come_sailaway | winning, but at what cost

Who: Ylva and any concerned parties?
What: Ylva got in a fight with a cat, and now she's off to lick her wounds.
When: mid-to-late October, before the party, after this altercation with Siffleur
Where: The buffet
CW: Some blood and wound talk.

She won. The important thing is that she won.

Or so Ylva keeps telling herself. She's tougher than she looks, and can take a lot of punishment, but she can't stop thinking about some of the things Siffleur said to her before she shook him in her jaws like an errant pup and told him he wasn't worth killing. It isn't often that she is mocked for her very-canine-desire to be appreciated and trusted, to be liked, and he's just a stupid cat and cats are always by themselves, he's wrong and she knows he's wrong, but why does it bother her?

She never did ask his name.

At any rate, here she is in Windjammer's, in a far corner with a plate of dino nuggets, a large slab of meatloaf, and a large pile of raspberries. At the moment, though, she has her shirt pulled up, running her hand over the wounds on her side. The cuts close behind the touch of her hand, the flesh knitting back together into some bright pink scars, though her blood remains. Sighing, she takes some of the huge pile of paper napkins and, wincing a little, starts wiping herself clean.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Possessed? Oh, I don't know, I never met him before."

Ah, wet wipes. So incredibly useful for those of us who do not have prestidigitation. She tears one open and starts cleaning herself up. See, she's fine. "He's a dumb cat who was down in the Promenade actively trying to hunt people."

She snorts, and tosses the wipe down on the table before sinking down sulkily in her seat. "He seemed to think it was really funny that I objected."

"Hunting ... by the Goddess. Can I -- ?" Dimitri indicates the seat opposite Ylva. "I'm afraid I don't follow. What do you mean by a cat? Was he a black cat, by any chance?"

She waves a hand at the seat in acceptance.

"No, not black. A mountain lion, a cougar. He's some sort of shapeshifter, maybe a werecat, I'm not really sure. Not exactly like me, but. Not really all that different from me, either."

Ylva grabs a nuggie from her plate, stuffs it in her face whole, and lays her head down the table, chewing angrily.

"A cougar. Flames." Dimitri drops into the chair and buries his face in his hands. "Of all the things I expected to deal with this month -- I didn't expect to deal with any of this month, but Goddess. Alright. I'll warn people about the man-eating cougar on top of everything else ... I'm glad you're alright."

He looks up from his hands, and reevaluates the situation.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. He clawed me pretty good, but I can heal the worst of it myself. Nothing I haven't had before."

She is totally fine. Totally.

"I didn't kill him. I could've killed him, and he would've killed me, but I didn't kill him. Should I have killed him? I mean, I might not have a choice next time."

"If he wouldn't come back, I'd say yes without question. But he would, so ... I don't know. Perhaps sparing him made a note effective statement." Dimitri sighs.

"Why did you spare him?"

"I don't know."

She sounds miserable. "I had his neck in my teeth and I could have, but... I don't know, Dimitri, he thought it was funny that I cared about people getting hurt, and that I didn't want him murdering people. We fought and I got him easy, and I was so angry, but I really just wanted him to know that I could kill him, if I wanted to."

Ylva is quiet for a moment, then adds, "He said I'm strange. I know I'm strange, but usually people don't say it like... that."

"Of all the people to wind up here ... I suppose we're lucky we haven't had one already." Dimitri growls. "People like him think they can do whatever they please, just because they're strong. They think that care and kindness are lies dreamed up by the weak to protect themselves. And when they meet someone like you or me -- someone who's strong enough to behave as they do, but who refuses, and refuses to allow them to do the same -- they think we're the fools. That those they call weak have tricked us into being pets and watchdogs. They can't imagine choosing to care for others without being deceived or forced."

After a moment, Dimitri shakes his head, settling. " ... I'm making several assumptions, but I know the type."

She listens to this, some of the tension melting out of her. "No. No, that. Makes sense. And I mean, he's a cat. Cats tend to be loners at the best of the times. No sense of pack, no sense of family."

Ylva takes a couple raspberries from her plate and pops them in her mouth, then slides the plate towards Dimitri in case he wants some of her berries or chicken nuggets.

"That sort of thing scares people. And he wants that. And I don't want... Dimitri, I don't want people to be scared of me because I'm a little bit like him."

winning, but at what cost

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