Grayell nodded and then noticed the wink. He turned to the fire.... then shot a look back again as she left. What the bloody hell? Women, masters of the mixed signal. He sighed, looked back to the door again.... and then simply shook his head.
She'd be working with him and screwing that up, well shit that would NOT be a good start. Margrett was undoubtedly attractive and quite honestly, her fierce spirit had him more than impressed - but letting his loins lead him out there was more drama than he needed.
He still thought of Serenity more than a friend should. He was determined to see her as a friend though. His own baggage has set him determinedly on that path... but then the recent reappearance of Liseth didn't help. He had already given though to the matter. He decided he needn't feel guilty for his night with Liseth. He and Serenity had not so much as held hands, they weren't an item. Both of them had past relationships that complicated the now, but it was good that they had each other.
But still. His heart felt for Serenity. Liseth... that was complex. A fierce, brilliant love once burned and turned to a burden - only now to be somewhat rekindled. She had him confused, baffled. To demand so much from him. Conditions. Agendas. And yet their raw, animal attraction to one another had seen her stay the night with dramatic results. He knew he could be happy with Liseth if only she would ever slow down and appreciate the simpler things... but he also knew that she never would.
With those realizations, he figured it best not to think anymore. He couldn't figure women out and for all his speculation, he might be a giant fool assuming too much. Assuming Serenity would see Grayell as more than a friend was a pipe dream. Assuming Liseth would ever want to settle down with him was also nothing short of foolish. He remembered the couple of occasions that he'd seen Serenity after a rough night on the town without him. She was more of a party girl than he originally thought... perhaps she was just enjoying her freedom.
Blast it.
He had a mind to throw his caution and clothing to the wind and pursue Margrett. Why the bloody hell not? No one had asked commitment of him, no one had offered their own heart in return.
But he stayed all the same and smiled, hoping at least she would enjoy her bath. His foot tapped constantly. A quiet man, with a head full of fanciful thoughts and at times, smooth blue skin.
Margrett walked out under the stars, half expecting Grayell to follow her and fully expecting her to have to kick his ass back into the house. When he didn't, she was actually a tiny bit disappointed, but preferred it this way.
She bathwater was warm, the night was cool, but for a moment she hesitated, something in her not wanting to take off her armor. It seemed unintentionally symbolic; finally stopping and taking off her armor, and thus letting her guard down physically and emotionally. She sighed and did it anyways, letting her cape slide off. She straightened it out, letting it act as a blanket for her armor as she removed it. Her hat went first, and she straightened out her hair, dirty as it was. Her gloves were next, the heavy gauntlets sliding off almost reluctantly. She flexed her fingers. They looked strange not covered in metal. Her breastplate went next, a complex series of buckles and straps holding on the old plate. As she let it fall, exposing a purple shirt that may once have been considered finery, she seemed to feel a weight fall off her shoulders. She looked down at herself, distinctly uncomfortable. She felt...naked. She'd taken it off every so often, but this had an air of finality to it, as if she and it would be parted for a long time. She knew she wwouldn't, but it was still a little hard to put it neatly on her cape. She resolved the clean it later. Her father would have reminded her too. Her boots went next, a little bit big, meant for a male wearer. They klunked to the ground and she slid off the plates covering her legs, and the short chain and plate skirt around her waist. Now, dressed in her civvies, without any armor at all, she was afraid.
She sat by the side of the bathtub for a moment, reminding herself it would get cold fast but not caring. She was afraid, afraid of her environment, afraid of seeming weak to anyone that would see her like this. She picked up the familiar shape of her warhammer and ran a finger along the inscription on the haft, just below the head; William Mikael. She laid it in her lap for moment, working up the courage to move.
She did finally. The final layers of clothing were nothing; she was already naked in her mind. The old, ill-fitting finery of a noble's daughter were just remnants of some other life. They didn't matter. She slid into the tub, hissing a little at the water, got comfortable, and looked up at the sky. She started to cry.
Last Edit: Sept 3, 2011 23:25:08 GMT -5 by Margrett
It had been some time. Quite some time. At first he thought she had simply been relaxing, but after some extended silence, he heard her cry. His senses were very sharp and his house was poorly built - it was inevitable.
He sat for a minute. Then another, then more. A young woman, crying outside his door. He didn't know why, he didn't know if it was anything he could help with and for what seemed like the longest time, he decided not to act. Leave her be, have her space. But he somehow was worried - not just a simple concern one might have for a saddened stranger, but because to Grayell, it seemed like she had shared some of herself with him. In her own stubborn way of course.
She'd come into town like a maelstrom, demanded to be sheriff and question or qualm joined him in combat. She was an impressive combatant and a strong willed woman and Grayell had enjoyed her company immensely in the tavern. She had also accepted his invitation of lodgings, something that surprised him entirely... and somehow made him feel that much closer to her. He might be very, very wrong but his intuition suggested they had more in common than was now apparent.
So he opened the door quietly and slipped outside. The tub faced away from his and was large, he could not see her in the water. He didn't go any closer.
Forgive me coming out here. I won't come any closer. But I want you to know.... well if you want to talk I am willing to listen. I know that's not much, but sometimes I find it helps to have someone just listen. A friend.
His voice was careful, he was picking his words and trying not to come off in a manner that might not offend. That would be hard, she undoubtedly didn't want anyone about at present... but he felt it was the right thing to do.
His words aside, Grayell's energy very clearly conveyed his sincere concern.
Grayell was quiet as he slipped back inside and closed the door. He sat back by the fire, shaking his damn fool head, brow furrowed and staring at nothing in the flames.
Well done jackass, now you've gone and pissed her off.
Grayell was expecting things to be far more difficult now. He should have left well enough alone.
Margrett listened to him go, forcing herself to stay quiet. She might have started to sniffle a bit had Grayell not been there. She sighed deeply and sunk into the water a bit. She decided to stay there a bit, just relaxing, letting Gray stew in his own worry.
And he did. There was some hidden secret that lay in the heart of all fires and perhaps one day he would figure it out. For now, it told him nothing. It instead kept him just distracted enough to not berate himself too badly.
But dammit. Here was a woman that had seen more than her share of horrors. Who was he to think he could help her? Of all the names he thought of himself, for all the damned shamefulness he felt, he came to one conclusion.
He'd just be there. If she'd let him. He hoped she might.
She didn't. After a while, she soaked her old clothes in the bathwater and put them on, still damp. She wrapped the towel around her shoulders and left her armor outside, giving it a reluctant look back.
She stepped inside, her hands pushing her hair behind her shoulders. She stopped and gazed evenly at Grayell, as if nothing had happened.
I'm going to leave my stuff outside and grab it in the morning. Good night.
Grayell nodded but she was turned and headed to bed before he could so much as look at her. That didn't help the pit he felt in his stomach.
But now, more than before, he felt like he needed to bathe. He wandered outside, but didn't have a towel of his own. Not that he hadn't been without before. He walked over to the tub, careful not to disturb her armor. Heading to the base of the tub, Grayell first removed his boots and then his leather chest piece. His bracers slipped off as well, leaving him bare chested in just his pants and the fang that hung around his neck.
His hands slipped behind his neck and loosed his hair, wrapping the simply thong that held it back around his wrist. Something in his shoulder ached and he rolled it, looking down to see remnants of his tussle with Liseth. He smiled, a somber smile; and headed to the corner of his yard where he had some of his favored herbs growing. He plucked some of this and that, walked back to the steaming waters and dropped them in.
He stretched before he thought of getting in, fingers knitting together and pressing palms outward above his head. His eyes studied the moon, it was full this evening. That meant two things to Grayell in particular, but neither which had him worried at this time. His scars seemed to break up the moon's light on his skin, reminders of a hard life.
Hands untied his sash and unfastened his pants and Grayell stepped out of them, leaving them in a heap on the ground. A quick twist and the wrap around his waist and groin pulled away, dropped to the ground like his other gear.
One foot lifted and stepped in carefully, before he lifted his other and stepped into the tub. The hot water was hottest when he sank his lower extremities into the water, but after a moment of held breath he slid back and laid in the tub, arms resting over the sides. The herbs in the water tingled every nick and scratch and he sighed, a contented if not troubled sigh.
He had no issue being naked. He felt more than naked most days anyways. He had spent days, weeks without a shred of clothing in the wilds and whilst he had a healthy modesty about his body, it was not something he paid much thought to.
He studied the stars and smiled. His muscles were relaxing, less of the persistent ache that normally bothered him always. A quick thought wondered if he might share this tub with someone, some time.... but this night was quiet and alone. That suited him fine.
Grayell opened his eyes. A sound had triggered his senses, now buzzing with adrenalin. His ears listened intently for another sound. His eyes scan the back of his yard and the patch of woods that framed it. His body had frozen though, careful not to make a single ripple in the water.
There. Something else. A small creature would be faster, currying to be home and safe. A predator would likely make no noise. No, this was something larger, trying to be quiet. His nostrils flared, dragged any scent on the wind and whilst it was almost imperceptible, Grayell knew he had a visitor.
This would be the first to come this close to Wistvale. Brave or stupid. It may have smelled the blood he had brought outside, a mixture of his own and Liseth's. That made him question whether it recognized her scent. He also wondered if it had been sent with half a clue as to why.
Not all of his adversaries were clueless. But none so far had the whole picture. Most thought he'd betrayed their bastard master in some manner, none knew the truth of it though. Other than Liseth. And whilst she'd come back to kill him... well that wasn't happening anytime soon he hoped.
Grayell's eyes found the hunkering shadow, it pushing dangerously close to stepping from the woods. He hadn't brought his sword. He was also naked as a babe. His hands pulled up, locked onto the sides of the bath.....
It tore from the woods like a storm on the wind, savage and furious. Default for it's brood though, it charged headlong toward Grayell, ready to tear him to shreds whilst he was still vunerable. It's roar bellowed though his yard and house, growling in it's menacing savagery and thirsty to spill his blood.
Grayell waited, the exerted what force he could muster to tip the tub away from the werewolf. The beats slammed into it, a loud ring breaking what was left of the night silence. Grayell's head rang like a bell as he'd stayed hunkered within the tub, the metal floor slamming into his head and shoulders as the garou pummeled into it.
His ears still ringing, Grayell rolled away from the tub and was quick, very quick to move away from the killer. It had already mounted the tub, taken a slash at him with it's dreaded claws. It had caught nothing but his hair, a close call that could have ended him. The wolf had has it's bell rung too, and stepped from the tub a little more cautiously, it's mouth panting and hot.
Grayell stood up, hands lazy at his sides. He turned side on to the beast and showed no emotion. A hand raised, extended his palm.
Margrett had taken off the damp clothes in the comfort of the room, so after she had shot up at the sounds of a scuffle, she nearly shot out the door stark naked. It was a few seconds before she realized what she was doing and pulled on her clothes, hitting the back door in a slide. She saw the werewolf, and Grayell standing there before it....completely naked. Her mouth opened, then closed, and then she growled.
If this is some elaborate scheme to get in my pants, you're going to regret it.
The beast's voice was raw, gravelly and full of snarl. The half wolf form made speech that much harder for many Garou and it's lips rolled, spitting the words as best it could.
"Liseth is missing and Master Verick is VERY upset. I smell her blood here. He wants you dead."
The wolf stepped closer, it's clawed fingers quivering, clenching in anticipation of it's kill. It kept it's head low, shoulders down. The fact that it didn't charge immediately indicated to Grayell that it might just have half a brain in it's thick head. It was very large, huge by regular Garou standards.
I haven't killed her. You on the other hand....
The quip triggered an attack and in a maddening blur of speed, the Garou launched at Grayell. It lead with one hand, but it's dominant hand was kept in reserve; ready to gut him when he moved.
Grayell noticed though and new immediately, this was no pup. No, this werewolf had some experience with real fighting in this form. Still....
Grayell's foot shot out and his body folded low. His left arm shot out, the ridge of his hand connecting with a solid thud against the beast's wrist. Before it could bring in it's best strike, his other hand had scooped a handful of dust and thrown it immediately into it's face. The killing blow missed and the wolf roared, angered only more.
Not quick enough!
Grayell's left hand shot straight from the wrist to the shoulder, driving home a fierce blow inside the wolf's shoulder. He shoved it then, his palm shaking with power as it hit an opponent as hard as rock... but his right knee wound in, followed by his right - and both drove outward, hitting the were in both the gut and the throat. The move was quick, it had to be faster.
Grayell shot back, but the beast's weapons were always at the ready. A claw lashed out in a blind fury and raked three ragged claws across Grayell's chest. His teeth clenched and he hissed in pain, but was now outside it's range. Hands up and ready for another lunge, Grayell spat. His eyes were furious, a fury matching the unbridled anger that drove the were.
First blood to you. Let's see what else you have.
The Garou snarled but laughed at the same time. It shook it's head like a dog, dust falling away and then sniffed his blood. It's tongue traced it's lips and it nodded with a sadistic, malicious smile.
"I'm going to eat your heart human. While your still alive."