Anyone can feel free to post here! Assuming this is in Europe/Asia, though the exact location is up to anyone who joins in, or it can just remain vague. <3

“You do realize that you take more catnaps than an actual cat.”

The familiar meowing voice in his ear caused the brown wolf to smile before he opened pale blue eyes. He was guilty as charged, sprawled out on the worn mattress in the inn they had snagged for the week of trading. Sitting between one arm and the pillow was a white tomcat, who looked at him through humorously narrowed eyes before the luperci spoke.

“And who are you to judge, kedi?” Levent Kartal asked ironically before stretching, hands and toes stretched almost to the ends of the bed despite his short stature. This gesture playfully pushed the cat aside; the feline leaped up onto the windowsill and pricked his ears. Frowning, the wolf rolled over onto his stomach and shook his head. “A simple günaydın would suffice, Wilson. You hurt me with your criticism.”

Wilson smirked as only a cat is able to. “Open your eyes, mate. It’s about an hour past noon.”

Levent’s mouth fell open, and he quickly squirmed off the bed, landing painfully on the floor. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” he demanded of the snickering tom. “All the other merchants had time to set up their stands. I’m not going to be able to find a spot in the bazaar today!” He swore, a few times in English then a few times in Turkish for good measure, and struggled to wrap his slash-fabric headband around his messy black hair. A few quick flicks of his fingers through his fur tidied that up, after he licked a rough patch down on his shoulder.

At which, of course, the cat laughed. “You are a feline in a canine body, Levvie. Sleeping all day, grooming yourself—”

“You wish I were a cat,” Levent shot back, eyebrows dancing suggestively.

The tom bristled. “Sod off,” he muttered, leaping from the windowsill onto the bed then onto his friend’s shoulder. He aimed a cuff at one of the man’s dark ears before draping his tail over his shoulder. “Now let’s bloody go if you’re in such a bloody hurry.”

Levent chuckled and, howling for one of the inn’s hired servants to help him grab his crate of goods, made his way down the stairs out onto the street. He nodded for the boy carrying the box to walk ahead as he stepped into the crowd, only the band around his head and the cat on his shoulder marking him as separate for anyone else. While he ambled on seemingly carelessly, following the servant, Wilson kept his ears and eyes open for anyone ready to start trouble, his dangling white tail occasionally tapping his friend on the chest. There was quite a ways to the bazaar, and this district was well known for its pickpockets.

Hover over Turkish for translation if you're curious. xD

The white tomcat shifted on his shoulder, and his tail tapped a rhythm against the man’s chest to get his attention. “There’s something about the other merchants, mate,” Wilson whispered in his ear as the brown luperci paused to listen. “They were all over the gaff earlier, but now they’re…” He tensed, then, and Levent frowned and looked up only to see a blonde woman coming their way.

The male sized her up; she was a few inches taller than him, but that wasn’t very unusual considering his height. She wasn’t anyone that he recognized, though from the fussing of the other traders in the area, he supposed he should have. Turning, he saw that even the hired servant had gone uneasy. Is there something I should know about this city?

The woman greeted him cheerfully, and as per usual, a grin lit up his face. He shook her offered hand warmly. “Memnun oldum, Amy,” he returned, stooping slightly in a little bow and nearly dislodging the feline from his shoulder. “My name is Levent, and this is my iyi arkadaş Wilson.” The Turkish dropped easily from his tongue as he gestured to the cat, who shifted but said nothing—other than a quick whisper in the wolf’s ear.

“This is dodgy,” he protested.

Levent let out a quick mew, a wordless sound of Low Speech, and Wilson lowered his ears before falling silent. With another silly grin, the luperci looked to the blonde woman. “Apologies. Wilson’s British—stiff upper lip, y’know.” Normally the stereotypical teasing would rouse at least a quick cuff out of the cat, but the tom only dropped down onto the street, careful to keep contact with his friend’s leg. The remark wasn’t really for the cat’s benefit this time anyway, though; Levent was wary of strangers as always, but it wouldn’t do this girl good to tell her that. After all, she seemed like a nice enough lady.

“So the owner of these parts, hm?” He flashed a smile. “I didn’t realize what I walked into.”

Blah, shortness.

The woman mentioned getting enough apologies, and Levent glanced quickly to the servant he’d hired—or where the boy would have been. He seemed to be making himself as scarce as possible, as were most of the merchants pretending not to look their way. No wonder the cat was so on edge, now pressing up against his leg with tail curled and ears lowered, though of course he could play it off as if he was uneasy around canines in general.

Amy suggested they be equals, and the scar on Levent’s lip twitched. I’d planned on it, he thought, but on the outside he grinned and nodded. “Evet,” he agreed, then smiled casually. “So do you do trade goods as well, or do you simply run all the trade here?” He looked down to see the crate had been deposited by the servant, who’d presumably escaped back to the inn; he made a mental note to talk to his employer later. While technically a coward himself, he couldn’t stand others running from all their petty fears. This was a woman, not a rabid tiger.

Sorry for the wait on this. I hadn't forgotten about it; I was making my actual characters' threads a priority. xD

The woman laughed, and Levent broke out into an even broader smile. “It sounds like being the overseer all the time would be dull,” he pointed out. Then again, some type of luperci got off from that kind of power—and Levent himself tended toward that kind of thirst. Power was not something he craved so much as freedom from power—immortality enough so that he was untouchable, so that he could do what he wanted with his life. Whether or not something like that would tarnish his soul, he was completely oblivious.

Amy mentioned grabbing a meal together, and the Turkish wolf’s ears stood to attention. “That sounds great,” he started, before the cat pressed himself roughly against his leg. The soft warning hiss was universal; one hardly needed to know Low Speech to understand that Wilson thought this was a bad idea. However, Levent only pretended like he hadn’t heard his companion and bowed again, this time in an obvious parody so she wouldn’t think he was just like the others. He bowed like anyone would bow to a respectable lady, rather than kneeling before someone superior. He seemed to be holding back a grin as he teased her lightly. “I would love to dine with a woman such as yourself. Lütfen, please lead the way.”

Levent breathed in deep once they reached the outside of the restaurant, practically salivating at the tantalizing odor of the cooked food. Like all wolves, he’d eat raw meat every once in a while, but being a merchant in Europe had spoiled him when it came to fine cuisine. His tail was wagging once they stepped into the building, and though it didn’t stop, he did take time to note the speed with which the dog obeyed her silent orders. It was another testament to the power that Amy had in this place, and he wondered how he hadn’t heard of her before.

Wilson, of course, was walking as close to him as he possibly could without tripping over his paws, and eventually the man took time to bend and pick the cat up. A few of the other diners looked their way, surprised to see a feline in a canine’s arms, but many eyes were averted as quickly as they noticed the blonde woman. The tomcat kneaded his paws lightly against his friend’s arm for comfort before they were seated.

Amy ordered food for them, sending a smile his way—one that the man copied instinctively. It was always best to provide a smiling front to another luperci, even if the thoughts behind that simpering mask were less pleasant. However, he’d no reason yet to dislike Amy. To be wary of her, yes—Wilson wouldn’t let him drop his guard even if he’d wanted to. But he wanted their meeting to work out, and hopefully have an ally when they parted ways. Connections were vital—sometimes the difference between dying out on the road and having a building to hide in.

The woman spoke to him, starting what he knew would be a pleasant conversation—one he hoped would turn interesting. As the cat settled down on the booth beside him, Levent smiled at her then glanced at the table, tapping a claw on it as if in thought. “I’m a traveling merchant. It was my baba Süleiman’s trade.” He did not mind offering his father’s name; Süleiman was a dead wolf, anyway. “I’m always sniffing around small corners of the wall,” he went on, grinning. “Meeting clients I haven’t yet, trading for new things, even learning about cultures. Talking to the different species there.” He flashed a sideways, gentle smile at Wilson, who relaxed slightly at the gesture.

“I’m originally from Istanbul,” Levent added. “Was on the road quite a bit, eventually went to London to be with my mother.” Her name he did not disclose; Katherine Wilcox had been quite ashamed of her illegitimate child at the start, and although she had regretted leaving him with his father and quickly reclaimed him when they met again, he wanted to spare her some honor.

Resting his elbow on the table, he leaned forward slightly, cupping his muzzle in his palm. “What about you? Are you from around here, or was this part of some epic conquest?” His smile never wavered.

Levent nodded, not surprised to hear where she had come from after listening to her and her name. “The countryside… I’ve always been a city rat myself. I thrive on the bustle.” He didn’t really know what he would do with wide open spaces, with the wilderness that called to the hearts of other canines. He’d never known anything different, other than perhaps stepping into a field to talk to a deer. Wide open spaces made him uneasy, if he were to be honest with himself, mostly because of the association with the long roads he had to travel on some routes. He’d been nearly robbed a few times, though quick weaseling or a flicker of his throwing knives usually freed him.

Amy explained that she had only wanted to be a trader, and Levent nodded again, though he didn’t prod her for a clarification. If she wanted to tell him how she came to the power she held in her paws now, she would say it without prompting. Only the interest in his pale blue eyes encouraged her. “Could you do that, anyway? Be a simple trader, I mean—or are you afraid that if you step down, you might not be able to step back up?” An absence in a seat of power practically begged for usurpers to take the position for themselves, after all.

Another luperci came by with the food, and Levent inhaled deeply, eyes running over the meat on the salvaged human plates lovingly. He watched as Amy stopped the wolf from dividing the meat, and at that time busied himself by picking at the roast beef. He handed a portion to Wilson, who’d been sitting somewhat sullenly if quietly throughout the whole exchange; at his attention, the cat perked back up and nibbled the meat with a purr of thanks.

With a chuckle, Amy explained why she wasn’t worried about someone taking over while she was gone. The male considered her words as he chewed, knowing that he could only make small guesses about the type of control she had and what might happen if she was removed from the equation. Some societies fell apart without their leader, while others were genuinely better off. It would be difficult for the luperci here conditioned to listen to Amy to adapt, he knew. Quiet, he enjoyed the taste of the beef and the heart—a delicacy here though it wouldn’t be considered that special in feral society—and looked to his friend on occasion. Wilson was quiet as he ate, though, perhaps mulling over all that was being said. Being a cat meant that most underestimated him, and holding his tongue only added to that, but the tom would probably share his point of view on all this later.

“I think you should give it a shot,” the brown wolf said when he thought he could read some thoughtfulness in her eyes—a real consideration to become a simple trader. Then again, he could be completely off, but as a merchant he had to be good at reading people. All the nuances of expressions and body languages gave him knowledge on how to best approach a situation—or, more frequently with his shenanigans, get out of a situation. “Life’s about doing what you want with it, once you gain the freedom to do so. I was a street rat, my life improved, and so I pursued it.”

The pep talk might not have been completely serious, but he did want to encourage Amy and keep the conversation optimistic. There was no point in telling this woman to stick to her old ways and abandon what she’d dreamt about before. Feeling yellow eyes on him, Levent grinned sheepishly and pointedly looked away from Wilson, who stared at him with playful distaste for his cliché rambling.

Aaaand his creeper side comes out. 8D

A goal. Levent paused before he’d brought a sliver of meat to his lips, and slowly lowered his paw back to the table. He was uncharacteristically silent, his face devoid of the smiles and light emotion that played constantly across it. Noticing the change in his friend’s demeanor, Wilson let out a quiet, worried mew and pressed against his side, but the wolf didn’t seem to notice.

A goal. He had always been a modest man, wanting to screw around and have fun rather than attain some high position of power. He liked doing his job, and he liked the perks that came with it. He liked being able to be with his best friend and meet all the interesting characters throughout the trading routes and cities. He didn’t aspire to be anything or command anyone.

His mind flashed back to Algiers, to that dark night, in a panic and desperate to find medication for the injured cat. He remembered the things he saw, heard the voice of that luperci ringing in his ears as he learned the truth about the world, about the balance between life and death. He remembered vomiting, he remembered his heart laboring, he remembered waking and listening for days to the healer who’d poisoned then saved him.

Yes, Levent Kartal had a goal, but it was one he doubted even Amy could help him with.

The male quickly offered a smile, though this one was smaller than the others and accompanied by a quiet, unassuming tone. “I want nothing wordly,” he said, and rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “In following our dreams, we sometimes chase what we cannot have, hope to speak with what we will never see. Fairies. Dead loved ones.”

Demons.

Amy grinned, and things shifted.

Levent could feel the dark tug, a pull between them, either against each other in the same direction. Pupils dilating slightly, he sank into the booth, watching her with a smirk that showcased one of his canines. The emotions coursing through him were subdued, taken over by a stranger’s, almost, though he was the same person. His fur tingled like it had when he’d had his strange experience, and he could almost see those horrible, terrible, wonderful things again in the slash of her mouth, the remnants laughed from her lungs.

She thought he wanted to speak with the dead. The man didn’t even know what he wanted, but he would do anything if it meant achieving his goal, even if he had to steal souls that had already crossed over into the next world. Immortality was what he really craved.

“What would the dead have to say?” Levent asked, his smirk never wavering as he tested the waters. If there was nothing useful, if she believed he wanted to sob a goodbye to his baba, then this would be a waste of his time.

She mentioned a price, and there was thoughtfulness in Levent’s eyes though he wouldn’t give up anything precious if there was nothing to gain from it. Wilson, however, was immediately against the idea—and let it be known, too. He’d been bristling and crouching since Amy had asked that question, and now he leaped up onto the table, carefully enough not to make a mess of the food.

“We aren’t loaded,” the tomcat growled. “You’re a nutter if you think Levent is going to talk with the dead, anyway.”

The wolf gently pulled his companion’s tail. “Don’t be rude, Wilson.” There was more veiled behind the soft, casual words, and Wilson narrowed his eyes at the man. “Maalesef…he is right about one thing. I don’t know what price you’re asking for, and I don’t know what I have to gain from communicating with the dead, anyway, unless they can do anything to prevent death.” He grinned. “Though if that were the case, Cennet would be an empty place.”

“No, I don’t think the dead would provide me with the advice I need,” Levent laughed, holding his ribs as if to contain his mirth. Those that had already died wouldn’t be able to tell him how to live forever; the irony made his grin broaden. He reached over and stroked Wilson’s pale fur, which made the cat relax slightly and let out a tentative purr, and shrugged. “Do not worry about my goals. Most of the time I take life day by day. Too much planning, and your existence becomes a course on a straight line; you might as well be in limbo.” He firmly believed in living life to the fullest, whether it meant joking with Wilson or sleeping in all day or going out to the incense-heavy festivals spotted all over Europe.

The tomcat rubbed against his friend’s hand fondly, at least until the woman’s blunt suggestion made him freeze and whip his head toward the dog. Panicked, he glanced to the male wolf, whose grin softened and grew wicked once more.

“Lev—” Wilson meowed.

“Relax,” Levent insisted. He knew why the cat was concerned—it’d be all too easy to slip a knife in his ribs at such a close proximity—but he knew that Amy might have tried to kill him already. After all, he was new in this place and had hardly noticed her before she’d greeted him, if not for the attitude of the other merchants. He tried to make a reassuring sound in Low Speech, but the cat shook his head and leaped under the table, sneaking off somewhere he could be safe while his companion was preoccupied. Levent pretended he hadn’t seen the tom’s hurt expression.

“After you,” the brown wolf said, smiling at Amy.