinking through the name she was just given. It was a lengthy pause, clearly musing over the name or honestly maybe thinking about something else entirely.
“I like puppy more.” She decided, even if Wolfeite wanted to or not, that would be what she called him in the future. Or some sort of variant of the nickname, of course.
Fascinated she watched as his ears pricked forward, wondering in some part of her head if the general had a set of human ears behind his hair too or only just the fuzzy ones on his head. Thankfully for him, he still had her in his grasps.
And being short also meant short arms.
Not that this would always be the case forever. “Lyra…” She begun, once again drawing out the conversation with her lengthy pauses. “Lyra is a senshi.” Was all she came up with, all she felt was needed on that subject. “And Ammolite, now she is like you.” That answered his questions surely. He didn’t ask about Sabine, so she felt no need to answer that question. Maybe he knew that was who stood before him already.
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Wolfeite did not like puppy more. In fact, he was debating simply throttling the girl instead of trying to figure out what the hell was going on with her; but the curiosity and the innate desire to understand and the greedy, hungry desire for more was overcoming his need for violence at the present moment.
For now, at least. Wolfeite watched her eyes, the way her pupils dilated, the far off, vague sort of expression that indicated that perhaps she was not entirely there inside of her head. Which left him with even more questions of who she was and, more importantly - what she was.
A senshi. It made sense. Lyra versus Ammolite. Wolfeite knew only a few corrupted senshi and most had been corrupted from civilian, but he knew the rest. He knew the procedure well enough by this point to put together the pieces, or at least, the fragments of some of the pieces, because there were gaping, wide, dramatic holes where the rest should have been.
Slowly. Shattered shards put painstakingly alongside one another.
Lyra is a senshi.
And Ammolite, now she is like you.
Order, then Chaos. Wolfeite’s head tilted to the side, scrutinizing her.
“How long have you been Ammolite? How long has Lyra been a senshi?”
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It was a very dog-like move, the tilting of the head to show curiosity. Thankfully for him, she didn’t point it out because she too did the gesture and she was not a canine. Even a youma-canine.
She continued to bounce on her heals though, her sluggish mind traveling through the information he was giving and not giving. Not that she was connecting the dots really, or if she was she wasn’t saying what conclusions she was drawing.
Truthfully if she were right in the head, this would feel like an interrogation. She wasn’t exactly one to hold back information, which might be why some would consider her ‘sheltered’. “A while.” Truthfully it was an answer to both. “Lyra was a Senshi for a long time from what i have been told.” A hint that she remembered nothing about her past, the name now was only one assigned to her when other senshi who used to know her addressed her new life. “Ammolite a little longer, Sabine around the same.” Not that he asked about her current form, but oddly the sentence felt more whole with her other name included.
“How long have you been a pupper?” She still reaaalllyyy wanted to touch the ears, but maybe the tail which was closer to her height...
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He did not press her for more information, or to answer him quicker, though he was not a patient man by most standards. Wolfeite had learned, however, that sometimes, in order to achieve the best results, he would have to simply take his time in doing things, and as aggravating as that was, it had, so far, worked relatively well.
A while was not specific, but it meant that she was not some new, green recruit simply wandering about. It was better than no answer at all, at the very least. And the fact that she was referring to Lyra the way she was indicated that she held, perhaps, no memories of a life that had possibly started in Order and had wound up...here.
It was still all very broken, the edges of the puzzle jagged and uneven. Wolfeite was frowning, almost missing the question she had asked him - and the nickname, which grated on him like fingernails, his expression darkening just the slightest amount.
“I was recruited almost two years ago,” he said. “I’ve been - what I am - for over a year now.”
Wolfeite was still staring at her with his head slightly cocked to the side. He wasn’t entirely sure what to refer to her as.
“Would you like to be called Lyra or Ammolite, then? What is your role, here?”
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It was a quick thing. Her hand that was wrapped around his wrist once gently was now as tight a grip as his on her, her fingernails digging in ever so slightly even through the fabric. Her free hand, the one she originally left limp at her side, reached out just behind him. Her reach was just enough, barely enough to run her fingers softly against the coarse fur that swayed behind him. She had to know, had to touch. Thankfully she was not childish enough (right now) to feel like pulling on the tail. No it was enough, for now, to know what it felt like.
“So you didn’t always have this?” She mused - looking down at her hand (which she moved away from his tail) almost as if it still had fur in its grasp.
“Shame.”
Still she relaxed once more, honestly if he let go of his death grip on her it was likely she would just stand there. “My brother calls me all of them, whatever he feels like. He chose my Civilian name.” Not an answer, but a indication she had family down here too.“Most topsiders call me Lyra if they knew who i once was, and a lot knew me back then down here too.” So in a way it was an answer. Those who knew her from before tended to call her Lyra. She scrunched her face up, looking momentarily like a child pouting. “I like Ammolite more.” It was prettier.
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He felt the sudden, startling tightening of her fingers around his wrist, surprisingly fierce with such small hands. Wolfeite let out a hiss between his teeth, distracted by the confusing change from lassitude to strength, and did not see the other hand shift behind him until he felt her fingers brushing over the fur of his tail.
A ripple went up and down his spine, Wolfeite giving a snarl, teeth bared beneath the mask, hidden from view, though the snarl was heard. His tail snapped sideways away from her, but the damage was done; he stared at the girl with narrowed gold and black eyes feeling dragged off kilter.
What has this world done to you?
What are you?
“No,” came the rough answer through gritted teeth. “No, I was not. I am better now, like this. I am more powerful than them all.”
His hands dropped away from her too small shoulders, the slim, almost childlike frame looking as though it was so easily broken, and yet -
And yet.
She was clearly related to someone. Wolfeite did not know, though he was curious; the information was set aside for later retrieval, his gaze flickering across the pout, head lifting, jaw set.
“Ammolite, then,” he said, after a moment. “I will call you Ammolite.”
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Oooh, that was an interesting noise he made. It wasn’t something she was used to hearing coming from something humanoid, something feral and clearly more canine. Either way she clapped her hands together, grinning at both him AND herself from being the one that caused such a noise. “Momma Tanzanite used to make a noise like that too!” Or well, she did sometimes. Mostly when displeased, but sometimes when she was pleasantly surprised.
Sabine only nodded in agreement with his assessment of being better, of being ‘more.’ She didn’t clue into the bit of ego that was tied in with the statement, only seeing the truth as she saw fit. Did she mean power wise though, or just the fact he was partially a youma? He was better to her anyways, being part puppy meant so, right? “Puppy is always better, always stronger.”
Crossing her arms, she proved she would stay put even if he let her go. Staring at him, her attention once more on him (more because he called her name than anything else.) “Do you like red?”
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Tanzanite.
Where had he heard that name before? It was there like a memory, fleeting in its appearance and then disappearing just as quickly, Wolfeite turning it over inside of his head, sorting through all of his thoughts to try and decipher which part he had gotten it from. The girl’s glee was obvious; and whoever she was talking about was clearly someone she respected.
Or maybe just liked. Wolfeite’s teeth ground together at puppy again, though he didn’t comment on it, not this time, not when he still needed information from her.
“Yes,” he said instead. “Yes, I am always better and always stronger.”
Her question confused him, dark brows drawing together. Wolfeite watched her with a narrow eyed expression, eyes glowing gold.
“Yes,” he said, after a moment. “Yes, I do. Why?”
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Someone who was 100% in their right mind would probably not have commented on something so obvious. His uniform was a even mix of Red and Black, so clearly either he favored the color or he got the short end of the stick in the uniforms department.
If he bothered to blink he might have missed it. A dark serge of power was all that really signaled the change, the girl once before him leaving and in place stood a similar one. Albeit with longer hair, and a much different outfit, plus a very different energy signature. Her outfit was now a mix of deep blues and purples. The elaborate design plus the pair of ornamental batwings giving confirmation to her rank that her energy signature hinted at. She was a beacon, and maybe this explained why she stayed in her other form.
Ammolites expression stayed the same at first, but soon found her face lighting up as she took in his response. “I do too.” She moved for the first time since this conversation started, the tips of her hair slinking along the floor behind her while the broken chain on her collar swayed. She lifted a hand, palm raised up between them. “We are red inside too you know.” To prove her point she used her other hand, dragging a nail down her upturned palm. She was pressing hard enough to break skin, beads of red forming in the cut her nail left behind. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
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One moment, she was a girl.
And then she was not.
The change in her appearance was striking, deliberate, intense. The dark uniform was most certainly not one of Order, and the power signature that radiated outwards from her was strong, not weak, as he had expected - on the same level as himself, twisted and curled with Chaos, long hair trailing down her sides.
Wolfeite’s gaze raked up and down, taking in every little detail that he could before golden eyes rose to meet the senshi’s, her smile bright, almost airy as she moved around, a soft hissing noise from her hair on the ground.
We are red inside too, you know.
Wolfeite’s own hand rose, reached up, tugged at the mask on his face until it fell loose around his neck. The teeth behind it were elongated, sharp, and distinctly [inhuman, too sharp and too big to be anything but wolflike, lips parting in a sneer of -
Approval. There was approval in his gaze, in the hissed breath that escaped as Wolfeite reached out, taking ahold of Ammolite’s wrist. He held it up, watching the blood sliding lower, and the hunger for violence, for a good fight, for everything that he was burned through him, sharp and vicious.
“Do you make others red, Ammolite?” Wolfeite asked. “Do you make them see, too?”
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The teeth should have scared her, should have at least made her pause to think about them a little longer. Maybe take a step back? Instead she felt curious, and oddly… it felt right. On him, that is. If anything it wasn’t that different really. He had that teeth pattern on that scarf, so it made sense to have something more Youma on the other side right?
Well, it made sense to her.
Momentarily she stuck the finger tip she cut herself with in her mouth. Even now she registered the stinging of the cut she made. She wasn’t inhuman enough to not register pain, but something from her past (probably being beaten up as a senshi all the time) left her with a high pain tolerance threshold. Perhaps it was her sluggish mind not caring too much, but a minor cut wasn’t that bad. Even now she felt the magic - something she was born with, not given, starting to seal the shallow wound.
She lacked the fangs he had, which made his expression all the more menacing, but she still felt herself returning his grin with her own. She sensed another predator, something that his appearance alone should have hinted towards. No, she sensed a kindred spirit, is that what she found? “When they let me.” It was almost a pout. Who ‘they’ was was still up in the air, someone clearly held Ammolites (even though broken) leash. “Do you enjoy the hunt, painting a sea of red? Making them see what is beneath the skin?”
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She hadn’t backed away from his teeth, or from him, which was...confusing. There were very few who didn’t react, even less that seemed disinterested. But Wolfeite was more focused on Ammolite herself than anything else at present; he watched the movements with a certain amount of narrow eyed focus, as though he half expected her to do something else.
She was grinning at him. Wolfeite’s chin lifted, a slight shiver of anticipation chasing its way down his spine, her words lilting, almost playful, dancing through the air between them with a sharp air of viciousness to them that pleased him.
“That is all I enjoy,” said Wolfeite, the ever persistent growl making his throat rumble, tone low, his gaze dropping briefly to her collar and then back up again. His own was broken; there was no collar anymore, not for him, not ever again.
“I like watching them shatter.”
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