inseine: (Default)
Inspector Javert ([personal profile] inseine) wrote in [community profile] tushanshu_logs2013-09-24 11:43 pm

A Werewolf and a Sorcerer Walk Into A Café...

Characters: Javert and Lyall
Date: September 24th
Location: A café in the Earth Sector, quite near the border to the fire sector
Situation: Javert and Lyall have a run-in at the beginning of the mis-spell shenanigans. Abilities-switching ensues.
Warnings/Rating: Possible language and adult themes, nothing too terrible.

Javert was taking his early morning breakfast at a modest café between the Earth and Fire Sectors, watching a young but rather elegant young man take a seat at the table in front of him, when a strange and violent feeling struck.

It began as a burning sensation at his forehead, somewhere between an itch and a sear like the familiar zap he experienced in his Charter Mark whenever folks that possessed magic approached him. The burning spread swiftly, and he bent his head and smacked the heal of his palm against his forehead, and for a single horrified moment he wondered if this meant Malicant has come for him again. But just as swiftly as it began, the burning dissolved, and he was left with a cold and hollow feeling in his head and gut.

Then came the smells. The overwhelming smells, from the now-repulsive bitterness of his coffee to the remnants of stale cologne worn about three days past by the man lurking in the corner-table. Smells from the café kitchen, smells from the neighboring kitchen, scents and odors that he never noticed before with such sharpness and acuity. Sickeningly sweet pastry. Cigarettes, one hour stale. Perfume, lightly applied to the nape of the neck. Slight differences in body sweat from one individual to the next. The stench of the neighboring table's breath. And--

Meat. Raw, bloody, tinny meat, from somewhere in the back, yet to be tainted by the frying pan or the grill.

Javert rose from his seat so abruptly he nearly knocked his chair back. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself. All of this happened so quickly, that he was having difficulty registering his overwhelmed and reeling senses.

The other patrons would be hard-pressed not to notice a pallid, grim, and stern man sweep his way in a hurry to the men's room, nose twitching and twisting in disgust as he struggled to maintain composure and a sound grip in the public eye. Once in the restroom, he all but dove for the sink, twisting the knobs all the way to cold and valiantly attempting to splash the spell out of him.

Splash.

Splish.

Splash--

Then he glanced at his sopping wet self in the mirror and gave a dreadful, disquieted pause.

Something was different. It took him a moment to notice, to realize what had changed.

His Charter Mark had completely disappeared from his forehead.

Several months ago he might have celebrated its disappearance. Now, he felt severely ill-at-ease.

Something has happened to him that he cannot explain.
cravats: (delicate questions)

[personal profile] cravats 2013-09-25 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
Lyall was stopping for a late supper before returning to the blessed embrace of home and bed when it happened. At first it felt almost like he was suddenly taking a cold- his senses blurred and dulled back to what he knew was the normal human level, stealing away the sharp acuity with which he smelled and heard the world.

Then there was a sharp pain in his forehead. He clapped his hand to it- as subtly as he could perform such a violent motion- and bit back the groan with long practice. The pain faded quickly enough, though it left him gasping for breath. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that he was once again human.

Well, that was inconvenient. Then the man next to him bolted up from his seat and ran- well, perhaps that was too undignified a word- to the washroom. His nose was twitching and he looked as though he might be ill. If that wasn't a sign that something was up, Lyall was a puppy.

He followed him in, eyeing the splashy mess with one sandy eyebrow raised. "Are you quite well, sir?" Then he caught sight of his own face and its recent addition. "What the devil is that?"
cravats: (not at all taken aback)

HURRAY!!!

[personal profile] cravats 2013-09-30 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
In the privacy of his own home, Lyall would have allowed himself a period of shock and adjustment. However, faced with a stranger whose eyes had most certainly just flashed gold and who was growling at him- not to mention behaving in a most unwarranted imperious way- he could do nothing but face it with every atom of composure at his disposal. He drew himself up to his full height (which was nothing like Javert's) and eyed him with a steady hazel gaze. "I've not the least notion of how it came to be on my face. I am certain I had nothing to do with it."

His mind was working double-time- the gentleman seemed to be a werewolf, but only recently he had borne the mark that Lyall now carried. That would imply that their powers had unaccountably traded places. That meant Lyall was human.

That meant that this unfortunate gentleman was in for a rough time. It was fortunate that the full moon had passed, but it was recent enough that his changes might be unpredictable if he couldn't get hold of himself. At least it was daylight enough that a full change would be impossible. Still, it was likely that the onslaught of novel werewolf instincts would overwhelm him. Lyall would have to play the beta without any of the advantages of the position besides his long experience. "Calm yourself, sir. I'm sure there's an explanation for it, though I can't claim to know it. Take my handkerchief and dry yourself- dripping everywhere is hardly going to improve your mood."
Edited 2013-09-30 03:38 (UTC)
cravats: (very composed)

[personal profile] cravats 2013-10-01 03:51 am (UTC)(link)
"As you like," Lyall answered, folding the handkerchief crisply and tucking it away again. It was just as well not to waste it, since it was clean and it was occasionally difficult to find ones that were just to his taste. He kept an eye on Javert as he did, judging that his mood was not dangerous. Daylight or no, he would have to remember that the newly-minted werewolf was much stronger than he was and behave accordingly.

"Yes, I was going home to bed." He had no objection to telling the strange gentleman that. He would need Lyall's help before this was through- for information, if nothing else. Behaving on instinct put you on the level of the animals. Knowing what was going on was much better. "My name is Randolph Lyall. I manage a clinic in the Fire District. And you are?"

He hadn't missed the monogram on the handkerchief, and was assuming that it was his new acquaintance's, of course.
cravats: (don't weasel out of this)

[personal profile] cravats 2013-10-02 04:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Lyall stared back, his gaze politely blank, as he nodded in agreement. "Yes, at dawn. Someone must work nights, after all, and I am quite accustomed to it. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Javert."

Niceties must be observed, of course, even if someone is leaning in slightly too close for comfort. Lyall decided that it was perhaps time to go on the attack- in a manner of speaking, of course, as he had no intention of fighting with this man. And there was something tickling the very edges of his memory, something he had heard from the Howlers- a creature that could steal the powers of werewolf or vampire. He did not think that was the case here, however.

"I am not the only one in this room who could be accused of stealing another's powers," he observed, his voice gaining a very mild edge. "If I have sapped your powers, then you have most certainly bent mine away from me. Your behaviour is just as suspicious, sir."

He paused and then just had to point out the obvious. "Besides, if I had intended to steal your powers, I would not have followed you in here after I'd done it and revealed my crime."
cravats: (if i may...)

[personal profile] cravats 2013-10-07 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
At least Mr. Javert was capable of admitting that he was wrong, which made some of Lyall's stiffness fade away. Whatever he'd gained from Javert was easy enough to deal with, it seemed- he'd had no strange feelings or urges. The opposite was not the case for a newly-made wolf. Javert would need his help.

He hesitated, considering what exactly Javert would need to know first and how to explain it to someone like the gentleman in question, who seemed unlikely to take it well. "I don't know if you've ever heard of werewolves, Mr. Javert, but you now have the joy of becoming intimately acquainted with their nature."

His voice was as wry as Javert's smile. "You've noticed your new sense of smell already. There are other factors as well, thankfully mitigated by the daylight. You have a slight reprieve."