The invitations were sent out. Many RSVP'd quickly, as it was a very rare thing for someone outside of the Phantomhive's inner circle to be invited to a party at the estate. It was an exciting event, with Kristopherson finding himself swamped with formalwear orders despite being on the guest list himself. A sudden influx of suit, dress, and repair orders came in, prompting his seamstresses to work hard in trying to complete them. The owner of the shop himself brought some of it home with him, just to lessen some of the load on his workers.
Ordinarily, wearing one's nicest clothes was more than enough for formal events in Gehenna, but this was and invitation from Earl and Sir Phantomhive."Regular" people simply weren't welcome in most cases. Even Theodore Ravenscroft didn't know that he was on the invite list to the Phantomhive Christmas party in a few months as Daniel's plus one. That was the sort of exclusivity one would have to expect. Very few people from Gehenna had ever seen the mansion at all, let alone the inside of it. It was mysterious as it was wonderous. The idea provoked visions akin to fairytales. The Lord of Demons' home seemed like something from a story.
In reality, it was quite magnificent with tasteful architecture and interior design, but the Lord—when not taking working his side job for the government—was shockingly ordinary. In between work, he took up the task of contacting the few people he knew from the list of potential guests that his husband had drawn up. It was the very least that he could do, given that Jim was mailing out invitations to literally everyone else. A rather official-looking envelope, sealed with wax, arrived at the homes of Kristopherson and subsequently Logan, Charlotte and Amelie Garou, Audrey, Seras Victoria, Wink, Damien Chaput, Elizabeth Hellsing, and Claire Whelan, to name a few.
Kristopherson and Logan were prominent business owners in the community, while Charlotte and Amelie were supernatural agents of HELLSING of notable rank and influence. Audrey was as well, but he was also the son of a wealthy pharmaceutical company owner, making him a rather unassuming force to be reckoned with in terms of influence and power, despite his attitude. Seras Victoria was the right hand of the head of Hellsing and the sole living relative of Count Dracula. That was honestly notoriety that was difficult to beat, but the daughter-in-law of Abraham Van Hellsing was also invited, especially since she was Ciel's cousin as well. Wink and Mister Chaput were supernatural researchers who specialised in the study of magic. Wink assisted Logan in creating the sheath that killed the legendary supernatural, Abhartach, so of course she was invited. Mister Chaput was her protege and a de facto representative of ORSAP, so a warm welcome was extended to him as well. Miss Whelan was a given, since she was the leader of HELLSING's own private force of werewolves, but she was also the chieftain of the Whelan clan, the most prominent and powerful of the few surviving clans of faoladh in Britain and Ireland.
Ciel knew some influential people. Most of them were trouble-makers and big players in the well-being of the supernatural and human worlds, but then again, so was he. That was something to be proud of, he reckoned, but Jim was the one who knew all of the important people on the ground level. As Logan would say: A strong house needs a strong infrastructure in order to remain standing.
A few of his letters garnered and immediate reply, with Elizabeth, the Garous, Damien, and Logan all responding promptly. Kristopherson came soon after, perhaps after some coaxing from his boyfriend, confirming his presence. Wink eventually agreed, but Miss Victoria unfortunately couldn't make it. She couldn't leave the base unattended with so many major supernatural allies away. She very politely made this known as soon as she knew, leaving Claire to be the last of them to reply.
As Ciel would soon find out, the invitation came while she was away and she would respond to it as soon as she returned. According to Oliver, there was somewhat of a retreat for a small portion of the faoladh going on over the weekend. Even stranger, Oliver was actually going.
The group was to be camping in the forest as a training exercise, but really, it was mostly a break for some of the group. Claire went with the small forces that went last so she could be present at the base for as long as she could be. It was important for morale, however, so she, too, needed to go. Strangely enough, her compatriots insisted that she bring "the wee human boy" along with her.
She couldn't tell if they wanted to watch him struggle or if they simply wanted to mess with him a bit because they liked him. Claire wasn't completely opposed, but she did wonder about whether or not the man would be up to it. According to him, camping was a commonly enjoyed human activity that he has partaken in in the past, and everything would turn out fine. He was a much tougher human than she expected and she knew how he hated to be perceived as weak, so she agreed, hoping this would turn into a good experience for the group to mutually learn about each others' methods and customs. When Oliver pulled up to the meeting spot, however, she immediately wondered if she made the correct choice.
"What's all of that?" she questioned, pointing to the large backpack the man pulled out of his car. With some maneuvering, he strapped it to himself, almost losing balance for just a moment due to the weight. He readjusted the straps on his shoulders and approached the group, gravel crunching beneath his boots with every step.
"My equipment." Oliver answered as if it were meant to be obvious. "Where's yours?"
"Right here." Lifting her arms, Claire opened her cloak, revealing her uniform and all of the small pouches attached to her belt. Her sword was at her hip and there was a knife tucked into her heavy boot. The sight caused her beau to arch an eyebrow at her, much to her own confusion.
"You're wearing your uniform?"
"Yes? Why aren't you?"
Oliver was dressed in a bright orange, outdoorsy coat from some expensive outdoorswear shop. It was light, but it was warm. He anticipated the weather being freezing once the sun fell. He knew it would be. He checked the weather beforehand.
"What about your tent?" the man questioned, looking past the woman to see if any of the others had it. "You brought one, right?"
"No need. We're going to hike out to a cave a little ways away. We're going to set up there. Everything's under control." Crossing her arms, Claire tilted her head, still eyeing Oliver's bag suspiciously. But, offered a shrug, figuring that it was simply one of those human things that she just didn't understand. He'd probably explain once they all got settled. Clapping her hands, she turned to the group, stealing their attention away from whatever chit-chat they were engaged in.
"All right, ladies! Let's head out! We want to get there and get set up before dark." she ordered, her voice booming and authoritative. Right away, the others fell in line and began the long march to the campsite in a calm, orderly fashion. She, too, began to move and Oliver followed right after her, whistling a single flat note.
"Very impressive, milady." he said with a grin. "You're a regular natural born leader."
"I do my best." The woman's face remained stoic and neutral as her gaze stayed firmly forward, but, she gave herself a short second to shift her eye toward the man, meeting his gaze and turning the corners of her mouth upwards by just a few milometers. The Midford gladly took it and offered her a smile back.
"Oliverrr!" howled one of the wolves from behind him, nearly knocking him to the ground as a strong hand playfully slapped his back. Without turning her head, Claire put her arm out to catch him, allowing him to steady himself before continuing to march forward. "Oops… Heheh… Sorry…"
"Come on, Saorsie, don't be rough with the human." spoke another by the name of Kayleigh. "You'll knock the wind out of him before we get halfway to the campsite…"
The two were close comrades of Claire's, so Oliver knew them, too. They were kind of… a lot at times, but he knew he could certainly manage them. They seemed to like him quite a bit, which served as somewhat of a relief to him.
Saorsie was a jovial woman with freckles and buzzed black hair. She, like many faoladh, ran a trimmed across her head after every full moon, annoyed by the added length at the end of the cycle. The furs on her cape were black, matching her personality poorly as she was always bright and cheerful every time Mister Midford saw her. Kayleigh, on the other hand, was more subdued. Like Claire, she always seemed to wear the same expression on her face, but instead of stern, she seemed bored at times, even when she was having fun. She was the sort to kind of go with the flow, although she retained a healthy amount of skepticism about things. Her furs were light brown, blending somewhat with the messy mane of hair that adorned her head. Supposedly, between the two of them, they could sometimes get Claire to loosen up a bit, but in front of the team, Miss Whelan was duty-bound to rule with an iron fist.
"Hey, Saorsie. Hey, Kayliegh. It's been a while." Oliver greeted with a pleasant smile. He had to admit, it was a serious relief for him to find a few more familiar faces amoung the crowd.
"I'm glad you decided to come with us!" Saorsie stated. "It's going to be really interesting, this year! I can't wait to get up there!"
"Before we joined HELLSING, we used to go on retreats like this all the time." Kayleigh began to explain, offering up a minute smile. "It's sort of a tradition, so we're all glad to be able to continue it. It'll be good for you to experience."
"I'm was happy to be invited! When Claire brought it up, I thought it might be a good chance to learn about Faoladh culture. Though, I think I'm already learning a lot…" the man chuckled. "I guess bringing a full kit isn't something you really do? I sort of feel like the odd man out…"
"Yeah, we normally just bring a few tools and that's it." replied the scruffier of the two women. "It's sort of a survival exercise. Pretty simple, nothing fancy. The goal is to live off the land and be a bit closer to the forest."
"'Faoladh are one of many bridges between nature and humankind,' right?"
"Right! So you already get part of it? Anyway, we normally do this in our wolf forms, so some of us will probably start transforming once we get further out. I hope that's okay."
"Doesn't bother me. I've seen plenty of supernaturals who aren't passing for human, and I doubt this is going to be the last time I ever do."
"That's good, but we're missing an important element, this year." Saorsie interjected, folding her arms with a very serious expression forming on her face.
"What's that?" Kayleigh questioned, immediately regretting her choice as soon as she noticed the other woman's mouth forming a smirk. Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, Saorsie snickered at him.
"Normally, we do this naked." she said, outright laughing at the light pink colour that appeared on Oliver's cheeks. Clutching her chest, she pointed at him and balked. "Oh, man! You should see the look on your face right now! It's so cute! Ha! Ha… Humans are so funny about that…"
"Oh, leave him alone…" scolded her compatriot, swatting her arm. "Relax, Oliver, she's just messing with you. There will be no nudity for the entire weekend."
"Yeah, so don't you worry." Saorsie added, "Orders from the top."
Leaves crunched underneath the group's feet as Oliver looked forward, staring at the back of his girlfriend's head. Light bounced off her golden hair and ran down her shoulders as it peeked through the orange leaves above their heads. She was responsible for this. Oliver couldn't help but be grateful to her, as he didn't want to make things any more awkward than they already are with him just being there, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was for his comfort or to set her own mind at ease. While Claire and the others didn't see a problem with being nude around each other, a human man who wasn't accustomed to seeing the female form in such a state without immediately forcing the image into a sexual context, it was perfectly understandable that the others might not want to be looked at that way. It was also perfectly understandable if Claire did not want Oliver looking at other women like that as well.
Honestly, Oliver didn't know what to expect. The further they went into the forest and immersed themselves deeper into the songs and silence of the natural world, the more Oliver felt like he was intruding. He was an invader—an outsider. Everything about him singled him out and he noticed the whispers and glances of some of the women. They didn't seem to be saying anything good. Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps he should leave, but he couldn't turn back now. It seemed as though fleeing would be even more rude than staying, as if he was rejecting the group. It was only a weekend. If he could survive the weekend, he would never have to come back here ever again.
Although he had been confident in his lack of prejudice, this feeling of alienation spiked when a few of the others began transforming. Teeth sharpened, fingernails grew, and hair began to spread all over their bodies. Their faces grew more wolf-like and they all grew at least a foot in height, towering over Oliver, despite him not being a particularly short man. The change didn't seem to cause them any discomfort at all, contrary to what the man had read about it. Perhaps it was different for Faoladh. Perhaps they were simply used to it. Either way, it was abundantly, blatantly, and horrendously clear: These were werewolves and he was just a mere human. They could break him like a twig if they wanted to and he knew that. He was terrifyingly aware of that. But, he simply had to trust that they wouldn't. He would return home, safe and sound, and that would be that.
A chill ran through the man as they drew closer to their destination. The air was getting colder. Once they arrived, he uttered a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. They really weren't kidding. There was nothing there.
For a bunch of Irish werewolves, they were unbelievably Spartan. There was a cave, just as Kayleigh said, and a fire pit, and… that was it. That was all there was, apart from trees, shrubbery, and dead leaves. Honestly, he didn't know what he was expecting, but he had hoped that there would be more than this. What were they going to do? Did they intend to sit around and do nothing?
"Alright, ladies! Home sweet home!" barked their leader with her hands on her hips. "I want things nice and orderly! Bridget and Sinead! Clean out the fire pit! Michelle and Kathy, you're on firewood. Moira and Finola, water. Rosheen, Siobhan, Sarah, see what food you can forage for around here. Orla, Niamh, Fiadh, and I will see if we can find any meat. As for you three…" Claire continued, turning her head toward those who remained.
Kayleigh and Saorsie stood next to Oliver, with the latter grinning widely as they all waited for instruction. They knew that she was leaving the man with them because she could trust them, and they weren't going to let her hear the end of it when this was over.
"Go gather some moss and leaves for bedding." Claire ordered, giving them what she hoped would be a simple task. "Oliver, those two will show you what to look for and how to set it up. As for you two…"
"Yes, miss?" questioned Saorsie, batting her eyelashes.
"Behave." warned the leader of the group, but the other woman only smiled at her threatening tone.
"Rodger that, boss." she said, giving Claire a little salute before putting an arm around Oliver's shoulders. "We'll take good care of your partner, here. Don't you worry!"
"I expect so." Claire replied, putting her nose up in the air. "Dismissed."
With that, the others turned and left, ushering poor Oliver off into the woods with them, stumbling through the brush. Here he had been hoping that he would be able to sit and rest for a bit after all of that hiking, but it appeared that his girlfriend had other plans. His feet were sore and he felt tired. It was embarrassing, since he had gone on five kilometer marches several times a week with his troops back home. Oliver wasn't on top of his game. Sure, he had been wearing a large pack of heavy supplies and that weighed him down, but it shouldn't have been that difficult. This shouldn't have been that difficult. Once they had stopped, he placed a hand against a tree and panted, trying to catch his breath. The air was cold, but a layer of sweat coated his skin and gathered on his forehead. Unfortunately for him, the others noticed.
"You alright, sir?" Kayleigh asked.
"Yeah, you don't look so good." her friend chimed in.
In an effort to regain his pride, Oliver swallowed, and did his best to steady his breathing without choking. "I'm fine." he insisted, clearing his throat. "So, what do we need to do?"
"Gather leaves and moss." Saorsie replied, opening up her arms and looking around. "Lucky for us, we came in the fall, so they're all on the ground! All we have to do is scoop up a bunch of them and bring them back to camp."
"Don't worry about the moss, Oliver. We'll handle looking for that since we know what we're doing." the other woman replied, prompting Saorsie to swat at her arm. "Oh, sorry, that came out meaner than I meant it to."
"It's alright. Leaves, then." the man replied, standing up straight again. Letting out a sigh, he nodded, trying to summon a second wind. "Let's get to it, then."
"Just take them back to the cave when you've got some and line the floor with them. Don't worry about the arrangement. Everybody likes them a bit different, so they'll take care of that, themselves."
With that, they set out to do their work. The two women scooped the leaves into piles with their hands and carried them to camp once they got enough of them. Oliver did the same. It was a bit more difficult for him, however. He didn't have another hand, but had enough arm below his elbow to do some scooping with it, that is, if his coat weren't in the way. The sleeve had been tied into a knot as to not let in any cool air, which was useful for that purpose, but not quite for this one. It wasn't really the right shape, it seemed. No matter. This wasn't nearly enough to discourage him in the slightest. The man had relearned how to go about his daily business after doing it his entire life with two hands with just one. Surely, he could figure out how to perform this task as well.
Standing upright, he scooped leaves into small piles with the sides of his feet before crouching down. Then, gripping his right sleeve, he formed a hoop with his arm and his jacket and began to gather the strays, sweeping them into his pile before pausing to calculate exactly how he was going to carry them. He was burning up in his coat, but it had served him well for this task up until this point and he was subsequently reluctant to take it off. An idea occurred to him, however, so he removed the offending article of clothing. Almost immediately, the cool air hit him and he regretted his choices, but he knew that if he was quick enough, he could put the coat back on once he dumped the leaves.
Laying it flat on the ground, he opened it and began sweeping leaves into it with his left hand. Once he was finished, he gathered the corners and balled them and the sleeves up in his fist. He had made a sack with his coat, having left his backpack behind at camp, and it worked beautifully. It took him a bit longer, since he had to figure it out, but he had in his grasp about the same amount that the others had. With this, he marched himself back to camp, feeling triumphant with his efforts.
A few of the other women were there already, setting other things up in the meantime. Spotting his bright orange coat, they glanced up at him, doing a bit of a double take as they wondered what he was doing for a brief moment, before shrugging and getting back to their own work. The man ignored them in equal measure, focusing instead on putting his coat back on before heading back to the spot where he and the others were working in order to repeat the process all over again.
That said, he would have appreciated it if the others he was working with paid him the same amount of attention. Instead, they stared at him intently as he removed his coat again and began filling it with leaves. He picked the sack back up again and their eyebrows raised.
"That's a good idea!" Saorsie declared while pointing at the human. She undid the button holding her cape shut and slid it off her shoulders. "I'm gonna do that, too!"
"Pretty clever." the other woman added with her hands on her hips. "How did you even think of that?"
"One-handed. Thought: 'hey, a bag would be nice. What do I have that I can use as a bag?' I had a coat." Holding up his makeshift sack for emphasis, Oliver nodded. "So, here it is. I'm still not as quick as you, but I won't have to work as hard as I would, otherwise."
"Huh… That's perfectly reasonable, actually…" Kayleigh paused. "That came out meaner than I wanted it to... I'll do it, too…"
Inadvertently, Oliver had increased the amount the others were able to gather immensely. With four hands and two large capes between them, Saorsie and Kayleigh had gathered everything they needed quickly, with the man's contributions feeling unnecessary as he added his small coat full to the large pile in the cave. It was a strange feeling, really. He knew that he should have been happy that the task was done with much quicker than expected, but somehow, he felt a bit miffed by it. Frustrated. It took him a while to both pick up the leaves and figure out the exact method of picking everything up, but those two essentially completed the task by themselves as soon as he shared it. It was so quick and easy for them. It almost felt as though he didn't contribute anything.
But still, they continued to address him as they went about their task, making small talk while they all worked. It wasn't as though he was irritated by them, specifically. They weren't at fault, they were just the ones there at the time. So, he continued to be polite, even as their line of questioning ventured into dangerous territory.
"So, Oliver…" Saorsie asked in that way she did that gave him a heads' up that she was about to pull something. "How are you and Claire?"
"Uh, we're good. Going pretty strong, I think." he answered back.
"Glad to hear it! That's what Claire says, too!" she laughed, blatantly comparing answers between the two. "We were all really surprised that you decided to join us. Men don't usually come on these trips, and we weren't sure if human men would be interested!"
"Ah, well… Camping is considered to be sort of a 'manly' activity amoung humans, I think, so it's not that weird. Or is it the 'human' bit that's weird?"
"Both, but I got my answer for one."
"How about the other?"
"Humans don't usually like werewolves. I get it, though. If you can't shapeshift and you don't have pointy teeth and claws, that must be pretty scary, right? So I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, really."
"I don't have a problem with werewolves. We all worked together during training, didn't we? If I didn't know you all were regular people by now, that would be concerning."
"So you're not scared?" Saorsie asked, trying to stifle a smile. She turned to face him, holding up her hands and curling her fingers like claws as she spoke, baring her teeth at the man. "The only human in a woods full of werewolves? Doesn't that freak you out a bit?"
"Not really. If I'm honest, the only thing that unsettles me about werewolves is the transformation bit. Not the resulting shape, but the in between. It looks really painful. Claire says it doesn't hurt faoladh as bad since you were born like that, but still."
"Huh… Really? That's… That's interesting, actually… I hadn't thought of that… I guess it must be pretty scary to see your girlfriend go through that."
"Yeah… I never really see her transform, but I have twice, I think. We weren't dating at the time, though." the man explained, holding up his right arm. "The first time was when we first met, and the second time was during training. The second time was scarier than the first. It's like I know that it'll be fine in a little bit, I felt like I ought to be helping, somehow." That last comment made the woman giggle into her hand a bit. "What's so funny?"
"It's nothing! It's just that it's sort of hard to imagine any guy helping her." the wolfwoman replied. "We've all known her since we were pups. She's always been really self sufficient and proud. Stubborn to a fault, really. It's unlike her."
Leaves rustled as Oliver scooped them onto his coat, filling the silence that his lack of an answer left there. He kept his back to her, leaving whether or not she was actually looking at him a mystery as his gaze focused intently on the dead, brown, leaves in front of him. What could he say to that? He knew that she was strong already and that perhaps she didn't need him, but it still bruised his pride a bit. Saorsie hadn't cushioned the blow at all, allowing her words to lash him at full force, too. It was hard to want to answer her, really.
"She's been different, lately." the woman continued, oblivious to the man's cold shoulder. "She's been a lot more relaxed and she does ask for things a lot more, now. Not all the time, but sometimes, which, knowing her, is an improvement. She seems more lively, too. Part of that's just the change in scenery, I think. Her dad wasn't exactly the nicest fella, after all, but part of it's probably you. Humans can be pretty scary, so we were actually all a bit nervous when we came here, but you were always good to us. I think that's probably why she's able to let her guard down a bit."
A thought lingered in Oliver's mind, but not the one that he thought would after that. "You were scared of us?"
"Well, yeah. A fortress full of killers of supernaturals, and we were going to live there? It's horrific! But you treated us normal." Saorsie stated, waving a hand as she spoke. "There's stories, y'know, about how humans went on genocidal rampages against us and forced us all into hiding. Even though you're not as strong as us, we were growing fewer and weaker all the time. It's like we were surrounded."
"In a way, we were." Kayleigh chimed in, having been eavesdropping for a while, now. "None of us wanted to come to England, but we were forced to. Iscariot was hot on our trails, so Lord Abharta—I mean, Abhartach moved us all here. It was already a strange place, and then it kept getting stranger and stranger. We couldn't trust anybody and it turned out, we couldn't even trust ourselves…"
"I think Claire was more nervous about working for HELLSING than anybody." the other woman said, her jovial tone growing softer as her smile began to fade. "She never said anything—she never would—but knowing her, you could just feel it in the air around her. She wasn't supposed to ever lead us and here she was, being in charge of our immediate survival. Maybe training gave her more time to adjust. Now? Things are really great, honestly."
"Well, I can't take total credit for that… I'm glad, but I was just doing my job, wasn't I?"
"She likes you." Saorsie said, her jovial tone gone. The man could feel her eyes starting at the back of his head. "She's never been able to like anyone like that, but she likes you, our enemy of several hundred years. Like, that's really crazy, y'know? No offense—I really don't mean it like that. It's not that we need to be the same species and you're totally wrong for her…"
"Gee, thanks…"
"We were never encouraged to have relationships at all." Kayleigh chimed in, attempting to salvage the conversation. "We were told that the women can't contribute to the propagation of our kind, so there was no 'point.' Our men did not want us. They still don't really want us. They were lied to, too. A lot of us had relationships with the maids in the mansion in secret. They weren't supposed to be incubi, either, but well… They have to be getting it somewhere, right?"
"Claire was never interested. She's… Ugh! I'm bad with talking…" groaned the other woman. "She had to be perfect, basically. The perfect faoladh woman. She was our leader's daughter, so she couldn't even think about it. We're honestly all blessed that she's nicer than her dad. She never ratted us out even once. Now that she's free, though, she's able to pick someone and she picked you. I'm not trying to make you seem like a bad catch or anything; what I'm getting at is… You need to be good to her, okay? She's our friend, so if you hurt her, we'll obviously kill you, but it's also a bit bigger than that…"
"I know." Oliver replied, bunching up the ends of his coat. "As much as I love her, whether I like it or not, if I want to be with her, I need to be mindful of diplomacy."
"It was a good choice, coming along on this trip."
"I didn't come for all of you." the Midford stated, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I came for Claire. Keeping of all of this and learning about your culture is good for keeping the peace. You're right. But I don't do it for you. I do it because I care about her and want to know more about her. I can't respect her, either, if I don't know what's rude. Anyway, I'm going to go take these to camp. Be back in a bit."
Marching off through the woods, he left the two women alone, watching after him as he went. The watched him disappear amongst the trees and then finally looked to one another, sharing a nod between them.
"He's good." Saorsie stated. "I like him."
"I didn't think that Claire would choose a bad catch, but it's good to see." Kayleigh agreed. "He's really consistent, isn't he? A good match like that needs to be looked after and locked down."
"Maybe he'll join the pack someday? He'd make a handsome werewolf!"
"We shouldn't be too presumptuous. He might not think that's best for him and we have to respect that." With that, Kayleigh paused. "You're right, though. He definitely would."
Unaware of their praise, Oliver had a lot to think about. Quietly, he contemplated with only the sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet and the occasional bird song breaking the silence. Perhaps he was getting frustrated too quickly. The others didn't seem to think of him as slow due to his disability, but were far more interested in his humanness instead. They liked him and he realised that he needed to hear it. Maybe some were still a bit hostile to the idea, but maybe not. Maybe he simply assumed that they disliked him on the basis of what he was, rather than just asking. Certainly, he was the odd one out, but that wasn't a terrible thing, right? Maybe he was more welcome than he thought.
Still, he had a task to do and with their combined efforts and Oliver's ingenuity, they finished rather quickly. He was grateful that the task was done and took a well-deserved rest, sitting down on a rock outside the cave as he watched the others working. His legs, feet, left arm and shoulders were all tired, but he didn't like the fact that he was being idle. The others were starting to come back. Those who had been gathering water had returned with a few jugs and those who had been gathering firewood came in carrying absurd amounts with them. They began to arrange it in the pit and lit it ablaze, nursing the flame until it was sizable enough to stay lit on it's own for longer periods of time. Notably, however, they didn't seem interested in boiling the water right away. Maybe they had something planned for it?
Food started to arrive, with those who were foraging coming back with berries, mushrooms, and other edible plants. At long last, Claire and her hunting party had returned, causing Oliver to let out a massive sigh of relief at seeing a familiar face. The women with her had rabbits tied to their belts and she, herself, carried a deer over her shoulders. It noticeably had a large chunk of flesh torn out of it's neck and claw marks digging into it. The pale skin around the woman's mouth was also stained a faint red, but it looked as though she had attempted to wipe it off while the others in her group didn't seem to mind the blood on their faces. He chose instead to focus on the fact that his girlfriend was there and he wasn't alone any longer with people he didn't know that well.
"Hey, Oliver. Are you done with the bedding?" she asked, lifting the deer up from over her shoulders and handing it off to Kayleigh before addressing the two women accompanying the Midford. "Take Saorsie and skin this. We can use it later. When you're done, butcher it." she instructed them, sending them off again before having a seat next to Oliver on one of the rocks outside of the cave.
"Yeah, we finished up a while ago. We didn't know what else to do and I was getting a bit tired." the man replied with a smile. "Human stamina. You know how it is."
"Oh, well, you can rest up a bit. It's no problem. Those two, on the other hand, have things they can be doing." Claire insisted, gesturing in the direction that the others ventured off in. "Let me know if you need help or if I'm pushing too hard. I'd feel terrible if you got hurt."
"Yeah, I can't exactly regenerate like you can."
"That's the scary bit. And I'm still kind of figuring out exactly what you're limits are. I underestimated you before, but I don't want to overestimate you, either." After a pause, the woman added: "I think I figured out why you brought all that stuff with you."
"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" questioned the man, curious as to what the she-wolf had come up with.
"I remembered you can't eat raw meat after killing the deer." she replied. "I had forgotten. After that, I got thinking, there's probably other stuff in there that makes sense. Like, something to filter water with, right? Won't that make you sick?"
"Yep. You're spot on!"
"I'm sorry… I don't usually think about these things for myself, so I'm still trying to figure it out with you." Looking around, her eye scanned the camp before settling on the jugs of water. "Do you want any help setting up your tools?"
"Maybe. I just don't want to be in all of your way, either!"
"Ah, don't worry about that. It might be tough for some of these hardheads to understand, but I'll make sure they give you room. None of us want you to get sick or go hungry. What have you got, anyway?"
"Basic human camping essentials!" Oliver laughed while counting off on his fingers, starting over whenever he ran out. "A tent, sleeping bag, a pan, a pot, a flashlight, a compass, a knife, some kindling, a couple of other bits and bobs…" Suddenly, his face lit up and he began digging in one of his pockets. "And this multitool."
Claire's eye went wide and her brows raised at the small object in her boyfriend's hand. Taking it in her own hand, she held it up to view, turning it over and examining it carefully. "What does it do?"
"Lots of things! Hold it still for a second… And… Look, here's a tiny saw… and here's a knife… and some scissors… A bottle opener… And if we put all of those back like this and fold these out… There! A spoon and a fork!"
The entire time Oliver flipped the various attachments of the device in and out in her hands, Claire's attention was entirely transfixed on the strange object. So many things could fit into one small, metal, rectangle that one could keep in their pocket. "Fascinating…" the woman murmured. "It's so compact… Ah! A screwdriver!" A warm smile graced the woman's face, crinkling the corner of her eye as she laughed. God, Oliver loved it when she laughed. It was such a sweet sound; a pure sound—brought on by pure delight that had forced its way through Claire's stern facade. She turned toward him as if presenting him with the artifact. "What a wonderful idea! It's designed so well! All of your tools in one place! Well, most of them. I don't suppose these knives are strong enough to skin a deer with, are they?"
"Nope. They're not all the best quality, but they can still be useful. You can get different kinds with different tools and different quality." her beau answered, practically beaming in return, thankful that he got to see her like this. Carefully, he began to fold the attachments back into themselves while the multitool was still in the woman's hands. "I can show you on my phone once we get back."
"Humans are so creative!"
"Well, we're not as strong, fast, or sturdy as you are, so we make do."
"Are you going to use it to eat with?" Claire questioned. It was somewhat of a bizarre question for her, and combined with the fact that she seemed unresponsive to his comment about humans, Oliver couldn't help but snicker a bit.
"That's the plan."
"You should show me your other tools!" she declared. "Ah, well, maybe once the girls get settled… You can go ahead and start cooking whenever you need to. I don't want you to wait on my behalf and go hungry by suppertime."
"No worries. I can show you anytime. I'll give you a shout if I need anything."
Satisfied with this, his girlfriend went off to do her work, leading the troops and all that, leaving Oliver alone to accomplish his own tasks. With that, he ventured into the cave and opened his backpack in order to retrieve his tools. He brought a small pot, a skillet, and a foldable metal grate to set them on. He brought a few ingredients and some water, as well as a bottle with a filter on it in order to replenish his supplies with the purified jugs that the others had retrieved. After acquiring a small portion of rabbit meat from Saorsie and Kayleigh, he set to work, cutting things, seasoning things, and throwing a few of the items he brought together into the pot. If he made stew, or something of the sort, maybe it could last him a while, and he wouldn't have to cook as much throughout the trip. He wasn't the best of cooks, but he was passible. It was certainly edible, and that was the goal in all of this.
This was the way of a human being. He did not have powerful jaws and sharp teeth to crush bone and rend flesh, so he needed a fork and a knife. He did not have a strong stomach that could consume raw meat and stream water without getting sick, so he cooked his food and had a filter so he could drink. He did not have claws to dig into prey, so he brought his own food, although he did borrow, since the others were offering. These were his tools, just as Claire had her sword to make her even more deadly, and wore her cape to stay warm, he used tools in order to function, let alone survive, and when a new limitation reared its head, there was a tool waiting to either be used or be repurposed to suit him, just like his coat and the leaves. Both of them had their own respective strengths and weaknesses, and these were his.
His actions soon caught the attention of the others, however, as the smell of his meal hung in the air. A werewolf's sense of smell was strong, and they liked what they were smelling, asking him questions about what it was that he had in his pot, but refusing to ask for a bite. It would be incredibly rude of them to take food from someone who needed it more than them and if one succeeded in taking some, then it could open the floodgates and the poor man would be left with nothing! Instead, some of them took their portions of meat early and fashioned a sharp stick with their knives to stab it with, dangling it over the fire to cook.
It wasn't as though they preferred raw meat to cooked meat. Sometimes, a person had a craving for one or the other. Sometimes, it was simply what was offered or what was had, but they had the means and they had the patience, so they sat around the fire, bonding over cooking alongside the man as equals. They talked and bantered. A few of the women sang together and although Oliver couldn't understand the words, he couldn't help but get swept up in it. It was infectious. He sat there with a smile as he stirred his stew, occasionally getting translations and explanations from those around him, but not letting it bother him when he didn't.
All was not so cheerful for all members of the group, however. Some took part in the festivities, but ignored the human man, simply pretending that he didn't exist. Some, however, wished to voice their displeasure with his presence and were quietly pleased to themselves when someone finally did.
One of the oldest members of their group wasn't older by much. She was only in her thirties, but seemed weathered and worn beyond her years. She had rough callouses on her hands and feet, and despite their regenerative power, had scars along her skin from something—nobody really knew what. She's had them since before the rest of them were small. The older ones would hush those who asked about it. Her cape was well worn and well loved. The furs were stained and matted, but it had served her well over the years and she was grateful. A well-polished brooch held it closed around her shoulders, glinting in the firelight as she sat there, her wolf-like face staring into the flames. Fiadh was a well-respected faoladh. She was experienced and would teach everyone the old songs and stories that had been lost to time and never written down. But, as a keeper of the old ways, she was very understandably agitated at the others' actions. She sat there, simmering in her annoyance, allowing it to brew as she bit her tongue, but there came a point where she simply couldn't take it anymore.
"How can you all be so alright with this?" she finally snapped, causing the singing to stop and conversation to pitter off. "It's disrespectful! This isn't a day trip, it is sacred, and all of you are just fine, spitting in the face of tradition and undermining the very reason all of us are here?!"
Understandably, there was a pause before anyone can answer. It came so suddenly, that it took a moment to process. "Come on, now, Fiadh, it's not the end of the world." one of them said gently, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, but it was shrugged away.
"Maybe not the world, but it marks a decline in our way of life!" Fiadh stated while standing up, her heavy boots thudding against the earth. "We are here to be closer to the earth and all it has to offer. Things in their natural state. This-!" the woman barked, reaching down and taking a stick with a piece of cooked meat away from it's owner. She held it up for all to see before throwing it in the owner's lap. "Is not how we do things! You cannot savour the natural taste of meat this way! Look at us! We should be bathing in the moonlight! Feeling grass against our fur, but no! We must clothe ourselves to accommodate him!" Jabbing her clawed finger toward Oliver, she snarled, baring her fangs. "We must deny what we naturally are and sever our ties to the earth for him! A mere human! Just like we always have avoided. Why, if he weren't the thing that our great leader had chosen, we all know how we would have reacted to him."
"Whoa! Speak for yourself, Fiadh!" Saorsie barked back. "We're faoladh, not animals!"
"Shh! Don't rile her up, Saorsie…" Kayliegh whispered, successfully placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.
"It's his kind that are protecting us!" the short-haired woman continued regardless of the warning.
"His kind is protecting us? From who? More of them!" Fiadh rightly observed. "We live our lives in secret and our culture continues to wither and die with each passing year! We do what we must and serving them grants us certain freedoms, but we can't let them in all the way! Don't forget, they almost wiped us out, Saorsie. Look at us. We're all that's left. We were close to ruin when Feargus was leading us. We don't need to help them drive us to cultural extinction!"
"We're rebuilding. More of us have been born this year than in decades!"
"We're rolling over. Like dogs. Not wolves. Will those children learn our ways? No! They'll learn the way of humanity. Our ancestors fought countless skirmishes and battles for us, and this is how it all ends? Quietly? When Patricius came to convert us, we mocked him. He ran away scared and we persisted."
"Who's Patricius?" Oliver asked, whispering to his girlfriend.
"'Saint Patrick.'" Claire replied, calmly taking a drink of water. "He has a history with us."
"Oh, I think I read about that." the man noted, piping up a bit. "It's a bit difficult to do research about the exact history of the faoladh, but a few stories came up. Is it the one where Saint Patrick tried to convert the people of Ossory to Christianity? They mocked him, so he called on God to curse them, forcing them to change from human to wolf form and back again every seven years."
"Not quite." the woman responded simply, turning her head to face him. "That's the human version of the story. It's what Patricius told everyone. That's not at all how it happened."
"Ignorant." accusingly huffed Fiadh. "But understandable. It is tradition to not write our stories down, so it is no wonder that you don't know the truth."
"What is it, then?" Oliver questioned simply without a trace of fear about him. His gaze met Fiadh's as she loomed over him, her height impressive by human standards, especially since he was seated. He reiterated his inquiry. "What's the real story? I'd really like to hear it, if you don't mind. It sounds important."
His directness, however, caused the woman pause. Despite her intimidating appearance and actions, he did not waver. In fact, he openly invited her to prove him wrong and seemingly felt no fear for the possibility of her actually succeeding. With that, the woman sat down again, her eyes still locked on his from across the firepit.
"Very well." she replied, clearing her throat. "Gather 'round, gather 'round, ye all who will listen fore I have a story to tell…" Those words made the crowd perk up and train their attention on her. Taking a deep breath, she readied her voice and began to wave her hands as she spoke.
"Long ago, in our homeland of Ossory; when the other folk and humans walked the same earth freely on equal footing, yet long after the passing of the greatest leader, Laignech Faelad; our people were strong and our numbers were plentiful. We spoke solely our language and knew not of the language of brutes, we had children, and land of our very own. We lived peacefully in villages of our own kind, allowing for the occasional stranger to pass through. We were connected to our roots and we were one with our land. We knew not of the evils of mankind and we were happy.
"But, a dark shadow had begun to creep across the land, devouring homes, villages, and entire kingdoms in it's wake. The most powerful group of humans ever to have existed had set their sights on our island, just as they had with Briton and the rest of the world. They were a monstrous race, bent on assimilation and if not, complete destruction in the cruelest of ways, binding people to wheels and breaking their bones, tearing off their flesh with iron teeth, and ripping them limb from limb with their horses.
"The Englishman Patricius was once taken from his homeland by Irish slavetraders and spent sixteen long years in unjust captivity before escaping and returning to England. He was poor, he was hungry, and he was directionless, so he joined a monastery in order to survive. After many years, he became a bishop and with this new power, decided to enact his revenge, returning to Ireland in order to claim it for the church.
"He converted many, but Ireland resisted, imprisoning him several times, but it only made him angrier and more determined. He would use his God to gain mastery over not only his master, but all peoples he came across. One day, he made it to Ossory.
"With his success so far, and his failures fueling his complex, he marched into a village of faoladh and demanded that we heed his demands. He wanted us to revoke our supposedly 'sinful' lifestyle of existing as we are, and to discard our way of life. We would live our lives as he wished us to, worshiping who and how he wished. Why? Because Patricius was engulfed by his pride. His self importance was so great, that his word was the word of God, and his will was the will of his God. In essence, he was his God, and we saw through that right away. He barked and barked like a dog, demanding our attention, and so, we gave it to him.
"At first, we simply mocked Patricius, barking back at him, but soon, his threats became more serious. He would bring more people to the village and they would help 'persuade' us, he said. Naturally, this could not stand. So, our people began to transform, preparing to take up arms, and Patricius was so horrified and afraid of the mere sight of that, that he turned tail and fled. But he couldn't leave it at that.
"In order to save face when he returned to England, he boasted that it was he who transformed us by calling upon God—that we would transform from wolf to human every seven years, and that we would be cursed with this fate for all time due to the divine protection that his God had bestowed upon him! This lie remains one of the few written records of the faoladh to this day-the word of a pathetic, arrogant, man, who tried to destroy our culture and failed when we would not bend to his selfishness and overinflated sense of self importance. And here we are now, thousands of years later, allowing this conversion to happen willingly. Now we have become the pathetic ones…"
Oliver ruminated on that for a moment. It had similarities to the story he had read, but there were details that he simply didn't know enough about to argue against. There was clearly a bias, but so to was there with the other version of the story. The Midford simply nodded along, allowing himself to hear what the woman was saying.
"That sounds reasonable." the man finally stated. "I can see why you would feel threatened and I'm sorry that I've made you feel that way. It was truly not my intention to do so. I merely wanted to understand more about your customs. Thank you for the story."
"If you understood, then why must you change things?" Fiadh questioned, but Oliver didn't have a good answer. He never meant to change anything and didn't know if he really did at all, so what was there for him to say? The woman's question was answered, however, when another woman spoke up.
"He didn't." corrected Claire, gazing across the fire at her subordinate. "His being here is my doing and the initial change requesting that everyone remain clothed was also my instruction, completely unprompted by Oliver. I made the request, given that it is in the human culture that nudity—especially when it comes to the opposite sex—is sexual. It was my judgment that being in a group of strange women in that state, and that all of you being perceived that way by a strange man may make everyone uncomfortable. Therefore, the request was made."
"And the cooking?" her subordinate demanded. "Why must we all cook?"
"We musn't. It was the choice of a few individuals to follow suit." explained Lady Whelan, being careful to leave no room for further questions. "Humans are not as durable as we are. They are extremely susceptible to becoming sick after eating raw meat. Combined with the fact that we are quite a ways a way from the nearest hospital, I believed it to be too dangerous to force him to take part in that aspect of the festivities and allowed him to prepare his own meal. Others made the choice to follow suit. Right now, it is a special circumstance, so I am being more lenient. Next year, it will business as usual again."
"You're the one who invited him in the first place."
"It's important for the partner of the chieftain to understand the culture that he's getting mixed up in. It's something that has been done for years. The only difference is that I'm not going to force it in harmful and downright dangerous ways. Or did you forget what happened to the previous chieftain's wife?"
Oliver watched the expressions on both women's faces at that. Claire never talked about her family beyond her brother and she only occasionally referenced her father, but her mother? This was the first she had heard of it. His girlfriend's face was stern and stoic, but there was a glint of something peculiar behind her eye. Anger? No quite. Oliver had trouble placing it. Fiadh's expression was easy to read, however. Her expression wavered and then softened. Her voice grew quiet as she bowed her head.
"My apologies, milady… I meant no offense…"
"Attacking my partner is offensive to me. Insinuating that I don't know what it means to lead the faoladh is even more so. If I felt as though I did not know what I was doing, I would not be doing it." Claire stated firmly, asserting herself with ease while staring down her subordinate. "Tradition is all well and good, but things must change. My father's foolishness and pride led to many unnecessary deaths and a lot of misery. He would have definitely wiped us out and I won't make the same mistakes. It is necessary to reevaluate our stances on certain things. The changes on this trip are not permanent, so I suggest you cut your losses this year and enjoy your time, here."
Shrinking, the other she-wolf backed down. "Apologies, miss… I will."
"Thank you." Although she was eager to drop it, Claire couldn't. Not after looking around the campfire at all of the solemn faces sitting there. "Come on, now… Let's not get down about it. We're here to reconnect with the world around us, but also to have fun. Rosheen! You brought your drum, right? And Siobban, your flute? Finola, why don't you sing us something? Something with a beat."
Although hesitant, they couldn't find reason to deny such a request from their leader, especially since they, too, were eager to repair the mood. And like that, everyone did their best to move on and focus on the music. Oliver simply did the same. Yet, he couldn't quite shake what he had heard. Furthermore, he couldn't help but notice that her mood hadn't quite recovered no matter how long the music went on or how jovially everyone sang. Her mind appeared to be elsewhere. She wasn't present in the moment where she needed to be, although she was clearly trying. Flinching, she whipped her head to the side as she felt the man's hand on her back.
"Hey…" he began. "You alright?"
"Yeah… I'm fine. How was your stew?"
"Good… Good… I'm not the best cook, but it was edible!" Oliver laughed, but he stayed serious. "You just seemed a bit lost in thought."
"Oh… I guess. Sorry."
"Don't be. I don't mind it. Just wondering if you're okay."
A moment of pause followed. Claire wasn't entirely sure what to do in this situation. She understood that he was trying to comfort her and knew that she needed to respond to his worries. "I am… I kind of dropped a bombshell on you, didn't I?"
"About what?"
"My mother." Claire said. "About her being human. And, y'know, dead."
"I figured there might've been a reason for you not bringing it up before, so I don't mind you not being forthcoming. That's your business. If you want to talk about it, you can. I do feel like it explains a few things, though. You're very good with humans."
"There was a time when we weren't." the woman replied with a heavy sigh. "Humans are really fragile… No offense, of course."
"None taken."
"We just didn't know how to take care of her right. My father didn't really pay much mind to it. She was just a human… I don't like to think about it." Taking a deep breath, she ran her fingers through her hair and then sighed. "She got sick." she said. "We didn't know how to take care of her. She died. That's the end of that."
"How… Wait… But… How did she… and him?"
"I don't like to think about it." she reiterated more firmly. "I… I hate him. Really... I didn't want to force you into anything that could hurt you." Turning her head to face him again, she added: "I really like that you're interested in us. I like you. Nobody should be treated like that. If you're going to be part of the clan, I want you to be comfortable and safe. That's all."
"Oh… Sorry…" Oliver didn't know how to respond, really. He didn't have enough information to really feel confident in comforting her, but knew it would be wrong of him to pry. "I like you, too, and I want to do right by you as well, so don't feel like you have to tell me before you're ready to. You don't have to tell me at all, if that's what you want. I'm just really glad to be here. It's true that I really am interested in learning about the faoladh and their customs, but I also just really wanted to spend more time with you."
A rush of giddiness ran through the man as he watched the woman strained to keep her mouth in a neutral position. Oliver set his hand down next to him on the cold ground they were both sitting on, giving her some space to recover her composure. She had to look strong in front of her subordinates, after all. Then, he felt something warm pressing against the side of his hand through the woman's cape. It wiggled around a bit until her fingers poked out from under the fabric and drew his hand underneath it. Together, the intertwined their fingers, completely out of view of the others.
"Your hand is cold." Claire matter of factly stated.
"Your's is warm."
"Will you be alright sleeping in the cave with us like that?" she questioned. "Humans can die from exposure."
"I know. I'll be fine. I brought my sleeping bag and a few things to insulate it."
"I'd feel better if you slept in the pile with us. You can keep the sleeping bag of course, and you can sleep on the end. I would just prefer it if you were close to me so you don't freeze."
"I don't mind you cuddling me. Even if you're in your wolf form. It sounds comfortable, if I'm honest. Having fur must be nice…" He almost snickered when he heard the woman snort.
"I'll be keeping you warm." insisted Claire. "Cuddling is a luxury."
"A bonus, you mean? I'll be looking forward to it."
"You are very lucky that I like humans…" the woman replied. "So far, my experiences with them have been overwhelmingly positive… Don't ruin it."
A/N: This one was really difficult to write! I wanted to write way more than I did, but I would have never finished it. Then I introduced that thing about Claire toward the end and I honestly didn't plan on it, so that's a thing I have to elaborate on now lmao.
There's a lot I had to cut, like the typical way of that story about Patricius being told would be with audience participation, with the group howling when they get to the part where the faoladh howl lmao. It's also not usually told in English, so Fiadh had to cut details out while translating it on the fly. It's based around an actual legend about Saint Patrick! But do take her version with a grain of salt as well. The story is told in an oral tradition, so they don't actually know the original version of it. It's very possible that details got changed around from storyteller to storyteller.
I also wanted to write more about the idea of "tools" and their uses and Oliver's beliefs surrounding them. In a world where cyborgs are a thing, a lot of people in universe wonder "why don't you get a replacement arm?" He has an explanation that I've been wanting to put in here for a LONG time, but I can never make it fit! It's only like, 10% deep, though. Mostly it's just "I don't want to." He has his reasons, but it really just amounts to that, ultimately.
Then there's Claire... I thought the whole thing with her mom would be... too dark for this chapter. I feel like there's some conclusions you can draw from what we know about Feargus, but that's a lot to drop out of nowhere.
What else... I'm not really sure what to write about in the next chapter? I don't really think we should get back to Renee just yet, y'know? I have ideas, but I have several of them and I'd like y'all's input if you'd please. I'm leaning toward either Ciel or Jim angst, maybe both, but there's also some SamXGerry and their college adventures I need to get to, I'd like to write a little bit about what Dan's doing, lately, and whatever happened to that Johnathan-in-a-bottle? If you guys have any like, preference for what you wanna read, let me know. I'm not married to any of them at the moment. I will be soon, though; probably by Tuesday at the latest.
Bonus: Here's how you pronounce some of those names up there. (At least to my understanding...)
Fiadh-"Fee-a"
Saorsie-"Ser-sha"
Niamh-"Neev"
Siobhan-"Shiv-on"
Sinead-"Shin-aide"
I know that not knowing might make it a little hard to read... Inconvenient, since this is at the end, isn't it?
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
