ArchivedLogs:New Family

New Family
Dramatis Personae Anette, Daken, Killian
In Absentia	2015-09-24 "You're welcome to trust him. Doesn't change how this is going to end."
Location <BOM> Common Room - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
It's late at night, late enough that most of the Brotherhood is long gone to bed. Even the more nocturnal ones are beginning to settle down for the night. Foot traffic is limited to a couple stray stragglers sneaking into the kitchen for late-night snacks but otherwise it's quiet. Anette seems to have taken residence on the couch and is fast asleep, wings spread lazily, her bad leg propped on some pillows, and hair tangled across her face. She's definitely out. The only thing on is the TV showing late night infomercials and ads for phone sex but it's been muted so it just casts an eerie glow on the room. A few members here or there pass by still, though few and far between given the hour. At some point long after many had fallen asleep, the newly resident canine arrived in the commons with the soft clicking of nails, the typical loosely stalking gait of the border collie it is. Perhaps an hour or so ago, it had jumped up onto the couch with Anette, tucked in the narrow space between the pillows propping her bad leg up and the armrest of the couch itself. Its black upper furcoat makes it fairly well-camouflaged in the dark room, though the intermittent brightening of the TV's glow is perhaps too-telling of the extra creature on the couch. Currently, its ears are gently lowered, eyes closed and fast asleep. Occasional twitching of one of those ears lends to suggestion of dream-state; sticks, tennis balls, knives. A mixture of man and canid beast. Daken is finally clearing out of the training room, dressed in loose fitting black pants and a white wife beater with a liberal amount of both long dried and fresh blood splattered across the front of it. He turns to look at Anette's sleeping form, but his nostrils flare instead and his eyebrows furrow. He moves quietly to the front of the couch, eye's falling on the dog. A low growl rumbles in the old mutant's throat before barking out, "I suggest you wake the fuck up." more than loud enough to wake the sleeping pair up. Not used to being woken in such a way, Anette is very groggy as she slowly begins stirring. "Heyasweetie, wassamatter?" she asks, slowly sitting up as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes. It takes a moment for her mind to begin functioning again but when it does, she notices the dog sleeping at the end of the bed. "Fuck, shit what the /hell/ Killian?!" she yells, not-so-gently kicking the dog off the couch with her good leg. "I swear to god, Daken, it's nothing like it looks like..." she quickly says, some panic leaking into her voice as she grabs her crutches from where they lay beside her and slowly stands up. The dog mustn't have been too solidly asleep because its intense brown eyes are open by the time Daken starts to speak. Both ears flick towards him, one briefly rotating to Anette at her words, and then back with marked attention on the one in front of it. Black nares flare at the sent of blood, sweat, and although he doesn't move at first despite the verbal warning from Daken. Toes, doggish claws curl over the edge of the couch as if prepared to move. It's ultimately the kick that sends the dog off, though it turns to climb over and propel itself off of the armrest of the couch rather than directly crossing Daken's path. It shakes once after landing, but he doesn't shift back yet, standing squarely in front of the both of them even if multiple paces away, watching each in turn- with an obvious bias of lingering on Daken. The sound of tearing flesh and the smell of fresh blood accompany the sight of Daken's claws slowly emerging. "I suggest you shift back and get to explaining yourself." His voice is oddly calm, but his face is the picture of anger, snarl exposing his elongated canines. He takes a few steps towards Anette, clearly aiming to put himself between her and the dog. "Daken, no, don't. Just breathe..." Anette says, taking a few steps herself to put herself between the two. Of course, her steps are quite a bit slower. "Trust me, I'm not exactly thrilled but if you wouldn't let me kill B, I'm not letting you kill him." She turns to face Killian herself, yellows narrowed. "What the fucking hell were you /doing/?" she asks, loudly and coldly. Black and white fur melts away into black hair, tanned skin, and clothing. Bones crepitate and transform, and as Killian stands to human height from the crouch the change had left him in, the loss of his muzzle grants first simply, "Yo." He rolls his shoulders, stretching out the lingering stiffness, and whatever discomfort remains. He doesn't appear ready to fight, not yet, though he faces the man in such a way that it wouldn't be difficult to switch into a better posture. Really, he looks more tired than anything. At least his face isn't crafted in smug humor- just a faint grin in the face of Daken's anger. "No harm, old man. Didn't touch her." He breathes a slight chuckle. "Too much time with'a dog brain," Is mused half-heartedly, eyes narrowed dramatizing that as he taps a finger on his temple, "Craves company in strange places." "If you ever do something like this again I'll cut your fucking head off. It won't be a thing either, because I won't be playing around. I promise you you won't enjoy it." Daken says darkly, claws in his left hand retracting so he can step forward and rest it on Anette's shoulder. "And in case you aren't following what I'm saying, you'd better not joke. Just say yes sir, and get the fuck out of here." Anette is apparently ok with Daken postponing the threat instead of retracting it altogether as she remains silent and allows him to put his hand on her shoulder. Killian's not out of hot water either. "Seriously, what the hell were you thinking?" she asks, staring directly at him, not amused. "Do you know how much shit I got for being 'playful' when you helped me? Do you /really/ think he's not going to kill you when he sees you...like that?" Killian lifts both hands in his shrug briefly, answering them both, "Easier to sense what's goin' on when I'm not like-" As words trail off, a hand lazily indicates himself as he lets them both fall back to his sides. But part of that is amusing to him, even if he's annoyed enough to set his jaw, "Told you that before, a'least." He tips a nod to Anette. "Guess I shouldn't care so much on this little island. My fucking big heart and all. Guess it's hard to break habits and shit." That comment is two-folded, his tone darkly sarcastic. "Like what?" He clearly ignores the 'yes sir' suggestion. "Like a fucking dog on a couch sleeping? You'd rather a kitten?" "But it wasn't a fucking dog. It was a bitch that's looking to get put down." Daken retorts, anger seeping back into his voice. "Maybe I need to beat your ass in front of the rest of the brotherhood, teach you some goddamned respect. And you can bet your fucking ass I won't drag it out like I did behind the safe house." His hand falls from Anette's shoulder and he takes another step forward. "Or are you going to be a good boy and get the fuck out of here?" "Daken, wait..." Anette says, quickly moving between the two men and fully facing Daken, her back to Killian. She places a hand on Daken's arm gently. "Beating him isn't going to help anything. Look, maybe...maybe he's telling the truth." She drops her voice to a calm, quiet tone, speaking privately to Daken though it's still loud enough for Killian to hear if he so chooses to listen. "From what I've seen, his mutation is very...well, it's consuming. I really don't think he meant anything by it. Maybe...maybe he really was thinking like a dog and not a human and just wanted a comfy spot to sleep." She turns her head, Exorcist style, to glance at Killian thoughtfully before turning back to Dake. "Look, maybe it's because he did save my life but I kinda trust him. If he had any ill intentions, that was the time to act on it. But he didn't." "No intention of putting up with that shit, yo." Killian's not in the mood for joking with this, but there is the hint of a confused hesitation after the first 'correction.' "Ain't stupid enough to play your fucking games again. Respect." He rolls his eyes, a 'tsch' noise hissed under his breath. "Right, asshole. Like you know much about that." The metamorph doesn't move even as Daken moves that step forward, his own expression rather ugly, annoyed, dangerous in itself with his knitted brow and narrowed glare which flashes strangely in the TV's light as if the reflective retinal tapetum of some species changes in the back of his eyes for that moment. The green-yellow glow vanishes as his attention flickers to Anette for the length she speaks. "It's fine, Anette." Regardless of how much or how little of it that he hears of her backing him up. Some thought crosses his mind that crafts a brief smirk, but it remains unsaid. Instead, "Don't think he'd hear a damn word of it anyway." "You're welcome to trust him. Doesn't change how this is going to end." Daken retracts the rest of his claws, gaze only on Killian. "And you. I expect to see you downstairs in the morning. Training starts early, and you have a good bit of work to do before you can fight without your mutation. Don't give a fuck how much we don't like each other, you aren't going to fuck around and get any of my family killed because you can't hang with the big boys." "Seriously Daken, calm down," Anette says firmly, not moving as she stares Daken down. "He hasn't done anything wrong. You are not going anywhere near him until you can stop being a jealous ass. We've talked about this already." She rotates her head again, offering Killian a strained smile. "The cast is coming off in a few days. If you'd like to survive your training session, I'm willing to fight. I may not be as good as Daken but I can hold my own." Head rotates back to Daken, her face serious. "Because I love you, stop." Killian's focus remains on Daken as he speaks, a brow raising in suspicion of it all. "..Right." Though what that's to, he doesn't clarify. His gaze lingers on the pair as he starts to turn a shoulder as if indicating his intention to finally leave, the remnant of that smirk of before turning into a muted grin and a breath of a half-hearted chuckle. "Your family." He echoes as he looks away from the pair of them, hushed to the point of almost being in-audible. Anette's offer gets a shake of his head as he takes a few steps, watching his steps and then a glance at the door before back, "I'm goin'." The shifter says at normal volume, with a hand waved dismissive. Or maybe it's a wave, but it certainly looks the former. And the fact that he doesn't even mention the offer of training? He gives no hint of an answer to it. "They might not like me, but they're family." Daken says after Killian finally leaves, exhaling with a huff. "I love you too. And please don't be training immediately after that get's removed. With out luck you'll end up back in one." A hand comes up to rub at his cheek, "I'm getting too old for this shit." "And like it or not, Killian is family now, too." Anette says, side glancing over her shoulder as Killian turns to leave with a frustrated sigh. "For once, you'll actually believe I can take care of myself," she says, turning around fully and heading for the door herself. With no more words, he either ignores the rest of what's said or doesn't hear it. Killian reaches the door to pull the handle, and just as it swings open his form, silhouetted by the faint glow of the night outside, shrinks and changes until from human it becomes the outline of some bird of prey. Likely a falcon of some degree given its size and sharp wing tips noted as it spreads them. The bird ducks out on the porch readied with wings flared, and then it takes off into the night in the direction of the city.