What do you mean, werewolves don't sew? [Lion]

[Anonymous]

As Richter replied, Aithne bobbed her head slowly at just the right moments, ritualistic signals that she was paying full attention and understood his carefully chosen words. "I should return the apology, I haven't spoken to another with our affliction thus far...I am quite ignorant as well. I assure you I did not take offense...it's just a little strange to speak of this at all, let alone this openly. It's...actually somewhat refreshing." The smile she'd maintained broadened slightly, tugging lightly at the corners of her mouth. She eyed him a moment as he looked to the leathers, and the realization came to her that here was another werewolf posing as a man, just as she posed as a woman, and the prospect of it warmed her in a small way. Certainly he was far more...feral than she, every fiber of him exuded wilderness, and yet here he stood, casually chatting with some tailor girl in Ketra. Far braver than I...

Her curiosity swelled suddenly at the thought, the thought that he was wilder and freer than she, and yet he was capable of calmly walking the street among human and beast and none would look twice upon him. She'd avoided the outside world like the plague, holed-up in her little shop with her every need, her meals, all her materials, brought straight to her doorstep. Being among them, tossed about in the milling throngs of man in the sweltering heat, well, it was more than she could bare. But he did it...and did it well...and he wondered how she survived among polite society. How he did it was the more pressing inquiry. She hid beneath a veil of cinnamon within the confines of her shop, hardly a daunting task to her eyes...but he.

She was roused from her thoughts as Richter responded to her questioning, and the warmth of her attention replaced the absence her mental retreat had left in her gray-green eyes. She chuckled as he did, bobbing her head in agreement, "Well and that's something we should all aspire to, as best we are able." The smile faded from her lips as his gaze dropped to the floor, and she eyed him carefully as he continued, giving her the condensed version of his origin story. That he'd bitten others brought a dark cloud to the forefront of her mind, but she chased it to her subconscious...she'd expected no different, and she'd do her best not to hold it against him. As he called his father a monster, Aithne's mind conjured a gruesomely detailed depiction of the werewolf who'd changed her, and she fought back a shudder, bringing her hands to her elbows and somewhat discreetly hugging herself.

"Why should you try? To live as I do, I mean...you are what you are, and you were born into that world..." She paused briefly, and seemed to be drifting off into another plane of existence, though only briefly. "I live as I do, fight against this beast to be human, because that's what I'm supposed to be. I was born into humanity, that's how I was programmed to exist, per se. Why should you strive for something against your nature." another brief pause, and her eyes seemed to fog over, though again the display was only brief. "And yet... I suppose it is my nature as well, or should be... but I cannot let go. I just..." She exhaled softly, glancing back up to his face and nodded softly. "I am glad to have met you also, Richter. I've never had the...luxury of someone to speak to, nor the ability to learn as I am from you." She smiled slowly, though seemed yet contemplative. He looked as though poised to leave, and she felt compelled to share something with him before he spoke of departure.

"I'd like to show you something...something no living eyes have otherwise seen." Her words were slow, cautious, as though she were about to undo her whole existence. She crossed the room, walking upon the balls of her feet and making no sound as she went to the window and quickly drew a curtain over it. She peeked through a crack in the door, surveying the quieted streets outside for the spies she was certain were there. She returned to Richter tentatively, standing at arms-reach and just before him. The slender fingers of her left hand went to the gauntlet over her opposing forearm, and she quickly untied its bindings, as though racing through the action before she changed her mind. She glanced up to Richter to assess his reaction before carefully tugging the gauntlet down over her hand.

Her forearm beneath was horribly mangled, a twisted, gnarled stretch of scarred flesh that dipped down awkwardly in some places where the muscle had once been cleaved from bone. Her skin was a sick smattering of pinks and reds and deep purples, darkening in the recesses. She held the arm still, somewhat offering it for Richter to examine. "When I was six I was bitten," after the bastard devoured my father! Her voice quavered over the words as she slowly spoke, choked out before she could finish. The tremor worked its way outward and caused her arm to shake. She made a move to cover it with her opposing hand, grasping the contorted flesh. She looked down to the floor, suddenly ashamed, and fell awkwardly silent, unsure of how to proceed.
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[Lion]

As far as Richter believed, he lived a relatively simple life, existing day to day as needed or necessary.  Though he tried to use all of his prey when he hunted, he tried all he could never to waste anything; if he could spare something he would.  Something in his solitude and living amongst the wilds that surrounded Adela's primary city taught Richter the value of survival and how to do so successfully.  Perhaps it was sheer instinct that drove him to do so, the animal in him that made it so natural to survive through the harsh dangers of such a shadowy forest, ever lurking and present with a seething eagerness to eat his own flesh just as the beast harbored within hungered for theirs.  Or maybe it was the existence he was born into.  Aithne had a point about that in that he couldn't deny the world he was reared in and indeed he never tried to.  It remained de facto that survival became natural to Richter and it helped further that he knew the terrain and woods in which he lived; a home-field advantage was always welcomed.

He would not know her suspicions of him, his capabilities to walk into a crowd of people without fear of being harmed or ostracized.  But this was because it was embedded into his conscious that as a creature of the night as he, he was already considered separate from the pack.  He was a cross between two divergent worlds and could never be completely apart of either.  Perhaps it might have come across as simply easier to surrender to the will of the wolf within, but this was only partly the case.  Unlike Aithne, who stated that she was born into humanity and fought to keep it, Richter was more liberal with who he was, seeking neither to distress nor completely indulge either of his natures to the fullest point.  Yet it seemed the wolf always won and no matter if he put forth the effort to restrain it, it was apart of him as much as the guise of human flesh he wore on his leanly muscled frame.  Though unbeknownst to him, the power of such a supernatural creature was beyond that which his the frailty of his humanity could even attempt to dissolve.

Richter's own face resumed its curiosity once again as she departed from her place to check the window and close the door once more.  Again he was confused if there was someone out there that sought her attention and kept his brows furrowed until she returned to him in the matter of moments.  He was silent as he observed her movements as she undid the lacings of the gauntlet upon her right forearm.  They were such swiftly careful movements too, deft and it was almost magical to him just to watch her slip the article off her arm.  Yet the sight that met his eyes was far less majestic than he could have possibly assumed.

Beneath the gauntlet was her wrist.  But it was a horribly disfigured and showed in its shocking discoloration and missing muscles.  It was a contorted heap of flesh and bone; a sad excuse for an appendage but Richter did not want to pass judgment before he had a chance to fully examine her arm more closely.  His eyes had grown wide in his visual observations and his mouth almost dropped, but he caught himself just before nodding in understanding just as she spoke.  "That's terrible," was all he managed to utter at this sudden moment.  She held her arm out to him as if for him to take a look at but immediately shrank away before he had a chance to respond to the action.  She tucked her head down in seeming shame, and caused his brows to furrow, unable to comprehend.

He took another look at her hand covering up the gnarled forearm and made a slow move to reach forward with a strange gentleness. "May I?" he inquired shortly before carefully prying the fingers of her left hand and kindly taking the disfigured limp into the smooth and professional palms of his right hand.  He held the arm in his hands carefully, like a precious jewel, and it wasn't long before the doctor in him took over and he began his desired examination of the arm.  The skin was crooked and heavily scarred and his thumbs fell into deep, muscle-less holes that he wondered how she was able to move this arm at all.  He flexed her wrist with one hand, calculating the motions and seeing what remaining muscles moved and which allowed nothing.  It was only a minute or two before he smiled to himself, fingering the colors of hers skin and said softly, "I can fix that."

He let her wrist drop for a moment while he attended to rummaging through his travel bag which contained a few medicines that he planned to deliver earlier to other patients.  The clinking of certain contains could be heard within until he came across the one he sought.  Richter pulled out a small vial of an ugly red paste within.  "Here," he added. "Take this salve and rub it on your arm twice a day, once in the morning, another at night, and the red and purple colors will fade, making your skin more like the rest.  The muscles are almost hopeless.  There's not much I can do about that now, but I could concoct a formula to return some muscle growth.  If you'd like that is."