12436/The Leader of the Pack

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The Leader of the Pack
Date of Scene: 11 August 2022
Location: 105 W 29th - Jon and Cael's Apartment
Synopsis: Assailed by doubts, and haunted by the blood on her hands, Cael returns home after taking over the pack on the full moon. Jon manages to reassure her - for the most part - because that's what boyfriends are for.
Cast of Characters: Cael Becker, Jonathan Sims




Cael Becker has posed:
    As Jon opens a door for them in the wee hours of the morning, Cael strides through it and back into her apartment. Could she trust her newly won pack to continue to honor her rules without her presence. Could she trust her new enforcer, Silas, to watch over things in her absence?
    Could she risk staying and letting them see just how much doubt, and pain, and anguish she was carrying with her?
    She really can't - and that's what propels her back into her own apartment, and straight towards the bathroom. She's still a hulking figure - seven feet tall, and covered with a thin fur. She pushes the bathroom door, and it swings partially closed behind her - and moments later the sound of wretching can be heard. There isn't much in her stomach - only bile, and stomach acid, but she expels it from her stomach before wiping at her snout with one grotesque, clawed hand. How can something to large, and powerful, and dangerous - look so lost, and vulnerable, and confused?
    Has she made a mistake? Is she in over her head?
    Is she a monster after all? She killed eleven people tonight. //Eleven.// With her own hands...

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Fifty some-odd statements would seem like enough to keep the Archive sated for a good long while, but Jon knows it'll only give him a couple days' leeway at most. Maybe an extra week, before he starts craving a live statement again. Maybe more. It's filling, regardless, and he seems much more confident in his duties as Archivist now. He's stern-faced as Cael carries out sentences, projecting calm confidence for the benefit of her position as head of the pack.

    As soon as he's opened the door and shuffled Cael through, he dismisses the superhero outfit, leaving himself in t-shirt and jeans. She heads toward the bathroom, and he calls, "If you want to shift back, I can pull out pajamas." His voice is soothing. "I think the moon's set."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...yeah," Cael confirms quietly. "Yeah, pajamas would be nice." She stays where she is for the moment though, tears running down her cheeks and onto her snout as she keeps her head lowered over the bowl of the toilet.
    Eventually, though, she pushes herself to her feet - only to find herself staring into a mirror at a face she doesn't recognize as her own. Could this really be a good thing, like Jon seemed to believe? Could she let herself believe that? Did she have any choice but to accept it? Especially now?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon goes to pull out a set of pajamas from Cael's dresser, carefully laying them out on the bed. Then he goes to stand next to the bathroom door, leaning against it with his brow furrowed.

    "I laid something out for you." He frowns. "Do you... I could go make something light to eat before we go to bed. Or I can come in there, if you want the company? It's... really up to you, love."

    He swallows. "I know... I know how hard this is. Trust me... I know. But I'm here, okay? In whatever capacity you need."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael doesn't answer immediately, as she continues to stare at the unfamiliar face in the mirror. It's not //her.// It doesn't feel, or look like her. She never chose this. Eventually, though, she turns and pulls the door back open to look down at Jon - towering over them.
    That doesn't feel right, either.
    "I feel like a monster," she says to them - looking down at her clawed hands, and then holding them out towards Jon as if for them to study. Her hands are clean - she'd washed them in the river after the last of the executions, but can you really wash all the blood away? "I look like a monster."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs, and reaches out to take one of Cael's huge hands, holding it carefully in his own. "To most people, you look like a monster, yes. Large, and strange, and many people would be frightened of you. But I'm not." He looks up at her--and, yes, /up/ is strange--but he smiles, and reaches up to press a hand to the side of her face.

    "I'm not going to judge a 'monster' based on its looks, though. Plenty of beautiful-looking things turn out monstrous. Saint Michael was beautiful. Jonah Magnus had honeyed words and a slick smile. The Not-Rien didn't /look/ evil and terrible. She was just... not Rien."

    His eyes are heavy, and sad. "But what you did tonight--it was reasoned, and thoughtful. We gave those people every chance to turn away from the path they were on. The few who /had/ enjoyed killing but changed their minds from seeing the pain they caused--you didn't kill them. Only the ones that wouldn't swear to change. Would it have been better to just leave the pack there, under that mystic's control? Or to leave all the ones who refused to listen, to go out and kill more people next full moon?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael's fingers are gentle as they close around Jon's hand in return, clinging to his touch, and turning her head into his hand, while staring into his eyes with undisguisd need.
    "I killed eleven people tonight. I didn't want so many deaths." More tears streak down her cheeks, as she struggles to make sense of the horrible choices she'd felt forced to make.
    They wouldn't have accepted anyone else as leader. If she wanted them to do good, instead of evil - she had to maake them respect her. She had to be strong. She had to remove the poisonous elements. This was the best of the options available to her - wasn't it?
    "...you feel safer with me like this?" she asks softly. Her own voice sounds unfamiliar in her ears - it was something else she was still struggling to adjust to.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I know you didn't. I didn't either. I wish we could've thought of another way." Jon swallows, brow furrowing briefly in a frown. "But you make choices, and you live with the consequences, you know? And those people you killed--they made choices, too. You're not responsible for the choices they made. You're only responsible for what /you/ did in response. Despite what I said--handing them over to the justice system exposes the whole pack to getting drawn in. What you chose was about letting the others wipe the slate clean, and protecting innocents in the future."

    A pause, to consider how to respond. "I feel safe with /you/, whatever your form. I know you love me, and you'll protect me. But I didn't fall in love with... blonde hair and blue eyes and tattoos. I fell in love with this." He presses his hand, and hers, to her chest. To her heart. "I love you, Cael Becker, no matter what you look like, and no matter what you do. If you do something truly monstrous, I'll still love you. I may judge it, I may sit you in a corner until you change, but I'll still love you."

    They shake their head. "Tonight, though? Tonight, you weren't a monster. Tonight, you were a leader, and that means hard choices." They reach up on tiptoe to plant a kiss right on Cael's muzzle. "And I'm terribly proud of you."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael keeps her hand gripped to Jon's - and held to her chest, as her other arm goes around their frame, to pull Jon in close against her... while she just sobs. Once she cries enough to regain her voice she remarks, "I- that's- that's what I told you, yeah? I love //you.// Your heart, your mind..." Of course Jon feels the same.
    She lets out a humorless laugh as she adds, "Is it silly that I feel like Ma'at should judge me, too?"
    She doesn't really wait for a response before she adds instead, "You put out my jammies?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I can already tell you what she'd say," Jon replies, pressing in close to her. He lets her hold him for as long as she needs, reaching around to rub at her back, gently. It's weird, maybe, to actually be so comfortable with a hulking werewolf--but he spent the majority of the past ten years around demons and devils and centaurs and harpies... so in some ways it's not weird at all.

    "I did, indeed, put out your jammies," Jon says with a smirk as he pulls back. Then he adds, softly, "Look, I--if you really just need to sit and /feel/ how you're feeling? I can do that. I can hold you, and stroke your hair, and sing to you, and let you feel bad. I'm sorry if I... mmm. I never want you to think it isn't okay to hurt, like this. It's going to hurt."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I... I want to drink, and cry, and be held, and be sung to. And- and be told I'm not a monster until I finally start to believe it." Cael frees one of her hands from around Jon, to gently stroke a long, clawed finger on their cheek. "Because the Avatar of Truth can't lie..." If Jon says she's not a monster - it's because they believe it, she reminds herself.
    "What would Ma'at say?" she asks softly.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "We can do all of those things," Jon reassures her. "Although I'm going to insist on some rice or broth or /something/ in your stomach besides whiskey." He smiles at her, not seeming to mind the clawed finger at all.

    "Ma'at would say... the only reason your heart might be heavy, if it were, is your own doubts and worries. That your actions are in balance, that you promote justice and harmony in the world. That you act with /ma'at/, in most things. That nobody, not even the Pharaoh, is perfect."

    He tilts his head, considering. "...And that the reason you and Anubis don't get along is... because you're similar?" He snorts, and shakes his head, smirking up at her.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "//Noodles// or broth," Cael corrects Jon - allowing herself a moment of amusement.
    Her clawed hand stays on their face as she listens, quietly weighing the words of Ma'at - as relayed through Jon. Does it really surprise her that Ma'at would approve? She was the one who'd passed judgement on the people she'd killed. The claim that she's similar to Anubis, however, has her pulling back in surprise - a hint of anger showing for a moment. "We are not! He's- ...cruel." Yeah, she'll hold a grudge for how he treated Alis for as long as she can.
    "I'm going to get changed. Can you..." What? What does she want Jon to do? "...I don't know.I'm really not hungry, I'll just- I'll be back in a minute."
    That said, she finally starts to pull away, heading towards the bedroom.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snorts as Cael pulls away. "Her words, not mine. I'm fairly certain he'd be just as outraged by the thought."

    He considers for a moment, then says, "I'll make some chicken noodle soup, okay? Using my water, so it'll clear out any lingering nausea or whatever, and let you sleep. And you can have some whiskey with it." He's going to insist, isn't he? "And I will sing to you, and hold you, and watch whatever ridiculous movie you want to watch."

    He walks on out of the bedroom, though he hesitates at the door to turn to her. "I love you," he says. "And I feel safe with you. I really do."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael doesn't argue with Jon - even if she doesn't feel hungry in the least. She just nods wordlessly, watching them for a moment. "I don't know what it'll take to stop feeling... this way. I want to feel like what you see in me. A brave and confident leader. I really hope... taking over a pack when I'm still so new to all of this, when I still //hate// what I am- that- that is wasn't a mistake." It's a strange juxtaposition - the tall, powerful creature - showing so much doubt, and fear, and insecurity - but that's her world, for the moment.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It took me ten years off in other dimensions," Jon calls over his shoulder as he heads into the hallway. "It may take you that long, or longer. And that's okay. I'll be here for you, however long it takes." A pause. "And some successes will help. You've only just started--it's natural to be worried."

    He hesitates at the edge of the kitchen, then calls, "Get changed, love, alright? Take your time." He pulls out a pot and puts it on the stove, then goes to the fridge to pull out the chicken broth he made a few days ago. He's been cooking a lot.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael retreats to her own bedroom, picking up the clean, soft pajamas and holding them clutched in both hands. She lifts them to her nose, taking in the smell of clean laundry - and simply holds it there for a short while. Eventually, she's able to let go of the transformation, the belt she'd put on to hold her spear falling off as her size decreases, and her bone retake their natural shape. She gives a little shudder, still not used to the process.
    This is who she is now. ... isn't it? Jon welcomes it. Agnes has accepted it. Shouldn't that be enough for her?
    Eventually, she manages to slip into an oversized shirt - with the image of a 'Carebear' in slate grey and black, with a skull and crossbones on his stomach, and the words 'Don't Fucking Care Bear,' along with soft, fuzzy pants in a matching slate grey. Only once she's appropriately armored does she emerge, walking into the kitchen to first retrieve her bottle of whiskey - and then drape herself over Jon's back, her head resting on their back.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon has noodles in the pot already, along with chicken and vegetables. He's taken to doing the 'magical chopping knife' thing, so cooking goes /much/ faster with 'extra hands' to do the work. There's also tea steeping, a chamomile mint blend that came out of Jon's balcony garden.

    "I don't know if you want any tea, but /I/ need the comfort," he says as she comes to drape over him. "How do you feel?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael considers the question seriously before she'll offer an answer. "Scared and overwhelmed," she admits. There's a small, wry smile on her lips as she adds, "You must have felt like this and more... leading the JLD. Leading an army against an angelic invasion. All I have to worry about is- ...is stopping some werewolves from eating New Yorkers. Yeah?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon shakes his head with a wry smile. He stirs the pot once more, then puts on the lid and turns to face Cael, wrapping her in his arms.

    "The magnitude of the challenge before you does not diminish the weight of the responsibility. I had other leaders, and everyone I was leading had stepped up and volunteered. I had Gaea and Saint Uriel behind me, and Peggy Carter supporting me. I had few qualms about the rightness of our cause, even if I worried about the methods."

    A sigh. "You are dealing with what has essentially been a cult. Some people may be traumatized. Some may want to leave. You have their well-being in your hands far more than I do with the JLD, on a day-to-day basis. And I have Chas and Rien to help, as well. But even aside from all of that... even if what you're dealing with really is 'less' than what I was... so what?"

    He peers down at her. "What Lydia did to me was far less invasive and awful than what Michael did to you. Does that mean I shouldn't be hurting? Reeling? Wanting to go scrub all my skin off in the shower every time I notice a stray feather? My pain doesn't lessen what you went through. It just... is."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael nods, listening to Jon's words - because they make a lot of sense. Smaller than Jon once again, she fits comfortably in the circle of their arms, her head on their chest, and her eyes closed. How did she manage before, without someone to hold her, and reassure her when she felt lost?
    "I want to keep people safe. The people of New York. The people in the Pack. I-" She lets out a quiet laugh, as an obvious flaw in her thinking rises unavoidably into view, "I want to make sure they don't see themselves as monsters. That they don't hate or fear themmselves, but- God, how do I do that if I don't- if I can't believe it about myself?" she asks.
    "How many of them, do you think, were forced into it? How... were they chosen? He- he calledd me wayward. Prodigal. Did- was this done on purpose? Why?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You'll have to find out if any of them know why only you," Jon says softly, reaching up to stroke Cael's hair while the scent of soup cooking fills the air, redolent with garlic and onion. Healing foods, to help her feel better. "Maybe it's that you were the only mortal. Maybe they deliberately targeted you. That mystic seemed like the sort to monologue enough that someone might know."

    He smiles, and adds, "Just because you're not there yet, doesn't mean you can't help other people." A laugh. "Imagine, if you will, a psychiatrist who's terribly emotionally wounded, maybe a little crazy sometimes himself, trying to offer advice to other emotionally wounded people..."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Mmmmm..." Cael says slowly and thoughtfully. "Hard to imagine." But there's a hint of a smile in her voice, as Jon points out something that should have been quite evident to her.
    She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she suggests uncertainly, "Anubis hates me, I'm sure. He'd never- undo this. But maybe, if I asked on behalf of another - if some of them didn't want to live this life..." They shouldn't have to.
    "But there's no real point in making plans, is there? When I still don't know what I'm really up against."
    She pulls away enough to look at Jon's face, her hand going to rest on their cheek. "Can you, umm... Will you remind me, everyday, that you believe in me? That I've got this - that I can do it. Keep these people safe, and protect the pople of New York, and- Will you remind me everday, until I start to believe it myself?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I don't know that Anubis hates you so much as he hates almost everyone, particularly those who break the rules," Jon notes wryly. "You're not special, aside from having been a regular annoyance."

    Then he leans down to kiss the top of Cael's head. "Of course, love. Just like you remind me, every day. Like you reminded me every day during the siege that I could handle that." He ruffles her hair a bit, then. "And that I think you're a very cute werewolf. And I'm proud of you."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...werewolves are not cute, Jonathan Sims!" Cael protests. She sounds... absolutely //affronted// by this suggestion.
    ...but Jon //said// it. That means they actually believe it to be true. Dear... God.
    "I am not a cute werewolf," she insists rather peevishly - but a smile starts tugging at the corner of her lips as she says it.
    "Thank you, love. I love you, too, by the way." That said, she leans in to give Jon a kiss, ignoring the fact that she's still holding a bottle of whiskey in her hand - that she hasn't even bothered to open, yet.
    "What would I do without you?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "What did you do before we met, hmm?" Jon quirks a brow down at her. "People need people, but we need ourselves, too. Anyway, what would /I/ do without /you/? Be lonely and sad, is what. The feeling is very much mutual."

    He leans down to return the kiss, then pulls back to add with a sparkle in his eye. "You are an /adorable/ werewolf. Because you are always adorable. And beautiful. Breathtakingly so. /At all times/." So there.

    Look, Jon holds back his sappy romantic streak from Cael most of the time. At least he's not giving her flowers every day.

    A smirk, and then he says, "I think the soup's just about done. Do you still need me to sing to you? Or shall we eat dinner and head to bed?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    A little color rises in Cael's cheeks at the open flattery, and she looks down and away for a moment, before looking back up at Jon with an uncomfortable smile. "I don't know about any of that," she answers - before abruptly changing the subject.
    "I get at least one song. But- yeah. Let's eat, and go to bed. And you can hold me, and play with my hair, and... try to convince me I'm not a monster. Somehow, you've been pretty convincing already."
    It's at this point that she finally opens her whiskey, taking a swig straight from the bottle before she adds, "I love you, Mariposa. And I'm grateful to have you, everyday."
    Which is about as sappy as Cael gets.
    "And thank you - for helping with the judging. I- as much as I hated it, it was necessary. And it helps to know- to be confident we found and eliminated the right people. So thank you."