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Shackles (2/11, evening)
Topic Started: May 8 2013, 06:32 PM (119 Views)
Doru

The sun was sinking and the beasts had already been led into their barns when Doru arrived at Ida's cottage for the second time. His wolfskin lay loose on his shoulders, his bow unstrung across his back, and it seemed from his general disarray that he had been hiking hard, maybe even running. The promised visit to his family had kept him later than expected.

In one hand, he bore a gift - late autumn herbs, potent from surviving the summer and wrapped in a moistened leaf to keep their freshness.

He rapped gently on the door instead of calling out. After all, there were plenty of folk who did not need to hear him announce himself.
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Ida Tailor
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The door was opened not by Ida herself, but by her grandson Merkel, a man in his mid twenties, broad of shoulders, with unruly flaxen hair. The only great resemblance between them were the piercing blue eyes. He gave the younger man a long, searching look, before gesturing towards the barn, telling Doru that Ida would be found there.

Inside the barn, talking softly to a donkey, she was, stroking the animal's muzzle as it appeared to be half asleep. She did not stop doing so, or show any other reaction to show that she had registered Doru's arrival. Some of the other animals, however, stirred a bit uneasily at the newcomer's arrival. One horse snorted and stomped nervously. Only when Dory had reached the stall with the donkey did she address him, although she did not raise her gaze to look at him.

"The animals can smell us. It makes them fearful at first, but the tame ones learn that we mean them no harm, just as a kitten and a puppy who grow up together become friends although they are natural rivals."

She smiled now, looking up at him. "So it is with many things. Nature suggests a certain state of things. But we are not slaves to nature. Come, say hello to Dolly. She is a wise old lady. Despite being Asharian." She smirked at the donkey and rubbed its forehead.
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Doru

Doru took the direction with a quiet word of thanks, and stepped into the barn carefully, making enough noise to avoid startling a drowsy horse. He stepped gingerly, watching for a hidden chicken or cat, and spoke soothingly to the horse when it objected to his presence. This was not his barn, not his place, and he wanted to be careful, as befit a guest.

"I have often thought people could use to smell and see as they do." The comment was thoughtless of the fact that, now, he could - were he in wolf's shape. He held his hand where the donkey could smell it, then gently ruffled her cheek, scratching where the halter-straps might have rubbed earlier in the day. "Hello, Dolly. What a lovely grey lady you are."

He gave a minute's consideration to the donkey before glancing at Ida again. "What living I've made, I've made by following nature's tracks and going with her whims." He paused. "But for the man to hunt the wolf, the man has to be smarter, for the wolf has every other advantage." Smell and hearing and silent feet, wicked fangs and razor cunning - all the traits of the wolf of lore, and less than all the traits of the wolf in the forest. He closed his eyes on the memory of the last time he'd hunted a wolf.

"I saw a tree hit by lightning once - its bark all blew out, and what was left of the trunk caught fire. It was a little like that, last time I- " changed, he didn't say. "I don't know how to do it, or even what I can do." He hung his head, and breathed deeply of the smell of animal and hay, the calm things that never changed.
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Ida Tailor
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The donkey snorted and bobbed her head up and down as Doru entered the stall, but otherwise made no fuss. Ida smiled encouragingly at the boy and stroked the donkeys long ear.

"There is no harm in knowing nature. People such as us, living in a small village on the mountain side do well to learn a bit about our neighbours." She gave him a pointed look. "All of them."

She gave Dolly one last pat, then motioned for Doru to back out of the stall and followed him, then leading the way our of the barn, to the food cellar. It was a building that, unlike most of the other ones on the farm, was made fully from stone, holding one upper level for regular storage, and an underground cellar for perishables. In that underground cellar, underneath a barrel - which she shifted effortlessly, although it must have weighed enough that it should give a grown man in his best years a bit of a sweat to move - was a trap door. It was locked and reinforced with steel. There was a wooden ladder that they both climbed down, to the chamber underneath. It too, like the one above, had stone walls and the ceiling was quite low. A tall man would have to stoop a bit.

The room was fairly bare and maybe seven steps across. On the opposite end were barnacles for hands and feet attached to the wall. There were two sets of them. On the other end of the room was a wooden chest, Next to it lay a long, heavy chain, attached at one end to a metal choker. The room smelled of mould and old, dried blood.

Her face was set now to a somewhat grim expression.

"This all looks frightening, I know. It will be. I won't lie to you lad, this is going to hurt, quite a lot, probably. If you've had a change of heart, now's the time. Otherwise, I'll ask that you strip so that you don't ruin another set of clothes and then I will help get chained up."
Edited by Ida Tailor, May 19 2013, 11:06 PM.
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Doru

Ida's pointed response set Doru to thinking. His usual haunts and activities demanded a different sort of thought - open-eared, open-eyed, taking all of nature in through his own senses and acting and reacting much as any predator did. This wanted words, and that wasn't always an easy thing.

He followed Ida without comment after bidding Dolly good night, down the ladder and into the musty, nasty little room, shivering with reaction more than cold. Her strength was phenomenal - and had he not just seen her gently stroking an old donkey, he'd have feared it, but her control stood out even more than her power, and he wanted it. "Oh, my heart's not wanting to be here, all right. But I don't know how else to get a leash on this thing." Of course, he could run to the great black wolf and live his life on four feet, and for a moment, he looked up the ladder and yearned to be gone.

Then he shucked his wolfskin cloak and folded it neatly, and laid his clothing in a careful stack far from the manacles, and put himself against the wall. Unselfconscious as an animal, he carefully tucked his ankles into the shackles and wrestled with the locks, helping as much as he could. He could feel his pulse, as if in answer to the bloody smell of the room, and did not dare ask himself if it were fear or excitement that drove it. He'd felt strength like Ida displayed, moving the barrel, and some traitor part of him was eager to feel it again.

He stood, put his wrists into the too-big manacles, and looked to Ida, his face a parade of anxiety and defiance.
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Ida Tailor
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Although she did not look away when Doru stripped - it would have made little difference as she would have to look at him soon enough - she seemed to pay no great attention to his body, either. Perhaps she was too old to care about these things - or perhaps she was just too jaded. She had been married and borne children, but she was a widow of many years, now.

Folding the young man's clothes neatly, she put them away in the wooden chest, so that they would be nearby come morning, but no harm done to them. Cloth was not something to be wasted, in a backwater village such as this where imported goods came but rarely and at a high price. In the chest were a number of implements that might be used for torture - and a box of salves and bandages. She was a practical woman.

With gentle care, she then proceeded to close the shackles holding Doru's hands and feet in place. She did not ask if it was too tight, either. Likely it chafed. But he would soon buck against them with all his considerable strength, so she preferred them to be tight. She really was too old to challenge a young pup in a fight.

"There." She took a few steps back. "There are a number of different things that may, unwittingly, provoke the beast. Anger, hunger and lust number among them. It may also be a simple matter of survival. I think it will be no problem to awaken the beast, but before I do, I would have you commit something to memory, that may help you come back to yourself. it may not work this first time, it often does not. Then we will simply try again tomorrow night, and the night after that, until it does. Now." She set her hands on her hips, expression going pensive. "The beast is all things wild. To set yourself above it, you must fix in your mind an image of something that has nothing to do with the wild. Something a wild animal could never do. Something... intrinsically human. I would give you my image, but every person is different, so it is better that you are not prejudiced by that which works for other people. You find that image; something simple, that requires no effort to think about, something you could remember if you were drunk our of your mind. You tell me when you have it. You don't need to tell me what it is; that's private and it belongs only to you. Take your time. We're in no hurry."
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Doru

The shackles chafed, and Doru kept himself from squirming by force of will. It was cold in the cellar- of course it was - but it would be colder still, in the night's air above, with winter so close. He pulled away from the wall as best he could, to keep the chill from his skin, and shivered, and listened. The things in the chest were frightening, and so - like any young creature prevented from fleeing - he looked away.

His brow knotted as he thought. Something an animal could never do? That was hard - he was used to thinking in a hunter's terms, where the deer were sharper of ear, keener of eye, wiser of mind, and fleeter of foot, and the only thing the hunter had above them was trickery. It seemed unkind to give humankind only trickery to distinguish itself, and more, it seemed something he would shy from rather than come to.

Fire? But fire came to the forests, too, and if animals did not use it, neither did Doru love it overly much, save as a bulwark against the creeping cold.

"Knitting," he finally said, his eyes closed and a smile creeping into the light. "My grandmother knitting, for surely no wild beast could manage that. They build as the beaver, they weave as the bird making nests, even the spider can tat her lace - but no knitters, out there in the forest." And, eyes closed, he focused on the remembered tak-tak-tak of the needles, the rough softness of the knit cloth.
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Ida Tailor
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She nodded silently, and waited for a while, giving Doru time to fix the image in his mind. Then, softly, she asked:

"Ready?"

She did not tell him what she meant to do. Both because it might have less effect if he was prepared, but also because there was no reason for him to string himself tight with any more fear that he likely already felt. Also, she meant this as a lesson in more ways than one. It would be good for Doru himself to know what kind of event he might come across in life, that might trigger the change unwittingly. Knowing one's triggers was as important as having the will to put yourself above the beast when it tried to take you over.

Her expression never changing from the kind compassion, with inhuman swiftness, she struck him with a balled fist right in the gut; every animal's sensitive spot. She did not use anywhere near the full power of her force, but it was nonetheless the power one would expect from a large man, not an old, white haired woman. It might seem dangerous, but she knew that his body would be healed before the morning. And the pain... well, he was going to have to take considerably worse. The blow, she deemed, should be more than enough to set off a newly turned pup. Especially this close to a full moon.

She took a careful step back, well out of reach from his fangs.
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Doru

Of course he wasn't ready.

Doru curled up around Ida's blow, the breath gone from his lungs and a ringing in his head, but he had no time to contemplate. Rage slammed through him, a second impact to follow the physical one. The change followed as thunder after lightning, and suddenly clawed toes scraped the floor half a blink before his wrists hit the limit of the chain. Metal clattered and squealed in protest against the force of his lunge, but he was held sure; fur pulled free where he strained against his bonds.

His ears popped as a narrow jawbone blurred into a broad snout. The boy's limbs lengthened, fingers curling up and shortening as he tried to fall forward onto his hands. Something held him back - his forepaws could not reach the ground, the chains held him upright. Forced to dance on two legs, he threw himself forward, claws stretching out for Ida and unable to reach her. Rage pinned his ears to his head, raised his ruff into a furious display framing a face more canine than human, but possessed still of human, frightened eyes. That was the only familiar element - the rest was all wolf, cream-colored belly, and grey fur tipped and tinged with ruddy brown. Sharp white teeth flashed in his maw as he yelped at finding himself held.

The wolf went again to run, to lay its forepaws on the ground, and couldn't reach. It snarled its frustration and then placed its hind paws deliberately, swaying back as it struggled to stand rather than slump. Its spine crackled as it raised itself more upright, tail lashing against the wall. For a moment the boy was almost visible, bipedal balance struggling to assert itself over the beast's fury, and then it was the wolf again, and it half-turned and slammed its shoulder into the hard stone wall, as if that would somehow yield more easily than the shackles.

Doru heard a sound of thunder, realized it was a growl, and grasped that it was coming from his own jaws. There was something just beyond the reach of understanding - something he should remember? A faint rhythmic clacking was all he could summon to mind, but the meaning was lost, the words lost, in the hurt and furious animal's frenzy.

Frustrated at the mocking prey just beyond its reach, the mighty wolf threw itself against the chains again, raised its head, and howled, and in its eyes was nothing human, only the golden fury of the beast.
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Ida Tailor
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She kept her distance, but no more than that, moving neither to get closer to Doru, or to absent herself from the room. This was going to be a while, but she intended to be here when he came to it again, so he wouldn't have to face the subsequent confusion and pain alone.

The lunges were powerful enough, but the chains were built to hold those stronger than him. Only once had they ever broken and failed the one they had been meant to restrain. That, had been a dark day and one that would ever weigh on her mind.

There was no use speaking; he would not hear her as his mind was otherwise occupied. But she began humming after a while, a soothing lullaby she had sung to both her own children and their children. Her voice was clear, deepened but not cracked by old age. If seeing him like this in any way tried her own restraint, she did not show it.
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Doru

By the time the wolf's reactions began to change, the fur on its wrists and ankles had been torn and chafed down to skin by the unforgiving bands. It alternated hanging in its chains with frenzied attempts to escape still, but the intervals were becoming longer and the thrashing shorter. Still it stared at Ida with predator intensity, foam flecking its lips from the exertion. Now and then it snarled and yowled, savage voice in contrast with the low comforting song, but even that subsided to the occasional growl in time.

Doru didn't know how much time had passed, but exhaustion bled the edge off of the beast rage that had propelled him. Fearing the worst, he looked -really looked - at what was around him, the dim light sufficient to a wolf's eyes. No bodies littered the floor and he was yet safely bound. He smelled blood, but brought a paw to his mouth and licked it, leaning heavily on three chains, and the blood was his own. There was no reek of carnage, no fear-musk in the air but his own, and that was some small consolation.

Pain entered his awareness, nagging from his wrists and ankles, and that was enough to send the animal into another wrenching attempt to escape, but the chains held strong.

The imagined clacking sound, and the more immediate familiar melody, were still there when the wolf lay again exhausted, dangling between its arms with its tail held limply behind. He growled, a miserable sound more warning than malice, and then produced a curious chuffing cough. At the sound of his own voice, he flattened his ears in misery, pulled back as if to fling himself forward again, and then clacked his teeth.

Snap.

Not the vicious sound of jaws closing inches shy of their intended prey, this was a deliberate, delicately made noise, in time with Ida's hummed song. His eyes were closed in concentration, his wolf's body braced in the shackles.

Snap-snap-snap, like bone needles knitting.
Edited by Doru, Jul 10 2013, 09:20 PM.
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Ida Tailor
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As she watched the boy transform, back and forth, sometimes tossing in fury, sometimes panting from exhaustion, she took another few steps back and sat down on the wooden chest, knowing that they might be a while. Although she had in some ways cheated age, it was not without price. Her joints still ached whenever her muscles were not in use. A wolf was meant to run and run until she lay down and die, not to slowly age, losing strength bit by bit. Every time she exerted herself these days, it came at a cost. She tried to conserve her strength, but pride took its toll. It was hard, to her herself be the weak old woman and let others do the work for her, knowing that she still had the raw strength, if not the endurance.

Even as her hand went to the small of her back, she winced with pain, but did not take her eyes off the young werewolf. Just in case he put a real strain on the chains.Or in case he looked like he was about to really hurt himself. The chains held, though, and the chafe wounds and the sprains Doru inflicted on himself, she judged, were not of any serious nature, even though his wrists and ankles would doubtless sting come morning.

Eventually, the thrashing subsided, although the boy was still in his other shape. She ceased her humming for a moment, calling instead, with a firm voice:

"Doru. Doru! Remember who you are."
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Doru

At the sound of his name, the werewolf flinched and lost his balance, sagging again in the chains, a four-footed creature hung cruelly high, even his tail hanging limp. The malevolence faded out of his eyes, though his ruff still bristled, and he whimpered once, a sound that may have been a name had his lips been able to form it. The boy may have recognized pain and weariness; this creature knew only frustration, and all its strength did nothing to lessen that.

The wolf fled back into his human skin with a final low growl, and Doru hung bruised and chafed, breathing hard. Before he spoke, he pulled himself up one last time, standing off-kilter on feet that had already ceased to bleed.

"Stars above," he croaked, and coughed. "I didn't think it would be that hard." But he'd never tried to control it before, just run with the wolf's fury. "I didn't..?"

But Ida was safe, if sore, on her chest, and even his clothing was tucked neatly away, unravaged.

"How do you do it? If I'd had my hands free-" he gestured with a truncated wave. "All I wanted was to get out." He paused and thought. "But at least I remember it this time, being the wolf."

Doru's pale brown eyes drifted shut, and the pain surfaced in his ragged voice. "It'll be better next time, right?"
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Ida Tailor
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Her calm was a stark contrast to Doru's anxiousness; if she was at all afraid, or worried, nothiong in her demeanour showed it.

"The shackles are quite sturdy. I have never been able to break free from them, if that makes you feel better." She smiled wryly, shaking her head. Then her expressioned sobered up. "It won't be that quick. Learning control is a long process. How long, that is very individual. I cannot tell you how fast your progress will be; there may be improvement the next time, but if there isn't, that's no reason to despair. Then we just keep trying. You are welcome here every night, until you feel safe being around people. At the very least, is will be easier to control your rage, although harder to turn at will, when closer to an absent moon."

She sat down, with some effort, on the wooden chest.

'"Let us wait another while, as you calm down. Then we'll go get you cleaned up and some food in your belly. Turning always make one ravenous." She smacked her lips and chuckled.
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Doru

Ida had been in the shackles, too?

Well of course she had; it was her house. But who had locked her in, and who let her out again? As soon as he formed the question, he lost it again, the fog of exhaustion covering his thoughts and sending that minor mystery out of his grasp.

"I'll come back again tomorrow, then." Doru pulled up against the chains, focusing again on balance. "And I'll give it as much as I can." It would take a toll, a mighty toll; he could see that even through the fog, and yes, hunger.

Raising his manacled hands, Doru pulled gently at the collar. "Thank you, Ida. I'd like that very much."
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