The system offered no further explanations... though it was straightforward enough of a rule. Even if I’m not sure why it decided to tell now. And not when I tried a mont before, while it was just sitting there. I almost feel like it may be making rules up as we go.
> Listen here you little gremlin or whatever you are behind this Apocalypse System... I would very much appreciate you handing a complete list of what is and isn’t possible. I will give you nothing beyond less ’sass’ in the future. Do we have a bargain? <
My wolf looks at like I’m crazy, with a tilted head, when I appear in my old human form... shaking my fist at the misty blue sky above my mindscape. Of course, there is no reaction when I am actually requesting one.
Grudgingly, I sat the box back on the branch and climbed down another ti. If I throw it down, the contents might break which could be deadly for - because he didn’t exactly keep an invoice... and for all I know it is filled with explosives.
> And if I carry it while climbing one-handed... I still risk dropping it. The ropes will co in handy after all. Yay. Yay for us. <
Simring, I get what I need and amble back up. After I secured it with a sort of net with knots and carabiners using the sa holes it had been bolted down with, I carefully lowered it to the forest floor. Controlling its descent is easy enough... though a cursed wind does make it a pendulum when it is three quarters of the way down.
Once the box touched down safely, I descended the tree with a minor wish to never climb one again. At least not this week. This body’s instincts served well, but also reminded of climbing lessons with Ravi long ago.
He would be impressed with how easily I could scale it in this form. But he wouldn’t tell , since we haven’t spoken at all in a decade once I made the choice to begin ignoring him completely for my own sanity.
Back on solid ground, I shifted into my new human form (Helene’s) and really started to wonder what has been happening this week or so at my ho. Mont to mont, I’ve had enough new things to deal with - and so resolutions made - that have kept busy..
"Do I have a body back there in that world still? Was I dragged to the Royal Boneyard... it seems unlikely, but since her spirit had departed this body the mont I arrived... she’s not really over there in mine, right?"
I don’t even know how I got here. I know almost certainly that she died, because she has a mory fragnt of the chest pain and collapse. I have none of that from ’Citra’ when I was in the gardens that day.
I also know, or severely suspect, that it was my soul entering this vessel that busted the connection with Jace. Maybe it affected so other things too, for all I know. But it was not like I chose to co here.
And sothing certainly must have chosen to leave my body, no matter what. Whether I was assassinated, a deity chose like this system chose Helene, or...
> Your ignorant companion was no witch, magician, nor was she even *particularly* religious or courteous to the Lunar Goddess here. <
Yet why can I not shake the feeling that she has taken over my life there? Maybe even the one who pushed out... is it just the silly novels she read when she was young? Fiction giving the idea that a sense of balance has not been t?
"Vrika, if she was there, she would have probably broken off arrangents with every one of those rchant daughters. A sha. I can’t imagine her continuing that behavior if she still hopes for a child."
The spirit huffed its agreent then tilted its head again as my non-sharp fingers worked the combination lock. A bit of an inquisitive tug arrives about the nature of fated mates in my forr world. A sneer forms on my face.
> Just like here. Lunar Goddesses oversee shifters. They also play matchmaker, ddler, and mother hens for their favorites. Though our current one in your world seed to be fine with just setting it all in motion and stepping back... <
Which is honestly even more terrifying. Is it a developnt due to the amount of workload she has without any companion deities? But there are far fewer beasts and shifters here in this world than the number in mine. Can a single one really be stretched too thin?
"I seem to be asking a lot of questions today. Curiosity kills the cat, they say here... but the Fox Finds the..."
Imagining a ’drum roll’, the first item I pulled out when I opened the sealed container was a set of small cylindrical containers. The label read [Scent Blocker - Top Grade]... and the accompanying ripped out and stuffed inside journal note claid he stole it from a job he did last year.
> He really had a bad habit of journaling far more than he should, huh? I feel like if he hadn’t died but only collapsed, he’d be waking up in whatever passes for pack council prison. Assuming the other hunters let that sort of thing go on. <
Reading more on the label, they are a dissolving tablet that can completely neutralize werewolf pheromone production for up to 72 hours after a 4 hours window of building in the ’exocrine glands’. Doesn’t say the company that produces it, unfortunately.
"This could be useful in Vossden. Maybe even sold, if I wanted to try to do that..."
Vrika imdiately sent back impressions of caution. It knew, like I did, that there was danger in selling soone sothing that an enemy can use to turn back and harm you with. I don’t trust my Intuition ability enough to quickly notice wolves that may be hiding.
In this corner of the box were several small devices resembling the sort of ’bluetooth’ earbuds that Kyrie had on. Only, they were labeled [Frequency Emitters]. The journal page tucked alongside them explained they emitted sounds above human hearing range that greatly disoriented werewolves’ enhanced senses without being directly lethal.
"A defensive tool that doesn’t require violence. And very high tech... well, no wonder he stuffed them in a place he wouldn’t use them."
Part of wanted to try two things imdiately. To see what it felt like to endure it... and to see if wearing them actually protected you from using them. A key question for whether they get sold or kept.
My wolf? Well, the spirit was too busy being enamored with the idea of looking like Kyrie to think everything through. Or warn that I was being too thrill seeking.
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