Mizrah's Ladder Ch. 11

Still, you hear them, you smell them.

You hear a fluttering heartbeat not far from you, the slightly deeper echo of a man's breathing and it's fast. He's frightened; he's sub-vocalizing but your hearing is still mostly human and you can't make it out...prayer perhaps. You smell his fear in his sweat; he ate a chili dog before the fight, stupid move.

A woman across from you is calm and collected, evidenced by her heartbeat; she hums to herself quietly and it's somewhere between a casual melody and unhinged buzzing. She smells like water, annis and loose change, and you can feel when she's looking at you...like you're meat, ironically.

One heartbeat towers among them, however; it beats faster than normal but only from light exertion. It thuds like a great beast but it sits within a human frame; she is coming down, shaking blood from her knuckles and when she enters this small, dark space, she seems to fill the room.

Dread claws at your heart as you pick up the distinct scent of your own Kind emerging from the stairwell to your right. Now you open your eyes, ignoring the five or six Mortals down here with you and make eye contact with the other Afflicted. She's Wolf-Aspect like you, detectable by scent and she clearly takes note of you as well.

Your gazes lock.

...you do't recognize her, and that is truly unusual, Mizrah. In the low light beneath the Cage, where the unfortunate Human she'd defeated was being dragged off, she may as well have been standing in the spotlight above to your sensitive vision. You notice first her blue hair, worn short around her head like a boy's...her eyes gleam a similar icy azure as you take stock of your reflection in her wolven stare. Asian, high cheekbones and a severe bearing, her face is merciless and cool; blood is flecked across her lips, licking it away in what feels like a threat.

The other Firstblood doesn't say anything to you, she simply sits a couple meters away, on the edge of a broken concrete pylon overlooking the great drain in the center. She's wearing little more than a white sports bra over her modest, firm bust, and you can smell the excitement combat brings her, can see it in the hardness of her nipples. Typical of any Werewolf, there's almost no fat clinging to her short but powerful frame. Your own lack of fulfillment causes a fluttering in your loins as your gaze tracks to her legs. She's sitting with her elbows on her knees, a pair of black Muay Thai shorts coming to the middle of her strong thigh; your eyes trace the line of her muscles toward her groin, and almost like she can tell, she straightens her body and rolls her hips forward.

Another throb of desire and you turn away from her subtle challenge, wishing you could just switch this part of your brain off but even more than the Mortals you were constantly on the lookout for either danger or worthy mates. You can smell her feminine musk, just as she can smell the notes of your malehood in your sweat...she scoffs at you quietly.

"You don't belong down here, pretty boy," she subvocalizes, raising your hackles...she doesn't know your past, that you were one a fixture of this evil place but you don't feel the need to advertise.

"I don't see your Mark or your pack. Just you." You arrogantly direct your gaze past her but keep her in your periphery - she'll understand what that means...your peripheral vision was extra sensitive to movement, so if she tried something you'd notice it more quickly. A sign of respect to be wary around another one of his kind, where conflict could break out at the drop of a hat. Then again, given the context of this place, you might end up inevitably facing her anyway.

Bad, bad luck, all around lately.

"All of these people around me are my Pack," she answered like she had said it many times, gesturing with arrogant command - she acts like she's the queen of this place...or the Alpha-bitch. "They're my Turf, kin-killer. So what the fuck're you doing down in my house, fucking with my turf?"

That slur puts your teeth on edge; so she did know something about you and your past, and this realization makes you bone-weary. You don't resent the unnamed Turnskin challenging your presence, you'd be doing the same thing in her place because it was your nature to figure out who was dominant, to come to terms with which predator had the Edge before a relationship could form. Not that you were seeking the companionship of one of your own...none except Isabel, anyway. Thinking about her, down here where not even her imagined presence belonged, feels wrong.

"How 'bout we save the chatter and take it up in front of you 'pack'?" You suggest, fixing your doom-dark eyes on hers, never shifting from where you sit. The challenge draws a wry, amused smirk, as if the outcome has been preordained long before you laid it down. The barest hint of a smile, wolf-sharp fangs glinting in the low light.

"At least you speak a language I can understand...but I saw you tangling with Scourge up there. You're strong, but you're tall, dark and clumsy. You make it to the third round you can make your case to me..." The nameless, Asian wolf shifted forward onto her bared knees, getting up in your space, looming over you as she places a palm on the wall near your head. "Waste my time in the cage, though, and I'll find you after. Take it out on your fool head."

You weren't worried about that, if you were facing another Turnskin you'd bring your Imprecations to bear (the ones that wouldn't trigger Bedlam in the Mortals, anyway), but if she decided to face you outside?

"You don't wanna do that. If you know who I am, you know that cage and audience keep you safe." You give her a charming smile that is at odds with your unsubtle threat.

She considers that with a back-and-forth of her head as she pushes away, still kneeling in your personal space, looking down at you despite the half-foot in height you have on her. "I'm gonna enjoy being able to say 'I brought low Yusuf Mizrah, the Wolfslayer.'" She rises again, her slippers scuffing across the floor as she takes a place opposite you.

You stare each other down until your name is called again.