Chains of Retribution Lark & Kori

Thorje's Market, a small privately-owned grocery store, can be found in downtown Lupaix. The windows are filled with hand-written sale advertisements, and a wooden sign hangs just above the door. The sign with the store name on it had\s recently been graffitied over - a not uncommon occurrence.

Thorje wasn't well liked by the youth of Lupaix, who he often took a no-nonsense attitude with. His nephew included. The kid wasn't really his nephew, or really even a kid anymore, just some distant family relation that had somehow wound up in his care, but nephew was easier to say and was sufficient to satisfy the inquiries of some of his regular clientele.

"Kori! Where the hell are you?" Thorje hollered. "Make yourself useful for once and wash the damn sign."

Thorje never seemed to have a kind word for Kori who he was all too quick to take out his bitterness on.

"Waiting for you to learn to say my name right." Muttered Kóri, who would have flat ears and their teeth out if they could. They hadn't even been outside people watching, studying the passerby's to find the one most likely to have cigarettes and hopefully share them. They'd been cleaning up a slurpie some kid had spilled earlier. Like their uncle had told them to.

"Will do that in a moment, uncle!" They answered, not daring to raise their voice a lot. It wasn't like they had anything that would get the paint off efficiently anyway. And the solution would be to not scold every mischievous teenager that came within six feet of him. But Thorje had to know that already. So he just didn't care. Or he didn't care enough, at least now that he could feel important by ordering Kóri around. Or so thought the fox. Grocery store signs didn't get vandalised like this back home. People also weren't as dirty, or they had that impression. Everything was just... better, and they missed it. Everything and more, like the clean air and morning trecks through the forest in their animal forms.

Kóri stopped their reminiscing to go find a ladder they must have in the back, and the supplies needed to clean the sign. It had barely been a week but in their mind, they started a countdown. It was to an almost always accurate guess of when their uncle would scream at them next.

Ding ding ding.

The store's bell chimed its familiarly off-key jingle as Lark shouldered his way through the door, hands still stuffed in his coat pockets to hide from the spring morning chill, and his hood pulled up to shield him from the light but persistent rain. He hadn't ventured out in a few days, but the weather hadn't changed for the better since he last had. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had been raining the whole time. It felt fitting, at least. Somehow, the sun shining cheerfully as if nothing had happened would have been even worse.

Two weeks. It'd been two weeks since the fighting was 'over', in as much as it was ever going to be now. About as long as it had lasted. As long as it had taken to turn life on its head and shatter any illusions of security and normality that they'd been clinging to beyond repair. And now here he was, wandering down to the grocery store because he was out of fucking beer like two weeks ago walking down the street on his own wouldn't have been a death sentence.

Life really did just... keep on going.

For some of them, at least.

He paid the shopkeeper no mind as he trudged through the aisles, dropping a few things into his basket as he went. It was probably a good idea to stock up on more than just alcohol. Gia would have given him an earful otherwise. And then stolen a pack.

Fucking... stop thinking about it, he told himself, gritting his teeth and pulling himself back to the present. He'd been staring at the back of a jar of pasta sauce for a good thirty seconds. He didn't even like this brand -- it tasted like it'd already been eaten once. He shoved it back on the shelf and forced himself to keep moving. Just... one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. That was the only way to keep on going.

It'd get easier with time. He just hoped they had enough of that to go around.

They had gotten as far as right in front of the shop's entrance before they stopped. And so Thorje found Kóri just staring at the rain outside, ladder in hand.

"You can stop being useless anytime now!" He said. Well, he almost barked it. They were pretty sure some spit hit their cheek. Which was fucking gross. Kóri glared and pointedly looked between the outside and their uncle alternatively.

"What? I told you to clean the sign. So clean the damn sign!" Said Thorje. And it was one of the rare times when Kóri's hair almost seemed to fluff up. Even in their human form. And they protested, briefly abandoning their usual sad-tired and resigned puppy attitude that was so damn annoying to deal with. It was constant moping around every damn corner. Every day.

"But, the rain?? It's..." Kóri switched to Aanar. " It can wait. I can go do something else. For now." They said, trying to get out of it. Probably to slack around in the back.

"But that's not what I asked, is it?? If your concern is getting wet... Here." He made a gesture for them to give him the ladder and they did, mostly out of confusion. Thorje looked around, there was barely anyone in the shop and he put the ladder down to the side before physically shoving Kóri right outside. Which he probably managed only because he caught them by surprise. And they dared fucking GROWL at him, while the rain quickly soaked their uniform. Like they wouldn't live like that all the time if Thorje wasn't letting them use his spare room.

"There, that was not hard. Now clean the sign and FAST." Said Thorje, this time also in Aanar. Likely with a shit accent. The variant Kóri spoke didn't have a word for it so he added it right after in a lower tune, and in Lutetian. "Mutt".

The argument didn't even register on Lark's radar until he caught the younger of the two being forcibly shoved out into the rain, at which point he glanced over to keep an eye on whether it might get more physical. He hadn't caught exactly what they were arguing over, but it didn't take much to piece two and two together between the ladder and the rain. Of course. Thorje had always been a grouch, and only seemed to have gotten worse since his nephew came to stay.

He was prepared to ignore the alteraction altogether -- Thorje was an asshole, but that was nothing new -- until he caught that last word. That was enough to spur him from rolling his eyes irritably to straightening and turning to face the two of them more fully.

"You got something to say about mutts, Thorje?" he drawled, tilting his head to the side with a flatly unamused look. "'Cause one of the funny things about us is we tend to have pretty good ears."

The change in their uncle's expression was almost worth getting soaked in the rain. Almost. But Kóri took their chance and slipped back inside, fast, while their uncle shot the guy an alarmed look and fake-smiled.

"Not all of you! Just... Kóri not doing their job." He explained, trying to pin it on his nephew of course. Shit. He hadn't seen this one come in like... At all. Maybe because he hadn't seen him come in alone before.

His nephew didn't react to the insult and just stood to the side and rolled their eyes. They took off their cap and kept their head down, while sneaking looks at Lark. So this person was also a shape shifter?. A wolf, like most of them in Lutetia as far as they had heard?. Ugh. And did they have to meet this way? Kóri huffed, they had so many questions. Even if this one in particular looked like he should take a ten year nap, or get concealer.

"Oh yeah, I'm 'one of the good ones', huh?" Lark rolled his eyes and snorted a laugh. "Classy as ever. Give 'em a break, why don't you? Pretty sure if anyone actually enforced working standards around here, there'd be something in there that'd cover rickety ladders in pouring rain as a no-go."

He didn't miss the way the nephew - Kóri - was glancing at him. By the smell of them, they weren't a wolf, and the white hair was a giveaway for something Aanarian. Fox, maybe? Or leopard? Whichever, it didn't make much difference. He had to wonder what had possessed them to come to Lutetia, of all places, considering the warm welcome the country gave to its shifters. Clearly it wasn't familial love, at least.

"Paint stripper probably won't do shit in the rain anyway," he added with a shrug. "Seems like a waste of time all around."

If it had been anyone else, Thorje may have argued about how whether the paint stripper worked was not the point. But obedience and discipline were. But yeah, that would not fly with this one. And nobody enforced any standards, tsk.

"Yeah sure, go dry yourself off and eat something, Kori." He conceded, like it wasn't a big deal. His nephew's expression was almost comical. But then again, he hadn't really given them a break while working before.

Their eyes were wide with surprise. Mostly because... They didn't get it? Why was their uncle being so nice all of a sudden??.

"Okay, um..." They nodded and headed to the back, passing close enough to Lark that they brushed against him very very lightly. Enough Kóri could smell him a bit better, not enough to push him or get him wet. And close enough that thanks to the enhanced hearing he mentioned earlier, he'd definitely hear a very quiet "thanks" before they walked away.

"Now, anything else I can help you with kid?" Said Thorje, who had very recently paid his fees and not done anything else that was questionable. As far as he was aware at least.

Lark gave Kori a brief nod of acknowledgement and a smile as they passed - albeit that it probably wasn't quite as sunny as it would normally have been - before turning back to shrug at Thorje and shake his head. "Nah. I'm good. Just run me up this stuff and I'll be out of your hair in no time," he replied, making his way over to set his things on the counter.

He could recognise a two-faced act when he saw one -- he wasn't an idiot. But there was only so far he could stick his nose into their business before overstepping, so he let it lie. The nephew could take care of themselves, he was sure. It wasn't like Thorje was any actual threat to them -- physically, at least.

And he had other things to worry about.

_____________________

Later that evening, after growing tired of his own company and that of reruns he'd watched a thousand times, Lark found himself sat at the bar of his local drinking hole, propped up on his elbow and watching a recap of the week's soccer.

His new local drinking hole, he supposed. This one being decidedly more local, just down the road from his apartment, but decidedly less his, for obvious reasons.

He didn't have the money to actually get the sports channels at home, or the internet speed to stream them illegally, so if he wanted to catch anything, it had to be down at a bar. Back at the Den, there'd been regular (if light-hearted) arguments over which game to have on each night. It had almost become a routine. Here, the fat man behind the bar liked soccer and darts, and so that was what they got. Lark was just glad he liked soccer and shit beer.

For the dozenth time that evening, he pulled his phone out and idly flicked through his contacts, debating whether to text any of the pack to come and join him. But as with every other time, scrolling past half a dozen names he hadn't yet brought himself to delete was enough to immediately drain him of any desire to be social.

For fuck's sake, he thought to himself. He needed to get out of this rut.

When Kóri came back out from the back of the shop, the wolf was gone. And Thorje's mood worsened by the hour as time went on. They worked as quietly as they could, walking on eggshells and helping customers just the way he had taught them. But... It just didn't work. Nothing they did was enough, he kept pointing out stupid mistakes and by closing time, Kóri's mood was six feet underground. They were also hungry and tired.

Dinner didn't improve, a reheated ham and cheese sandwich they had made earlier that day while Thorje had a proper meal. But if they were going to ask for leftovers sometime, it sure as hell wasn't tonight.

"You know, if you get me in shit with the Bloodstones just because you can't keep up with work, you won't have a roof over your head either." Growled the man just when they were almost done eating. Kóri had no idea what he was talking about. So they just blinked and raised an eyebrow, looking confused.

"Do you think I didn't see that little gesture at the end? If you like wolves so much, maybe you should go cozy up to whatever 's left of them. Like that kid from earlier." He sounded a bit weird, Kóri wrinkled their nose and sniffed in their uncle's direction. Had he been drinking or something? Day drinking? Ugh. Yeah...

"Are you fuckin' serious? Cut that out! Stop that!" After that, Kóri sort of stopped listening. Thorje got mad because they acted a bit more fox-like than they should, supposedly. He started spitting and screaming and growling. What they didn't expect was for him to give them five minutes to pick up some of their stuff before he locked them out of the apartment AND the shop. For the night.

That was how Kóri ended up in a bar, wearing a hoodie and pyjama pants that didn't even pass as regular pants. They had little clouds and they were fluffy. It was just a spot that looked alright and like they may have some more food and drink. And people who smoked. They had effectively bummed some cigs from a nice lady on their way there, but they had no way to light them. It had stopped raining though. And they didn't initially notice Lark also sitting there. They just arrived with their clothes and a small canvas bag they had shoved a couple of things into. None of them were their phone charger. Stupid. They didn't even know what to answer when the bartender asked what they wanted to drink.

"Um... Not sure yet? Sorry..." They had not really done much other than work and be at home these past few days, and Lutetian was a bit hard to read. And... Ugh. Stupid, Kóri. Where the hell were they even going to sleep tonight?. Thorje had made it clear he expected them to be back to work in the morning.

Lark recognised their scent before he saw or heard them, glancing up in mild surprise upon recognising the Aanaran from earlier. His eyebrows rose further when he took in their appearance, giving them a perplexed once over.

"... y'know I think pyjama nights are on Thursdays," he remarked dryly, meeting their eyes with an amused but questioning look. "Or is this just a pit-stop on your way to a slumber party?"

Oh! It was the wolf from earlier. Kóri had been so deep in their self induced and slow growing panic that they hadn't even noticed the smell. And they were sitting pretty close. Not a win for their survival instincts.

"I'm, um. I had to leave... In a hurry?. Sorry I didn't see you. Thank you again! For earlier." They said, a dark red blush spreading on their face from how embarrassed they felt. From being seen like this, by the person who had helped them out earlier no less.

"I don't know enough, um. I don't know people who have parties here." They added, to also clear that up. Though it was probably a joke.

"I figured," Lark replied with a chuckle and a reassuring smile. They seemed like the anxious sort, so maybe he ought to take it easy on the jokes for now. "Don't worry about earlier, it was no trouble. But by the looks of it, maybe I should've minded my own business. Let me guess, dear ol' uncle put you out on your ass 'cause he got pissy over being told what to do?"

It didn't make sense to deny it, they certainly didn't feel loyalty towards their uncle. And had no desire to protect him.

"Yes, he did... He was upset about some things I did not understand. But uh, I am happy you intervened!. My name is Kóri. I moved here last week." They said, smiling at the wolf. What was the word for lycans other than shifters here? They weren't going to use mutt. It had to be a bad word, the way Thorje liked to throw it around. But they were excited about maybe making a new friend.

"Small men clinging onto petty power to feel big get mad when someone gets in the way of 'em throwing that power around," Lark murmured with a shrug. "Tale as old as time."

He held a hand out to them and returned their smile. "I'm Lark. Nice to meetcha, Kóri. You're pretty new in town, aren't you?"

They nodded and firmly gripped Lark's hand before shaking it. Their smile turned into a grin and they relaxed a little. It was true, Thorje was small in spirit, lonely and bitter. And he insisted on taking it out on anyone who would let him.

"I'm very new! And your name is cool. Sounds spring-y" they said. "Do you know this place? Like what is good for drinking? And if there's food? For... Uh. Cheap." They asked after. They could lie to themself about their sandwich making skills all they liked, they were not good. And it hadn't been a big enough dinner to feel satisfying.

"I come here every so often," Lark nodded. "It's my local. The drinks are alright, nothing fancy though. Same with the food. Wouldn't call it cheap, exactly, but bar food never is. Here, since you had a shit day, lemme buy you the first round?" He flashed them a smile. "What's your poison? Er... what d'you want, that is," he amended with a chuckle, realising that given their imperfect Lutetian, they might not pick up on the turn of phrase.

Oh, really?? Kóri nodded. It was true the mention of poison had surprised him a little. But Lark made it clear what he meant pretty fast. So... Not too bad!. Their first free round in Lutetia. Even if it was most likely out of pity, it still counted. They looked over the menu that they couldn't read very well, but there was a drinks section and beer was the cheapest.

"Beer is ok for me!, thank you very very much!" They said, leaving the menu on the bar and smoothing their hair back a little.

"I have two questions? First is... Do you know anywhere that it is safe to... shift, here in the city? I could only shift in my bedroom this week." They asked in a much quieter tone tan the one they had been using before.

After flagging the barkeep down and ordering a round for himself and Kóri, Lark returned his attention to them, leaning one elbow on the bartop. "Depends what you mean by 'safe', there," he replied. "This is Bloodstone turf, so folks know better than to fuck with folks like us here. Most people don't exactly like it if you do it in the middle of the street - nobody wants to watch you rearrange your bone structure in front of them - but as long as you have a shred of common sense about it, you should be fine."

He pulled a face. "Just steer clear of the city center and the fancier parts of town. Technically no laws against being shifted in public, but the cops won't let that stop 'em from getting on your case for some 'implied threat' bullshit, like the only reason we'd ever shift is to attack someone."

A lot of what Lark said was a bit hard to immediately comprehend for Kóri. But there!
That was a word they recognised. "Blood stone! That was what my uncle said... He did not want trouble with the Blood stone. What is that?? And you can... I thought it was not allowed? to shift anywhere other than the home. Uncle Thorje... Ugh. He has been lying to me, I think."

They quietly thanked the bartender when he brought them their drinks and licked the foam off of their lips after the first sip. It was cold, and it wasn't the best thing ever. But right now ... It felt really good!. It was just what they needed. So they smiled and drank another sip, also resting their elbow on the bartop. They leaned in towards Lark, not much, but enough that their conversation would be private unless someone else was actively trying to listen in.