Work Text:
Seline didn't want to go.
Visiting the representative of the West European Pack seemed entirely unnecessary, if not downright dictatorial to her. Why did she need to go? She was from Eastern Europe, so she was resigned with the representatives at home. Why did they have to keep track of where she was studying, what she was doing, and where she decided to belong?
The audacity and injustice of it all were driving her crazy with anger.
Isaiah offered to drive her. The message came from him, so she wasn't happy with him, but since she was scared to drive anything over 50 kilometers per hour, effectively banning her from all highways, his offer shortened her 4-hour long train drive to a direct 2.
Seline knew she should be thankful. And not let her anger out on the messenger. Then again, she thought Isaiah didn't belong to a pack to be free and not to follow orders. Not to mention what a good mood he was in. He was smiling behind the steering wheel, fingers tapping it lightly in synch with the music. He had his formal suit on and his long black coat, which she was starting to see as characteristic to him. All polite greetings and smiles. Was he enjoying this?
"So. How is the university going? I hear you finished your bachelor's last semester. You decided to continue on the same faculty. You like it there so much?" One of Isaiah's many attempts to make conversation.
Seline wasn't one for small talk. Either say something you really want to know or shut up. She would be content just leaning against the window and listening to music, though plugging in her headphones seemed a little too rude.
"It got real worse last semester," she grumbled at the reminder. "Got a really chaotic teacher that makes us do a totally useless project, just because they got money and funds for it. So much for scientific independence. You just research whatever the politicians see as trendy to research."
Isaiah raised his eyebrows, throwing her a look. "You intend to stay in science?"
"I wanted to. But now I think I would much rather be independent. Make my own writing courses of sorts. Not be bound by anybody else's decisions."
"Just the market's whims," he remarked with a grin.
Seline hissed at that but nodded. "Yes. But the market is way fairer than anything I would believe the state to do." Despite the a/c blasting in the car, she felt warm. Uncomfortably warm. She pressed her palm against the opening for the cold air.
"So, what are you specializing in? Where did the writing part come in?"
"I guess you could say I got that from the witchcraft. I'm a Singer. I sing water and air into obedience and the most effective are original songs. All the writing necessary made me into an expert on writing theory." She waved at herself, the air suffocating and hot but flashing a satisfied snicker in Isaiah's direction. "I bet you couldn't name a book on writing I haven't read."
"That's an unusual approach. Most witches I know use pentagrams or incantations. Did you want to study it at the university?"
Her face fell a little. "You can't exactly study creative writing in Europe. Buuuut there is a lot of other stuff you can study, like film analysis, popular culture, media communication, epistemology, psychological processes for creativity…I found a good master that combines all these, so I can research the creative process itself." She gave him a measured look, blue eyes the shade of an upcoming storm. "You are studying psychology, aren't you? Rather unusual for a shadow wolf."
He smiled at that. "I like to stick out a little."
"Yeah. I thought you were different." Selined sighed loudly, leaning her head against the window. "Except we can't manage everything we wish for, can we?"
Isaiah gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Whatever do you mean?"
"They call, and you obey. Like a good little lapdog." Seline stuck her chin out, watching him defiantly.
"Is that what you think?" Isaiah didn't seem ruffled at her words at all, a little grin growing on his face. "I don't agree with this any more than you do."
Seline scoffed at that. "And why should I believe you? You pretend to know the gold is just glitter on the cage - like you successfully got rid of it - yet you are driving me to the gates yourself."
A long, tense silence stretched between them.
"Should I be more angry, Seline?" Isaiah was still smiling, but there was something darker about his tone and the way he focused his gaze on the road. "Should I rage, provoke, and complain like you?"
"Better be angry than pretend to smile and do nothing!" Her voice raised before she could stop herself.
"Anger is a weakness. It gives you away. Why should I allow such an emotion to rule me?" His eyes were fixed on the road.
"You are a shadow wolf. It's kinda of expected. I can rage all I want, and it will always be inappropriate. But you got the perfect excuse,” she waved her hand in frustration.
"I don't believe in excuses." His voice was quiet but cutting.
"No. You believe in lies. Masks and moods and faces, it's all you are. The polite and funny one today, the serious and scary one tomorrow." Seline crossed her hands on her chest.
"All the masks are me. Different faces of me, different roles I take for the situation. They are tools. My extensions. Wouldn't you change your cloak according to the weather?" His dark sea-green eyes flicked to her for a moment.
"I would not change it to fit other people's expectations," she said proudly.
"If I know what people want, I can get what I want much more easily. So even if I disagree with this policy, it's better I take you myself and not let somebody force you. It's better to look relaxed while you are alert and watching. It's better not to be ruled by emotions while they rule everyone else. So yes, I'm taking you to the gates myself, but I also know all the holes in the fence." He eyed her, eyebrows furrowing slightly in annoyance, before smoothing over. "You just want what you think you can't have."
Seline frowned angrily and looked away. As much as she disagreed, it got her thinking. She didn't realize he had so many answers figured out for himself.
"I find anger safe,” she said into the silence. “It's better than fear. Gives you energy and motivation to do something. To stand up for yourself or change what's wrong."
He raised one perfect black eyebrow. "So you are afraid of me?"
"No-I…" She gulped, her throat constricting. Something about his intense tone, about the speed and emotion of the debate, made her keep talking. "I'm tired. Of not feeling anything. Of feeling too much and not being able to do anything about it, because it's unseemly for witches.”
Because I should be calming you down, but I envy your freedom to be angry.
He gave her a long look. "You can be angry all you want around me,” he said quietly.
She hid her face in her palm as if wanting to wash away the tension. "And you will stay calm? Is that the mask you want to wear for me?"
"I'm the one who wants to wear the mask. I'm the one crafting it, the one willing to change it so it fits you better. Does that count for nothing true?"
“You sure are poetic about it,” she grumbled, pressing her hand against her forehead. There was a dull pounding in her temples, and the air still felt disgustingly hot.
“Seline? Is something wrong?” Isaiah asked, concerned.
She wasn’t sure. The car ride, the smothering heat, the pins and needles in her arms…she wasn’t even sure why she was reacting so strongly to the conversation. Although she usually never got motion sick, her stomach was rolling rather aggressively. She squeezed her eyes shut, hand covering her mouth for a second.
“Do you think we could take a little break?” she pressed through her teeth. There was a nauseating shiver crawling up her spine and neck. If only the car could stop moving for a second.
“Sure thing,” Isaiah said, detecting the urgency in her voice. He turned towards the left line leading to the nearest rest spot. “Just a few minutes.”
Seline held her eyes closed, breathing slowly through her nose and mouth. Something was definitely wrong.
Once the car finally stopped, she immediately burst the door open, gulping at the sweet, fresh air. The nausea rocked through her like she was on a boat, and she could feel liquid coming up her throat.
Seline stumbled quickly out, only to sway and fall to her knees. Scrambling awkwardly, she wanted to get some distance between herself and the car. The world was spinning and blurry around her and she lost track of how far she was. A wave of vomit spluttered from her lips. Seline could do nothing but spit it out helplessly.
Her stomach was hurting, cramping hard. She whimpered softly as another wave of sickness rushed out of her.
A cold hand on her arm made her look up. The outline of Isaiah’s middle long black hair, subtly wavy at the ends, hovered over her. He was kneeling beside her, pulling hair out of her face. She felt the milky-like vomit drip from her lips and chin and would have burst into tears if another wave hadn’t made her choke and hang her head in surrender.
“You are okay. Take it easy. You will feel better in a minute,” Isaiah said, hand running through her hair to her back.
“Ugh. What about this seems -uurp- okay to you?”
He chuckled, rubbing her back as it arched again and she was heaving another gush of vomit.
“Just a minute. It will pass soon.”
She took quick panting breaths, trying to clear her head. There was still that blurry film over her eyes, the green of the grass mixing with blue over her. Isaiah’s hand was grounding on her back, his touch assured and steady.
She spit on the ground, her eyes clearing. “Go away,” she said. The embarrassment was hitting her hard now, frustrated tears running down her cheeks.
“A little late now,” he smiled, gathering the strands of hair on the other side of her face behind her ear. Then he charmed out a clean tissue our of his pocket. “You should have told me you weren’t feeling well.”
“Didn’t realize,” she mumbled, taking the offered tissue. At least she could clean up her face a little.
A cool hand pressed against her aching forehead. “You are running a fever.”
“No wonder I was so snappy,” she admitted, leaning into his touch without thinking. Everything was so hot, only his skin seemed to be of desirable temperature.
“I didn’t see a difference to your usual self,” Isaiah teased. His touch was so gentle like she was made of glass. “Do you still feel sick?”
She assessed herself, then shook her head no. Now that she had thrown up, the nausea lifted like it was never there. If only she wasn’t still so warm. Despite the sensation, a shiver ran through her and she hunched her shoulders.
“Your wish came true,” he said, wrapping his hands around her from behind, dragging her with him as he stood up. Her head felt woozy at the movement and she clutched at his hands around her torso. “The trip is canceled. You are going straight home tonight.”
He guided her towards the car and helped her sit down again. She blinked at the haziness that overtook her, feeling bone-deep tiredness crushing over her. Closing her eyes, she leaned back.
She felt his shadow above her before disappearing to hunt down a water bottle from the back. Accepting the bottle, she settled it securely in her arms but didn’t have the energy to drink it just yet.
The car jumped a little as he got inside, shutting the door gently. She rolled her head in his general direction, squinting. Everything was so hot and confusing again, swimming in and out of focus. Was this still real? Maybe she was dreaming.
Isaiah started the engine and then squeezed her knee. “Hang on, darling. We’ll be home in no time.”