http://bane-6.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2007-12-12 07:47 am
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-12-12 07:47 am
[Dec12] [World of Darkness] Never Forget, Never Forgive
Title: Never Forget, Never Forgive
Day/Theme: 12. Collecting memories in a rainbow pot
Series: World of Darkness: Werewolf the Apocalypse.
Character/Pairing: Marco Polo (FL Bonegnawer) vs. No-Ripple (Mokole)
Rating: PG
“How…” Her voice was more rumble than purr. The yellow-green eyes didn‘t blink. “Do you want to be remembered?”
“Not as an enemy,” he said at once. She was circling slowly, leisurely. He turned to face her, trying not to move too rapidly. He didn’t want her to think he was afraid, and he didn’t want to make any jerky movements that might remind her of injured prey.
He had been chasing the fomori and it had gone into the canal, which he had been expecting since it had been sporting a slimy set of webbed fingers and frill of something gill-like in its neck. He had followed it down, down, through the black murk and the surface pollution, only to stumble upon its body, snapped in half at the base of what looked like a giant alligator’s nest.
“I’m Marco Polo,” he said when she didn’t speak again. “Y’know, like the water game? I’ve got a knack to find stuff in the water. But, uh, y’know… I’ve never found one of you before… My uncle said you wouldn’t be all gone until the world ended. He said that, well, he said that, if I was lucky I might see one of you.”
“And if you were unlucky?” The last syllable dragged out into a hiss. She wasn’t as tall as him, but more compact. Her skin was dark and leathery-looking, and her hair floated behind her like her own black river. The reflections off the water sent shimmering shadows over her. It had all the rainbow swirls of an oil-slick in a puddle. Her eyes were ancient. He wondered if he should run, and how far he would get if he did.
“If I was unlucky,” he said, going for honesty. “One of you would see ME.”
She nodded slowly.
“Your uncle knew a thing or two of the world,” she said. “And so do I. I know what happens when Garou find our nests. And I know what I must do to be certain that no more do.”
He swallowed hard and thought harder.
“I’m no galliard. I won’t tell,” he said. “Let me take the filth back up.” He motioned at the fomori’s corpse. “I’ll say I killed it and that will be all.”
Her eyes narrowed and she took a step forward. Her jaw jutted out and the tips of fangs started to appear around lips that were stretching backwards to her ears.
“Wait!” Marco started backing up. “You’re supposed to know everything! You know I won’t tell!”
“We don’t know. We remember.” Her voice grew more guttural with every word, and her skin roughened and darkened with it. “We save the memories of the world so that when you destroy it, there will be something left. I don’t know what you will do, but I remember what you have done. You killed us wherever you could find us, all for the unforgivable sin of not being you.”
She towered over him now, a monstrous were-alligator, with jaws as long as his human body.
“That was generations ago. And they were wrong to do it,” Marco said. He saw the tail swing slowly as she advanced. It would break every bone he had if it hit him. He was glad he was too wet from the swim for her realize how he was sweating. His whole body had gone loose. There was a rubberiness in his joints. The Crinos form wouldn‘t save him. Size and power would be nothing against her. He rubbed the gnawed bone talisman he‘d earned from the Water Rat spirit and sighed. “I don‘t want to remember you as an enemy either.”
She charged him, an almost silent lunge that was all jaws. He twisted and dodged, becoming not bigger in his battle form, but smaller, using the Water Rat’s Gift to slip through tiny escape-holes much too small for him. He hit the ground running, a too-thin, greasy-pelted wolf.
Knowing he wouldn’t have a prayer in the water, he shot through the mangroves, weaving through spaces too narrow for her immense form. He heard her crashing behind him, heard the hiss and the bellows of rage, felt the wind from her tail-strikes and jaw snaps as they came entirely too close.
He was fast. Bone Gnawers were famous for being quick on the retreat, but Marco didn’t think there was an Ahroun alive who could stand up to this Mokole in a toe to toe battle. Every Get for 100 miles could stand in line to laugh at him, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t even going to try to fight her. He dodged and ran and ducked and sprang. Finally, he felt pavement under his paws and risked a look back.
She had stopped at the edge of the swamp, up to her waist in the canal. She wasn’t going to follow him into human territory. Those reptilian eyes promised a mangled death if he ever came into her reach again. Her tail lashed the water and her jaws snapped shut to make the threat well understood.
“I won’t tell!” he called back. “I swear I won’t!” But she was gone with barely a ripple, and he hurried inland.
Day/Theme: 12. Collecting memories in a rainbow pot
Series: World of Darkness: Werewolf the Apocalypse.
Character/Pairing: Marco Polo (FL Bonegnawer) vs. No-Ripple (Mokole)
Rating: PG
“How…” Her voice was more rumble than purr. The yellow-green eyes didn‘t blink. “Do you want to be remembered?”
“Not as an enemy,” he said at once. She was circling slowly, leisurely. He turned to face her, trying not to move too rapidly. He didn’t want her to think he was afraid, and he didn’t want to make any jerky movements that might remind her of injured prey.
He had been chasing the fomori and it had gone into the canal, which he had been expecting since it had been sporting a slimy set of webbed fingers and frill of something gill-like in its neck. He had followed it down, down, through the black murk and the surface pollution, only to stumble upon its body, snapped in half at the base of what looked like a giant alligator’s nest.
“I’m Marco Polo,” he said when she didn’t speak again. “Y’know, like the water game? I’ve got a knack to find stuff in the water. But, uh, y’know… I’ve never found one of you before… My uncle said you wouldn’t be all gone until the world ended. He said that, well, he said that, if I was lucky I might see one of you.”
“And if you were unlucky?” The last syllable dragged out into a hiss. She wasn’t as tall as him, but more compact. Her skin was dark and leathery-looking, and her hair floated behind her like her own black river. The reflections off the water sent shimmering shadows over her. It had all the rainbow swirls of an oil-slick in a puddle. Her eyes were ancient. He wondered if he should run, and how far he would get if he did.
“If I was unlucky,” he said, going for honesty. “One of you would see ME.”
She nodded slowly.
“Your uncle knew a thing or two of the world,” she said. “And so do I. I know what happens when Garou find our nests. And I know what I must do to be certain that no more do.”
He swallowed hard and thought harder.
“I’m no galliard. I won’t tell,” he said. “Let me take the filth back up.” He motioned at the fomori’s corpse. “I’ll say I killed it and that will be all.”
Her eyes narrowed and she took a step forward. Her jaw jutted out and the tips of fangs started to appear around lips that were stretching backwards to her ears.
“Wait!” Marco started backing up. “You’re supposed to know everything! You know I won’t tell!”
“We don’t know. We remember.” Her voice grew more guttural with every word, and her skin roughened and darkened with it. “We save the memories of the world so that when you destroy it, there will be something left. I don’t know what you will do, but I remember what you have done. You killed us wherever you could find us, all for the unforgivable sin of not being you.”
She towered over him now, a monstrous were-alligator, with jaws as long as his human body.
“That was generations ago. And they were wrong to do it,” Marco said. He saw the tail swing slowly as she advanced. It would break every bone he had if it hit him. He was glad he was too wet from the swim for her realize how he was sweating. His whole body had gone loose. There was a rubberiness in his joints. The Crinos form wouldn‘t save him. Size and power would be nothing against her. He rubbed the gnawed bone talisman he‘d earned from the Water Rat spirit and sighed. “I don‘t want to remember you as an enemy either.”
She charged him, an almost silent lunge that was all jaws. He twisted and dodged, becoming not bigger in his battle form, but smaller, using the Water Rat’s Gift to slip through tiny escape-holes much too small for him. He hit the ground running, a too-thin, greasy-pelted wolf.
Knowing he wouldn’t have a prayer in the water, he shot through the mangroves, weaving through spaces too narrow for her immense form. He heard her crashing behind him, heard the hiss and the bellows of rage, felt the wind from her tail-strikes and jaw snaps as they came entirely too close.
He was fast. Bone Gnawers were famous for being quick on the retreat, but Marco didn’t think there was an Ahroun alive who could stand up to this Mokole in a toe to toe battle. Every Get for 100 miles could stand in line to laugh at him, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t even going to try to fight her. He dodged and ran and ducked and sprang. Finally, he felt pavement under his paws and risked a look back.
She had stopped at the edge of the swamp, up to her waist in the canal. She wasn’t going to follow him into human territory. Those reptilian eyes promised a mangled death if he ever came into her reach again. Her tail lashed the water and her jaws snapped shut to make the threat well understood.
“I won’t tell!” he called back. “I swear I won’t!” But she was gone with barely a ripple, and he hurried inland.