Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Valentine Park

as written by Krysis

For his part, Cal neither sped nor slowed his steps. For the game to work, he had to play the part of an un-involved passer-by. He was pretty sure no one had actually seen him throw the punch, not even his victim, as luck would have it. So if he just kept his cool, he might get two for the price of one.

The roar from Elliot did make him look around though. Along with everyone else in the area, so that fit. Cal reluctantly stopped and looked back with polite inquiry writ on his face, but then his expression hardened at seeing who was approaching him. Then he lifted his voice so that everyone would hear him ask, "What do you want, werewolf?"

Calixte's hand dropped to his side where he would ordinarily be wearing a sidearm. Since the paladins were providing protection at the festival, he had not showed up armed, and was regretting leaving his handgun at home. At least there was already one such paladin on the scene, though Cal wasn't sure how much help an injured guy would be. At least he had weapons.
 
as written by Script

"What do I want?" Elliot continued to stride forwards, bristling with anger. "You attack my friend - and don't try and fucking deny it, I saw you chomping at the fucking bit to get at him earlier - and you want to know what I want?"

Upon reaching the larger man, Elliot grabbed him roughly by the front of his shirt and effortlessly lifted him from his feet. With a growl, he dragged him around and shoved him against the side of the ferris wheel's ticket booth - much to the surprise of the half-asleep ticket seller inside - pinning him in place.

"Your problem is with me, asshole. You leave him out of it." He hissed, managing to sound quite convincingly intimidating despite his appearance. The demonstration of strength hadn't hurt either, of course.

René looked up in time to see Elliot confronting his attacker, his eyes widening. "El!" he called. "Don't do anything stupid!"
 
as written by Emperor Jester

The proselyte would close the remaining distance in a well measured, deftly executed dash, quickly placing the two trouble makers within his immediate physical range. Just as swiftly, the long sword would flash out from its sheath, slicing in a downward arc until it rested just inches above the outstretched limb that held the much larger man aloft. To Izaic, the movement had been slow, deliberate, telegraphed in such a way that no real harm could've come from it, not with his own level of control to consider. The blade rested between the two, like a steel and silver wall keeping two armies at bay. From the gleam coming off of its reflective edge, there was no question as to the quality nor the effective power the weapon would have, not for an instant.

"Now, now. Lets not escalate this any further. Enough blood has already been spilled in this city the past few weeks."

There was a disciplined edge to Izaic's voice, and to his grip as well. Even as his chest rose and fell, and words left his lips, the tip of the blade never wavered, not a single dip or drop no matter how small. "Unleash him, and then I'll have a story out of the two of you. This festival has already had enough unpleasantness without civvies going at it near the pissers."
 
as written by Script

The moment that the sword swung down, Elliot released his grip on Cal, dropping him to flinch away from the weapon and the armoured man bearing it. He scowled at Izaic, but his eyes lacked the fire they'd held just moments before.

If anything, he looked afraid.
 
as written by Krysis

"Let go of me, wolf!" Cal bellowed when Elliot pushed him up against the wall, automatically trying to shove him back. The sword appeared inches from his nose before he could get too involved in trying to free himself, and his heels abrupt hit the ground as he was dropped. The metal so close made Calixte stop and draw in a breathe. Then he gave the paladin a measuring look and a reluctant nod of gratitude for stopping Elliot from doing something regrettable.

"Fucking animal. Just because my mother's beef is with you doesn't mean I had to be pissed at you too. Now, just because I was there, and angry at your friend for insulting my mother in front of me, you think I-- I don't even know what you think." Cal groused back at Elliot as he tried to move a bit further away from Izaic, just enough to have a clear view of his accuser.

The wall was still at his back as he fussed with his shirt to make sure it was still in decent repair. Both his hands and arms were a bit banged up from the initial impact with the hard surface, but Cal was more concerned with looking nice. "Werewolves are trained to lie from birth, so it hardly matters what you claim. Can't trust your word. Hell, for all I know, you might have attacked your friend yourself, just so you could accuse me. Some kind of misguided attempt to try to get back at the woman that revealed your nature to the whole festival."
 
as written by Script

"Trained to lie from birth? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Elliot snarled. "What fucked up little world do you live in where that makes sense?"

By this point, René had scrambled to his feet and run over, still rubbing at his cheek. He glowered at Cal, taking up a position beside Elliot. "Your mom is a hateful bitch," he spat. "She took it on herself to try and ruin El's life when he was just a tiny little kid, she deserves a lot more than just being insulted. But unlike you, I don't just go around sucker punching people half my size."
 
as written by Emperor Jester

"Well that can hardly be true." Izaic would retort with a measured, steady tongue. "I saw the young man you accuse of being a wolf just ahead of me in line when the whole mess started to go down. So he could not have hurt his own friend. Besides, that seems rather unlikely. Lycans who make friends tend to put their needs ahead of their own. Something about pack mentalities or other such nonsense." Obviously the Proselyte didn't much care if he was offensive, though he quirked a brow at how quickly the accused assailant seem to be back pedaling, seemingly unaware of how suspicious it made him seem.

"So that's your side of the story is it? I'll keep my thoughts in my head until I have both sides, if its all the same to the you all." Meanwhile, his injured arm was busy fishing something from a pouch on his belt, a simple whistle. This was a case of assault, and while he knew all the legal code necessary to act accordingly to the law, he had not yet taken his Silver. Izaic knew he wasn't qualified to give a ruling or make a proper arrest, but there was no need to let these two know that until a paladin proper arrived.

It was then the actual victim would join the scene, and Izaic would turn his stubbled features to give both the young man and the already forming bruise a well enough look, taking in as much evidence as he could mentally. "Are you directly accusing this man of striking you, sir? I understand how the question might seem redundant, given the circumstances, but I have to ask these questions. And the woman I heard, is she still present? I'd like it if all witnesses stayed present for the time being."

Whether it was blissful ignorance or perhaps an issue of hearing one could not say, but it seemed the repeated assurance that some one here was a werewolf had fallen on deaf ears.
 
as written by Krysis

"Don't talk about my mother. What she does is to protect people, kids mostly, from a terrible, deadly, incurable disease. You two seem to want to expose as many people as possible to it. That makes her a good person, and you a selfish prick." Calixte warned René, flexing one hand into a fist again when the teen had to run his mouth again. A glance at Izaic and Cal let his hand relax once more while making an impatient sound.

"Hey. I was just walking along, minding my own business, and this beast grabbed me, threw me against the wall, and accused me of attacking his friend. That's all I know." Cal grumbled, finally folding his arms and looking peevish.

"But there are lots of people mad at these two. They don't belong here, not after that other werewolf lost his shit and killed people the other day. So it seems to me that it could have been anyone that hit the brat, and they are just blaming me because my mother had the guts to stand up and warn people about them." After Elliot and René had been mouthing off so much, Cal felt justified in making sure his side got told. Though, as far as he was concerned, when a smart mouth got a fat lip, that was justice.
 
as written by Script

"Yeah," René nodded at Izaic with a grimace. "I am."

Elliot turned to the 'paladin', keeping his eyes low and his stance pointedly none-threatening as he gave his story. "I heard René yell, like you did. Then I ran over here and saw this guy, who'd already been threatening him earlier, walking away... I put two and two together. Don't think it was an unreasonable leap of logic, and I wasn't going to do anything worse to him than he did to René."

Then he turned to Cal again, scowling. His voice was more confident when he addressed him than when he spoke to Izaic. "This doesn't have shit to do with your mom's fucked up 'mission'. I don't care what she says about me, or about werewolves. I know how this city works, I know I'm not exactly among friends here - I knew that when I decided to turn up. But you crossed the line when you hurt Ren."

"We weren't bothering anyone," René cut in. "We just wanted to enjoy the festival, same as everyone else. First his mom starts yelling at us and telling us to leave, then he comes along and punches me out of the blue."

The girl came up then, having joined them at Izaic's prompting after hovering nearby since René went over. "Hey, yeah, I'm still here. I'm afraid I didn't see everything. But when I heard the kid yell, he," she gestured at Cal, "was the closest person and was walking away. And uh, from what I've overheard, sounds like he had plenty of motive. Kid might have a big mouth but that's no excuse to punch him in it, right? He's just sticking up for his friend."

She glanced between the trio with the awkwardness of a stranger caught in a dispute with very little context. "Viv, by the way. Is my name. In case that's important at all..."
 
as written by Emperor Jester

"It might be." Izaic did his best to give the girl a confident smile that may or may not have been practiced in a mirror for countless hours to show off his good features. The girl was cute, and he was young. Looking and flirting was okay. He wanted to give this 'Viv' a fair, flattering response before rounding on others once more.

"On a personal level, I believe in what your mother did, sir. She was acting with what she thought was in the best interest of those around her, include you, her children, no doubt. Many people are off put by these...creatures. Especially after the other day, and the constant crime coming out of the packs, feeling uneasy and scared if absolutely justified." A pause, looking slightly over his shoulder towards René and Elliot, an unmistakable glare of disgust. But they'd also see it swallowed.

"But it kind of sickens me to think about. We may not like them, or what they've done to our city, but many of them are still intermarried into our families. Making them our families. And they're still our countrymen. And there are more important, far more dangerous enemies to be fighting than our fellow Lutetians. I'm not sure if you are aware, but they are citizens. And they've broken no law, until proven otherwise. Not assumed, but proven, because justice will not stand for witch hunts or anything of the like. Name calling isn't a crime."

"But assault is." And then, he'd blow the whistle, as hard and as long as he could, hopeful to reach the ears of true Paladins, or if luck wasn't on his side, civilian law enforcement.
 
as written by Krysis

Calixte made an impatient sound again and shook his head. "Sounds like yawl are trying to frame me. You didn't see who hit the brat, and I was close, so must have been me? Don't think that is going to go far."

He winced and stuck his pinkie in his ear, wiggling the whole thing after Izaic blew the whistle right in front of them. "But hey, I am a generous guy. I'm willing to let the whole thing go. You can't prove anything, no one is seriously hurt, and I don't want to spend the rest of the day talking about it."

Cal muttered something under his breath then, as he looked away and tended to the other ear, and it sounded like, "Thinking 'bout you, Gramps."
 
as written by Script

As Izaic spoke, René's expression gradually shifted from appreciative to angry, as it became clear that he had as dehumanising a view of werewolves as the rest of the church - swallowed or not. He glanced across at Elliot, who was still pointedly avoiding eye contact, though it was clear by his clenched fists that he was no more happy with being referred to as a 'creature' or as sickening than René was on his behalf.

Initially, Viv had grinned back at Izaic, giving him a quick once over followed by an appreciative nod. There was something about a man in armour. But as he went on, she too seemed taken aback, shooting the boys a sympathetic glance. She was hardly the average festival-goer herself, but she was in no position to say anything. So she didn't.

Attention shifted back to Cal, when he spoke. "Frame you?" René scoffed. "As if anyone would waste that much time on you. Spare us your generosity, asshole."
 
as written by Ronin

The Aurellae was in no shortage of security, especially considering recent events. Not thirty seconds after Izaic's call went out, a paladin and a man in a trench coat walked onto the scene.

"This oughta' be good," the officer kept his hand on his belt. He was middle-aged, tired-looking and smelled of cigarettes, his coat one size too big for his shoulders.

"What seems to be the problem here, proselyte?" the paladin asked Izaic, the knight fully equipped with his helmet tucked under his arm. He was clean-shaven, hair cut military style, thin lines of grey streaking his sideburns. His browned face was hard and lined and ugly but his eyes were quick. They flitted between the two groups with trained efficiency, taking stock of every face and analyzing their body language.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Izaic wouldn't give the parties a chance to speak up, barely giving half a bow before going right into his report. "I was standing in line for the facilities, Sir, when I heard two screams. One from the young man who looks to be developing a facial bruise, another, less than five seconds later, from the woman next to him. She was more or less accusing this man," A pause to indicate to Cal, "Of assaulting the victim. This other fellow, who was ahead of me in line, darted off before I could, seeing as how he not only seems to be friends with the victim, but the two of the seem to have had a run in with the accused before. A non violent one, but heated non the less."

"Its pretty basic stuff. The two of them seem dead set on putting the blame on him. She says he was the closest one to the lad when she saw him go down. There seems to be both motive, and witnesses, even if only partial ones." His hazel eyes would drift down to his injured arm, and then to the side, to view his drawn sword. Slowly, he'd return it to its sheath before returning the limb to its sling. "Would you like me to stay in case you have more questions, Sir? Officer? If not, I'd like to get on with my day."
 
as written by Krysis

Calixte gave an incredulous stare at where the proselyte stopped his statement, then almost sputtered in disgust and anger. "The victim? I was the one being manhandled by a beast."

He held up his bruised and slightly cut-up arms to make sure that his injuries were not ignored."I didn't get these accidentally you know. Hell, you saw the werewolf attacking me for no reason. You drew your sword to make sure he didn't get a chance to finish the job."
 
as written by Script

"I barely touched you," Elliot muttered, decidedly uncomfortable with the increasing presence of paladin and law enforcement. Experience had taught him that the law seldom meant good things for his kind, no matter whether they were in the right or wrong.

René nodded his agreement. "You don't get to punch someone square in the face and then claim you were the victim," he snapped. "El was just stopping you walking away."
 
as written by Ronin

"That's alright, proselyte," the paladin nodded, "you did well to break up the fight. Go on your way, though you may need to file a report for this later."

The detective stepped between the two groups and crossed his arms. "He said, she said, huh? Not sure if you kids noticed, but we're in the middle of a goddamn festival. There's three dozen witnesses for whatever went down here, and it won't take me more than five minutes to round up a complete picture of what happened."

"The proselyte seemed to believe that this one is the victim," the paladin nodded to René. He certainly had the worst of the injuries. The knight turned to Calixte. "You claim that he was manhandling you-" He pointed to Elliot, then pointed to René. "-yet this one sports the bruise on his face. How does that make any sense, if you were acting in self-defense?"

Calixte's story didn't seem as credible to the paladin, but something he'd said gave the knight pause. His brows dipped over his eyes. "Wait, did you say werewolf? Is there a Garoux here?"
 
as written by Script

"Elliot's with me," René cut in quickly. "He's my friend, I invited him along, and there's nothing wrong with him being here."

The smaller boy stepped slightly in front of Elliot, as though to defend him from any incoming accusations or abuse. For his part, the werewolf looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else. His body language more closely mirrored a meek and terrified rabbit than a wolf.
 
as written by Krysis

"You said just a few minutes ago that you didn't see who hit you. Not even the girl, Viv, saw what actually happened. All three of you just assumed it was me because, what? I was the biggest dude nearby? When there are hundreds of people here that hate werewolves? Come on. You can't prove that I did something that I didn't do." Cal shook his head again as if weary with the argument.

"No. What can be proven is that fur-face over there attacked me. 'Barely touched' means that he had me in the air and threw me against the fence. Only the Wick knows what he would have done to me, if the young paladin, er, proselyte, hadn't stopped him. Thank you, by the way." The large civilian gave a grudging smile and nod of gratitude towards Izaic, despite how the proselyte was taking the side of the younger people.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Izaic had just been ready to leave when the confirmation of one of the boy's identities finally slipped through. It was inevitable, of course, but the proselyte had been hoping to be far enough away by then to have claimed ignorance. With an aggravated sigh and the barest of acknowledging nods to Cal, the chocolate haired youth would turn back to his superior. "Before you ask, yes, I knew, sir. I did not think it was pertinent to the case, seeing as how no transformation occurred, and the worse injuries are scratches and bruises. He's broken no law by being what he is, and every citizen of Lutetia is supposed to be welcomed here, no?"

Despite his own personal bias, it was easy enough to see Izaic stood with the two boys, garoux or not. As far as he was concerned, in the eyes of both the Wick and Justice as a whole, neither Rene nor Elliot had done much to deserve such bigoted treatment. Before turning to leave once more, he'd do his best to catch the werewolf's eyes, his own hazel orbs looking outright...sympathetic.
 
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