A Gift, of sorts

[Julian Damodred]

Julian stretched his aching muscles as he threw his sweat covered shirt into an empty basket across the room. His lean catlike physique glistened in the candlelight. For a moment, he studied himself in the mirror before submerging a rag into a pitcher of icy water. The cold water had no effect on him as he washed away the perspiration from his upper half. He ignored the cold with his usual concentration, he was the one who dictated how he felt. He was in control.

Soon the rag joined the shirt in the laundry basket and he made his way to the bed. Gratefully he reclined on the bed, glad to be off his feet after a long workout. Sighing, he glanced around, taking in his comfortable quarters,. They were larger than other Asha’man below his station, as was his bed. Being only slightly above average height for a Cairhienin and slight of build, his bed could have easily fit four of him. The comforter he was currently on top of, while perusing through some notes, was a deep rich blue that seemed to shift colors like that of a Warder’s cloak. But instead of the mundane green and brown, his shifted from blue to purple. Color changing fabric was all the rage right now, and Julian enjoyed being “all the rage”.

His room was neat and orderly and while not spartan, was almost as far from cluttered as you can get. His washstand and mirror held only the essentials next to his bare dresser. All of them Cairhienin in design, as were the nightstands on either side of his large bed. The room was very dark, and currently even more so being solely lit by a pair of candle flames.

The darkness seemed to amplify the quiet and so the unexpected knock at his door made him jump in surprise. He frowned getting up, and made his way across the bedroom to the living area where the entrance was, using a thread of fire to light a proper lantern on the way.

Still holding the one power he unlocked and shoved his door open. Two individuals stood on the other side, a woman, shrouded in a dark cloak and one of the newer soldiers. Part of him hoped this mysterious woman was a gift meant to curry his favor from the new recruit, but he doubted that was actually the case. He let go of Saidin, regretfully as always.

“Kavin, what under the light has you pounding on my door at this hour?” He asked, tilting his head with an almost mocking inquisitiveness .

The other man’s obvious nervousness made it pretty clear this was not a fun gift he was delivering. He stammered at first to get out his answer.

“Sir…this- this is mistress Dena, she was asking for you by name. She showed up at our gate not ten minutes ago and demanded to speak with you and only you.” Kavin shuffled his feet and licked his lips, clearly not sure what else to do or say.

“Mistress Dena, you say?”

Julian cocked his head to the other side and reached out to pull her hood down.

“Let’s get a look at you, now”

Her face was familiar, but he did not believe he had seen it before. The first thing he saw, and the only thing he could see for a time, were her eyes. He knew what golden eyes meant.

“You are dismissed, Kavin. Mistress Dena, please come in.”

He opened the door wide enough for her to enter as Kavin retreated back to his post.

Once she was inside, with the door safely secured again, she immediately collapsed into his arms, sobbing. He stood there holding her, somewhat enjoying the closeness of her body, if not the wetness of her tears on his chest.

[Dena n’am Damodred]

Dena's dark gray skirts were dusty. Her horse had gone missing in the night. She had awoken from another terrible nightmare of wolves, and found the beast gone. She had sat there, on her bedroll, completely miserable, for a time before setting off on her own. The bedroll and her provisions she’d left behind, except for two small purses, one with a bit of food, and the other with the coin her parents had sent with her. They had offered to have a guard escort her of course, but she insisted she had been on her own long enough to make this relatively short journey without a nanny. They would most certainly not be told about the horse.


She walked all day and into the next night, stopping only to hide in the bushes and relieve herself. Her waterskin was nearly empty and she took the occasional sip as she trudged along, wondering when she would see the pillar of darkness that was her destination. Strangely, she saw nothing more than the occasional horse driven cart on the road she traveled during the day, though at night she felt as though eyes were watching her from the treeline. The hand of the Creator shelters the world, and the Light shines on us all, she reminded herself as she clutched her cloak around her small frame. I walk in the light, and no shadow can touch me. Oh burn the creator, I wish I had a weapon. I wish I knew how to use a weapon.


When she was able to finally make it out in the oppressive twilight, she let out a small yip of joy. For the last hour she had been squinting at small pricks of light wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her, but the closer she got, the more clearly she could distinguish the outline of the tall structure. She pulled up her hood before she came close enough for even power extended vision could see her, and was glad she did. She was stopped long before she reached the gate.


When the man in black inquired about her business and late arrival, she curtsied deep with the utmost respect.


"Sir, I have come here on an important matter and must speak with Julian Damodred. I believe he is among your honorable ranks?"


He looked her over, but didn't question her further. Instead he brought her to the gate and handed her off with very little ceremony to a younger man whom she assumed to be of a lower rank. This one bore no silver pins on his collar. He awkwardly searched her person before trying to insist on finding her a room for the night so that she might freshen up. She was adamant however, that she must see Julian, and only Julian...immediately. So that is where he took her. Dena nervously tried to beat the dust off her skirts as they walked through the nearly deserted, but well lit streets. Before they arrived at their destination she put a hand on the young man's arm. He paused at her light touch and she looked down.


"Is he...is he a good man?" She asked shyly, her voice quiet, and somewhat shaking. She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until the other man began an outpouring of assurances that Julian was one of the best. She smiled tightly and they continued on.


When Julian opened the door she studied him as he addressed Kavin and took note of everything she could. His shirtless body was well toned, and from what she could see of his living quarters, things were precisely tidy. It was almost too tidy in her opinion, like this wasn't a place where someone actually lived, but instead an austere and rarely used parlor in a palace. She peered around him and could see quite well, though the light was dim. A set of dark armchairs sat against the far wall with plain straight lines and heavy, sturdy arms - a fine example of Cairhienien restraint if she had ever seen one. The wall to the left was harder to make out, as the door blocked most of it, but she could make out a large wooden bookshelf that looked like it contained an entire library on its shelves. Everything was of superior quality, but not overly ornate. Part of her longed for the bright colors of the tinker wagons again. Those had always been so friendly and welcoming, just like the people who occupied them. Dena wondered if Julian was as dark and cold as his living space and fervently hoped not.


When he reached for her hood she hadn't been following the conversation fully and was startled by his boldness. He just reached out and removed her hood as though he had the right. Inside, that was infuriating, but she was careful not to let it show on her face. His face showed very little emotion as well, but his actions told her that he knew what she was. That gave her hope that he might be able to help after all and that hope overwhelmed her. Her anguish over her father(s), the traveling, the wolves, and even her horse from the night before all came pouring out of her, right onto his chest. She soaked his chest with her tears and he simply stood there, allowing her to get it all out. He didn't try to soothe her and didn't ask for her to speak. He just stood there, waiting for her to be ready. Not enough people were like that. She supposed she could forgive his brashness with the hood.

[Julian Damodred]

Julian remained still, while the strange woman soaked his chest with her tears. Her body felt nice against his, but the more she cried, the less pleasant it began to feel. He kept his hand on her back though, not letting off the pressure or rubbing her shoulders as his hands itched to do. He gave no outward expression of his own discomfort in this situation and stood like a statue, all the while celebrating his ability to be such a good “rock” for someone. Others' weaknesses made him feel strong, and what man could feel differently when a woman was in need? He never understood men saying they felt uncomfortable when women cried. When a woman was crying, it made him feel almost heroic. His understanding of matters was of course, greatly decreased by the fact that he had never unintentionally been the source of a woman's tears.

When her sobs finally quieted and she detached herself from him, he led her to a seat and excused himself momentarily.

"Good thing I wasn't wearing a shirt." He noted while brushing off his chest.

He returned with a shirt on his back, as well as a glass of water and a handkerchief for her. He studied her as she accepted his offerings, taking a drink before blowing her nose. He was happy she didn’t try to offer the fabric back to him. It was her handkerchief now.

Her face was red and puffy and her skirts were caked in dust. Her hair wasn’t exactly a wild mane atop her head, but there was some hood hair going on from her cloak, and it looked like it could use a good brushing. Again, the feeling of familiarity tugged at his brain, but he could not place her. Her accent was the same clipped tones of his own home, and the style of her dress was Cairhienin as well. She wore her hair in the Arafellin fashion, however, and the tiny silver bells woven into her braids tinkled whenever she moved.


Julian sat down beside her and took her hands into his own, avoiding the snot rag as best he could.


“My lady, I am at your service, but I beg you for the love of the Light to use my sleeping quarters to freshen up. I feel that you have a long tale to tell, and I would rather us both be comfortable for it.”


The idea of letting a stranger into his bedroom didn't make him the most comfortable, but he would prefer almost anything to having to stare at her all blotchy and disheveled. For someone like Julian, it was distracting to say the least. Besides, he kept nothing terribly personal in there. In fact, he tried not to keep many personal things at all. Nick knacks and baubles made for clutter, which is not something Julian Damodred wanted in his life. He liked his life to be simple, organized, efficient, and tightly controlled at all times. If he had realized the extent of Dena's ability to disrupt that, he might have been less eager to hear her tale.

[Dena n’am Damodred]

Dena detached herself from him and parts of her stuck to his skin, leaving behind fragments of dirt as she moved away, making her feel dirty. She allowed him to seat her, numbly staring ahead as she waited for him to return. When he appeared again, his face made her more acutely aware of her current state than any mirror could. She felt embarrassed as she accepted the glass and quenched her thirst before moving on to her appearance. She knew those efforts were futile though with only a handkerchief and her fingers as tools.


His suggestion was the best course of action, she had to admit. Gratefully, she nodded as she wiped her nose again, trying to hide the small curve of her lips. He didn’t know who she was. He knew what she was, but not who she was. He had left for the Tower before her father if he was her father - no mustn't think about that right now- was even born. Though they had never met, it still seemed a fine joke to her that he obviously had no idea who she was. She made her way to the door he indicated, without a word and downcast eyes, to hide the delight in them. She wondered if there was any way to use this advantage to her benefit as she closed the door behind her for privacy. It could make things awkward with him being unaware of their blood ties, but Dena didn’t think he was the type to peek anyway.


This room was a slight improvement over the last, but it was still quite sparse. The constant theme was dark Cairheinin furniture that made her feel a twinge of homesickness. There was some color too, and she appreciated that, though where it came from did scare her a bit. She ran a finger down the power wrought fabric covering his bed and shivered, but leaned over it anyway to get a closer look at the papers he had left. They appeared to be training notes of some kind, and she understood very little. Have Collin work on his wind control, test Cirus' ability to handle a task with little direction were a few of the scribbles she made out. Even though she had no idea who those men were, she filed the information away in case it could become important later.


Next she explored the basket in the corner, but found it to be nearly empty. All she found were a damp rag and a sweaty shirt, probably the one he had been missing when he first opened the door. A sudden rustling sound stopped her in her tracks. She jumped, turning a full one hundred and eighty degrees like a startled cat, but nothing was behind her. The sound had been so loud that she felt that someone must be in the room with her, but the frantic darting of her eyes to every corner uncovered nothing unsettling. Though his quarters were unfamiliar to her, she felt confident that due to its scant decor, she would spot anything out of place immediately. Maybe that was why he had chosen to furnish it in this fashion. It was entirely possible that he didn’t necessarily lack style, just valued efficiency over decadence. Either way, she didn’t care for it much, but at the moment it was admittedly comforting.


Satisfied that there was nothing else in the room, her muscles relaxed momentarily before hearing the sound again. This time though, she had been listening for it, and could better tell from where it came. Her eyes stayed glued to the door as she made her way to it, stepping as softly as she possibly could on the thick woven rug beneath her feet. Was he trying to get a peek after all? Was someone else breaking in? What could be going on? Her hand was as cold as the metal knob by the time she reached for it, and though she tried to turn it as carefully as possible, every noise the gears made echoed in her ears. She cracked the door ever so slightly, peering out of it. No one was on the other side. She could see Julian, still seated where she had left him, alone in the room. Then he shifted his leg, and she heard the sound of cloth rustling again.


She closed the door as his hand rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against its smooth wood, breathing a sigh of relief that that was all it was. Almost immediately though, her breath caught in her throat again as she realized she should not be hearing something like that so loudly. She pushed her terror down and tried to reassure herself as she made her way to his dresser, that at least if anyone did come near the door, she would surely have ample warning. The top drawer opened easily and soundlessly. He obviously takes good care for his things she noted as she explored its contents. There were towels of various sizes, though not of various colors in this drawer. She pulled out a particularly fluffy one which she dipped into the water on his washstand and used to clean her face in front of the mirror. The cold water made her shiver and the dark fabric was a stark contrast to her pale face.


The rest of his drawers held only clothing, and most of it as black as the towels had been. She removed some of his garments and deposited hers in the laundry basket, along with the used rag and soiled handkerchief. They were similar enough in size that Dena was able to wear his clothes and they even flattered her figure somewhat. She admired herself in the mirror and set about untangling her hair with his comb. Her fingers deftly wove the strands back together in a pair of much neater braids than the haphazard ones before she’d arrived, and she shook her head comforting herself with their merry jingles. Once she felt presentable, she returned to the room to find Julian still sitting on the couch.


His gaze on her in his clothes made her decide to tell him sooner rather than later, and she blurted out who she was as soon as she sat down. Her entire story tumbled out of her mouth after that, and she left nothing out. Normally, she would try to be more cautious about revealing so much, but she needed his help and how could he help unless he knew everything?

[Julian Damodred]

Julian shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Having some strange woman in his room didn’t sit well with him, no matter how necessary it was. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he felt like someone was watching him. His hand smoothed them down again as he told himself it was just because he was feeling so exposed. There was no one else here but the two of them.


Finally, she returned and his eyes widened in surprise. He had thought she would have just scrubbed the dirt off of her skirts the way women do, not forsake them completely for a pair of his britches. Her hips were wider than his, and he had to admit he liked the way his pants hugged them. It wasn’t as though he had never seen a woman wearing trousers before, he was familiar with the fashion…he had just never seen a woman wearing his pants before. It was intimate and sexy.


The shirt that hugged his muscles, hugged the softer parts of her body just as well and he swallowed involuntarily as his eyes traveled her form. She seemed so familiar, and yet like no one he had ever met before. She was a mysterious creature with ancient powers completely separate from his own. And apparently she had the ability to make herself comfortable in any situation.


And the ability to make him uncomfortable in any situation. As soon as she sat down and began vomiting out her story, the tract of his mind changed so quickly it gave him mental whiplash. His great niece was not sexy. Thoughts of being intimate with her fled from his head, or at least, those of romantic intimacy. He listened to each piece of her tale with rapt attention, storing away every nugget of knowledge.

Excitement began to build in Julian as he realized this was a gift indeed. He was being handed so much power, it was electrifying. He couldn’t let her go. He was going to have a pet wolf up his sleeve, provided that she didn’t lose her mind and become a wild animal of course. That in itself was its own excitement. Keeping her grounded was a challenge he was eager to meet. It reminded him of the heroes from before the cleansing. He had always wondered what it would be like to walk that line, using power, but knowing it might unhinge your mind. He got an adrenaline rush just from thinking about it.


When she finished her story he embraced her. Not the full body closeness of when she had cried on him, but a brotherly embrace, appropriate for his great niece.


“Dena, I feel like a complete fool for not recognizing your name. I swear I do follow our family somewhat, I just never expected any of them to show up on my doorstep.“


He shook his head ruefully, still absorbing everything. He hadn't been to Cairhein in nearly a hundred years, but he did remember now that his brother's son had a daughter named Dena.


“But you were right to come here. I am sorry to say that there is no cure like you seek, but there are things we can do to alleviate your suffering. And I will do everything in my power to help you understand what is happening to you and keep you safe. The biggest risk right now is the wildness. You have been denying the wolf inside you, but eventually, you won’t be able to resist it anymore. And when you can’t, for some, the wolf takes over and they lose their humanity.”


The terror and shock on her face was both sad and satisfying. He had meant to scare her, but it was unpleasant to do so. She was already afraid, but the more so that she became, the easier she would be to direct. He swallowed the urge to reassure her and decided pushing her into things now, while the fear gripped her, would be the easiest thing to do.


“I have an idea though…I don’t know if it has been done before, but logically it makes sense. I think it might work.”


He paused long enough for her to draw it out of him. She was practically begging to know his plan.


“Well, we could…I mean I could…bond you. It would join us together somewhat and give us access to each other beyond what would be possible without it. I could monitor your changes and keep you grounded. Keep you sane.”


He licked his lips nervously as he waited for her response.


“Would I be your warder? Would I get super strength or heroic warder abilities?” She asked, sounding more excited than fearful now. Then, almost as an afterthought, the fear crept back in again. “Would you be able to read my mind?”


“What? No, it doesn’t work like that. We would be able to sense each other’s emotions and health, but that is all…and no special powers, sorry. It will make it easier and safer for us to explore the powers you already do have though. Like what you said about how loud things are sometimes, and how you saw the Tower before the Tower guards saw you. those are wolf traits. You can learn to harness those abilities, and I can help you.”


She thought about it for a moment and he waited. As soon as she nodded her head though, he sprang into action, creating the weave quickly before she could change her mind. Then, there she was, a tiny bundle of emotions in the back of his head. Mostly, she felt like fear, but he had heard women never feel only one emotion at a time so he was sure others were in there.


For Julian, his greatest comforts, and at times his greatest friends, were books, so that is why his first instinct was to walk over to his bookshelf and pull off a large volume and hand it to her.


“This has information about your condition. I am going to leave this with you. I need to see my commander immediately. He needs to be informed of our bond. Take my bed tonight and tomorrow we will figure everything out…and get you some clothes of your own.”


He left her there, dazed and slightly dumbfounded, and made his way to Jadin’s quarters. He probably should have stayed with her and comforted her more, but he couldn’t wait.