Logs:Better Call Saul
Better Call Saul
|Characters:||Charity and Saul|
|Summary:||A Lost Wolf reaches out to a Werewolf, in hopes of learning more.|
The doors to the Eventide are not yet open for buisness, this early in the evening. But it's where Charity suggested meeting, a quiet place when it's not drinking time. The wolf-eared Lost is behind the bar, doing a quick pre-opening inventory. Black crop top, black skirt, and heeled booties the unofficial uniform of the night.
It struck him oddly that a Changeling would go out and call him up on something that's completely non-wolf related, though it'll become a bit clearer for him once she began introducing herself as an Emissary to the Protectorate's packs. Soon enough, the roaring of Saul's Ford Mustang will fill up the lively streets of Marigny as he makes his way over to the Eventide, a place that he's never really visited in the previous years that he's spent in New Orleans. The Boss 429 makes a pull into the club's parking lot, and out comes an inked up Caucasian male in his thirties that could pass off as one of your urban hipsters with those tats, if not for the simplicity of his clothing. The Changeling behind the bar should be able to notice that look, that feel of a predator as soon as he enters the bar and proceeds towards the stools. "Charity?"
The sound of the door opening has one ear turning that way, before the rest of her head follows suit. Her nostrils flare, and there's a flash of her sharp smile to the wolf that enters the bar. "And you must be Saul. Thank you, for meeting with me." The accent is British, though the rumble in her voice takes away some of the crispness to it. While the ears say 'wolf', her eyes are firmly that of a fox. All bright amber and vertical slits, as she looks over the man. Taking him in, from head to tattoos to the clothing he's wearing. "Can I get you a drink, before we get down to business?"
He can see it, as soon as he enters, that twisted humanoid form that's signature to the people that call themselves the 'Lost'. And he knows for a fact that she can sense him too, like a wolf under a sheep's clothing, a /real/ wolf. Saul is checking her out for one second, those lupine ears and her fox-like eyes, before his head bobs into an affirmative nod. "I'd take some rum, if you have those," he responds, his own voice deep and muscular as one would expect of a man his age, though slightly scarred from heavy smoking, a past habit of his. Saul is currently wearing a black v-shirt that fits his figure and a pair of tight working jeans, with worn leather boots to warm his feet. He pulls on a stool and helps himself for a seat, hands and elbows planted on the wooden bar while he waits patiently.
"Rum it is." Charity can certainly feel the presence of one of the Wolves, in the way that something itches at the back of her mind, that lets her know when there's something that *hunts* nearby. But there's still a curve to her lips, and a flash in her eyes. She goes up on her toes to grab one of the top-shelf bottles, and then a glass, pouring three fingers worth. Bottle and glass in hand, she moves to place them both down in front of him. With his hands on the bar, she takes a moment to look at the tattoos there, the rings. And then smiles a bit wider. "Which of Father Wolf's children do you follow, then? I miss the days, when my mouth allowed me to use the words of the People, still."
Saul points a finger at the rum bottle that she took. "I'll take the whole bottle, actually. A sip isn't gonna do me shit," he says with a rough little snort, nostrils flaring to take in the scent of the poured rum. Even if he tries to keep some semblance of politeness, being one of the Full Moons sometimes drives him to be direct and straightforward. The People are known for their incredible resistance towards toxins anyway, and that includes alcohol of course. He brings the glass up to his lips, and was about to take a sip when she hints at her past life, which garners her a quick glare from above the rim of his glass. He stops, stares, and proceeds to take a mouthful of the drink, effectively draining his glass within a single gulp if not a couple. "One of the Uragarum, I see. Or /was/ an Uragarum, yeah?" He looks up to pierce through her Mask again, to her Mien. "Pity that you got caught up in this mess," he hints at her new supernatural identity. "But I'm one of the Bone Shadows, follower of Death Wolf. And you? Which tribe's blood did you have in you?"
Charity watches him, his reaction, when she gives those words. There's a dip of her head, and a sad little smile. "I was on the edge of becoming one of the chosen, when things went all pear-shaped. A different moon, though, I think. Mother Luna was not quite so bright, that evening." She takes the bottle back up, refilling his glass once he's finished drinking from it. "But we shared a Tribe, back then. And you still do, with my younger sister." She reaches for a second glass, and pours herself a couple of fingers as well. Lifting the glass in salute, before she sips. "I took the position of Envoy to the People as I figured I'd be the least likely to royally fuck things up." A quirk of lips, there. "But that's not what we came here to talk about, is it? I just get a touch...nostalgic, when I see one like you."
"Our Mother can be very fickle at times, I agree. Shit happens all the time, things that are even beyond her reach, but she wasn't meant to prevent those from happening. Only that she guides us to our duties," he raises his glass in cheers to her once she's filled it up to the brim, a smile creasing his lips, before he slowly sips from it. Saul did ask for the whole bottle that he was planning to just chug down in his time here in the bar, but it looks like she got distracted by his question along the way, and he's just gonna leave it at that. "People or not, the Bone Shadows heritage still runs in your blood, and that's something I can always appreciate. It's relieving to hear that your sister didn't face the same fate as you did, at least. Someone that can keep reminding you of your true heritage," he offers her a little wink as he sips on the rum. "Don't sweat it anyway. What was it you wanted to talk about anyway?"
"In the end, I still get to run under Her light. Just not quite the way that I had hoped. Becoming one of the Lost may have taken away my ability to speak the Language and understand it, but nothing can rip away the lessons that came from my blood. It's good, to meet another one of Death Wolf's kin." Charity remembers something, then, and does place the bottle on the bar, within his easy reach. "Now that I am one of the Lost, I've been learning about them as well. And, once moving to New Orleans, discovered that there was a long stretch, up until recently, that there were no Lost within the city. A very, very strange thing. Unfortunately, most of the People that I've had the pleasure of meeting are recent arrivals, themselves. I was told that you might have some insight, though? Some sort of knowledge. Either of the last time there were Lost in the City, or otherwise. It's a giant puzzle, Saul. I could use any pieces I can get my hands on."
Saul grabs ahold of his glass and slams it down his throat as he notices the entire bottle being brought out before him. He can only nod to her story, and as cold and aloof he might seem to be, which he is, the old wolf can't help but share his sympathy with her. She has Kamduis-Ur within her heritage after all, and Saul greatly respects his fellow tribe-mates. He reaches for the rum bottle, holding it firmly around its slender neck, but not tipping it yet whilst Charity is still explaining herself. "I think I know what you mean. I don't exactly have any insights about it, or some puzzles that I can help you with, but I do recall the fact that you and your kind have only been in the city recently. Like, maybe during the past year or so? Even less, perhaps. You and your Freehold was non-existent before, too. It was mostly the Praxis and the Protectorate in the city, until the Freehold came about recently. But that's all that I know."
Charity watches the wolf, and there are a few more glances to the tattoos and adornments on him. A quiet admiration, there, even if her own skin seems bare of any ink. Just those scars that show in raised skin here and there, and show that there's plenty of fight in the not-wolf. There's a furrow of her brow when he speaks, and she lets out a soft sigh at the end of it. "I've only been free of the creature that took me for...seven months. In the city shorter than that by half. I'd heard that it had been some time, but I was hoping..." She trails off, and there's a shake of her head. "I appreciate the information, even if it only confirms what little there is out there."
Eventually Saul will be, and shamelessly so, chugging down about 3/5 of the rum, just over a half from the ones poured in his glass as well, before he sets the bottle down gently, and him belching to the side and away from Charity's direction. The wolf sure loves his rum, it seems like. "Yeah, sorry that I can't help much more than that anyway. But it did feel weird when I first noticed you and your kin flooding the city, and being added to the list of Accorded. At first I thought you were a Claimed of sorts, but I couldn't locate the spirit that dwelt inside of you. That's when it hit me that the Lost were an entirely different breed of... supernaturals? I'm not sure what to classify 'us' in general as; the non-mundane, that is."
"At the least, I know that I've hit a dead end when it comes to looking into things down that particular path." Charity nurses her own drink, taking her time with it. Perhaps because she's not able to burn through the alcohol the way a werewolf's system can. "And I appreciate the perspective of someone that was at least already *here* when the Lost started to come to the City." She taps her finger against the glass, lips pressing into a thoughtful line. "I had precious little experience with the Lost, myself, before I became one. Back home, we seemed to have only a few - not a full Freehold in Yorkshire, apparently. At least not that my pack ever crossed. I suppose supernaturals is one thing to call the whole lot of us, yes. The not-quite-human anymore." Her lips quirk up, and she lifts her gaze up to his. "And thank you for coming to talk with me. I've had very few reach out to me, in my offers to talk. But I know how wolves can be. It's been refreshing, meeting a new one, and feeling that..." She searches for the right word. "Energy. That little chill down the spine."
"If you don't mind me asking, why are you trying to dig up information about the past anyway? Looking for a particular person? One of the Lost... lost? Or is it just out of pure curiosity, to fill up your history books with?" Saul does know the value of history and lore, especially of his own race and kind, and can relate if the Changelings are also looking into gathering knowledge and archives of their own history. He waves her off with a hand when she mentions her thanks, taking another large swig of his beer when he does so. "Don't mention it, seriously. I'm a Bone Shadow at heart, curiosity is something that's ingrained within me. If it weren't for Kamduis-Ur's pure, raw curiosity for knowledge, she would've never became known for her wisdom, would've never inherited all the powers that she has. Bone Shadows would've never existed." He grins up at her, canines elongated into wolfish fangs, as he lifts his bottle up in cheers to her again. "A pleasure to meet someone of Death Wolf's blood, even if you turned into what you are now. You should introduce me to your sister some other time."
"We're trying to figure out why, exactly, there weren't any of us here before recently." Charity leans against her side of the bar a bit, picking up her glass for another sip. "It seemed strange, that a city like New Orleans would have not a single member of the Lost in it, within recent memory. There was some sort of...Ban, it seems, that kept us away. So in trying to figure out what kept us out, we're also trying to find out what let us *in*. Threat assessment, for some of us. Knowledge gathering, for others. I may not be a Bone Shadow in name anymore, but I'm still one at heart. As such, I've joined the Lost faction as close to that as possible." A tip of her glass to him, and she grins as she looks to his sharp teeth, showing her own. "I like you, Saul. So far, at least." One amber eye, closed in a quick wink. "And I'll have to pass your number along to her. Could do her some good, to connect with another one of Death Wolf's lot."
"A Ban? Like a spirit Ban? ... Wow, now that's new. Never knew that the Lost had that liability with them, too." He ponders on it for one second, before he's back to sipping on his rum, not yet content to just slam it down 'til it's empty. He'll have to buy another bottle if that happens, and he's not really looking to hurt his wallet even more atthe moment. "That makes sense," he utters with a nod of his head. Better to know what you're dealing with before it comes crashing again in the near future. Another fanged grin is displayed for her, in appreciation to the wink and her compliment. "I can say the same to you, too. I've always liked British accents," he smirks, tipping the rum for a mouthful of swig. "And that would be great, sure. Could always meet up with one of Death Wolf's brood. We're... quite distanced, compared to the other tribes and their tribal Gatherings."
There's a moment spent gnawing on her lower lip, as she considers something. How much to tell the wolf. But in the end, there's Tribal loyalty. And the fact that she was once told that it was fine to share what was deemed important to the wolves. "Not one of the Lost that did it. But one of the True Fae. The bastards that steal us away and warp us to their whims. There was a creature called the Butcher Queen, and we believe she was the one responsible for keeping us away. But we don't know what changed, to let us in. A Ban is the closest thing I can think of, for how to explain it." Charity does toss back the last of her rum, there, as she chuckles. "I've heard they are one of the best, and that we hit the ear just...right." There's a little rumble to the word, and a bright flash in her eyes.
He leans sideways against the bar, fully facing her now, as he tunes in to her story again. His eyebrows furrow at the mention of the True Fae, and the title-name of one of the creatures. "They sound weirdly similar to spirits. Like, very powerful spirits. the Incarnae types," Saul heaves out a sigh, shaking his head as he takes another swig of his rum. There's a hint of a smile on his face at least, that might suggest that he's appreciative of the fact that the woman is able to open up to him even though she previously looked like she was having second thoughts about it. "Even in my time as a Bone Shadow, I've never really met or even heard of their name before. They must live in different realms than the spirits do. But really, if a Bone Shadow who has a knack for kicking spirits' butts, and binding them to places can help? Do let me know."Charity's head bobs in a quick nod as he speaks of spirits. "I had similar thoughts, when I was first learning everything," she muses, fingers tapping against a now-empty glass. "There are similarities. Restrictions. They are both very much beings that are bound to the idea of what they are. But the Shadow is certainly a very different place than There. I haven't been to the Shadow since my return, but." A lift of her shoulder, a small shrug. "Just know that some of the old tales of the Fae are true. Changeling children and offerings left and it being unwise to stand in a circle of stones or mushrooms or anything of that sort." She smiles, then. And while those sharp teeth still show, there's a bit of warmth to it. "I will remember that, Saul. It's good to know I've got that particular ace up the sleeve, should I need it."