Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Bloodstone Medical Center

as written by Tiko, Knosis, Script, and CelticCat

Desmond was among the first to exit the arriving vehicles as Kian killed the engine on the truck, and he was quick to raise his hands in a 'hold' gesture as a car, and a bike rolled in behind them. He knew there would be at least one person watching the lot but he was confident his presence and calm posture would discourage anyone from simply gunning Skye and the others down on sight.

Skye rolled up behind the truck and came to a stop beside it. She pulled off her helmet with a sigh. She unmounted the bike and followed Desmond.

The door of the van in the parking lot clicked open a few moments after Desmond stepped out and into view. From inside, Snow emerged, eyeing the train of arriving vehicles warily. He was carrying a shotgun, but the weapon was lowered in an unthreatening manner. "Desmond?" he shot his packmate a questioning look as he spoke, waiting for an explanation.

"'ey," Desmond said. "Meet me packmates from back 'ome. Skye, Kian, Seumas, Quinn, Connor, an' Fiona," he offered as they began to spill out of the vehicles at his back. "'ad an inklin' that we would be needin' the 'elp."

Snow's expression shifted to a faint frown, "Ragenard won't be happy about this," he stated, his tone betraying his own uncertainty regarding the decision.

"Aye, I don't reckon 'e 'ill be," Desmond said matter of factly. "But that be me trouble to answer to, not yours."

At the rear of the line of vehicles, Quinn swung the door of her car open and stepped out, frowning at their surroundings. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, if she was honest. Something less mundane? But then, that would only draw attention. She stepped forwards, reaching the trailer just as Connor climbed out.

The younger Foley wore a smile that seemed entirely inappropriate for the situation. Quinn resisted rolling her eyes as she realised that her brother was actually excited. She placed a warning hand on his shoulder as she stepped up behind him, prompting him to shoot her an annoyed glance. She matched it with a stern stare.

Huffing under his breath, Connor turned away, but Quinn was pleased to note that he seemed less poised to say something mind-numblingly stupid and inappropriate, instead settling into silence along with the rest of them.

Fiona shuffled slowly from the trailer, carefully moving after Desmond with her eyes glued to the shotgun in Snow's hands. Her posture was confident to match Desmond's, but expression and the direction of her eyes showed her intent to remain detached from the tension.

Seumas was the last to climb down out of the trailer of the truck before moving up alongside his brother, Kian. He was curiously human, but seemed well enough at home with the werewolves that were fanning out behind Desmond.

Skye folded her arms and looked around. "Well." She said, her accent coming thick. "Ya gonna let us in or are we all gonna stand here, sittin' on our thumbs enjoyin' the night air? 'Cause quite 'onestly, we're causin' more of a scene sittin' in the open than we would 'avin' a conversation about how Desmond's face is gonna be rearranged inside."

Before anyone could answer her, the door at Snow's back opened and several of the Bloodstone pack began to spill out into the lot as well.
 
as written by Dashmiel

Ragenard was absentmindedly chasing dust bunnies off of shelves after organizing one of the eastern storage rooms into a makeshift armory. He managed to fashion halfway decent dividers out of cardboard chunks and the remains of coat hangers and with some ingenuity organized a serviceable rack from which now hung a bit over two dozen hand guns.

Similar work on a more sparse section of shelving was devoted for the handful of bigger weapons they had on hand, currently consisting of: a few shotguns, a pair of submachine guns, Eliza's rifle, and one of his own rifles. Ragenard hoped he wasn't being overly hopeful in his inclusion of several empty spaces on this section.

He doubted he would be able to access any of his caches of heavier ordinance any time soon, since all but one were scattered across the leagues of Issunar country side between Iveria and Luteria, but if they played their cards right they wouldn't need heavy firepower just yet.

"If we do, we're already dead..." Ragenard vocalized to himself, as he realistically considered the chances he saw his pack as they now stood having in an all-out territory war and was dismayed by his own assessment.

He needed to galvanize the others for some purpose, and soon.

He lapsed into briefly wondering what Desmond was up to when the air around him seemed to take a strange silent quality. Furrowing his brows, he quickly realized it was the sudden absence of the droning of several engines falling off from his subconscious awareness, and he quickly made his way from the armory and towards the main room of the Medical Center.

As he neared the main room, his ears began to pick up snippets of conversation coming from outside, and from several sources. Without a second thought, Ragenard hooked his right hand over his left hip, and extracted what appeared to be the deformed child of a snub-nosed revolver and a sawed off shotgun from thin air.

"Juls! On me!" he roared as he forcefully made his way to the head of the slowly gathering crowd by the doors, eyes quickly scanning the lot outside through a strategically placed slit in the boards, looking for Snow. The moment he spotted him, he busted through the doors at run towards him.

He quickly took in the fact that Desmond was involved somehow as he ran to meet Snow, and his posture around his weapon shifted to a more relaxed stance. He did not however, re-holster his weapon immediately upon arriving by Snow's side in a burst of preternatural speed.

"Welcome 'ome, Des. Mind tellin' me what ye been up to this damned an' lon' day away an' who this lot be behind ye?" Ragenard attempted for the question to sound casual, even letting his borrowed Iverian dialect slip in like he did when he was alone with Desmond, but the subtle note of annoyed anger in his voice was beyond an accent's ability to hide.

Meanwhile, he continued to hold his gun casually at his side, whilst his eyes slowly scanned through the strangers over Desmond's shoulder.
 
as written by Tiko

"Roundin' up me packmates from back 'ome," Desmond answered. "Skye, Kian, Seamus, Quinn, Connor, an' Fiona," he said as he introduced each in turn once again. "'as I was tellin' Snow 'ere. 'Ad an inklin' that we would be needin' the 'elp."
 
as written by Dashmiel

"Ye 'ad an inklin'...' muttered a flabbergasted Ragenard as he holstered his weapon, causing it to seemingly vanish into thin air upon coming in contact with it's resting place.

For a second, Ragenard found himself unable to find any words with which to reply. Then the crisis started to replay itself in his mind, starting from his literal diving head first into it the night prior.

Nieve, dead. Vanessa, grievously wounded and lucky they had Reinhard still. The Den burned down, Marc also dead. Then there was Carlisle and Renard, whose condition he could only guess at, and whom he hadn't even had the chance to check up on yet. And where was Baron? Where was the brother he idolized and to whom he pinned his family's hopes on to—before disappearing from their lives for most of a decade himself, he admitted painfully to himself—with the hope he would lead them to a better way of life?

On and on spiraled the difficulties of the day that passed through him. On and on spiraled the imagined difficulties tomorrow would bring.

The burden of not just their immediate physical well being, but the future of their very livelihoods and ideals threatened to weigh him down like an anchor, and Ragenard knew all of it was exactly one bad call away from collapsing.

But no, Desmond had "an inklin'".

It wasn't so hard for him to find the words after that.

"Do they 'ave an inklin' of the sort 'o 'elp ye thought we'd be needin'? Do ye? Because I'd be mighty feckin' surprised to learn ye 'ad considered whatever led ye to yer inklin' more than 'alfway through, an' well before ye got to the part involvin' what the feck ye'll do when it comes to keepin' them from turnin' into mangled corpses too, that'd be me wager..." he ranted belligerently as the crowd started to thicken around him.

Ragenard could feel the oncoming tide of expectation and anxiety beginning to form around him, could feel their eyes upon him, ready to judge his every action, looking to him for all the answers. That he wasn't sure what the current question was didn't feature into the equation, it only fed his anger.
 
as written by Tiko

"Aye, they do. As do I," Desmond answered soberingly as he shed the jovial exterior in favor of grievous seriousness. "But tell me, are the lives of our brothers 'ere in Lutetia worth anythin' less than those of me packmates in Iveria? We're all family 'ere, an' we all know what's at stake." His eyes held Ragenard's, and there wasn't so much as a flinch of regret or shame in him for his actions. "Think what you like, but I did what needed doin'." The words left unspoken hung heaviest in the air though. What you wouldn't.
 
as written by Script

As Desmond and Ragenard spoke, Snow let his eyes fall on each of the Iverians in turn, observing them in closer detail. The fact they hadn't flinched in the face of Ragenard and the other onlookers' judgement spoke well of them. Desmond was right that they needed the help, and Snow trusted that he wouldn't have brought these newcomers if they weren't capable.

But could sense the tension in both Desmond and Ragenard's words, and their stances. He could almost smell it. This wasn't going to end with a simple concession. It couldn't. That much was obvious. And Snow had a feeling that Desmond knew it.

____

Opposite him, Quinn had fixed Ragenard with a piercing stare. This was the one that Desmond had talked about. She had to admit, he was even more imposing in the flesh than Desmond had described. But she'd never been the sort to let herself be cowed lightly.

She could sense Connor's tension beside her. Her younger brother was anxious, but she was proud to note that he hadn't shied away either. If she hadn't known him as well as she did, she likely wouldn't have picked up on his concern.

Desmond and Ragenard's words were carefully chosen, she could tell. There was more beneath them than what was said.

All that remained now was to wait.

She couldn't see it taking long now for things to come to a head.
 
as written by Knosis

Kian leaned heavily against the truck, folding his arms across his broad chest. As tired as he was, the concern of how this was going to end up was evident. He looked to his brother just to give himself something other than this pack in front of him to stare at.

Skye on the other hand, stood in a silent stillness, staring at the two that was the center of all of the attention right now. She felt out of place and all the while disturbed she could do nothing but observe this conversation. Skye had never had to answer to anyone after she was old enough to be considered an adult. She had always danced to her own drum, and people respected and followed her for that. She was also very protective of her 'pack', human and wolf alike.

Desmond put her in an awkward position. In terms of family, he was considered in two. Two leaders with two totally different views. Skye felt as though she should protect Desmond and be the one the Ragenard spoke to, like two pack leaders negotiating. But because Desmond's words and position in the Bloodstones, Desmond deserved what was coming to him. All Skye could do was watch and respect Ragenard's position in Bloodstones and that Desmond did decide to choose this life after all.

Didn't mean she had to like it.
 
as written by Quinn

Before a person is struck by lightning, they'll typically experience several things. First, your hair all over your body will begin to stand on end. Then, a buzzing may fill your head. Finally, there's a loud noise, a bright flash, and viola; In the words of AC/DC, you've been thunderstruck.

That's how Jean-Pierre felt at the current moment, having funneled out of the Med Center with the others to see what all the commotion was and standing witness to the exchange between Desmond and Ragenard. The new arrivals he paid no mind to, as the tension in the air was causing a buzzing sensation in the back of his mind and suddenly he felt connected to the very air itself.

It was exhilarating - not to mention energizing - but it also left him with a feeling of a twisted sort of nostalgia, the kind an ex-junkie may get after seeing somebody shoot up. He vied for it, but knew he had to resist temptation, at least for the moment, and let things play out. As he thought about how much he could go for another cigarette, he continued to observe.
 
as written by Lialore

Brendan wasn’t always a big fan of Desmond’s inklin’s. He did love a good reunion, but he didn’t like scraping his brother off the concrete much.

He shoved his way through the crowd as soon as the talking had found him, all of it laced with familiarity. Not so much the accents, but the scent that was so easily recognisable. He hadn’t caught most of what seemed to be a confrontation. It didn’t matter. As the faces of his family became discernible between those newer ones, he put the pieces together pretty quickly.

There wasn’t much time to be glad of their arrival. But he still itched for loud greetings and hugs and a tug on Connor’s hair.

They faced each other. Blood and Bloodstones. The same.

As he positioned himself carefully between the two after emerging, he could tell that this wasn’t being handled well. As usual. He didn’t disagree with Desmond’s intentions but couldn’t help feel that it would’ve gone down a lot better had he been involved. Had it not been Desmond’s method. Which always seemed to end tits up.

They could help. Desmond knew that. He understood that. And so would Ragenard and the rest of the pack. However, no favours had been done with his brother’s undermining of their leader’s authority.

Brendan’s hands balled into big fists, then relaxed again.

“If it makes yer feel better, they ain’t as big fuck ups as ‘im” he said gruffly with a crude gesture at his brother to indicate that whilst he was siding with him, he was definitely not a happy bunny about it.
 
as written by Dashmiel

A sense of piercing coldness began to expand itself within Ragenard as he caught the subtext hidden in Desmond's tone with his choice of words. He could feel his heart begin to settle into a slow and steady rhythm as his anger was stoked like a flame. Pulling the Iverian family card had stung, perhaps more than Desmond could know.

In his rising temper, Ragenard was only vaguely aware that he was being stared at by the Iverians. All he could feel was the building sense of expectation in the air, and he realized Desmond knew his words would have this effect, and that he couldn't stand to let them go ignored.

He briefly turned to regard Brendan as he approached, but quickly returned his gaze to Desmond. He heard and filed the man's statement for later consideration, but did not reply.

"Bold words fer someone who don't 'ave to make the kind o' calls that put their family at risk routinely" Ragenard countered tersely to Desmond as he took a step towards Desmond and squared up before him.

"What makes ye think it's yer place to decide what needs doin'?" he asked. His tone left no doubt as to his displeasure not at the action itself, but at having it carried out behind his back.
 
as written by Tiko

"It became me place the moment Baron was laid up in that there buildin'," Desmond answered. "We're bleadin' and hurtin' an' with no pack leader, an' no second," he stated. "I 'ave a feelin' you're forgettin' that it's you who is the one out of place 'ere. 'ow long 'as it been since you weren't pack no more?" he inquired. "You 'ave no claim to that place you be standin' in."

Desmond looked hard, not at Ragenard, but the rest of the Bloodstone pack that stood at his back.

"In the absence of a pack leader, or a second, I be claimin' this pack as me own. Unless anyone's wantin' to challenge me for it," he added before his gaze shifted back to settle on Ragenard once more.

His words had been spoken with a heavy seriousness, and from the hard lock of his gaze upon Ragenard's own he knew there would be only one challenger tonight.
 
as written by Script

Snow's eyes widened for a fraction of a moment with shock. Desmond wasn't wrong. Though none of them knew the reason, Ragenard wasn't pack. Or hadn't been. Snow had a feeling that whatever had come between him and Baron had been set aside, going by the words Baron had spoken in the van.

True or not, Snow reasoned, Desmond knew what his words would lead to. This couldn't be about rejecting Ragenard's command in the long run - the Iverian had to know he wouldn't win this fight - but about making a decision he knew Ragenard wouldn't have made. If the Iverians turned out to be useful, it was a good call. It was, however, likely to be painful for him more immediately.

In many ways, Desmond was doing Ragenard a favour. Presuming Ragenard made the challenge and won it, he'd legitimise his assumed position before anyone else had the chance to question it, now that the dust was beginning to settle.

Had that been Desmond's plan? Snow couldn't be sure. He frowned. The Iverians arrayed before him actually came close to matching those of the pack who were in a fit state to fight in number. He couldn't help but note that should Ragenard allow the Iverians to remain, that was a lot of people who would owe Desmond a lot more loyalty than they owed the pack as a whole.

It was a disturbing thought, and one that Snow quickly dismissed. That certainly wasn't Desmond's intent. He knew him better than to think he would try anything like that.

He couldn't shake the unease that the occurrence had prompted. There was a high chance that someone in this building had betrayed them. And Snow would have thought he knew the majority of them better than to suspect them of something like that.

In at least one case, he'd been wrong.
 
as written by Dashmiel

Desmond's words hit Ragenard with the force of a hurricane, blowing apart through his anger. Stunned, his angry scowl degenerated into a drawn look of pained introspection as the reality settled in. The tsunami of adrenaline the crisis had brought upon him had left him falling into the rote old patterns out of instinct, and the pack following him out of necessity.

But Desmond wasn't wrong.

Memories of that last run with his brother and the conversation afterwards bubbled to the surface.

He'd chosen his obsessed quest over his place by his family that night.

Ragenard's gaze turned to follow Desmond's and he half turned to behold the Bloodstone Pack, as it was. His eyes scanned over each member in turn, their names and who they were to him flashing through the forefront of his thoughts. Along with how he saw their chances of ending the week alive or still being the same person without Baron to lead them. Without him. Without a Guiscard.

He couldn't leave them, he knew. The past thirty-six hours had done more to his perspective than his half-assed journeys in search of his elusive revenge over the past decade. Not enough to tip the scales perhaps, but enough to balance them. He'd be no less a monster if he simply abandoned his family when they needed him the most.

Resolve slowly solidifying, Ragenard turned back and met Desmond's stare. For a full minute the silence stretched between them as Ragenard considered Desmond. An incorrigible slacker cruising through life on charisma and blind luck, yet for all that he risked a lot on his best idea to make things better and stood before him now, resolute.

Where Ragenard saw him inside a week if he left he wasn't willing to entertain, because he had no intention of allowing it to happen.

"It shares my rage, but it feasts on my love" Ragenard muttered under his breath before an angry scowl suffused his features once again. Tapping into the thinly covered well of rage that ran underneath his skin, Ragenard forcefully tore off his shirt and baldric from his scarred torso before flinging the bundle off to land on top of Snow's lookout car.

Visions of the Den intermingled with fire and bubbling pink water as Ragenard's rage continued to cycle up and bake off him in waves. He was certain of only one thing; for better or worse, he would be the one seeing his family through this, or dying with them.

"CHOOSE!" Ragenard roared at Desmond, before launching himself off backwards to await his answer.
 
as written by Lialore

Brendan knew that there was no saving him this time. But there was also no denying the truth of his brother’s words. In all the confusion, he didn’t think the pack really knew who to pin their hopes on. No one else would step forward, though he did spare a speculative glance at Snow. Of course no one would be as reckless as Desmond.

Yet, he felt like he was missing something deeper. He couldn’t quite grasp it, but he knew his brother well enough to know that his apparent, surface intentions didn’t seem true.

His eyes were narrowed as he held his hand out to take his brother’s jacket as he began to shrug it off. Brendan stayed beside him, as always; Ragenard’s last roar still ringing in his ears.

“I’ll get someone to make yer’ up a bed.” Brendan said quietly. His stare softened. “I hope yer’ know what yer’ doin’ brother.”
 
as written by Alara

"Aye, so do I," Desmond answered his brother as he stripped his shirt off next.

The hint of his jovial nature lingered in his words, but it didn't reach his eyes which were locked on Ragenard in anticipation of what was to come. The irises of them had already bled to amber, and the air was charged with an unseen energy that would raise goosebumps along the arms of those gathered.

His choice became fast apparent when the rest of his clothes hit the pavement, and he doubled over and fell to the ground as thick black fur began to sprout along his body. His whole form twisted and contorted to accommodate the shifting of bone and cartilage as fingers curled into paws and his face elongated into the muzzle of a wolf.

With the process complete, Desmond gave his muscled form a shake before moving away from Brendan to face off against Ragenard.

At over 900lbs Desmond was nothing to scoff at, and the massive black wolf stood nearly as tall as Baron himself.
 
as written by Knosis

Skye's eyes began to glow slightly with the energy that was beginning to surround her and she backed away slightly to allow some more room for the fight that was about to come. Still, it had come to her surprise to find that Ragenard was not considered part of the pack. Kian leaned on the door of the trailer, one eye open towards the pair.

Inside the trailer, Chloe was in turmoil. The words had been muffled, but she had gotten the gist of it. Curses and threats to Desmond's name had been spewed, and she had tried the door to the trailer, only to find it had been locked. She could easily break it open, but her promise kept her from doing so. It didn't keep her from pacing her cramped space like a caged animal. He had been right, she would have only been a distraction at this point. It didn't mean she had to like it that he was right.
 
as written by Script

Snow stepped back, moving closer to the building's entrance and out of the main lot to ensure that Ragenard and Desmond had the necessary space. The air was thick with anticipation and more, and he closed his eyes briefly to shake its influence from him. It wasn't as easy as usual. He was already tired of idleness. The wolf and the man both called for action.

Not as easy as usual, and given the intensity of the situation... Snow shook his head and unzipped his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Better to be ready. He knew what was coming.

Nearby, Quinn and Connor had moved back as well. They waited, set apart from the cluster of Bloodstones who watched on by a gap that was more than just physical. Quinn sighed, not really wanting to watch what was to come, but not willing to show weakness by looking away.

Connor glanced at his sister briefly when she sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists a few times before he folded his arms to stop himself fidgeting. He frowned. It felt wrong to just watch on the sidelines whilst Desmond fought for them, but that was the way things were done, apparently. He wasn't even sure this was about them anymore.
 
as written by Dashmiel

Ragenard smiled proudly at Desmond’s straightforward answer, and quickly dropped the mental wall keeping the beast at bay. Ragenard’s heart first stilled and reshaped itself before sparking again, while Ragenard’s brain patterns began to shift.

His skin paled and turn mottled as fur began to burst through his skin whilst his bones began to vibrate audibly. It was normally around this point in his transformation that Ragenard would customarily briefly lose consciousness and falter, while his body finished the final violent and convulsive end to his shift.

This time however, the change that came upon Ragenard was not the one he was accustomed to. A furiously burning sensation flared from the base of his skull before soaring down his spine, and he began to thrash his limbs furiously as they began to snap and pop under the pressure of breaking bones and rapidly expanding muscle mass.

Eyes a furiously bright shade of yellow, Ragenard locked eyes with Desmond as he roared his throat and teeth out, the former misting the air with blood and the latter raining down as vicious fangs immediately grew to take their place.

For a second Ragenard stood still, skin steaming in the night air. He took a lurching step towards Desmond, before once again thrashing wildly and covering his face with now rapidly expanding limbs.

A particularly furious howl punctuated the moment when his skull exploded and rearranged itself.

Furiously shaking off the gory remains of his shift from his fur and roaring his desire to hurt something, Ragenard took a second, steadier step towards Desmond.

What headed his way was the towering 12’ tall black furred monstrosity hefting its over 1700lbs of unbridled rage that Ragenard was most commonly known as.
 
as written by Tiko and Dashmiel

Throwing lupine agility to the wayside, Desmond hit Ragenard with all the grace and finesse of a grizzly bear. Thick muscle and a powerfully dense skeletal structure added a lot of weight to the impact as furred bodies collided amidst clashing jaws.

Desmond had wasted little time in attempting to use his weight to knock Ragenard from his feet.

Familiar with Desmond’s thick skull, Ragenard immediately reacted to Desmond’s oncoming charge by assuming a broad stance and bracing himself lower to the ground, managing to do so just in time to feel Desmond’s heft crash into his midsection.

Ragenard remained where he was partially crouched down, his powerful legs keeping Desmond’s forward momentum easily at check.

After bearing through the pain of his opponents initial slavering attempts at crunching off pieces of him, Ragenard proceeded to snarl and awkwardly bite into the thick muscle just below Desmond’s left shoulder.

As fangs tore into muscle, Desmond swung his own head hard against Ragenard as he clamped his jaws around the meaty flesh of Ragenard's neck. The angle was wrong to get a solid grip, but it gave him leverage to shake his head violently to maximize damage.

Muscles straining against the force of Desmond's shaking even as their surface fibers were continuously sliced, Ragenard proceeded to deepen the pressure beneath his bite while he simultaneously worked at raking his claws over as much of Desmond’s right side as he could reach, his range being limited by having Desmond stubbornly attached and munching on the muscles that he was trying to force to move.

Despite Desmond's vice grip on Ragenard, pound for pound he hadn't the weight to overpower his larger opponent. Blood splattered the pavement beneath the pair, but Ragenard had the advantage of footing and heft now that Desmond's initial momentum was spent. As Ragenard's claws raked into his side Desmond jerked and twisted back with a snarl, but he didn't relinquish his bite. Instead he aimed to use his own weight to drag Ragenard down to his level where he had the advantage of four legs again.

Finding limited success with his raking and unwilling to bite into Desmond with what all his jaws were worth for, Ragenard decided to release his bite before his straining neck muscles finally gave out and gave Desmond the upper hand.

With a quick growl of annoyance at what he felt was impudence, Ragenard quickly shifted his stance beneath Desmond, dropping his right arm to make contact with the ground, and moving himself down towards Desmond aided by dragging force of his bite.

As Desmond felt Ragenard's weight fall forward and his front paws touched ground once more, he twisted to the right to try and bring himself around side to side with Ragenard.

Ragenard once again took advantage of Desmond's limited mobility options, and used his attempt at twisting him off balance to violently shift his center of gravity to favor Desmond's turning.

His left arm snaked under Desmond and as he solidly gripped him by a fold of skin on his midsection, he viciously twisted his torso to lift him off the ground and flung him through the air. As Desmond abruptly felt his feet leave the ground, he made the mistake of letting go of Ragenard in an impulse snap to bring his jaws down on Ragenard's arm that gripped him. His teeth met only air though before a moment later all nine-hundred some pounds of wolf came down through the roof of an inconspicuous sedan with the sound of twisting metal and broken glass.
 
as written by Julienne

It was Julienne who succumbed first to the heat of the moment. Her eyes were a swirl of amber as a growl was torn from her own throat to fill the lot, and she shed her jacket as the change overtook her.

Behind her, the door opened as Bastien was drawn out by the sound of the fight and he was abruptly met with the sight of Julienne mid shift, and Desmond coming down atop Alfred's car.

With the way the pack was ringed back, it wasn't hard to put two and two together on what was happening, but he couldn't grasp the how or why of it. Desmond was hardly one of their more ambitious - or confrontational - members.

Whatever the reason, he felt the adrenaline of the fight hit him as he stepped outside with Eliza in tow. His heart quickened with it and his irises turned yellow as his body began to prepare itself for the change.

It wouldn't be long before he and the rest of the pack joined Julienne who was now shaking herself off amid the clothes she hadn't managed to finish removing before she shifted.

"Stay near me," Bastien growled to Eliza.

A howl pierced the lot from somewhere inside the building, and it would seem it wasn't just those outside who were caught up in the changes being triggered by the flood of hormonal shifts in the gathered pack members. The lean and gangly black furred wolf that joined those outside was Jacques whom was easily recognizable by the ragged scars across his back and shoulder that left his fur patchy and sparse in four neat rows.
 
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