He doesn't expect Stinger.
Caine Wise expected a lot of things, fished out as he is from a passing shuttle, cruising as low as they dared before they docked into the larger ship, first-class battle cruiser, all gilded and stately. He expected one of the Entitled, one of the real people who needed his particular skill set. He expected an Entitled that has a more sadistic nature, that chose him at random because he's been on an exile colony and that meant a criminal that no one would miss. He doesn't expect the splice that had sacrificed everything for him: his wings, one of the highest positions they as fucking objects can get, the almost respect of being your own person. Nearly his life had the que of criminals waiting to be sentenced had been just a bit longer.
Caine stares, mouth a bit dry, a whine of… Something in the back of his throat at the sight of what he had once considered the leader of his pack, not that he would dare tell the bee-splice that.
He also doesn't expect Stinger to smile, slightly, before the fists go flying(though he did expect that).
He also doesn't expect the familiar, glorious buzz of Stinger's wings as he takes to the air, the incandescent flash of wings that has Caine's heart soaring for a fragment of a second. You got them back, the Verse can be kind when it wants to be. And then of course Stinger uses that second to kick Caine straight in the jaw. He falls to the ground, half the size of a regular Splice of his species, he still makes a shit ton of noise that hurts his sensitive ears as he goes down, two-hundred pounds of muscle hitting metal floors.
"Don't worry," that's Kiza, voice sweet and even, sounding so much older than before, "That's normal. Males mating rituals and all that."
A softer, sweeter voice hums.
"A little warning would have been nice," and the accent is almost like his, even and firm in what is a young voice, someone he would place as just an above a pup.
He smells her first, heavenly sweet and pure, clean scent that sends a shiver down his spine. He looks up, head ringing, towards the voice. It's just a girl, seemingly just on the cusp of puberty, eyes looking at him in a firm and unyielding way, curiously different colors a pale brown and pale green.
She's one of them.
She's dressed in the softest of pink, it drowns her, swallows her up, makes her thin and delicate limbs all the smaller. It looks like bubbles and water, the fabric that surrounds her. It's a mixture of smooth silk and transparent layers. It displays small bits of her skin, in places that are acceptable for her physical age, on her arms, on the crook of her neck. It's like a frothy cascade around her as if she was dressed in a pink river. It's an elaborate and juvenile sort of dress, something reflected in the perfect shapes of her make-up, circles of different shades of pink across her face, showing those different colored eyes off. Her hair is curled in stiff ringlet curls around her, following that pink river in a sable stream neatly past her waist.
She gives him a smile and it's something that makes his hackles rise. For it is sweet and true, but that is of course could be hiding what they all do, something darker. Something that makes him tense and want to growl.
"So you are the infamous Caine Wise," she says, calm as can be.
He wonders how old she is. There weren't many. But it wasn't unheard of bored Humans, of the really rich ones, to take away their age to such an extent that it reverses their body to a more infantile shape. It's an expensive, costly process of bathing for what he knows is up to several rounds, could take days depending on the effect they want. The Entitled has gone for the start of puberty, and he thinks it strange that she had chosen such an awkward point. He can see, little flaws, the slight uneven length of her limbs in comparison to her hands, the rough jut of baby fat blunting her cheekbones in an unflattering way. They usually don't do that, never chose a point of the cusp, it's all about beautiful extremes.
This one doesn't quite meet that extreme.
He doesn't respond. He stays down, head down, but as if it was just yesterday, he defers to Stinger. He knows Stinger is the reason he had been lifted from the colony, he knows it. Stinger had risen in the ranks again. It shows, in the wings, in the fact that Kiza had spoken to the fact that they got to beat the crap out of each other and this Entitled had hardly commented. The girl in pink frowns, at his lack of response maybe, but it's hard to tell with this type of being.
"You don't talk much, do you Caine Wise?" her voice is still even, but it dips, softer, and he sees her delicate brows furrow.
He does not shift, does not clench his fists. He keeps his head down, keeps himself submissive. Stinger lets out a breath and walks forward.
"He's confused," he says, calmly, walking forward, "But he's staying submissive and assessing the situation."
It doesn't escape Caine's notice that he does not walk past the girl, staying behind her by a good foot. Stinger is showing her respect and he wonders how the hell an Entitled got her hands on an Aegis battleship and a squad from the Legion in her goddamn pocket. The Entitled, looks to Stinger for a long moment. Then she turns her gaze back to him. Those different eyes look at him and Caine accidentally looks up.
Their gaze's lock.
He should back down. He knows he should. He's out of the Verse damn Exile-Colony, at this Human's whim, at the word of his former packmate, but he can't. Maybe it's because he's defective from birth, maybe it's because he's learned that backing down meant death in the Colony. But he can't take his gaze away from those different colored eyes. He is defiant and staring for a solid minute.
A smile curls on her lips, just slightly, and it's oddly rough on her soft face.
"He doesn't seem to back down. So much for submissive."
Her voice is challenging and thought it's smarter, though something in him is screaming, he can't take away his eyes. He can't. Stinger gives another sigh.
"I told you he didn't, even when he should, Caine damn it."
The girl is the one to look away. Despite himself, it feels like a victory to Caine. She looks to Stinger with impossibly gentle eyes.
"It's okay. He's safe here, Stinger, just you and Kiza. No one is to disturb you until I give the go-ahead. I gave the order the second they dropped him in."
That seems to be all that Stinger needs because he brushes past the Entitled as if he has every damn right too, and Kiza is on his heels. The embrace should distress him, should worry him and confuse him. But his own body is already moving, already reaching for the small pack he had been taken from. He holds tight and he soothes when poor Kiza starts to cry in earnest.
The Entitled lets them, giving them a semblance of privacy by turning her back, making her way out of the room without another word.
It's the turned back that really gets him. Because he has never seen an Entitled do that- not when they are alone with three splices meant for war, not when they're in the room with him. The runt, the wrong one. But she does it. She leaves them to their reunion, as it's their right, as if they can feel too and it isn't a disturbance.
Caine wonders what the hell Stinger is bringing him into.
AN:
I PRESENT MY LOVELIES, MISTER CAINE WISE, THE LOVE INTEREST.
Wolf Angel BOOOOOI in the house!
AND NO ICKY ROMANCE STUFF IS GONNA HAPPEN UNTIL JUPES IS LIKE, MINIMUM 20 OR SO. Hints of attraction when she's like a late teenager? Yes. But no actual romance until she is like in her twenties. THERE'S MORE ENTITLED SHINEGANS TO GET THROUGH AND CAINE IS LIKE 200 OR SO. SO. NO. UNDER. AGE. ROMANCE WITH A 12-YEAR-OLD.
WE COOL?
We cool.
In my defense, it is a SLOW BURN. Ya'll should've gotten the hint that Romance wasn't gonna happen for a while when I introduced the main lead a HUNDRED AND FOUR chapters in.
And…
Yeah.
Love ya?
~Be Safe, Be Well,
Moon Witch '96