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Description
Blair Havoc was leaning by the windowsill when Miguel spoke from his chair. Outside the moon was full and the forest was calling.

"Edgar's been acting up again."
"Oh, what's our boy done now?"
"He keeps getting into scapes in the school-yard. Jumping off trees, playing rough with the ball, grappling with orc kids. Just because a little cut or bruise heals instantly doesn't mean he's invincible."

Blair's blind eye was testament to that.

"It does mean he'll welcome his full lycanthropy like Nina her magic."
"When do you think he'll be able to shift?"
"I'd give him another four to five years, or so the other lycans say."
"Then I guess we better tell him the truth soon enough. He probably feels a little left out already since Nina has girl-talk with you and mage-talk with me. Regardless, even for an eight-year-old he needs to wise up."

Blair grinned when she spoke back.

"You know Miguel, if you tallied how long I've lived in human years alone you'd realise I'm technically fourteen," said the otherwise thirty-five year-old woman.

Miguel winced at the observation. Blair's background was a long story involving a wicked witch, a djinn, and a one-eyed wolf. At the very least she wasn't due any more excitement nor would she age faster than him.

"I honestly try not to think about that, Blair."
"I'll let Edgar in on a secret between just me and him, so long as he plays nice. But for now I must see to the other pack-members. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, my dear."

The Havocs were not a rich family but certainly well-off due to Miguel's investments in niches like shapeshifter-friendly clothes. So in one calculated tug Blair was able to slip off her dress as she shifted into a lycan before blowing Miguel a kiss, leaping out of the two-story window, and vanishing into the dark forest below. Not one for dramatics Miguel got out of his chair, picked up her dress, and hung it in her wardrobe while wishing Blair would take the back-door instead. Force of nature, he guessed.

Miguel was content not to be privy as to what went on in Blair's pack, just as he had his own going-ons in his private circle of mages. The one incident she told him about was when some upstart made a pass at her. The whelp tried convincing her into ditching her family so she could run free with him, a lycan who in his human hours slept on other peoples' couches and played the guitar badly at parties. The slap Blair gave him would have knocked an orc's head off and from then on Miguel took the precaution to memorize a fireball spell whenever he spotted the younger man in town.

Before dawn Miguel awoke but didn't stir. Like every second Sunday morning he heard an intruder clamber through the bedroom window. Smelling of spring-water, the beast would reach for a nearby towel and dry itself off. Then it would close in on Miguel, taking cover in the bedsheets before losing interest in its prey and dozing off. Fur would recede into skin, claws would soften into nails, and the exhausted Lycan would shift into a sleeping woman. Blair was not as stealthy as she thought, but Miguel knew better than to interrupt a ritual. Some hours before she would arise Blair would hear her family having breakfast downstairs. She took care to dampen her senses to human levels so she woudn't be overwhelmed by every sight, scent, and sound she'd encounter in everyday life. But no matter how she dulled her nose there was no stopping the strong smell of that damn dwarven coffee Miguel insisted on drinking. For her sake he kept the jar hermetically sealed when she was in the same room. How could he enjoy a beverage that tasted like mud? Force of habit, she guessed.

*

Commission drawn by Fokk3rs . Comments welcome.

Description
Blair Havoc was leaning by the windowsill when Miguel spoke from his chair. Outside the moon was full and the forest was calling.

"Edgar's been acting up again."
"Oh, what's our boy done now?"
"He keeps getting into scapes in the school-yard. Jumping off trees, playing rough with the ball, grappling with orc kids. Just because a little cut or bruise heals instantly doesn't mean he's invincible."

Blair's blind eye was testament to that.

"It does mean he'll welcome his full lycanthropy like Nina her magic."
"When do you think he'll be able to shift?"
"I'd give him another four to five years, or so the other lycans say."
"Then I guess we better tell him the truth soon enough. He probably feels a little left out already since Nina has girl-talk with you and mage-talk with me. Regardless, even for an eight-year-old he needs to wise up."

Blair grinned when she spoke back.

"You know Miguel, if you tallied how long I've lived in human years alone you'd realise I'm technically fourteen," said the otherwise thirty-five year-old woman.

Miguel winced at the observation. Blair's background was a long story involving a wicked witch, a djinn, and a one-eyed wolf. At the very least she wasn't due any more excitement nor would she age faster than him.

"I honestly try not to think about that, Blair."
"I'll let Edgar in on a secret between just me and him, so long as he plays nice. But for now I must see to the other pack-members. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, my dear."

The Havocs were not a rich family but certainly well-off due to Miguel's investments in niches like shapeshifter-friendly clothes. So in one calculated tug Blair was able to slip off her dress as she shifted into a lycan before blowing Miguel a kiss, leaping out of the two-story window, and vanishing into the dark forest below. Not one for dramatics Miguel got out of his chair, picked up her dress, and hung it in her wardrobe while wishing Blair would take the back-door instead. Force of nature, he guessed.

Miguel was content not to be privy as to what went on in Blair's pack, just as he had his own going-ons in his private circle of mages. The one incident she told him about was when some upstart made a pass at her. The whelp tried convincing her into ditching her family so she could run free with him, a lycan who in his human hours slept on other peoples' couches and played the guitar badly at parties. The slap Blair gave him would have knocked an orc's head off and from then on Miguel took the precaution to memorize a fireball spell whenever he spotted the younger man in town.

Before dawn Miguel awoke but didn't stir. Like every second Sunday morning he heard an intruder clamber through the bedroom window. Smelling of spring-water, the beast would reach for a nearby towel and dry itself off. Then it would close in on Miguel, taking cover in the bedsheets before losing interest in its prey and dozing off. Fur would recede into skin, claws would soften into nails, and the exhausted Lycan would shift into a sleeping woman. Blair was not as stealthy as she thought, but Miguel knew better than to interrupt a ritual. Some hours before she would arise Blair would hear her family having breakfast downstairs. She took care to dampen her senses to human levels so she woudn't be overwhelmed by every sight, scent, and sound she'd encounter in everyday life. But no matter how she dulled her nose there was no stopping the strong smell of that damn dwarven coffee Miguel insisted on drinking. For her sake he kept the jar hermetically sealed when she was in the same room. How could he enjoy a beverage that tasted like mud? Force of habit, she guessed.

*

Commission drawn by Fokk3rs . Comments welcome.