→ for which I have to howl.

[lupa]

Who: GG Giordano, Cliona Donovan
What: They're brought to Baedal together, a reunion somewhat marred by the fact that GG's sanity is apparently due to arrive a while after she does.
Where: An arrival room in the Valhalla Inn.
When: Coardi.
Notes: rrrrrr.
Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of murder, nudity, probable foul language and discussion of torture. More TBA.

At least he's dead. Some people bring items to Baedal; GG, aside from a pile of dirty, sturdy clothes, brings a chunk of flesh in her teeth; the best part of a man's neck. So: she may be mad, she may be dead, may be captured, may have broken all of her own rules and done something terrible and horrible like she has always always wanted to and she may not regret it at all, but at least he's dead.

--is what GG will think later. Right now, she isn't thinking in words, but in smells and sights and feelings, flashes of instinct which cross paths in her mind and go straight to her paws.

This isn't where she was a moment ago. She took that bite and worried that flesh away, and then she couldn't hear him screaming, was tumbling, and landed- where?

Sight doesn't chime in as much as her other senses do, her hearing and her sense of smell, the fact that it's warmer here, wherever she is, wherever she's locked and whoever's taken her. She can smell people, so many of them, not all of them humans, in and out of this room all day long, their scents fading but distinct, cleaning supplies, she can smell fear and sweat and panic.

Somewhere in the backseat of her brain her rational thoughts are screaming Numen, Crisse, it must be Numen, how--

The wolf can't remember what Numen is, only that a) she is in danger and b) she is not alone.

The faerie smells like the earth after rain, with the scent of unwashed skin and hospitals and chemicals overlaid over that, an ugly mishmash of scents which she can almost see in streaks of orange and grey, sickly colours, on her tongue more than in her nose.

The same human rationale that knows what Numen is is screaming at the wolf, no no no no!

And the wolf, scared, whimpering, snarling, backed into a corner, does not listen- and springs.