A little squeaky sound of surprise bounced from her throat as Bartholomew caught her hand when she tried to retreat, and in a somewhat dancer worthy move pulled her back to him and caught her up in an embrace. She was stiff for a moment, caught off guard, her eyes wide and a dumbfounded expression wrought on her visage. But the embrace was the perfect salve to her aching soul and it did not take long for the woman to relax in Bartholomew's arms, nearly melting into him and hugging him right back. There was something different about this hug, though, and now with Bartholomew comforting her and muttering into her ears the veil over her eyes began to lift and she started to understand, albeit slowly. Maybe he wasn't making fun of her. But... if not... then what happened to Mars? This was mars. This was his body, his smell, but not his voice, not his eyes. What had happened to her friend? Had he been hurt? Suddenly she recalled several stories in which someone bumped their head and woke up with amnesia, or thinking they were somebody else entirely. Had Mars hit his head?
It didn't matter, she was incapable of addressing in her current state. Her small, tense body softened in Bartholomew's arms and she leaned into him, letting her head rest on his chest and trying to calm the tears that now trailed through the fuzz on her cheeks. Everything was happening so fast Orin could hardly keep up with it all. She was going to press the obvious matter further when Bartholomew's hand brushed over the scratches on her shoulder. She winced slightly. They were still tender and not healing as quickly as they should have. For a moment she forgot herself and explained.
“This crazy bitch attacked me,” she muttered to Bartholomew's chest. “Her name is Sky Katruk. Do you know her? She actually lives just across the way there. I was cleaning up my bookstore some more and doing some chores when she called me over and just... went crazy. She attacked me while my back was turned and shoved me into the snow, trapping me beneath her. I didn't even see her begin the shift but she changed to Secui to fight me in my Optime form. I couldn't get out from under that weight and she scratched up my back. I only managed to get away thanks to a lucky hit.”
She sighed with the horrible memories, but despite retelling the traumatic story her sobbing and tears had calmed. Her eyes were not producing any new salty little droplets though she did look funny in her after-crying glory. Her cheeks were wet with the tears, and she wriggled an arm free to wipe at them.
There was part of the story she did not divulge, but not because she did not want Mars or Bartholomew or whoever he was to know it. She just simply had not gotten that far yet. All she cared about was complaining about the fight, not why it started to begin with. But it was likely that if Bartholomew wanted to know more details, he would ask.
She paused for a moment, then turned her eyes to meet his... those stranger eyes set within the familiar face. Now all ire was gone and she looked at him with budding curiosity. She did not understand. “Why are you not Mars?” She asked gently. Unbeknownst to her she had accepted the fact that the man was not who she thought he was… or at least that the man did not think he was who Orin thought he was... His mannerisms and stance were so different. The eyes were not Mars's at all. And again, he spoke far more differently than the man Orin had known. And when she truly opened her mind and paid attention to her deeper senses, the ones she could not describe in language yet that had always been there since before her kind had become Luperci, she sensed that the entity here was different than the one that belonged to this body. As though there was a second soul roaming around in Mars. And for some reason – possibly because of the comfort he was providing now - this did not scare her. In all of this she made no movement to break off the comforting embrace.
“You look like him... mostly. You smell like him. You're even dressed in his clothes. And his pet is following you around,” she made a small gesture to the sheep that stared dumbly into the window, now licking the glass.
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