[Maija] She hadn’t let him see the burn – which isn’t really that hard considering she often is under a blanket, or with long sleeves on simply to keep warm. She’s too thin, she’s too this, she’s too that, (you’re weak) she’s Maija. And she’s ever the same, if even quieter since their spat than before.
She has returned to the bed, her one night ‘take a stand’ likely lost on the Wolf Born anyway. She has done what she does all the time – she goes to work. She pretends to smile, she pretends to care, she pretends each customer is the best person that every lived, and she would do anything for them, as she weaves easily between tables and delivers platter after platter of BBQ to family after family. She gathers her tips, she shoves them into the pocket of her jeans, she clocks out and makes her way to the corner store. She gathers whatever she decides is for dinner that night, and makes her way back to the apartment. Where she makes dinner, she cleans up, and she finds herself where she is now…
Curled up on the couch, under a blanket, with a book in her lap. She’s not reading though, at the moment. Instead, the book is face down on her lap, holding her place, and she’s unwrapping her arm to check the burn. After tomorrow’s shower, she likely can ditch the bandages, she thinks – so she ditches them now. Because she’s just stubborn like that.
[Wahya] He hasn’t around much in the past week, if she has seen him at all. The wolf-born has been like a ghost in her apartment, little things moved about to notify her of his presence, but it has all relatively remained silent.
The last spat they had wasn’t a good one, he had called her weak, didn’t understand her and just ignored the situation like he always does. She will hear noise coming from the bathroom, the sudden *POP* that snaps in the air as the Uktena materializes through the mirror attached to the medicine cabinet.
He pulls the bathroom door open, shuffling out into the main hall, his hands brushing wispy comb webs off his shoulders and arms. He tilts his head up, glancing over at her.
“Maija sick?”
[Maija] It’s been a while since she’s heard that pop, and she stiffens, briefly, but she is relaxed again once he reaches the door and comes into the living room. She finishes wadding up the bandages from her arm, and sets them aside, before lifting the book and flipping it back over into her lap – even if she’s not reading it now, but watching him.
“No. Just a burn – S’fine now.”
She turns her arm over to show him, the skin still angry and red, but merely a hint of what it was before. “Ya ain’t been here a while. S’dinner left over on th’stove if ya hungry.”
[Wahya] He can’t remember when the last time he ate was, it has been several hours, or maybe a day. His attentions were drawn elsewhere, especially after the night he made contact with the breeder bane. Something about it had troubled the Uktena.
He doesn’t reply to the mention of dinner being on the stove, he walks over to the couch, his thick eyebrows narrowing on the burn mark. His tongue clucks against the roof of his mouth loudly, almost tsking at her under his breath.
Wahya stops beside the couch, dropping down to his left knee in front of her. He reaches out for her arm, taking it in both his hands, turning it over and then back to look at it. “Maija needs be more careful. No good burning self.”
She feel the flow of his gnosis, a warm sensation running over her arm as he gently touches the burn to heal it.
[mother’s touch]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Maija] She almost flinches back from his touch, managing to hold it back to merely a flex of her jaw as she lets him take her arm. This is Wahya. He is different. (…he is the same as all the others shesweakweakweakweak)
“I ain’t meant too. Was distracted.” and angry. “Tripped at work. Fell against the grill.”
She rubs her arm after he’s down, and with a slight lift of the corner of her lips, brief yet there, she adds. “Thanks.”
[Wahya] He can it under his fingers when she almost flinches from his touch, managing to hold it back. The muscles were a giveaway, however, flexing in the line of jaw. His eyes are perceptive, despite the weakness of his monkey-skin, they snap up to her face. Eyebrows furrowing more, the expression causing the muscles to pull, making the scar over his right cheek and temple twitch.
[Perception + empathy: What are you hiding from me?]
[Wahya]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Maija] She meets his gaze, briefly, then drops her gaze. She doesn’t answer for a long moment, and maybe it seems like she won’t say anything else. There’s a question in he gaze, in the furrowing of his brow, in the way he looks at her.
This is Wahya.
Wahya’s different – and she’s never not answered a question, even unvoiced, not from him.
“Ain’t need t’look at me like that. It ain’t nothin. I was mad – at you. At me. At why I can’t make ya understand shit ya ain’t got no experience in. I was mad ya called me weak. An’ that ya disappeared after. Figured ya ain’t care at all – and..”
bony shoulder lifts in a shrug. “wasn’t sure ya was comin back.”
[Wahya] “Wahya has been busy dealing with things,” he begins to say, “Bad things.” She is right, he doesn’t understand her, even as he listens to her now; he isn’t quite picking up on why she needs to feel this way.
“Wahya is not leaving, here is den at moment. Maija always mad at Wahya, don’t always understand why, he do nothing wrong.” His hands drop to the cushions, pushing himself to rock back onto his feet and straighten up. He slides over to the cushion next to her, stretching his arms around to wrap them around the girl and hauls her up against his side, hugging her.
[Maija] He pulls her close, and briefly she thinks to resist, but she doesn’t at all, letting him pull her close and even sliding her arm around his lean torso to return it. She rearranges, shifting her position to more comfortably lean in, her book falling to the floor unnoticed. She sighs softly. “Ya ain’t done nothing wrong – and I ain’t always mad.”
It’s hard to explain. So hard. He has no frame of reference that she knows of. “Wahya doesn’t understand what it was like for me growin up – how it scars more than m’ body – but scars th’ mind too. Think…” Her brow furrows, and she tucks her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. It’s easier not to see… “If Wayha had someone when young that bite and nip and tear and break Wayha all the time. Heal him up only to break him again. Wahya ain’t know how to fight back, ain’t know it was ok to fight back, until that person almost kills wahya, leaves him broken and bloody and unable to heal for long time. When better, Wahya finds out the tormentor is comin’ after Wahya again – so Wahya runs. And runs. and runs.
Wahya never learns that others won’t do that. All you know is that when true born come, wahya bleeds and is broken and almost dies. every time. THAT was Maija’s life before she ran away. It is hard to learn to trust that others ain’t like that. Does that help Wahya understand at all?”
[Wahya] Does he understand at all? Yes and no, Maija’s eyes will see the way his features twist and pull onto themselves, how his eyebrows will furrow deeply, and then suddenly spring up high as his eyes go wide, nearly touching his hair line. She will feel the way his body seems to tighten up with tension, his arms move around her securely, squeezing her tighter.
She speaks in a way he may understand, to put it in his pattern of speech. His voice croaks, always spoken in that gravelly-pitch that sounds harsh and unused. Wahya finally closes his eyes, tilting his head up until his chin rests atop her head, his breath runs out in heavier pants, stirring the hair atop her head.
“Maija soul is broken,” he says in a quiet voice, there is a depth of great sadness conveyed in his words, “Wahya do not know how to heal a broken spirit.”
[Maija] He understands, at least a bit, enough to see that it’s not him. “Wahya helps by being here, and reminding Maija that not every one born true will hurt her. Wahya always helps. Even when it makes me mad…”
Her fingers slide over his side, an absent caress. “I was mad when ya called me weak. If I was weak, I’d already be dead… I wouldn’t a got up again, when he broke me so bad, I wouldn’t a run away, on my own, when I was 15. I wouldn’t be fightin now to change name and hide existance so I kin stay in Chicago.” she sighs, softly. “I ain’t always able to control the fear, to forget I’m broken.. but I still try.”
[Wahya] “Maija will need to be strong, learn to grow stronger. Cannot always think bad men will come for you. Cannot always presume Wahya will not come back if gone for long time, but then he may not come back at all. Cannot tell Maija he will always be around for her.”
He sucks in a deep breath, exhaling it out slowly, tilting his head to rub his cheek into her hair. He inhales, nostrils flaring out as he breathes in her scent, imprinting it to memory. “Maija is not Wahya’s to keep.”
[Maija] “I know..” that he someday he won’t be able to come back, and she will lose another. Her fingers slide over his side, as he breathes her scent and rubs against her hair. She tilts her head slightly, to better see him, to gauge his expression as he says that last.
“Maija belongs to Maija.” a pause.. then.. “Why do you say I ain’t yours to keep?” She wasn’t aware he thought about things – or even in what connotation it is thought of at all.
[Wahya] He lifts his head up from her hair, opening his eyes as he looks at her. His hair hangs loose around his face, the long matted braids slithering across lean shoulders to fall like a curtain. He stares at her through the vine-like strands. His tongue pokes into the inner left cheek, causing it to bubble out slightly.
His hold slackens on her, arms going limp around her as hands slide down to her hips. Head tilting to the side, “We no same tribe, Wahya has no claim over Maija, cannot keep Maija. He would have to challenge Bone Gnawers in area for mating rights.”
[Maija] She reaches up and slides the brains away from his face, tucking them back absently as she watches him. “If ya could, would you want Maija? Even broken?”
[Maija] (…ahem. BRAIDS.)
[Wahya] He sighs, closing his eyes. They remain closed for a few seconds, letting the silence lapse between them as he considers her question. He is not sure how to answer that, he could lie and not hurt her feelings, or be honest and possibly make her feel terrible.
“Wahya is unsure. Does not see Maija as mate, protect as friend. Maija is monkey, Wahya’s wolf. Cannot breed together.”
[Maija] She waits, curious, then nods as the answer comes.
“I ain’t want a mate. But…” and here, the corner of her lips lift into a bit of a smile. The one she shows the world at work is nothing, nothing like this. That is fake, made to look real. This is real, not trying to be anything else. “In this skin..” she cups his face, briefly. “Maija is girl. Wahya is boy.”
She leans forward then, and presses her lips to his cheek, at the corner of his lips, lingering just half a second. “Maija is glad to be Wahya’s friend.”
[Wahya] Wahya suddenly panics!
His hands go up to hers, curling his fingers around hers as he pulls them down from his cheeks. His head is shaking, almost wildly, sending those braids to beat against his cheekbones. His eyes have grown so wide that she can see mostly white in the pupil instead of the soft brown color.
Wahya slides off the couch, stumbling to his feet. His chest begins to heave, panting as his heart thrums in his ears. He continues to shake his head at her. “Nonononono…” he stammers out, “Maija no understand, Wahya cannot.”
It’s almost comical with the way he looks at her, like he is frightened. “Wahya only know wolf ways, monkey-skin not meant for mating. Monkey-skin is disguise, is part of war forms. Cannot make with Maija as wolf… is…” his voice drops off, suddenly at a loss for words.
[Maija] She… blinks…
He pulls away from her and stammers and…
finally… “If is wrong for Wahya, is wrong. I ain’t never forced nothin’ on anyone ever. But monkey skin? Is all Maija knows – and can be fun. Ain’t want Wahya t’make as wolf. Maija would teach as boy.” she chuckles softly, an actual brief sound of amusement, something he’s heard maybe a handful of times.
She could say more, maybe. Say something, say anything… but she doesn’t. In the end she just rearranges her blanket over her legs again. “No panic. Is ok. Ain’t meant t’scare ya or nothin… was jus’ sayin thank you for being Maija’s friend. Maija understands.”
[Wahya] He breathes out in a sigh of relief, his shoulders straightening as he releases her hands. He looks away from her, casting a long look around the apartment. “Good.” He says finally.
He is a little cautious around her now, unsure what she might do to him. He pursed his lips together, stepping away from the couch, pacing around it once and stops.
“Maija say food is ready?” he was starting to head towards the kitchen as he speaks out, shrugging out of his long coat to pull it over his arm and deposit it on the back of a chair. She can hear him make noise in the kitchen, opening and closing doors and the jostling of plates.
[Maija] He’s extra cautious, and inwardly she sighs. Way to misread the cues, kid. It’s been too long, and deep inside, she’s simply.. lonely. Time to lock it down, force it aside, and let the last few minutes be something that she is able to forget.
She nods, at the question and gestures to the kitchen as she leans down and picks up her book again.
“Yeah, is on the stove.”
She leans back into the cushions of the couch, and picks up her book, trying to focus on the words instead of the fact she just made a fool of herself. Not that it’s an unusual occurrence by any stretch of the imagination.
[Wahya] Pots clang, dishes rattle. Water begins to run in the sink, Wahya makes noise in the kitchen to distract himself, he manages to eat, deciding to just stick a fork in the pot and eat out of that instead of wasting a bowl. He pours water into a glass using the tab and drinks out of it, leaving it empty on the counter.
Quietly, he paces to the entry way of the kitchen, peeking around corners, the pot in one hand, fork in the other spooning out its contents into his mouth as he watches her, almost sneakily from around the corner of the wall. Wahya shakes his head, wrinkling up his nose. He finishes off the food, walking back into the kitchen to drop the dirty pot into the sink.
His hand slides across his mouth, wiping it with the back of his wrist, stifling a small belch. She’ll hear his boots pace across the floor as he exits the kitchen, slipping into the one bedroom they both seem to share, he always in lupus when he sleeps at the foot of her bed.
It doesn’t take long before the crazy Uktena is streaking across the hall from the bedroom to the bathroom, shutting doors behind him and hides there while he takes a bath…
…to soak and think.
[Maija] …He streaks. He freaks out when she kisses his cheek and he then streaks. She just shakes her head, and continues to read for a while. Only when she’s sure it’s going to be another long soak, only then does she get up, close her book and leave it on the couch, and makes her way to her/their room.
He’ll sleep at the foot of her bed, or not.
She’ll sleep in her bed, as always. In her boxers and tank top, as always. And if he picks up any noises from the room, she’ll simply tell him she was dreaming later. It’s an easily believable lie, with the nightmares she has.
Long before he makes it to the bed…
she sleeps.