#adrian 01

There had been an intentional effort to compile a list of familiar faces within the hold on Freydis’ part. Each time someone entered or exited, each time she was pushed from one chamber to another, or each time another shackled by an a’dam passed before her. It was as important to know who was a prisoner of this shared circumstance as it was to understand what they were all up against. Each face she recognized left her awash with regret and trepidation. The same could be said of Adrian when she pressed her back to the rough wall before him and slowly sank to the floor to sit beside him. He had been a companion to her on the half-year-long endeavor in the Astral Library and the past. Each had spent much of their time in their own way, on separate paths, but he had proven himself a favorable ally to have, she simply wished there wasn’t such a deep need for such alliances. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” she said of their second round of shared captivity, but her voice was grim and devoid of any humor. 

The worst of her fears had been assuaged for now; she had successfully survived her first shift and found some unfortunate to consume in whole from outside the haven of the outpost. However, new fears surfaced as she continued cultivating her understanding of exactly what she was now and what was required to sustain her. A few weeks ago, she had almost embraced her new form of being, and she would continue to pretend outwardly that this infernal shape that would hold her for the rest of her unnatural life was something she welcomed. The more she learned, the less this was so, but she did what she could to keep this to herself, internalizing it and allowing it to swirl in her private whirlpool of resentment and anger and regret--but not to allow it to make her vulnerable. 

But that was how she felt right now–vulnerable. And raw. And untethered. The first time she had shifted into her werewolf form was deeply frightening and unpleasant. Compared to the sensory overload and vice-grip the first shift into her vuldak form had over here even after it as said and done, all prior shifts into a werewolf were mere child’s play. The moon had sunk below the horizon line and the sun had risen to take its place hours ago, but still, Juneau felt deeply misplaced from her human form. Her hands still shook from the sheer stimulation of it all and the short bursts of memories of what had occurred in her vuldak form the night before playing out like macabre stagecraft before her in a way she couldn’t make any narrative sense of. She felt outside of her body–beside, above, watching–but not back in it and she agonized over the fear that this was what she would feel like for the rest of her days. 

Kettle would come to look for her soon, she thought to herself. He wasn’t a fool, even if he demonstrated he was willing to suffer one when he made an alliance with her. He would know what she was–perhaps not a vuldak exactly, but he hadn’t needed to ask questions when she told him not to expect her at the decrepit little home he allowed her and Adrian to sleep within. He’d only given her a slight sidelong glance and let the matter go without any fanfare or prying into her business. Then she remembered it was light out, early in the day, and there would be little to no chance he’d risk the discomfort of the sun to come to collect her when he had little to no reason to suspect she’d be out cowering at the edge of the woods licking the wounds of her misfortune. 

Juneau pulled her knees close to her chest and rested her chin on her knee. It was fully within her power to simply get up and walk back into the populated area of the crumbling village, but for some reason her anxiety and overwhelm from what had happened just the night before weighted her down to the small rock outcrop she sat on like an anchor. So wrapped within her own ruminations and feelings so outside of herself she left her situational awareness by the wayside. Normally, she might have heard Adrian’s approach.

Status: Closed | @adriangwon​

The brunette plopped down on a chair in their usual corner of the university canteen with an exasperated sigh. The source of her discontent was the stupidly itchy roll neck jumper she had donned – the fact that her office was a thousand degrees combined with Liv’s tendency to fidget constantly had resulted in her being way too warm for her own liking. She could deal with the cold, from light drizzle to a blizzard, a blanket and a scorching hot cup of tea could fix her right up. But heat? Heat turned her into a whiney puddle of perspiration.

She said nothing to her friend yet as she scratched her neck and decided she had had enough – Olivia peeled off the item of clothing in one swift motion. “Before you say anything – no, this is not a weird kink.” She gestured at her chest, the exposed bit of skin marred by scratches. When she had taken off the jumper in front of her colleagues earlier, it had led to some rather juicy assumptions about her. “Why is it people are more inclined to believe I’m some sex freak than the owner of a moody cat?”

Henryk had heard of the Romanian king--of course he had. How could he not? Adrian Ardeleanu was notorious, even by a ruler’s standards, for the rumors circulating that he’d had his own brother assassinated in order to claim the throne for himself. Henryk tried not to put stock in such rumors (he was certain the tabloids had had their own go at him, after all), but it was difficult not to wonder just what the Romanian king got up to. It was difficult to not let his thoughts wander towards alliances and rivalries and wishing, desperately, to know where King Adrian rested on the fact that they were both, technically, sided with Equanimity.

Did he wish to strengthen their ties? Or did he wish to separate entirely and close off trade and relationships with the neighboring countries surrounding him? These were all questions that floated around in Henryk’s mind as he stood outside of King Adrian’s suite, working up the courage to announce himself as his most trusted guards, Andras and Finn, stood watch silently behind him. What sort of statement would it make, he wondered, showing up at Adrian’s room unannounced for talks of politics and alliances?

Trying not to overthink the spontaneity of his decision too much, Henryk held his breath, lifted his hand, and rapped his knuckles against the elegantly-painted hotel door once, twice, thrice.