“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche
"Lyra, are you ok?"
Brull's voice forced its way into her mind, a hammer that kept rhythm beneath her skull. She couldn't see anything, body disconnected, as if she piloted herself from a distance.
"Here, drink this."
A vial was pressed to her lips, and a cool bitter liquid poured down her throat. She gagged at the taste. A restoration potion? Had she been wounded?
"It was the old dog." A familiar voice sounded out, its tones for her ears alone. "He sucker punched us while we were distracted by the boy."
"The boy... oh!" She jolted, "Brull! We were fighting Brull!"
"Yes..." The voice rasped in a sigh. "We had him, my blade was an inch from his eye! But..."
"But then Otto flicked me in the head," Lyra said, her vision filled with spots of color as the world slowly came into view. "I remember now Fenrir, I'm sorry..."
"Pfff," The spirit wolf snorted, and a finger extended in Lyra's mind to flick her forehead. "Don't be sorry, regret is for the weak!"
Her snarl filled Lyra with a rush, a taste of simmered anger, and a deeper hunger.
"Next time we shall eat his meat and drink his marrow!"
Lyra sighed and blinked her eyes. Brull's concerned face was positioned before her, their noses an inch apart. She jumped, and her head rammed into his. Her tender skull rang once more, vision a kaleidoscope as she reeled backward.
"Aaah!" Brull rolled away, hands clutched to his nose as blood poured from between his fingers. "My Beautiful face!" He peered through his fingers. "I went through all the trouble of patching you up, and this is how you thank me?"
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A mock glare appeared on his face as he chastised her.
"I'm sorry, Brull." Lyra squirmed until she positioned herself further away from the playful cat-kin. "I almost hurt you for real!" She hung her head, her ears drooped forward to cover her eyes.
"That's ok!" With a smile on his face, Brull reached out a hand and helped her to her feet. "Otto didn't do any permanent damage did he?"
"No!" She retracted her hand, a swift jerk that almost pulled him off balance. "We're... I'm fine!" She smiled, a nervous gesture that was punctuated by a wince as Fenrir's voice resounded in her brain.
"Silly girl, they'll take me away from you if I'm ever discovered."
The feminine tones of the voice were matched with the graveled hum of the monster Lyra knew her wolf to be. As always, Fenrir played on her fear, as if it reveled in its owner's misery.
"I'm just a bit rattled, that's all!" Lyra reassured Brull as she ignored Fenrir. "I'll just take a walk around the ship and clear my head."
"Great!" Brull hopped over, eager as a kitten. "I'll join you!" He settled into place beside her as she scampered across the deck, his cultivation pressed to the limit as she failed to outrun him.
"Actually I..."
"So how did you do it?" Brull asked, a social bulldozer that paid her little mind as he badgered her. "It's super hard to fight above your level, but I could sense that you could have gone further."
"I..."
"That aura was amazing!" He continued, her words lost in the deluge. "It was like a Semi-Divines, but not...."
"It's a secret family technique!" Lyra blurted out, her words forced between his in a desperate attempt to change the topic. "I can't tell anyone about it, I'm sorry!"
"Oh...That's ok!" Brull replied with an easy smile. "Well it was incredible, I can't imagine how strong you'll be once you break through to the same tier as me!"
"Oh, it's not that im-impressive." She stammered, her feet a blur as she raced towards her quarters. "There are plenty in my tribe who are better than me..."
"Well that just makes your tribe even more impressive then," Brull laughed as his paws kept pace with her despite her best efforts. "It doesn't take anything away from you!"
Lyra frowned and put on a burst of speed. The wooden halls of the ship blended into lines around her, but her pursuer remained.
"Maybe we can talk more over dinner?" Brull spoke, his body still in line with her own, even in her desperate rush. "I can bring a few plates to your quarters this evening and w..."
Lyra's eyes flashed, and her demeanor changed, a feral smirk on her face as she swatted a hand toward the overzealous cat-kin.
Brull's eye's widened, and his reckless pursuit ended in a tumble. Lyra's hand found its place firmly on his cheek. Her claws gouged parallel lines across his face as they drove his head to the floor.
"Gwwaarr..."
He somersaulted forward for three full spins, until the sturdy wooden wall brought him to a halt. Lyra stood over him, a complicated mix of emotions on her face.
"Did you need to hit him Fen?" She leaned down and inspected the twitching cat-kin, half her face covered in concern.
"Of course!" Fenrir answered Lyra with her own voice, disdain on her face as she poked Brull in the back of the head with Lyra's finger. "Idiot men like him never learn unless you teach them well!"
"But he was just being nice!" Lyra protested, the mad chase through the ship already forgotten as she wrestled control back from the troublesome wolf. "What's the harm in making friends?"
"Hummph," Fenrir's voice, once more locked within her mind, was unsatisfied. "He doesn't want to be friends, you stupid..."
"I know, I know," Lyra turned and left the unconscious Brull on the floor behind her. "He wants to devour me..."
Whenever she tried to make friends with a man, Fenrir would rant on and on about their many evils. It had become tiresome, but it was in the wolf's bizarre nature and Lyra considered Fen her best friend.
"That's right!" Fen huffed. "You stick with me and I'll protect you from the likes of him!"
Lyra imagined the wolfish Fenrir, hackles raised as she fended off a hoard of hulking menfolk. She laughed aloud, before she reached out and opened their cabin door.
"Don't worry Fen, I believe in you!"