Raoul - Conversations with Papa Rose 11-6-11

[[ This conversation takes place mere days after Raoul first arrives in Chicago. ]]

It isn't large, the boggy, rain soaked waste that dominates the lands West of Aurora.  A few square miles of water logged, ruined, wasted lands.  Nature had reclaimed it, to a degree, but much of it was still a ruin.  Broken homes, shattered roads, collapsed garages and fallen, half dead forest.  All of it seemed possessed of a certain spirit of decay.  Colors seemed muted, dead, rusted reds, faded grays, lifeless muted greens that seem to hint at some sickness that seems to permeate the very air around him.  Nothing living would like it here.  It smells off, wrong, sickly sweet in the way of late autumn and yet there was something more here.

Its deathly silent yet there are visitors to this part of the swamp.  They are Raoul and his cats, nearly a dozen.  Out here the land seems empty, strangely barren.  As if whatever happened here had managed to strangle out even sound.  The cats gather close, climb up the rock, flee the sucking hateful ground.

Raoul becomes aware of the presences around them more because of the cats than anything.  They start to tense, to prepare, their tiny sodden bodies turning almost magnetically to face the West.  Amidst the dark and the trees he sees them, glistening dark eyes.  Perhaps a half dozen pairs, they seem to float in the night, watching.  Cold, alien, like strangely paired stones they seem to observe in the silence for a long, long time.

"Jou haf te be careful comin ere.  Not safe.  Come furter tan dis an jou coul be hurt.  Jer beasts keel'd."  The voice is loud, seeming to be a shout against the silence.  It rolls out of the pale mists. Papa Rose is dressed in overalls, his waxy, withered flesh hanging off his bony frame like the gnarled bark of a terrible sick tress.  His hair is wild, free, grey shot through with black, paling to oily yellow.  He strides carefully, as not to stumble, the sparkling stone eyes never turning from Raoul and his friends.  "Why ave jou come chile?"

Anyone looking Papa Sallow's way would see the wolf before hearing it.  It's a moving shadow more than an animal, and it peels itself away from the ranks of the stone-eyed guardians to lope up behind him on huge paws, sleek and silent.

It seems to see the cats first, then Raoul, and it's difficult to tell which sight is the one that abruptly plasters the beast's ears flat against its skull, and sets the inky black fur at the back of its neck on end.  It comes to a slinking stop against Sallow's knee, and stares.

Oddly enough, it doesn't growl (though its muzzle twitches with the beginning hints of a snarl), or make any noise at all for that matter, but it does stare fixedly at the intruders, its dark eyes two eerie points of reflected light.

"It was different before."  It wasn't a criticism, just an observation.  "It was rain and it was growing vines ..."  Perhaps that had been temporary for the party and it was very different now.  There were no laughing and boosting voices in the air or the clatter of plates of food.  In fact there were no birds either, no sounds of wind moving through the trees, or small animals running through the bush.  The absence of these common sounds seemed to create the most unease in Raoul.

When Raoul stood to face his sire, he saw the wolf.  Careful with his emotions, Raoul returned the animals gaze.  It was with the feline that Raoul had a special bond.  The canine was not a mystery to him but certainly harder to read.  The animal was large and dangerous but for the moment was not directly threatening only observing.  For now it was with Papa Rose that Raoul had reason to talk.

The cats were bond to Raoul and preferred to be by his side.  Yet now with the wolf and the stillness instinct was winning out over the preferences.  Many began to leave and Raoul did nothing to stop him.

"I wished to speak to you again."  Raoul said as he felt Cat's claws dig into his shoulder and back  "I think I should stay in this area for a bit.  There is much I might learn."

For a moment Sallow looks about as if perplexed.  Its a common enough look and he's quite good at it.  He tilts his head to the side to think and try and understand.  After a moment or so he nods slowly in agreement.  "Ya.  Differen again tomorrow.  Always lil differen.  Always changin.  Worls moved on.  Te Fete, well, tat was special.  Ver powaful.  Ver special night.  Tis place canna hole such anymore.  Eets deed.  Long taim now.  Naht eva gonna come back.  Eet is a place fer us.  Ees home."

He smiles slightly, reaching one hand down to very gently, very carefully rake his clawed hand through the silken fur atop the wolves head.  The violence in the motion is surprisingly tender, surprisingly loving.  He doesn't look down but his eyes burn slightly brighter and his mouth opens just a bit as if in anticipation of feeding.  His yellowed teeth gleaming against his waxy skin.

"Gonna stay hmm?  Dangerous.  Tey no laik us roun ere.  Lotsa politic.  Not so much understandin.  Jou gonna have nuthin but trouble less you be politic too.  I know, I deed.  Can jou be politic?"

 There's no laughter in his voice, but he's not entirely serious with his question either.  He relaxes a little, watching the cats slip away from the edges of his domain, back to the healthier lands beyond.  Living things, he loves them so, but this is no place for such as they and all too well, Sallow knows this.

Raoul could see why this would be a good home for his Sire and the wolf.  Not a soul living or dead would dare come here.  Even if they could brave the drained landscape around them.  As he watches the caress of the Papa Rose to his companion, Raoul knows he has seen both the motion and the tenderness associated with it before.  Although she had not been in wolf at the party. 

"No titles.  No politics.  They hide behind mortal ideas to disguise their inhumanity.  I am no threat to what they see as important."  Raoul was certain at least of this.

The burst of laughter is explosive and loud.  Sallow shakes with it, shaking his great shaggy head with his mirth.  It seems a strange sound, out of place and wrong amidst so much foulness.  And yet its strangely fitting, perversely so almost.

"Oh jou steel tink tis?  Fool thought tat.  Jou threaten everytin tey doin ere.  Gonna fix em, teach em, point out te tem all tey ways tey is lyin te each udder an jou is not gonna threaten tem?"  Laughter.  "Tey is gonna hate.  Hate strong too.  Jou canna be blunt, jou canna be direct.  Jou gotta be politic if jou gonna teach tese fools anyting.  So I ask again, can jou be politic?"  He's laughing still, softly, chuckling really.  "An don jou tell me te Dragons gonna do anyting.  Cause tey is deed ere.  Sleepin.  All te fights gone, long gone.  So you has te rely on yourself and no udder.  Can jou do tat?"

Slowly, Sallow lowers himself to the ground, sinking waste deep into the muck.  Leaning against the wolves thick flank, he lowers his head and growls just softly, whispering something quietly between them and chuckling.

Calmly Raoul watches the laughter from his Sire.  If he's offended he doesn't show it.  "If they don't desire to learn they don't deserve to know.  They are lost gone, emotions are dead.  They can not hate no more than they can love.  I do not fear shadows on the wall."

He smiles and crouches down as Sallow Rose does, getting into a position to spring if need be.  A strange thrill going through him.  Cat, still on his shoulders, hisses softly.  "I observe.  I learn.  It is all for me.  Never for them.  I survive for me and by me."

This meets with approval and Sallow nods slowly.  "Good.  All good.  But in order te learn, sometaims we muss be cleva.  We muss be quick.  We muss be able te go among tem.  Tis city is rich wit learnin, wit wisdom, wit powa.  Plenty ere for jou.  But tey will not let jou have it.  Jou muss earn it.  Muss live among tem.  An te do tat, jou muss be wise."  Sallow smiles softly, and laughs.  "An sometimes bein wise means bein politic."

Sallow winks.

"Challenge ten?  Upto it?  It will naht be easy but if'n jou do eet, jou will have slipped beyond were tey can do anytin te stop ya.  Ye'll be learnin an tey will neva know.  Is simple too, all jou got t do is stay outta trouble for two of tere stoopid gathers.  Two."  Sallow raises a gnarled hand and raises two long claws into the air.  The image of the peace sign, crowned with Sallow's wicked claws has a sick humor to it.  "Do tis ting an jou'll have te keys te tis place.  Two gathas with no fights, no arguments, no challenges to fools who don know no betta an ain't eva gonna learn.  Do tis ting, and ai'll see te it jou are acknowledge and protected an no one gonna go against such ere'bouts.  Wot say jou?"

"Yes.  This I can do". Raoul agreed.  Yet even as he spoke he remembered the one who stole his memory, the obvious bating from the citizens of Chicago and the insult to his parents.  He must remember that it was all shadows and none of it need to affect him.  

After all he was stronger than all of them and wiser too.  They could not help what they are but he could help himself.

Slowly Raoul stood and smiled, touching his tarot deck in his pocket.  There was a will and with that came a way.

Sallow nods, smiling.  "Good.  If'n you ken, ten I tink you'll go fah.  Chicago is dangerous fer us.  Fer any who wan te learn.  Is old, older tan its buildins, older dan tese fool vampyrie.  It is not fool'd by us.  Be careful wit it."  Sallow rises slowly, with some trouble, as if he were as old as he seemed and needed assistance.  The popping of joints and cracking of limbs seems to make a strange echo in the oddly hazy night.  "Don truss none of em.  Specially not none of tem Romans.  Ifn tey offer jou sometin, be wary.  Tey need sometin done, go slow.  Ain none of tem jour frien nietha.  Don jou believe it!  Treat em, every one, laik tey was gonna betray jou an jou got half a chance!"

He shufles through the ankle high muck to walk up the slightyl dryer rise before Raoul's rocky table.  "Jou a good boy.  Don let em git te jou none.  Take em slow.  Take em quiet.  Jou know."  He smiles, his lips break and part revealing his bent and mismatched mouth full of fangs.  Its not s pleasant sight but it is strangely relaxing.  "Ees damn good te see jou.  Hope yer sistah comes back soon.  Heh.  Wot fun we'd have ten, right?"  Sallow cackles a mad laugh while he pats Raoul's shoulder gently.  His claws just barely felt through the clothing on his shoulder.

"Right.  Well den.  Jou eva need anytin, jou come ere.  M'children will see te jou if'n I ain aroun.  Juss no fatha.  Ain safe.  An don be bringin no cats ere.  Days rats in dis stink dat'll ate em all up and not even tink about it.  Noht te mention feral dags an wot not.  Cats is too good fer places alik tis anyway."  Papa Rose nods once empthaticly as if to give his statement some additional weight.

There is appreciatively if careful smile as Raoul accepts the touch to his shoulder.  The cats were good company but he did hold value in his relationship with his sire.  The animal on Raoul's shoulder seems to agree with Papa Rose's advice on where cats should and should not go.  He was clearly agitated and it was only conditioning that held him in place. 

"The cats of Chicago have much to tell of the city.  Yet their value is not recognized by those who place to much value upon themselves.  I will not put them in danger again."

At that, Raoul nodded politely once more at Sallow Rose and then at his wolf companion in turn.  The urge to flee was then he bargained for.  This area was near dead and he needed to feel the sweet breeze of the living forest once more.