into the light

[Vicare de Lioncourt]

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so we reach into the raging chaos, and we pluck some small glittering thing, and we cling to it, and tell ourselves it has meaning

vicare de lioncourt — lupus form — vinátta border

The habits of the luperci were really not entirely different from the habits of non-luperci, Vicare noted almost absent-mindedly. His eyes were light as they rested on the other wolf’s face, but he took in the wag of the other’s tale, the position of the brown-toned ears, and the shadow of a smile that seemed to fall so naturally on the curves of Saul’s features. And from the earlier approach of the Vinátta leader, Vicare could detect no suggestion that the luperci was used to travelling on anything but four legs. All of this led him to wonder as to the true difference between the lifestyles of those who could transform and those who could not, and what—aside from the supposed convenience of the optime form—was the difference between his joining of a pack of luperci over a pack of mundane wolves.



Mundane. Perhaps that was the difference, or maybe the luperci were mundane on their own terms. He supposed he would find out soon enough.



I have a few questions for you, before I can accept you into our ranks, said the mottled grey male, and the tawny one nodded the indication for his companion to go on. He had expected as much. Knowledge was the precursor to familiarity, familiarity to adaptation, and adaptation to survival.

“I was born far to the southwest of here. The land had no name to us—it was just home,”

he replied, cavalier in his tone, though he still carried the spore of nostalgia at the thought of the land where he’d been born, where he’d grown up.

“It wasn’t quite so cold there.”

This last bit was said with an ironic twist of his lips, and yellow eyes glinted subtly in reflection of his mirth.

“Sickness took my mate a year and a half ago. Our daughters are grown and gone.”

He’d seen them once before he’d left, and they were the one reason he had to regret his departure. It was an odd sort of loss to know that he would probably never see his children or, indeed, their children, but he and they both understood that it was not in his nature to remain with them after his duty to them had been fulfilled. There, too, had been the political issues that had risen within their would-be simplistic society, and presently, Vicare wondered if the green-eyed luperci would be interested in the nuances of non-luperci society.

“About a year ago, a newcomer rose to power within our network of family packs. We disagreed in ideals, and my opinions were not welcomed. By that point, I had no family left in those parts, so why waste bloodshed over something I had no stake in?”

explained the tawny wolf with a faint shrug of his shoulders. His eyes had grown almost imperceptibly cooler, but no greater bitterness came over his otherwise placid expression. Instead, he let the moment of remembrance pass without event, and as his attention roamed the scenery surrounding them, he pleasantly returned his focus to Saul.

“I travelled part of the way north with a group of luperci, but we were separated in a mountain range to the south. Have there been other newcomers, do you know? They would have been a group of three.”

The light in his eyes was somewhat hopeful, though he didn’t quite know how he would feel about meeting the old gang again. He had made the decision to leave them, and for them he felt no particular emotional attachment. Nevertheless, he couldn't quite repress the curiosity he felt about what had happened to the trio. They had, after all, been his only other exposure to the culture of the werewolves.

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