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by: Stana Chastaine
#9053
April 28th
7:45 pm
Tutaminis Manor

"Thank you, Stana." One of the volunteer healers here, a healer with no real healing powers, shut her notebook. Jessika was a different sort of healer. She'd been studying psychology, and one of the only resources available here in the safe house so what better way to get Stana to open up than speak with a 'shrink'. Not to mention Jessika was around the same age as her, so it was difficult to take her serious. Still, Stana complied. She answered all of her questions, smiled and nodded where it was necessary, and then scheduled her follow ups. She spoke with her every week, sometimes twice a week if the dreams--or rather nightmares--were too much for her to handle. "I've reported to Kara that you've been doing very well."

Stana nodded. "Thanks."

Having been given a lot of time to talk, Stana remembered and noticed a few details that didn't sit well with her in this place. Details recalled, situations changed, perception shifted to where it should be with certain people.

Kara Viridian was the head of this household, or so they said. Stana had heard of one Damien Noland, and other members that may have been more qualified for the position, yet here she was, running the Order now. She'd recently made a deal with the garou, that Stana didn't quite understand since they were seen as monsters, after all. not a lot of people were in agreement with that decision, but it had been over a month that the transaction had gone through and they hadn't been attacked...yet. Kara mentioned a shrink in the city, London, specifically. His name was Rupert Reynolds, and he was also a wizard. Stana had made excuse after excuse to postpone any appointment with the wizard shrink. Maybe it was her lashing out at Kara for moving on so soon from her late husband to this new man, Mr. Winslow.

"Til next week." Stana rose from her seat and tugged down on her shirt, pulling her own journal from the end table. It'd had her notes, sketches, scrawl of freeform poetry and stories composed from her dreams. She kept it with her at all times, unless it was under lock and key if she had to step away without it. Stana gave a polite but forced smile to Jessika before leaving the office. She was still baffled Jessika had her own office, at that age, as if she'd been established already, with her judgmental pen and paper. Her only excuse was that there were too many rooms and not a lot of inhabitants, surely.

The after-dinner lurkers were doing their rounds in the hall, and Stana did her best to greet them as she passed. She'd hoped not to see Diana Blaine, because quite frankly, she didn't have much to say to her. She might have seen her as a sweet girl, before but the more she got to thinking, Stana knew she and Diana were far from friendship. They might have been cordial at times but Stana remembered the teensy little detail that Apollo's sister had run off after graduation to become a Death Eater...so why in Merlin's name was she here, of all places? She knew she'd been attacked. She knew she'd suffered the same fate before, and was taking longer to recover, as fragile as she was, but she at least had Jaleth to protect her. Stana's companion in that prison cell was already dead just days into their captivity, so yes, she had been scarred by quite a bit more than the poor Death Eater girl and her boyfriend, the Professor.

As she rounded the corner, Stana started to wonder where Mr. Partridge had run off to. He was her favorite person here at the safe house. Not just by attraction to an older man (though she couldn't deny it), but he was kind, genuine and friendly. She believed in his intentions, she believed in his drive and his constant want and need to help the Order. But daydreaming as she turned a corner meant she wasn't paying attention, and she bumped into someone else walking through. Her journal tumbled to the floor, the loose papers spilling from it, spreading across the floor.

"Shit... She cursed to herself. "Pardon me."
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by: Jace Bryden
#9083
The last month had been what Jace like to refer to as interesting. Humans we're an odd sort to begin with, never mind when they we're hyper aware and distrusting of anything or anyone new that threatened to overturn the coveted status quo. Apparently this was even more so when they we're what amounted to an underdog. That there was something the alpha could appreciate. Even though he knew he was taking on more risk than it was necessarily worth, the Order at least had the potential to show some teeth.

Darque was a talker, Kara the leader in training (Jace still thought she lacked the backbone and tenacity needed to bring everyone to heel), that Casey guy... he had guts and a deep seated anger that rolled off him. A hot head by Jace's standards but a hot head that could be molded into something far greater than what he was. The rest of the lot the alpha was still forming an opinion on... they seemed more like meek little sheep than anything. For the most part they left the pack to its own devices which was more than fine by them. It also didn't hurt that Kara was sticking to the bargain they struck so the 7 had no reason to get overly aggressive... though some days it was admittedly hard.

That was party one of the reasons he was currently in the manor. His nose had told him that Kara was near and he'd followed her scent right into the manor with the intent to collect on the monthly retainer they'd agreed on. The past week of hunting Order enemies had been hard and the pack needed supplies. Jace turned a corner sharply and swore when a much smaller someone had the audacity to plow into him. "What the hell," he barked out as he cast a red tinted glare at whomever it was that dared get in his way. He took in the appearance of blond and didn't even bother to hide his disdain. Great, one of the sheep... His eyes followed her movements as she scrambled to pick up the loose papers that had been scattered all over the floor. After a moment he'd decided the girl wasn't worth his time and went to move past her only to stop and ask gruffly, "You seen Kara around?"
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by: Stana Chastaine
#9102
"She's out." Stana said bitterly, as she picked up the pieces of paper from her journal. She didn't even look up. She tried to sweep up the scraps quickly but they were on paper that was very thin and a little unforgiving when it came to gathering it. There were doodles from her dreams, scenery, random things like flowers and even some rough drafts of poetry.

There were a few stand out pictures, too. She spent some time in the courtyard, so the sketches of the fountain and capitalum building were done in great detail. Then another, of the well, filled with water...and finally, a wolf. She had been thinking about the garou a lot since she saw the pack come through a few days after she arrived, then again the following week. She studied lycanthrope in school, albeit briefly, but anot experience from the past inspired this one . It still needed some work, but she drew a white Wolf in front of a few trees, with the full moon behind it. She even thought to scrap this one, but something told her to keep it.

Stana sighed, irritable. She wanted to lash out at the person she bumped into but there was no use picking a fight with an older man. At least he sounded older than her. She still hadn't looked up because she easy still picking up the drawings from the ground. Hopefully he wouldn't walk all over them since he seemed a bit in a hurry to meet up either Kara.
Last edited by Stana Chastaine on Thu Feb 16, 2017 7:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
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by: Jace Bryden
#9150
Jace felt his rage spike at the bitter reply. That was not the answer he'd wanted to hear, especially from some lowly little sheep. He tamped down on his desire to hurt and instead forced himself to focus on the papers the girl was trying and struggling to pick up. Most of them appeared to be notes or some sort of writing... but a decent chunk of them appeared to have drawings. Most didn't make any sense to the alpha, though he did recognize the fountain and the well, but what really caught his attention was the picture of a white wolf in front of a full moon.

The older man moved quick as a flash and managed to but a dirty boot on the corner of said wolf picture before the girl could pick it up. There was something uncanny about the drawing Jace couldn't quite put his finger on. perhaps he was being more culturally sensitive since his rage had spiked earlier but the resemblance to a shifted Spiral was unmistakable. There was no way this little whelp could know anything of Garou could she? The Nation worked hard to keep their existence secret and Jace sure as hell didn't go announcing to the world what Lucky 7 really was. If anyone ever asked he had always told them the crew were weres...

"Now hold on there a minute," Jace stated simply as he crouched down and used a clawed finger to lift the papers edge up just high enough so he could pick it up. He let his eyes linger on the drawing of the wolf before shifting them back to the tiny morsel in front of him. "Why would a little thing like you want to draw a nightmare like this?"
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by: Stana Chastaine
#9152
She felt a shift in the air, like the old man was pissed off for answering his question. Stana didn't have to look up to see that. It's like she felt his cold eyes on her, steely, irritable, glowering at her. She didn't care. There were a few elders in the lot that felt entitled to be treated like kings and queens and, that young folks here were just foolish, wasting their time on love and nonsense when they should be doing things like practicing spells or learning how to protect themselves. Perhaps they were right. But Stana was different from that lot. She did practice. She wanted to be useful. Not a liability. But she didn't doubt that this man was like that.

Actually, she didn't even know who that was. But she didn't care to look up.

But then the boot hit the paper. The one drawing she kept telling herself to either keep hidden or frame in her room, was nearly ruined by a soiled boot as it was slowly placed at the corner of it. Stana froze. She didn't want to tug on it, otherwise the fragile piece of artwork would have been torn. She felt her face fill with heat as she waited for him to make his move. Once he picked it up, Stana stood from gathering her things and finally faced him...

It was him.
It was the man Jace, they were talking about. The one with knives across his chest. The one with greys in his beard sprinkled into his dark hair. The one who took Minister Darque's eye without batting either of his own.

He was holding her drawing in his hands, curiously. But she didn't waver. She didn't show that she'd been caught by surprise. She looked just as straight-faced and fiery as she had earlier when she stalked out of the office and into the hallway. He was more of an obstacle now. She just wanted to get to her room.

"I saw it once. And over and again...in a dream." She said, confidently. No need hiding the details from a stranger, she didn't mind sharing. Most people thought she was crazy anyway. Stana didn't see these horrible nightmares, or strange occurrences until the days spent underground...but that, no one else knew but her. Also, she didn't use the word nightmare either. If he wanted to know, she could elaborate.
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by: Jace Bryden
#9211
Jace wasn't sure what to make of her answer. A dream? Really? To the alpha it sounded like a cheap cop out for an answer but then again he supposed it could be possible. There was no noticeable emotional shift to indicate she was lying... maybe she had the unfortunate luck to come a cross a shifted Spiral and then somehow miraculously survive said encounter... really that scenario wasn't unheard of. Humans did have a tendency to subconsciously hold onto a fear which would explain the dreams.

"In a dream huh..."

He kept his steely gaze locked on to hers and sized her up. By all outward appearances the kid had guts and there was a fire that burned inside her that intrigued the older man. When she should be cowering in fear, she stood tall. When questioned she answered confidently. There was something decidedly different with this girl when compared to any interactions he'd previously had with human kids. Then again it was probably because their parents had been targets of the 7 and they had ended up caught in the cross-fire. Collateral damage as they say. He reached up to scratch his chin and stood, offering her back the drawing.

"So what do they call you dreamer of wolves? Can't just be girl right? I'm Jace, and I'd really like to know why you'd be dreaming about Garou when most people have no idea they exist."
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by: Stana Chastaine
#9212
"Yes. That's what I said. A dream..." Stana confirmed, enunciating each word with a firm tone. He seemed a lot tamer than she'd seen him act before (even though the moment was only in passing), but she'd already been in 'a mood' that she just wanted to get the hell out of this hallway and lock herself in her room. While she didn't want to get out of sorts with him, provoke him, and open up a whole box of a mess she'd have a hard time cleaning up. He offered her own property back to her, and she grabbed it from him, careful with the thin sketch paper as she slipped it back into her notebook.

"Jace." She stepped a little closer as she said his name, and huffed a little through her nostrils as she examined him closely. Stana from before the incident might not have been so brave, staring into the face of a beast. She was just a barmaid, after all. A girl from humble beginnings, who said please and thank you and held the door open for you if she saw you coming. Now she was always on her guard, a mistake she'd made before by leaving herself so vulnerable for attack and furthermore for pickup. That's how she ended up in that cell. She wasn't paying attention. Now, she had to learn how to observe, size up and assess. Nothing could get past her. She couldn't let that happen again.

Though he might have been in his human form, she had faced enough in her time in captivity to shed herself the fear of confrontation like this. He was the one with the attitude, after all. He just happened to collide with her mid-cyclone of internal fury. "Now why would I expose some of my deepest, darkest secrets to someone I've just met?" Her gaze narrowed briefly, almost like a twitch, a tick, as she watched Jace's face carefully, looking up to him, directly in the eyes. It wasn't so much of a challenge as it was a move of defense. There was a huge difference. She wasn't yet strong enough to engage physically in a fight if he wanted to pull at that thread, though she knew she'd done some unraveling on her end already just by acting out in defiance. His bandolier of knives would be unleashed on her if he had the guts to pull anything stupid and betray his little pact with Kara and the Order here. She didn't care at that moment. She wanted to see how far she could press this.

Something about Jace made her ever curious, so she wanted to nudge him as far as she could.
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by: Jace Bryden
#9213
His eyes narrowed at the firm tone and sass he was getting and it was a struggle to to reach out and cuff her across the side of the head. That feeling intensified as she stepped a little closer. He didn't miss the slight flare of her nostrils, or the way she attempted to size him up. Jace couldn't decide if the girl was suicidal or just plain stupid. Her current bearing and demeanor screamed aggressor to the older man. If she was looking for a fight the alpha wasn't going to back down and she'd learn real quickly that when he fought, he fought to win.

When she asked in that flippant little tone as to why she should answer his question, Jace let his hands rest casually on his knees and he bent forward until he was nose to nose with the girl. He gave her a tight lipped grin and locked eyes with her. If she thought an alpha of his reputation was going to shy away from a stare down she had another thing coming. "Because girl," the world girl was drawn out in a long sinister sounding purr. She hadn't given him her name after all. "If I have the slightest inkling that you might tell anyone about anything you think you might know of my kind I will kill you." The tight lipped smile morphed into a grin and Jace let a bit of his front canines show for good measure. "This little deal here that I have with Kara... It's not going to save you either."

He held his lowered posture for the time being, curious as to how the girl would respond. If Jace had to guess based on how the current conversation was going, she'd say something snippy. It was almost like she was testing her limits around the alpha in the same way he was testing her worthiness...
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by: Stana Chastaine
#9216
Stana glowered as he practically knelt to meet her eyes, straightaway. It was a good thing since her neck was straining just to look up. It hadn't healed up fully and still gave her trouble when she slept, so staring upward would have made her hurt even more. "I'm not afraid, if that's what you're looking for." So many night creatures fed on fear...after her experience, she felt as if she had run out of that emotion. Nevertheless, she was getting a bit of a thrill riling up the old man. She took in the entire sight of him. The rugged outlaw look suited him, she thought, as she traced her eyes over his scars and the aged creases in his face as he smiled. He was probably built solid underneath all his leather and travel garb, stronger than her no doubt.

"For someone who wants to keep their...kind underwraps, you have no problems talking about it here, in the open?" her eyes looked over towards the empty common room down the hall, empty she had presumed because it was still dark there, and if everyone was minding their own, heading to their rooms or going to the corporum building for the evening, they would have privacy there. He seemed interesting enough to her to keep the conversation going, if he wanted. He'd come looking for Kara and she was out doing Merlin knows what. Stana decided she wouldn't mind passing the time getting to know this intriguing specimen if he so wanted to give her the time of day, especially considering how hard she was pushing his buttons.
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by: Jace Bryden
#9268
No. No she was not. Fear wasn't something that seemed to come naturally to the girl and there could be many reasons for it. First and foremost being that she truly was suicidal or more likely in Jace's mind, she really had no idea who she was dealing with. Dream's were all fine and dandy but in the end they were just dreams, figments of fake imaginings that meant and did nothing and he was certain her dreams didn't even touch the surface of what a Black Spiral was.

Jace didn't break his gaze from hers as she apparently sized him up, but the alpha did take the time to straighten up. What followed though had him losing more of the tenuous control he had over his rage. Was she implying that he'd lift the veil on his own? That he'd rat out his own kind to a race of weaklings even though his ears and nose told him there was no one near the pair? Not even his own pack dared to talk to him like that.

Jace snarled and raised his left hand across his body and swung with the intent of backhanding the girl clean across the face and knocking her down a peg or two, again an action he'd have taken if anyone in the 7 would have pipped up like that. The strike never happened though. At the last possible minute that little voice of humanity he sometimes possessed decided to speak up and Jace found himself stopping the motion just short of connecting with her cheek. He clenched the fist and turned away from her with a laugh. She was good. Real good at the button pushing. There was no doubt in the alpha's mind that if he would have followed through he probably would have broken her jaw... and then he would have had to deal with Kara or one of her posse... not that he was worried in the slightest but the alpha had to admit to himself they did currently have a good thing going even if Kara and the rest of the Order might think differently.

It took a minute for him to push down the urge to hurt the girl but once he did he nodded his head in the same direction he'd noticed her eyes glance before he went to hit her. Obviously she had a more "private" area in mind to chat rather than the open hallway and honestly Jace had to reluctantly agree it was probably better to not hold this conversation out in the open. He followed the head nod with a slight wave of his hand. "Fine, you wanna talk elsewhere then after you."
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by: Stana Chastaine
#9277
His hand wound up and in a quick motion he went to strike her, but she didn't move. He'd caught his hand before it made contact with her face, redirecting his energy elsewhere, as not to connect the hit to her jaw, where he'd been aiming. Stana didn't budge. She didn't even blink, except for the slight twitch in her eye. His whiff had caused some of her hair to fall in her face, strands of hair tickling her eyelashes. Instead, a small smirk appeared on her lips as she made no moves to evade the attack. This man, Jace, had done exactly as she expected. "Hm." She mused, licking her lips a bit before raising an eyebrow at the intriguing older man.

Stana nodded as she turned away from him, starting toward the common room she had pointed to with her eyes just moments before. One would be called a fool to turn their back to a man of Jace's stature and demeanor, but as she showcased during his fit, she was quite the fool when it came to this man...unafraid of what he might do from here on out. But he had stated an inquiry now, asked for details regarding something that sounded rather dear to him, and once they reached their private chamber, she would indulge him.

Stana turned on the lights here, taking a seat in front of the unlit fireplace. It wasn't chilly in here yet, but if it grew cold enough, she might think to light it. She crossed her legs and waited for the old man to make his move. Would he try to attack her again? She was mentally prepared for it. Physically? She was sure she was, though she hadn't seen what he was capable of. Bandolier of blades and all, Stana still wanted to see just how far the buttons could be pushed. "I always liked wolves, as a child. After what happened to me a few months ago, you'd think that would change, but strangely, it hasn't."

She paused. She waited for his reaction to that, before proceeding. Her eyes were cold, fixated on the man's face. He had such interesting expressions on that rugged, handsome face. Hypnotizing, almost.
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by: Jace Bryden
#9281
Jace followed the girl without any comment, opting to use the small amount of time to take a look around. He made a point to stay out of this place since it seemed to be where most of the Orders riff raff hung out and that was not conductive to keeping rage under control. In all actuality Jace prefer the out of the way local Kara had put them. If anything it lent to their reputation of being reclusive and far to dangerous to just let mingle with everyone.

Again once the unlikely pair entered the room, Jace took the time to look around before settling into an open chair across form the girl. He thought nothing of the room temperature. He still had his leather jacket on and quite frankly the weather had never really bothered him. Chalk it up to a perk of his heritage. The alpha settled into his chosen chair, hands clasped and resting comfortable on his stomach as Jace fell into a lazy slouch that showed he wasn't in the least bit concerned about anything that had recently happened. When she spoke he listened, though her explanation was lacking and if frustrated him to no end that he was going to have to pull teeth to get anywhere. He could care less if she liked wolves. What the hell did that have to do with anything? But an incident? Did she come across a were?

"Alright girl I'll play along. You like wolves, good for you. What happened a few months ago?" There was a bored yet impatient tone to the words. Jace didn't bat an eye at her expression. The cold look was something he was used to and the fact she seemed to be fixated on him only brought a smirk. If she was hoping her little quip was going to give a reaction based of the little she said she was going to be disappointed.
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by: Stana Chastaine
#9289
Stana almost tilted her head at his response. She was hardly a vain person but the fact that he didn't react whatsoever when she referred to "months ago" was a surprise...and a relief even. She'd gotten so used to people here at the Manor treating her like some sort of glass doll since her escape. Diana was so fragile, but she was not. Stana prided herself in the fact that she got the hell out of that prison on her own, that she clawed her way to the surface.

Flashes of memory, screeching, screaming, scratching, gnawing...so much came to her as she thought back. Stana was the victim of an attack prior to her captivity and she didn't think she would have to speak about this again, for the second time tonight. However, when it came to opening up, she felt more comfortable facing this man, this stranger, than with Jessika, with her damn pen and paper and judgments. How strange a concept, to not fear the man with the blades, with the brutish, savage nature to want to strike a woman, and the ferocity that could destroy the entire Order as it stood now...

She had only heard stories about him and his seven. She had passed a few of them over the course of their stay but never interacted with one until now. And how lucky for her she managed to have the ear of their leader.

"I was in town, after my shift at the Abbey--a bar downtown-- when I was grabbed. Maybe I should have known better than to wander out on my own. Maybe I should have realized it was a full moon. I was chased. Dragged out beyond the city into the woods..." her hands were tense, perspiring and gripping tight to the armrests of the chair where she'd been sitting. She didn't realize how tight her grasp was until the wood creaked beneath her. She reached up and pulled the collar of her blouse to the side, revealing the ugly scar left behind from the bite mark on her left shoulder, the teeth so close to the top of her heart, Jon Partridge mentioned how surprised he was she survived the attack itself, let alone the months imprisoned. "It looked like a wolf or something and it howled and tore the shit out of my shoulder. I was pretty sure they were going to rip my limbs clean off, maybe eat my heart out as I watched. But I heard another shriek or something else in the distance. I figured it was a miracle or someone to come save me. But no. It was a distraction."

To this day, Stana was not sure what she had encountered that night, but she remembers the red eyes of the new prey fleeing in the distance, and the haunting cry as it darted away. A vampire perhaps? Though she'd never seen one before to compare, and was too far away and blinded by pain that she couldn't confirm anything as fact.

"The wolf...let me go. I guess there was something else out there that was more valuable than me. But as I was getting away, I got locked in a fucking prison cell for months...snatched from the streets, I woke up underground with my shoulder haphazardly stapled and stitched up. There was a man, withered down to a corpse as my cell mate. I kept hearing the howl of the wolf. I kept seeing it's teeth in my face, almost smiling that it was going to kill me."

Stana leaned forward slowly, her eyes still fixated on Jace's, never wavering, though the emotion filled her cheeks with heat and tears formed in her conviction. But she wasn't bawling, or trying to cry for sympathy. The tears were more from anger, if anything. "So yeah. I dream about that Wolf. Fairly often."

It was more than she had ever disclosed to Jessika, or even Jon at that point. Stana surprised herself by unleashing her story, in such detail, to this newcomer, this stranger. She braced herself for mockery, for laughter, for some sort of teasing quip he was sure to throw her way because from what she deduced, that seemed to be his nature. But she didn't care. She got that off her chest, and he got his question answered. If he didn't care, he might not have come to the Commons to talk with her after all...

...but then she wondered, why did he care?
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by: Jace Bryden
#9303
Apparently the girl wasn't as stoic as she pretended to be and wore her stubbornness like some sort of shield. For a creature like Jace, it was easy to pick upon her emotional changes. She hid it well there was no doubt about it, but deep down she was afraid. The alpha didn't miss the way her body tensed or how her grip tightened on the chairs armrests. His sensitive nose was able to pick out the salty smell of tears though the girl wasn't exactly crying. All in all she seemed angry and possibly confused. It was clear from her story that she was feeling everything and then some that a majority of humans did when confronted with a shifted Garou.

He continued to watch her as she seemed to run through some sort of emotional gauntlet. when she showed him her scar it gained her a raised brow. She was lucky as far as Jace was concerned. The wolf that had grabbed should by all rights have ripped her arm clean off... The girl said there had been something else there too, something that would be a big enough distraction to get a Garou to leave it's current prey. Had to have been a vampire of Nosferatu. There was nothing else the man could think of that would have caused that reaction. It also made the girl exceptionally lucky. With all her blood having been strewn about it probably would have brought the bloodsucker right to her.

Her story seemed to be one long and drawn out tragic tale and maybe once upon a time Jace might have felt a twinge of sympathy for her. Right now though, if he had to describe what he felt, it would have been more akin to pride. To see some little underdog go from surviving a Garou attack, to being captured and tormented, to new found freedom. Honestly the alpha didn't think humans had that kind of survival drive in them.

"You should wear that scar with pride girl. Obviously that wolf found better caliber prey or you'd be a corpse. Not often you humans can say they survived a Garou attack. All the dreams and feelings that go along with that memory are normal. Most humans blank it out but the ones that can't usually get consumed by it and go-" Jace made a lazy circular motion wit h his pointer finger pointed to wards his head in the universal sign for crazy. "You on the other hand seem to be tough as nails... a fighter, more so than anyone here I'd bet. Why?"
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by: Stana Chastaine
#9305
"Obviously..." She echoed, with a chuckle. Stana could still hear the gnawing and gnashing as the teeth hungrily bit through her flesh. She could hear her boots dragging along the stone path away from the city. "The howls are almost worse than the bite itself," Stana trailed her fingertips over the raised flesh, feeling its thickness under her touch. "But the fact that I'm still alive is a mystery to me."

Stana was never suicidal, but the fact here was that she'd been spared. For other prey? Perhaps. But was there something else there, another key player? Mercy even? Did these beasts even have mercy? She supposed this man did...he did spare the life of Minister Darque, after all. Then again, it was more in his best interest to turn him in maimed with his heart beating than a corpse.

When he spoke up again, he'd posed a question as to why she had fight in her. He sounded impressed. That didn't matter, since she wasn't looking to impress anyone anyhow. She was just fired up. Intense. Ready to break out of this manor like it was a locked cage. "Being locked underground with a dead man will toughen your skin quite fast." She responded, confidently. "I have questions that need answering, and yet I've been confined to this place like some sort of prisoner. Treated by healers and a wannabe shrink who thinks she's getting into my head--when I'm really just spending the hour getting into hers. Of course my questions will be 'answered in order of importance', but in Kara's eyes, I don't think my priority level is very high." She said, with a hefty bit of spite in her voice.

She had no allegiance to the Order, even if she was grateful they had managed to get her health back up to normalcy. But she wouldn't take an oath, swear fealty to a crown that sits uneasy and unsteady. Stana belonged to no one.
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