once / BITTEN

With a slight huff, Adeline replies, "I don't dislike others. One day, I hope for the same unity many others of my kind shrink away from. A quiet night and good company is what I crave and why I'm here. Nothing else."

"It's actually quite sad. You think they'll ACCEPT you? Believe in your... merits? Tell me, how many of them would share a drink with you if they really recognized you?" And the Death Eaters were no different, for their claims otherwise. They had wanted to use dark creatures to uplift them, but offered nothing but the same scorn in return. That she would still throw in her lot with them made it seem like she knew exactly where the future of her kind lay—with scraps. "You might as well be a dementor... or a WEREWOLF."

He shook his head. "Have your quiet evening, then. And when you're ready to admit that I'm right, we can have a real CONVERSATION."

His boldness was a danger to them all. And for someone like him... it could be all the worse.

Andromeda scowls at him. "You might have nothing to do with the panic, but your efforts over the past years in relationship to The Wizarding World as a whole... aren't you concerned that it's changed? There's so much uncertainty right now, and you? Already with a tenuous relationship with the rest of the Wizarding Society."

"What do I care if your lot slaughter each other? That just makes it easier for me to take the upper hand." He took another gulp from his goblet, a WOLFISH glint in his eye. "Always liked the idea of drinks and a show, haven't you?"

"I'll say this," Andromeda begins, knowing she should be afraid but couldn't bring herself to be. Yet. "Your boldness still astounds me. After all of the panic in the past month, you have no fear being out and about. How is that?"

Frozen leaves crunched under heavy, warm boots as she moved deeper into the forest. Absently trailing her hand against the passing trees, bark cool and rough, Scarlett made a mental note to pick up more willowbark. They were running low back home and she figured colds would still be running rampant for the next couple months. However, her goal this morning would take her to a glade much further into the woods where - right to a large patch of winter aconite. She’d read some magical theories that some plants and herbs were more potent when harvested during the first month of the new year . Was it true? She had no idea but if it helped the pack she’d gladly head out into freezing temperatures.

Besides, it’s not like she had much else she could do. It was either a trip to the forest or a trip to Hogsmeade to barter away her foraged herbs and flowers. No parties for a muggle like herself, with no ties to any part of the wixen world except for the pack. Gossip had spread through the pack about the parties tonight and, while Scarlett knew deep down she would never want to be surrounded by that many wixen, the dreamy part of her wanted to wear a gown and makeup and dance the night away.

For obvious reasons, she had never attended a prom or formal dance and she wondered what a wixen party was like. Lifting her arms to hold an imaginary dance partner, Scarlett began to waltz through the trees, humming lightly under her breath. Giggling at a silent compliment, she began to twirl and the trees spun together into a greenish brown blur. And then a darker blur appeared. Steadying herself against a nearby trunk, the world slowly came into focus as she beheld her pack leader. Scarlett straightened instantly, doing her best to look put together and serious and not like the world was still shaking a little. “G-Good morning,” she managed, tripping over the greeting.

Few survived the initial attacks, let alone the TRANSFORMATIONS ahead, but of the muggles Fenrir had brought into his fold... he wasn't usually disappointed with. Had he been, they would have been shredded and had their remains fed to the stronger, more valuable, cubs in their midst. It wasn't an uncommon fate to those unable to scrounge together the WILLPOWER to meet his standards, but between wixen and surviving muggles, there had been no notable differences. His ability to compromise and branch out had led him to an advantage over the Death Eaters and their ilk—let them slaughter each other over something as silly as blood; his own numbers wouldn't suffer the same fate. While theirs DWINDLED, his would grow.

"You look like you're having fun," he said, watching with hands tucked into his robes at the FROLICKING young cub. It wasn't a pleasantry, but a pointed criticism. While work needed doing, fun was left aside. "I hope that means you've finished your gathering. Chiara tells me we're running low on our magical herbs. We'll need the lesser stuff to make up the difference."

Anyone who had been jovially milling about the front lawn of the Longbottom Estate had long since gone inside for drinks or refreshments. It was a private moment, and one that always put the slightest edge on Adeline. Being alone with Fenrir was both terrifying and comforting. Two people who had been deeply affected by these life circumstances… and their ways of trying to get out.

One would think they were inherently opposed to each other. Not the case. In fact, Adeline would say they understood each other far more than many others could. Not that she would voice that aloud.

“I know you like a good scare but I wouldn’t have thought you’d prefer the Longbottoms’ company over the Malfoys’.”

This may not have been a PHYSICAL attack, but it was certainly a bold show. Proof that even the threat of aurors couldn't keep him out of their yards, their homes, their lives. For now, his crime was simply to exist. But when the moon rose? It would be a different story.

"They're all the same to me," he scoffed, taking another gulp from the drink he had pawed off of some other partygoer. "But if it helps, I'll be sure to pay them a visit later in the EVENING. I would hate to miss the occasion." As it stood, Fenrir wasn't invited to that party. The Death Eaters as a whole had shared in their recently-reborn leader's feelings that half-breeds were beneath the cause. Their loss.

"I should be asking you the same QUESTION. I thought you'd prefer to bat your eyes at your allies than slink around this sort."

Time: 10:11 PM Location: The front lawn of the Longbottom Estate

"Of all the people, I'm surprised to see you here, Fenrir."

"I don't ignore problems; I correct them. You know that." Nor would he ignore the mumbles of a cub still LANGUISHING in the poison wizarding society had to offer. Who wanted to be a second-class citizen, after all? Many, even among his ranks, would have eagerly taken the chance for normal lives—but it wasn't meant to be. They would have to remake the world in their image, one bite at a time. "But yes, I did try and fetch you after your gift had set in. Your old family decided they knew better how to raise a wolf." He hadn't let up, of course. Never had, never would. But it hadn't been enough. "It's UNFORTUNATE, that you came into your own later than most... but life is rarely fair. Dwelling on that won't bring you peace."

He stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Your purpose here will." Dare he suggest REVENGE? Not yet, but the thought had occurred more than once. In the most literal sense, she would have to tear the rot from her life to proceed. "Your work here will."

"I won't mention this to her," he said, tucking his hands into his robes. "But you'll have to do me a favor in return." Greyback never did anything out of the GOODNESS of his heart, but the favor in question was relatively minor. Just honesty. "Tell me what you're doing out here all on your lonesome."

Chiara was restless, and she couldn’t stop the anxiety brewing as she sat on a log a ways away from the clearing. It had officially been two years that she had been with the pack, and she didn’t regret a second of it. They were her family. Which was why it was so surprising that she felt like this. She missed her parents and her siblings, and she hated the feeling. It made her feel guilty. It made her feel like she was betraying Greyback and the pack and she couldn’t do that. It was all their fault that she was like this. Why hadn’t her parents just given her over to him when he bit her? It would have saved them all so much heartache and pain. If they had done the right thing instead of trying to make her normal than she wouldn’t have had to live with all of the pain and secrets and lying. Her life would have been simpler.

She nearly growled when she heard the snapping of a twig behind her. Of course someone had to come find her. It was probably Scarlett, who she adored, but she wanted to be alone. Was that so hard? She reached up angrily to wipe away at her face. Stop crying.

“What?” She snapped, refusing to move or look at the approaching figure. “I said to leave me alone, Scarlett.” 

"My mistake," he said, brow arched in AMUSEMENT. Cubs could certainly have tempers on them, couldn't they? "I'll let Scarlett know that when I see her next. But last I saw, she was tending to some of our new cubs."

Greyback grunted in response to her ANECDOTE. Unsurprising, given the state of the world today. She herself would know that such behavior wouldn’t have been accepted back among their kind. You were grateful for what you received, and any dissatisfaction meant wrestling it away from someone weaker—not yowling at a CARETAKER like a blind kitten. Things would be different when werewolves were at the top of the social order… but for now, he could sneer at those left wrangling offspring they had no ability to properly raise.

“Good to hear it. I think it’s time I set you on that officially.” Before now, he had only watched with interest as Chiara had busied herself with potion making, but she was EXPERIENCED enough to take charge of it. Any stumbles along the way were just the natural progress of learning the trade—so long as she kept her head, she would manage. “If we can’t get everything we need tonight, I’ll send foragers out for the rest. At your order, of course. You’ll have the proper lists.” The wolves he would set upon the task wouldn’t be pleased taking orders from someone that still, in many ways, qualified as a cub—but they would get over it for the sake of the pack. They would take to potion making themselves or take a knee at someone QUALIFIED to do so.

~

Chiara’s eyes widened at his words, surprised, but happy. “Really? You think that I’m ready?” She asked him. She hadn’t expected him to give her any responsibilities so soon. Even though she had been there for nearly two years, that was nothing compared to so many others. She could already think of a few wolves that would be displeased with this, and that wouldn’t like taking orders from her. But if Greyback thought that she was ready than she must be, right? Unless he was setting her up to fail…but he wouldn’t do that, right? Chiara felt guilty for the mere thought of that, really, and she was glad that he couldn’t read her mind. “I won’t let you down,” she promised him. “Thank you.” Chiara nodded her head at his promise. “I’ll get a list together for you,” she promised him. 

Things had been a mess since the merriest time of the year. Fear had been struck amidst Wizarding society once again and Adeline could do nothing to soothe such a frenzy. While things had not been calm in the absence of the dark lord, they had been moderately uneventful. Now, however? Tensions blazed.

Adeline had the privilege of a pretty name and a pretty face. She was the heiress of a prominent wizarding and vampire family and she knew that. Others, despite being in her care, were not so lucky.

"Fenrir," Adeline seethed, pulling down the hood of her long emerald cloak. Despite her family's preference for red, Adeline hadn't been fond of it. Red stood out. Red announced presence. Green? A dark, deep green? This color blended into the night, and the foliage, and the woods. Like the very woods that Adeline stood in now, up at the threshold of the Greyback Pack's territory.

Everyone knew to steer clear of this particular clearing. The only issue was... it was the place Adeline would stand if she ever needed to speak with Fenrir alone. It was risky for them to meet out in public, and her own home was laden with so much silver... it wasn't that she wanted to use it. But she also wasn't going to part with it over nothing. Instead, she did something that many, including her own son probably, said was ill-advised. She went to meet Fenrir Greyback on the verge of his own territory, almost always alone.

"Fenrir," she breathed, softer now, the fire in her voice and nerves at least dimming for the moment, "Fenrir, please tell me that it wasn't one of yours that attacked that vampire in broad daylight!"

"I have to say, this is bold even for you... coming out here alone after everything that's happened." After Voldemort himself, allied with her vampire clan, had all but risen from the dead. After the Death Eaters had struck fear into the hearts of many, USURPING him from the biggest known threat to wizarding society—at least for the moment—and more importantly, bringing back another set of enemies for his pack to handle. The dark wizards in question might happily SLAUGHTER their less-bloodthirsty kin in droves, but they'd set their sights on his own kind in the meantime. And when all was said and done, likely the same poor half-breed allies they kept. Vampires included.

Greyback kept his hands tucked into his robes, one secured tightly around his wand. TRUST was hard to come by in the best of places, and this was far from the best of places. Very far. "And with accusations no less." Ones he didn't care for. It very easily could have been one of his own that had attacked her kin, but what of it? The ANIMOSITY between them was mutual.

"What I will say is, broad daylight would be a poor time for a werewolf attack, wouldn't it? We prefer to strike when we're at our best." Fenrir was the DIFFERENCE in that respect, his wolfishness having begun to creep out of the light of the full moon. Each time it took hold, it became that much harder to return. He welcomed that with open arms. "I didn't order an attack on anyone outside my borders." This time. "But I can't promise you much. What the pack does on their time is their business, and you know how... tense... things have gotten. Even more so since your MASTER made his return."

When: Near closing time, 3rd January

Who: Alecto and Fenrir  ( @moonbiting )

One would have assumed that Alecto was going to lay low following the events on Christmas Eve. People that assumed that were wrong. Maybe she should have kept her mask on, but honestly, she wasn’t stressing about that now. And she was also not going to hide. They were going to take over, and so, in the end it wouldn’t really matter. And Alecto had all plans to fight her way out if needed, so she hadn’t taken to staying indoors. They’d come get her if they really wanted her.

She’d just been grabbing another glass of wine, having locked herself away in the office to go over paper work, when she spotted a familiar face walking up the bar. “You’re cutting it fine. We close in 15 minutes.” 

"You've always made an exception for me," he remarked, settling at one of the bar stools. "Or that's what I'd come to expect. Turns out you've got more SURPRISES up your sleeve than I thought."

"Good to hear it. I think it's time I set you on that officially." Before now, he had only watched with interest as Chiara had busied herself with potion making, but she was EXPERIENCED enough to take charge of it. Any stumbles along the way were just the natural progress of learning the trade—so long as she kept her head, she would manage. "If we can't get everything we need tonight, I'll send foragers out for the rest. At your order, of course. You'll have the proper lists." The wolves he would set upon the task wouldn't be pleased taking orders from someone that still, in many ways, qualified as a cub—but they would get over it for the sake of the pack. They would take to potion making themselves or take a knee at someone QUALIFIED to do so.

The scariest part of his interviews with him was probably the way he looked so composed, yet, always spoke with that sinister tone and gave him those occasional wicked grins, "I won't keep you from going to get your dinner AT HOME." Eustace retorted, feeling a sudden urge to get out of there.

"I'll find out what I can... And don't call me Stacey..." He didn't want to overcommit, but he was already into deep; the quality of his information determined if he lived to see another day and he still had a lot to do. "I guess this is our last meeting this year. Happy... holidays if you celebrate anything," Eustace didn't even know what he was saying, wishing happy holidays to a werewolf?

Without saying another word he turned and started walking back to the main road, relieved but still alert.

Burke's retort managed to get a laugh out of him. "Don't like that one? What should I call you, instead? Sweetheart? Darling? Love of my life?" Regardless, he would be a thorn in his side for as long as it was necessary—and perhaps for some time after that, too. Whatever it took to secure his VICTORY over the magical world. Him included, eventually. Greyback looked forward to it. "Happy Holidays," he called after him, watching as he started off through the trees. He would follow until he made it to the main road, albeit hidden in the SHADOWS. It was what he always did. "Don't forget to send me your guest list, either. I'd hate for our wedding to end up... one-sided."