Wolf in Sheep's Clothing [Aimée & Rhetta]

Faithy

Cinnamon Roll of Doom
Benefactor
Having been born into the Bloodstones, it wasn't like Aimée wasn't used to pack violence or violence in general, but the eleven-year-old tended to shy away from it. It didn't help that she had nearly non-existent regeneration and couldn't really get into the nitty-gritty parts of the pack, much to her father's dismay she was sure. He tried many times with her, but nearly every time, Rhetta was there and always offered to battle him. It worked out for Aimée even if she didn't get exactly what was happening. Her relationship with her father seemed to grow more strained after her mothers death when she was six and she hated that she couldn't prove herself to him. He was after all, the only family she had left and she loved him so much.

Maybe that was why she was so afraid when he decided to challenge Baron for pack leadership. She had tried to talk him out of it, but was pretty much ignored. She was still too young and/or naive to figure out why Jacques was trying to take the leadership away after Mathis left and it went to Baron. He seemed like a nice enough guy and even though the pack was shifting its views and jobs, nothing seemed bad enough for taking this drastic of measures. Still, the urge to support her father was enough to bring her down into the basement of the Den to watch the battle.

She had taken a frontish position, which she immediately regretted after Baron in his massive wolf form stood over her fallen father while staring directly at her. Aimée couldn't move and it felt like he was gazing deep into her soul. It was beyond uncomfortable and she shrank down even as they took Jacques to get fixed up from the claw marks. Despite the basement soon emptying, the dark-haired child stayed in the same place, hugging her legs against her chest. Her face was buried into her knees and she rocked back and forth, sobbing softly. Every time she shut her eyes, Baron's scary form popped into her mind, so Aimée just turned her head and stared at one of the walls blankly. What if her father was dead? That would make her an orphan. Would the pack kick her out? Shuddering, she whimpered as she cried even harder.
 
So.

They were all still alive.

That could have gone very differently.

Things had been fucked up lately. Mathis leaving, James taking over - no. Baron. He was going by Baron now. If that was what he wanted, that was fine. Rhetta had known he'd take the pack some day. She'd known it since she was eleven. Some of the rest of the Bloodstones were having some issues with it, but that was their problem.

Jacques... had decided to make it everyone's problem. She'd told him he was a fucking moron. They didn't fight often - not verbally, anyway - but that had been one of them. He'd said some things she probably shouldn't have forgiven him for, but what the fuck did it matter? He was Jacques, he'd always been like that. He'd always been there, in his own way. She'd always been able to handle him fine.

Challenging Baron could easily have been the end of that. Not because he might have lost, but because if he'd gotten lucky, he might have won, and then he'd have had the shortest tenure as leader of the Pack in history, because she would have fucking murdered him where he stood.

Jacques' kid was watching. That was what had stopped Baron, she thought. He'd looked at the kid, and decided not to go for the kill. Rhetta was fully aware that if Jacques had managed to win, he'd have gone for the kill - and she would have, too, kid or no kid. She didn't want the Pack or anything, it would have just been a simple matter of murdering the person who'd killed James, and the hell with anything else.

But they were all still alive, and Baron didn't need anyone fussing over him, because he was having enough issues with people not believing in his strength already. He'd deal with it, Jacques would get patched up and hopefully slapped upside the head until he developed some fucking sense - she was willing to volunteer for that role, if need be - and the Bloodstones would go on.

The arena was still a mess. Hopefully one of the current prospects got proactive with a mop before she had to get proactive with giving directions. The room smelled like blood, new and old and Jacques and James. It should have been silent, but it wasn't. The kid was there, crying in the corner. She'd always been weak, though. Hadn't found her strength yet, and Jacques... well, he wasn't exactly helping with that. Rhetta had tried to keep him diverted when she could, but fuck if she knew what to do about the kid herself.

She walked over, leaning back against the wall next to the little ball of kid, scanning the room to make sure no one else wanted to come in and add to the bloodstains.

"Gonna be hard to keep a lookout all curled up in a ball like that."
 
Every once in a while when she inhaled while sobbing, Aimée caught the scent of the mixed blood. Even though it was pungent, it still wasn't enough to make her get up and head out. Hiccuping, she continued to stare off at the closest wall even as footsteps neared her location. It wasn't Jacques and she couldn't help but wonder if something had happened and they were here to grab her by her shirt and toss her out into the cold. She had never seen that happen to kids, but her father had challenged Baron, so who knew what was going to happen? She didn't.

"Huh...?" Aimée slowly shifted her red and puffy eyes up toward Rhetta and just stared blankly at her. It took her a few minutes to process what had actually been said and she just sighed deeply and hugged her legs even tighter against her chest. It was almost like she was trying to disappear into the wall. Maybe deep down she was.

"Why would I keep lookout down here? That doesn't make any sense, Rhetta. What am I supposed to be doing right now? My father... the only family I have left thought it would be a good idea to challenge Baron. Is he even alive..?" She wasn't good at judging how serious injuries were and wished she wasn't so useless right then. Sure, she was just a kid, but she was pretty sure others were more helpful at this age than she was.

"I told him he was being dumb..."
 
That was a whole lot of questions. That was fine. Rhetta could deal with questions easier than she could deal with crying. Last question first, she supposed, since that was probably the one that the kid was most concerned with.

"Physically? He'll be fine. I've roughed him up worse than that." Of course, that hadn't been fighting for real. It had just been practice, or letting off steam, or some combination of those things. "Psychologically? Fuck knows. You might wanna stay out of his way for a bit." He'd be angry and he'd be looking for someone to take it out on, like usual.

Rhetta could take it. Like usual. That was fine.

"I told him he was being dumb, too." She'd half-smiled at that, amused. "You're not wrong - but maybe let someone else tell him next time. Just because he needs to hear it doesn't mean he needs to hear it from you." Better that he hear it from someone who was at least full grown - and with a better regen factor than the kid had ended up with. Rhetta had gotten lessons on comparative regeneration drilled into her early, when she'd made one mistake of assuming everyone could heal up like she could. She hadn't made the mistake again. Jacques wasn't exactly making mistakes about it, he just sometimes didn't care.

"And as for what you do? I'd say some of that's up to you. The Bloodstones can always use people who know how to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut." Rhetta flicked a gaze down to the kid - Jacques' kid. "So I guess you could work on the first part of that, since I bet you already know how to do the second."
 
Sniffing, Aimée used the back of her hands to wipe away her tears, which still slowly dripped from her eyes. She hated being so emotional, so weak. Fuck, she was going to have to deal with this feeling later. Thankfully she was getting good at snagging a quick drink of booze when no one was watching and she planned on doing that. Later, when things were less tense and when she wasn't being a whiny bitch. Frowning at Rhetta's words, she hated when she had to walk on eggshells around her father. Ever since the JC gang had killed her mom, his moods had gotten worse. Her fingers ran through her hair before she rubbed her eyes again.

"He is always pissy when something goes against what he wants... that's nothing new, Rhetta." She slowly pushed herself up to her feet and let her fingers clench into fists at her sides as she turned to face Rhetta.

"I thought maybe he'd listen to his kid, that's why I called him dumb. I have half a mind to go tell him that again, but I'm not in the mood to grumped at for speaking my mind." Scowling angrily, she felt her expression deepening at Rhetta's words.

"You know I'm good at both of those things. I've been used for lookouts loads of times. No one ever expects a child to be doing nefarious things, mm? I can do more than that, but no one gives me a chance. Yeah, I don't heal well, but I bet that'll change the older I get and the more I spar. So..." Aimée, having lost her ever-loving mind and filled with grief at being so useless spun on her left foot and with a bit of a jump, slammed a fist into Rhetta's jaw.
 
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"Kid, everyone expects a child to be doing nefarious things," Rhetta pointed out. This was Lutetia, wasn't it? Aimee wasn't the only kid who'd ever been a lookout. Rhetta had been doing the same thing, once upon a time, way before Aimee had been born. The kids had to learn somewhere, though, and if things went badly, they could usually get back and report the situation. That, and if things went really badly, a kid could get away with getting tried as a juvenile rather than an adult.

The kid got up, her words telegraphing her intentions even more than her body language. Really? Rhetta raised an eyebrow. No, the kid was actually going to attack. Taking her down would be simple, just drop an elbow at the base of her neck - except probably not with the shit regen. Well, Rhetta could still kick her across the room - which would solve nothing, because the kid was angry and needed to hit someone.

All right, fine. She did it for Jacques, why the fuck not? Rhetta stayed where she was, and let the little fist connect. Pain sparked, though not enough for anything to have really broken in there. The kid didn't have enough weight behind the strike, especially not with that little jump - that had robbed her of a lot of the force she could have had if she'd braced herself.

Really, hadn't Jacques taught her that by now? Rhetta had known that when she was three.

"Feel better?"
 
There was just something about this whole situation that was irritating Aimée beyond the normal child annoyances she felt. Her jaw had clenched when she punched Rhetta, almost as if she was waiting to be hit back. When no aggression came from the older woman, she huffed and just glared. A spar wasn't a spar if it was only one-sided! Hell, she could've punched the wall if she just wanted to get her anger out! Tightening her fingers so that her nails stabbed into her palms to make little crescent moon shapes, the kid tightened her jaw even more.

"I'm not stupid! I just meant kids could get out of things easier than adults. Why do you always treat me like a child? I am eleven now! I'm no longer a baby and no I don't feel better!" Aimée growled and dug her heel into the ground to give her additional power and slammed her fist into Rhetta's jaw again.

"Just because I'm not like you, doesn't mean I am a weak link to the pack! I can DO things!"
 
This time, she opted to move out of the way, just enough that the kid wouldn't connect. "Better. But not great. You're reaching too high. Wait until you grow another four to six inches before you try that again. Hit lower. Lowest ribs aren't too hard to break free, especially if you hit them near the end of the bone where the join is. Balance on the front of your foot and not the back, you need to be able to move fast for when someone retaliates. Does Jacques not explain this?"

What the hell was he even doing, if he wasn't explaining this? Not that the kid was exactly front line material, but he could have at least taught her some of the basics, just in case she got caught out somewhere. He'd explained plenty of things to Rhetta, when she'd been a kid. She'd learned a lot from him, back then. They'd always gotten along well, though.

It was probably best not to mention that.
 
Aimée stumbled forward when Rhetta stepped out of the way and snapped a hand out to keep her from smashing her face against the wall. The last time she did that, she broke her nose and it seemed to take forever to heal. She had asked Jacques why her regeneration was so terrible, but he never gave her a straight answer. Huffing, the kiddo spun around on her toes to face the older female and while she took in her words, was also busy shooting her a death glare. The look grew prickier when Rhetta seemed to insult the training Jacques gave her.

"None of your business how I'm trained! We're not all psychotic like you!" Snapping at Rhetta, Aimée hoped it was obvious that she had heard plenty of stories about the woman. She did do as instructed though and pushed off the ground again, aiming to nail a fist into the rib area to cause damage.

Why she was so intent on fighting at that moment wasn't clear to Aimée, but it seemed like the right thing to do. It kept her from going to see Jacques, which was probably good with how upset he probably was after losing to Baron. Not even pausing, Aimée brought her other fist around to hit Rhetta on her other side and also swept at her leg in hopes of taking her down.
 
A fist connected, splintering something. Good. She brought her hand up to block the second strike, letting the kid's leg connect and using her position against the wall to maintain her stance, giving her a little bit of a push backwards - not enough to hurt, though, just barely enough to encourage a little more space.

"The Pack doesn't need everyone to be psychotic," Rhetta commented. "Though you're doing a pretty good impression of it right now." The kid was all anger and only the tiniest bit of control. Jacques' kid, for sure.

"Look. Baron's the First now." He had a thing about kids, Rhetta was entirely aware. He wouldn't have appreciated her beating the hell out of some half-traumatized little shit, even if the little shit had started it. Control was what made Rhetta effective, and she wasn't about to lose it here.

"If you want me to teach you to fight, you go ask him, and if he says to do it, I will. But I'm not going to do it unless you work up the courage to ask, and you listen to him when he tells you what that's going to mean, and you decide if that's what you want. I don't think it is, but it's him you have to convince."
 
Aimée stumbled back a little bit at Rhetta's push. Hissing at the implication that she was acting psychotic, she felt anger swelling even more. She wanted to beat the female relentlessly but realized that would prove her point. Instead, she stepped back and glowered at the ground. Why was she so unstable right now? Was it because she almost lost Jacques or was something else bugging her? Grinding her heel into the ground while doing her best to ignore the still pungent blood scent wafting throughout the basement, the kiddo finally snapped her eyes up to Rhetta when she stated the obvious. Of course, Baron was the first. That didn't need to be stated, did it?

Oh...

Oh no...

Her mind flashed back to the very scary wolf standing over her father while staring at her and she bit hard on her bottom lip, splitting it almost immediately. She shook her head at Rhetta's order still unable to get the image out of her mind. She didn't want to go ask him for permission to fight Rhetta. That was stupid! Since when did packmates have to ask to spar?! Since never of course! Was it because she was Jacques' daughter or something? It didn't even dawn on her that she needed to ask because she was a kid and Rhetta was an adult and an enforcer at that.

"No. I'm not asking Baron to fight you. The pack spars all the time, so this is no different. Don't need to ask permission if the others don't... that's not fair." Hiccuping, she forced the scary image of Baron into a box, which was then cemented behind a wall along with other memories she didn't want to remember.
 
"I didn't say you needed permission. I said I need permission." Accepting the patch meant agreeing to follow the Pack's directives. With the change in leadership, that meant there were currently going to be a lot of those directives that were changing. Mathis might have done things one way, but Baron had already said he wanted to change some things up, and it wasn't Rhetta's place to decide what those changes were going to be.

It was possible that he'd decide that parental permission was enough - but with the kid's mom being human and dead, and the kid's dad being Jacques, Rhetta was pretty sure that someone could make a case for in lobo parentis, meaning it'd be Baron's call on the kid's side too, as far as she was concerned. That wasn't her argument to make or not make, though - but whether Rhetta was going to be a part of this was, and she wasn't going to do it without Baron giving his nod on the situation.

It was entirely possible that Aimee had no idea what she was getting into. She'd called Rhetta psychotic, probably because she'd heard other people use the word, not because she knew what it really meant. Rhetta knew she and Jacques had never gone at it in front of the kid before, especially if she was reacting like this to Baron's beatdown.
 
Aimée made an unreadable face at the clarity of who actually needed the permission to fight. Which in all honesty, made her even more confused. So, she wasn't the one who needed the go ahead, Rhetta needed it. Why the hell would she ask on behalf of her? It was dumb and against her better judgement, opted to express that thought.

"You're dumb. I'm not asking for permission for you to fight me. You can go ask him since it's your hangup, not mine." Crossing her arms quite stubbornly, Aimée glared up at Rhetta.

"He's probably grumpy anyway after the challenge and I don't want to be ..." Aimée paused a second. Would Baron take his potential anger out on her? She is the daughter of Jacques after all. No, that didn't make sense. He had a soft spot for kids. Biting on her bottom lip, she shifted a bit and let out a deep sigh.

"His enforcer should be the one asking. Just makes more sense."
 
"I don't want to fight you, Aimee."

The kid had an awful lot of things backwards about how this all worked. She also seemed like she was looking for excuses. If she had decided that she didn't want to do it, that was fine, but Rhetta wasn't going to provide the excuse for her.

She could have told the kid that she ought to be the one to ask because she was the one who wanted the fight, but Rhetta didn't think she actually did want it, or at least she wouldn't if she knew what it meant. Baron was good at explaining things. Half the reason Rhetta wanted the kid to go to him was because he'd tell her what she was actually in for, and he'd probably have some way to swing it without traumatizing her any more.

But Rhetta didn't need to be good at reading people to figure out that the kid didn't want to talk to Baron, and her mother had made sure that she was very good at reading people.

So, something more oblique, then.

"You know, I was a bit younger than you were when your dad sat me down and pointed out that even a human can regenerate two thirds of their liver." Seven. She'd been seven, and it was shortly after she'd first gotten permission to start scrapping with the pack for real and not just Jacques, and promptly gotten in deep enough that she'd gotten yelled at for going too hard, because she was used to Jacques and she hadn't yet learned that different people regenerated differently. Her own dad had been pissed off, in a way that she now understood had been more at himself than at her, because he'd underestimated the threat he had raised. It had been Jacques who'd gotten her out of there while triage was happening, and Jacques who'd told her that, which was the first thing that had really gotten through all of the rest of what was going on there.

It didn't exactly apply here in the same manner, but Rhetta had brought it up because Aimee was probably thinking about fighting superficially, a few scrapes, maybe a broken bone or two. She wasn't thinking about the visceral damage that Rhetta was capable of putting out - quite possibly, she didn't even know about it.

Rhetta shrugged, as if this was unconcerning, even though she was fully aware that for most people, it very much was. "Jacques and I have always gotten along." They always had, before this fuckery with Baron - who knew how that was going to fall out.
 
What?

Aimée stared at Rhetta, disbelief plastered across her face. That look quickly turned into anger and she was once again clenching her fists at her side. It was the same thing over and over! No one wanted to actually fight her! Wasn't that the point of things? To make each member stronger and more of a threatening opponent?! Growling, she ignored the discomfort as her nails once again dug into her palms.

"No fucking wonder I'm not getting stronger. Everyone treats me like I'm glass and I'm going to break!" Kicking a nearby rock, she couldn't help but feel rage welling up.

What?

That single word came up a second time when Rhetta seemed to randomly give her a biology lesson. Of course Jacques had told her that and of course it had been when Rhetta was younger than Aimée. He probably wished she was his daughter too. Probably laments having such a worthless pup. She wasn't stupid even though she was often oblivious to things and Aimée quickly put together why she was being told that. It was the last comment though that really pushed her over the edge.

"Good for you! You want a fucking medal for being told things at a younger age? For being so very close to Jacques and for getting along with him probably more than his own weak and pathetic daughter?!" Snarling, she lunged forward and aimed both of her fists at Rhetta's sides.

"I know what it means to fight! I'm not stupid! I know how you are!" She was kind of lying. While she hadn't been around for any of the fights, she had definitely heard all the rumors. Aimée also wasn't thinking clearly at the moment, not at all.
 
Oh, good, more angry attacks. Rhetta stepped forward, out of the way, catching one fist and using the pressure against it to shove the kid back enough that the other one wouldn't have the reach to connect. She kept her hand where it was, over the girl's balled up hand, turning slightly.

Well, at least she knew how to make a fist right, that was a start.

The physical might not have hit, but there was a part of Rhetta that very much remembered feeling like she was ready, feeling like she was being held back, feeling like hardly anyone took her seriously, except her dad and Jacques. Baron had a different way of taking people seriously, but she hadn't know that, back then.

"You don't. If the Pack's doing things right, you won't for a while. Practice fights don't teach you what it means to fight, Aimee. They prepare you so that when that knowledge comes crashing down on you, your body can react the way it's supposed to. I didn't really get it until I was- older than you. A fair bit older." You didn't know what it mean to fight until you'd lost - lost to someone who genuinely wanted to kill you, not just lost to someone who was in your Pack, who wanted to help you get better, who was there on hand to hold the arteries closed or whatever else needed to be done.

"But if you think you're ready to learn... all right. I won't fight you. But I'll teach you, the way I learned when I wasn't allowed to fight yet." It had taken a while before her parents had allowed it, but even before then, she'd learned. She'd watched. She'd done what she could, while she learned what she couldn't.

"The first thing you're going to do is go find a mop and a bucket."
 
Growling when her fist was grabbed and she was held back enough that her other first couldn't connect, Aimée stubbornly tried to jerk free while glaring angrily at Rhetta. She was sick of not being taken seriously. Sick of having her hair ruffled and being told to go off and do other things anytime she brought up sparring with the others except her dad. He was different though and maybe she tried to hard with the rest of the pack to help her survive him. At the moment though, it was all a moot point because no one took her seriously.

"Body can't react if no one is willing to help teach it how to react beyond dad. You're all stupid..." Aimée sulked and dropped her eyes to the ground, briefly tuning out Rhetta. Sure, it wasn't ideal for the younger kids to have to fight, but if they were attacked, it wasn't like she could tell the enemy not to hurt her because she was a kid. They wouldn't care and she was most definitely going to be toast.

Maybe I should go back to picking fights with the big kids at the park. That seemed to work for a while. I'll just have to be more sneaky about it to keep from being caught.

She would have to explain away any injuries, but that was simple enough. Well, mostly simple depending on what had happened. Returning her attention to Rhetta and perking up when she said she'd train her to fight, Aimée bounced on her heels. That elation immediately fizzled at her next words.

"Fuck.You. I'm not cleaning up my own father's blood. That's not training, that's chores. You're such a BITCH!!" Spinning on her heel, she jerked free and stomped to the stairs.

"You're just like the rest. I thought you'd be different. I guess I was wrong. Stay the fuck away from my dad."
 
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