I saw that glaze and glitch in your eyes // Drabble
There was something in the eyes of brave people, something… special,one could say. Some sort of a sparkle, a little glimmer of a flame that let one know this one wouldn’t mind to watch the world burn. You could always tell if you know where to look, if you could see it. And Alastair did. It was precisely why he was not on a hunt tonight, thoroughly enjoying the thrill of running after a horrified person. The wolf in him was already clawing on the inside at the mere thought but he pushed it down. Just this once he would not allow himself the frivolity of a chase. Not that kind of chase, at least.
Nimble fingers traveled to the knot of his tie to finish the Windsor as his mind wondered back to the morning. It was in a cheap hotel room above a previously crowded marketplace in a small village in Southern Germany that the evening found him. The middle of nowhere, many would say and they would not be entirely wrong - not many people dare live this close to the forests these days, especially if it is the Gerwulf forests we were speaking of. The very notion made Alastair’s lips stretch, a grimace that on anyone else would be horrifying (on him it was even more so), but if one knew him better, they could tell it was actually a victorious smile. Everyone was scared of his pack now. As they should be. They all had better cower at the name of Alastair Gerwulf. If not… well, there were ways to convince them, weren’t there?
Yet right now he was not overtly concerned of convincing anyone of his superiority. Anyone save for one person, that was - the very reason he was thinking of the morning. That very same morning he was roaming the small market, looking for nothing in particular. He feared not he might be recognized - everyone who had laid their eyes on the legendary Gerwulf Alpha were either six-feet-under or simply scared into submission. Unlike most leaders, he did not intend to turn his personna into a circus animal, even if a rather ferocious one. You needed to be a complete imbecile to place your head on the line just for the sake of matching a name to a face. It made you appear mortal and mortality was weakness - it was in the definition of it. No, people needed to feel as though you were a legend, a shadow, a being equal parts human and God-like. Then they would fear you like they feared no other man. Even as he was walking, he overheard a couple of elderly man discussing his pack’s latest hunt in hushed whispers. He couldn’t help but smirk a little at how thrilling it was even after all those years.
That was when he caught sight of a red piece of fabric that danced through the crowd and out of sight.
Red was rare these days - especially this blood red. It was the Gerwulf pack’s sigil. The color that stood proudly on the flags hanging on the outside of his castle was not for mortal men to wear and he had made sure to leave the Aurors a couple of souvenirs which made the press explode with grand titles and photos of the color. It worked like clock-work - ever since the bodies were found, less and less people started wearing the color. Therefore, had he been any other man, he’d think he was hallucinating. But he wasn’t any other man.
The red scarf danced before his eyes again, this time contrasting against the black robe of its wearer. A woman. How daring of her. He was interested all of a sudden. Was she foreign? Probably. Germans were too cowardly to challenge him these days. It was pitiful, really.
Suddenly, she turned, letting the light glide down her face. She was young, no older than thirty, he could tell, dressed in a dark robe that fluttered as the autumn wind blew around them. Right now, she was standing in front of one of the stands, looking at the produce with what seemed to be utter disinterest. Suddenly, the seller, an old and rather ugly woman, spoke to her, gesturing at her scarf. The young one immediately replied, then laughed shaking her head in what clearly was irony. So she had ignored the warning. Part of Alastair knew he should feel the need to seek revenge for this disrespect but a larger part of him was getting increasingly more intrigued. Wolves, even if they were predators, were rather curious beings and so was he. Right now, he decided to refrain from judgment on the affront. There would be plenty of time for him to change his mind if he found her unworthy of her time on the planet, after all.
Calmly, he sauntered over to her, pretending to be looking at the produce as his gaze hovered over the pile of apples in front of her as he approached. “Bold choice of color”, he spoke casually like your average neighbor would, with just the slightest of tints of curiosity lacing his tone, as he picked an apple up from the pile and turned it around in his hand for a second to give it a good look. “Now why would that be?” came the reply, just as casually, but from the corner of his vision, he could see her smirking. “You do know what red means around here”, he stated simply, lifting his eyes to her. There was no need to turn it into a question. “I do”, she agreed, with a simple nod, not lifting her eyes to him. A moment passed with neither saying anything, his eyes fixed on her face. She was beautiful in a way, too plain to be exactly his type but still, there was a certain charm in the way her blond hair framed her oval face. Feeling his gaze on her, she blushed a little and it was his turn to smirk now, eyes still not leaving her. “I do not fear him”, she said eventually, lifting her eyes to meet his. At that, he simply arched an eyebrow, a small smirk dancing again briefly on his lips. “I don’t think you should fear a men you’ve never met”, she added with a little bit more of a harsh resolve in her soft voice but held his gaze still. It was admirable. Not many could stand looking into his dark brown eyes for this long. She was a curious case indeed. “And if you happen to meet him?” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug as a reply, as she tilted her head in thought. “I will decide whether to fear him after I’ve met him”, she concluded calmly. Bold, this one, was his immediate reaction. Yet it was… refreshing for the lack of a better term. Not many dared speak like that of him. It was a challenge in a way. Yet her tone was not challenging as well. She spoke of it the way one spoke of a simple fact – no emotion whatsoever.
From there on, it was fairly easy – they conversed a little, flirted just slightly and eventually, she agreed to meet him at the pub that evening. Of course, he had lied about who he was at her questions – a traveler from Berlin, his usual guise, here to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It was believable if one did not know him. As for her, she was a local, born and raised here - she didn’t even need to say it for him to know. No one ever came here for other reasons.
So here he was, in the evening, slowly making his way from his room down the stairs of the dimly-lit pub to sit away from the raucous crowd of drunkards near the bar. If he had not set his mind on something else, they would all be lying in a pool of blood mixed with beer by now. Maybe later. Right now, he still needed to decide if she would live to see the morning – a dare to the Gerwulfs could not be passed up easily and yet, such calmness… it was rare. It would be up to how she acted that evening then. If only she had known, she would’ve chosen something less tacky, he noted mentally as she walked in through the door. At least she still had the scarf on. It would make a good souvenir, in the very least.
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