Post by Mareike on Jun 12, 2010 20:35:51 GMT
NAME: Mareike Hertha Kohler.
NICKNAMES: People have occasionally mistaken her name for Marie or something similar which she allows only because it would take too much effort to educate them. At work she is often called by her surname. Clayton Roth calls her ‘Mare’, a term of endearment that only he can get away with using.
RACE: Werewolf – bitten.
OCCUPATION: A Special Agent Criminal Profiler within the Los Angeles Police Department.
GENDER: Female.
SKIN COLOUR: Caucasian.
NATIONALITY: German.
AGE: 414, physically she appears to be in her late twenties.
CLOTHING: Mareike knows the importance of clothes and how the smallest thing can make the largest difference in her line of work. Because of this she always dresses to impress as best she can, choosing professional attire when at work, in the form of dress suits, either with pants or skirts, typically in dark colours such as navy blue or black, coupled with a shirt. Her aim is to be reassuring without being unprofessional and as a whole in work she carries it off well. On her days off, she will dress a little more casually, looser, flowing tops and skirts, in pale, almost pastel shades, although once again there is a hint of her job in anything she wears as every piece was originally selected with the idea of at some time having to wear it while she works. In colder weather, her jackets are either waist length and therefore normally in line with her suits in terms of style and colour, or a longer, heavy wool duster. Two of which are ones she mentally considers ‘work’, one black one and one in a light tan, along with a plum coloured coat, which very rarely had been chosen on looks alone. Unless the situation specifically calls for some heavy duty shoes, Mareike will wear kitten heels, in either black or dark blue.
HEIGHT: 5’6 ½”
WEIGHT: 139lbs.
TATTOOS: None.
PIERCINGS: Her left ear is pierced once in the lobe, with her right once in the lobe and then again at the top.
JEWELLERY: Her favourite symbol is that of the Egyptian Ankh, with many of her items of jewellery featuring the sign. Outside of work she will often be seen with a gold bangle, the clasp of which is an ankh. Her favourite piece is a pewter ankh necklace with an Alexandrite stone in the centre, on a suede cord, although she remains silent about why this particular one is so precious to her.
BODY MODIFICATIONS: She has a number of different scars and marks on her body due to her long life and her job. The only ones of any real note are a tiny symbol between her thumb and first finger, the Greek leter 'Omega' which was burnt into her flesh with silver and the scars which are evidence of her turning. On the fleshy side of her left arm she has four thin claw marks, the first of which is roughly three inches away from her elbow, travelling vertically from where claws cut into skin.
WOLF FORM
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[/center]BUILD: More suited to four legged movement, Mareike is nevertheless capable of moving on her hind legs in wolf form if the need arose although her speed, dexterity and agility are all greatly limited when forced into an upright position. Her wolf greatly resembles that of a wild wolf, albeit larger in any respect. Well built, is the defining word of her wolf form, body strong and defined without being too muscular. There is little obvious change from body to neck, two parts of flowing seamlessly into each other. Her neck is not as thick as her pelt makes it appear; rising up into a strong, almost rectangular shaped head, topped off with ears that are cable of flattening against her head. Her mouth is filled with small yet wickedly sharp teeth, capable of tearing through flesh and bone. She has thick, almost stocky hind and forward legs, all four suited to power and brute strength more than anything else. Her paws fan out into separate toes, each one topped off with a short but nevertheless deadly sharp and strong thick claw, capable of digging into rock and providing holds if the need arose.
HEIGHT: Bipedal-6’1”; Quadruped- 4’9”
WEIGHT: 264lbs.
HAIR: The majority of her pelt is a deep black with a faint mixing of a lighter, almost grey shade, blended in. This can most obviously be seen on her neck, tail and under belly, where the hair is significantly longer than the rest, a good few inches in length. It is thicker in these sensitive points, yet remains almost fluffy and soft to the touch. The rest of the hair is thinner and shorter, although no less dark. It is more sensitive the shorter it gets, with her legs being covered with hair little more than a centimetre or two in length.
EYES: Red.
DEFINING MARKS: A thick black tail.
PACK[/u]
PACK: None.
POSITION: None.
TERRITORY: None.
HAIR[/u]
LENGTH: Mareike is consistent in the length of her hair, almost to the point of obsession. She will have it cut every four months, to the day, always to the same length, four inches past her shoulders, evenly around her head. It is very slightly layered to give subtle differences, but not enough for people to truly notice. Mareike grew her fringe out many years ago, so that it is the same length as the rest of her hair.
STYLE: Her long blond hair falls down straight around her head, with Mareike often artificially straightening it even more. Despite this, the tips of her hair tend to curl slightly inwards, a trait she dislikes. Her fringe is arranged in a central parting, hair evenly divided. Occasionally she will wear her hair up, either in a full ponytail or simply typing part of it back behind her head, although that is the extent of her adventuress when it comes to her hair.
COLOUR: Ash blond which becomes more golden and darker nearer the roots.
FACIAL HAIR[/u]
LENGTH: None.
STYLE: None.
EYES[/u]
COLOUR: Blue.
ODDITIES: Like all werewolves, whenever Mareike is feeling any particularly intense emotion, such as fear, surprise, excitement, etc. they will change to the colour of her wolf’s eyes, as they will when she feels pain. Mareike can also will them to change colour whenever she wants, to playfully tease or if she is feeling mischievous.
PERSONALITY: Mareike is very stubborn, almost to the point of obstinately, grimly clinging on, a trait which helps for her work but can lead to friction in her personal life as she isn’t shy about voicing her opinions and if she feels someone is in the wrong, she will tell them to their face. On the flip side however, if she is wrong, Mareike has no problem in admitting her own faults and mistakes if it is proven she has made some. Independent and proud, she has trouble asking for help if she needed it, often preferring to struggle on alone rather than admit that there is something she can’t do alone.
Mareike is a very good criminal profiler and knows it, taking pride in her work and constantly striving to improve herself and the quality of her profiles. Somewhat of a workaholic, Mareike almost always has a new paper on the criminal mind to read, occasionally even penning a piece of her own if she deals with an interesting case. Work means a lot to her, to the extent that sometimes she has trouble letting go of a case if it either goes cold or ends rather badly. She considers it almost a point of honour to follow through on things no matter what the consequences and having to drop a case through lack of leads is extremely painful and hard for her. Despite her many years both in terms of being a werewolf and doing her job, along with personal experiences, Mareike still feels the horror and disgust that comes with what she does for a living. It never fails to surprise her, what one person can do to another and in a way, she clings to that; the day she doesn’t care or isn’t shocked by some horrific event is the day she quits her job.
There is an anal streak to her personality, Mareike loving to sort and organize things and after that, reorganize them. Almost every aspect of her life is labelled and sorted, the blond woman able to lay her hands on anything she owns at a moment’s notice. She likes things to have a certain place or role and while this doesn’t stop her being spontaneous or fun at times, eventually everything will be catalogued.
Around the majority of people, even those she honestly considers to be her friends, Mareike is somewhat guarded, unable to fully relax and be herself around them. It is hard for her to be herself, to relax and show the funny, witty side to her that is undeniably a part of her personality. It can lead to some people accusing her of being cold or standoffish, even snobbish but quite simply, she is afraid of being betrayed, rejected or hurt. It is simply easier to keep herself apart or reject them first. While she knows this isn’t the healthiest way to live, she can’t help herself. The only person she truly trusts is Clayton Roth, the man simply having been a part of her life too long for it to be any other way. She knows that he will always be there for her if she ever needs him and that she would do the same for him without question. Clayton is more than a friend or even family to her, the blond unable to put into words exactly how she feels about the male. To some degree this frustrates her, Mareike used to sorting out her life and placing everything mentally into a labelled box. Clayton defies all her attempts to sort him easily, Mareike simply knowing that he is everything.
Although Mareike makes an effort to keep her personal and professional lives separate and mostly succeeding, there is some overlap, most obviously in the form of Clayton. Another melding is her inability to simply turn off the ‘profiler’ side to her personality; it is too much a part of her for Mareike to be able to ignore it and so in the back of her mind every situation is analysed as thought it is part of a case. She is constantly profiling the people around her, even in everyday conversation, even though in some cases she might not even be fully aware she is doing it. Because of this, Mareike cannot help but see the worst case scenarios the majority of the time, picking up otherwise innocent looks or words and putting them against what she knows of the evils of the world. It makes her appear cynical, even pessimistic at times. While that is true, some part of her still holds onto the hope of something better, and she is always pleasantly surprised at a kind act.
WEAKNESSES: Like all of her kind, Mareike is allergic to the metal silver; it can make her feel nauseous, burn, poison and in extreme cases even kill her, depending on the proximity, quantity and the length of contact. Should it reach her lungs, heart or brain, not even her abilities would be able to heal it and she would eventually, painfully, die. She has great trouble trusting people she doesn’t know well enough and as far as Mareike is concerned, there is only one person that she knows well. It can cause problems and is one of the reasons why she works such a specialist branch of law enforcement; Mareike simply doesn’t trust anyone else to have her back. Emotionally as well, Clayton is a huge weakness to her; it is hard for her to think of anything she wouldn’t do for the other werewolf, anything she wouldn’t give up to protect him.
The past has left its own mental scars on her. Physical contact with anyone other than Clayton, no matter how fleeting and innocuous always makes her uncomfortable; although for the most part she is able disguise her true feelings. Enclosed spaces and being restrained in any fashion is another sensitive area for Mareike, the more extreme the restraint, the more panicked she will become. She suffers from intermittent nightmares involving both her past and her cases; typically after such a dream, Mareike cannot get back to sleep afterwards or endure remaining in the dark. Occasionally she will have phantom aches and pains all over her body which can leave her unable to move easily. Although logically she knows they are all in her mind, it doesn’t stop them hurting.
ABILITIES: Mareike had all of the benefits that comes with being a werewolf, shared with all her kind; all five of her senses are enhanced, along with increased speed, strength, agility, endurance, stamina, balance and reflexes. She has a higher pain threshold than humans, and on the flip side, she heals at an advanced rate, along with the obvious skill to change from human to wolf and back again at will. Her age means she is able to control her wolf during all three nights of the full moon, can stop herself from changing as well as retaining her mind at those times.
She has some skill in fighting hand to hand due to experience but for the most part she relies more on her speed and her intelligence if without a weapon. Due to her job, Mareike is also proficient in firearms, and is certified to carry one; she is more comfortable fighting with a staff given the chance but such opportunities only seem to come up now in training. Her greatest abilities undoubtedly lie in her job; she is a skilled profiler, very good at what she does. Mareike is capable of taking in complex situations at a mere glance, reading not only people but the surroundings as well. She can pick up on the smallest of movements or change in voice tone to get inside the mind of another person, as well as predicting behaviour and giving a rough psychological description of someone, even if she has never met them.
Mareike is trained in all manner of first aid, from the more conventional aspects such as emergency treatment in the field, mouth to mouth and CPR to the more ‘old fashioned’ aspects, knowing the medical properties of many natural herbs and plants. Given the time, she is fully capable of collecting and preparing a mixture and then administering it. On the flip side of this, Mareike is also fairly good with poisons, able to recognize not only the base ingredients themselves, but also the symptoms. She is a fan of Crochet, being reasonably skilled at it, often getting through a ball of yarn a week, using it to relax and to pass the time.
WEAPONS: While on duty, Mareike carries a Beretta 92FS handgun; off-duty she is mostly unarmed, except for a single German made hunting knife which never leaves her room.
PRIZED POSSESSIONS: Her pewter ankh necklace is clearly prized by the sheer amount of time she is seen wearing it.
HOME(S): An apartment on Neal's side of the city, which she shares with Clayton Roth.
HISTORY: Mareike Kohler was born to Dirk and Hertha Kohler in 1592. The Kohler family had lived in the village of Sasbachwalden, on the edge of the Black Forest in Germany, for many generations, becoming respected and trusted as a result. The pervious three generations of the Kohler family had all held important positions within the village, sitting on the council, or involved somehow in the law process. Dirk Kohler was no different, elected twice to positions of high authority. Along with his work to better the village, Dirk somehow found time to keep the family’s prosperous vineyard growing, as well as marrying one of the most desirable women of his generation, Hertha.
All in all, it seemed the Kohler’s had everything they could ever want bar a son, their only living child being their daughter Mareike. While at first glance things appeared harmonious, the private family life was a very different state of affairs. Under pressure from the expectations of his name, the constant work needed on the vineyard and the lack of a male heir took its toll on Dirk, the man simply – albeit quietly – snapping one day when Mareike was less than a year old, Hertha innocently asked him when he next planned to go to a village meeting. Without any warning or hesitation, he simply stood up and proceeded to beat her until she fell to the ground and didn’t get back up again. From that day onwards, whenever Dirk was stressed, whenever something bad had happened to him outside the family home, he simply took it out on his wife, using her as his own personal punching bag. His justification to doing so became less and less as time went on, until the tiniest thing possible could set him off.
The beating of a wife was not an uncommon sight in Sasbachwalden and so the rest of the village simply ignored it, even as the violence grew ever more pronounced and obvious, Hertha becoming worn down, timid and loosing her looks. By the time Mareike was five, Dirk was set in his ways. His wife was nothing more than an object to him, his daughter just a reminder of how things had been before her birth, how they should have been. He nearly killed his wife a number of times as Mareike grew older, with the other men in the village coming to fear him and his temper. His family name and his wealth meant that nobody dared to speak up against him, not even those who knew that sooner or later, they would find Hertha dead.
Mareike tried to stumble through her early childhood as best she could, knowing when to avoid her father and when to help her mother up off the floor. She learnt quickly enough that nobody was going to come to their rescue, the apparent apathy of the rest of the village only making her angrier, stubborn and proud. Any attempts at friendships were sharply and firmly rebuffed; Mareike couldn’t tolerate being friends with someone who knew her families secret and yet did nothing. It was easier to hold herself apart from the rest of them, to try and place herself above them. It made her appear cold and uncaring, even rude at times, but Mareike didn’t care what the rest thought of her.
There were times however when she couldn’t help but try and stand up to her father, somehow overcoming the fear the man inspired in her. No matter how much she begged him to stop, his only response was to hit Hertha harder and it wasn’t long before her mother told her to keep quiet before his attention shifted. At first Mareike didn’t understand what she meant by that; surely it was a good thing if he found something else to do instead of hurt her mother? It wasn’t until a few months after her fourteenth birthday that she learnt what Hertha had been trying to tell her, Dirk seeming to truly notice his daughter for the very first time. He began to fixate on her more and more, in his good moods telling her that she reminded him of his wife before she got ‘sad and boring’. Dirk made her do most of the female chores in the house, his demands become more and more perverse although the man always seemed to stop shy of actually touching her in a sexual manner. In his more common, not so good moods, it was now often Mareike who was his main target of his rage, the man beating them both during the worse of it. She accepted his blows, just as she accepted the pretentious speeches he gave her and the way he would sometimes touch her a few seconds too long or make her touch him a moment longer than normal as a way to protect her mother, reasoning that so long as Dirk’s attention was fixed on her, it wasn’t fixed on Hertha.
Mareike became lonely and more stand offish as the years passed, developing a sharp, shrewish like personality and tongue in the village, her words and actions doing almost as much as Dirk to drive anyone else away from her. As much as it killed her inside, Mareike tried to resign herself to the fact that this would be her life from now on, that she would never marry and escape her father. Even if she could have somehow set aside her pride and anger at the rest of the village, there was no way Dirk would have allowed it, the man becoming possessive of his daughter and often using her talking a minute too long to someone as an excuse to beat her.
Then the stranger came. It had been years since anyone new had come to Sasbachwalden, even a passing traveller such as Clayton Roth. She met him coming home from a day collecting herbs in the nearby Black Forest, intrigued despite herself at this novelty. Her normal bitter like behaviour didn’t surface as the two began to talk, Mareike simply relived that here was someone who hadn’t turned his back on her and her mother. It didn’t matter to her that he was an outsider – if anything, it made his company that much more appealing and she began to spend most of her free time with him whenever possible. When he got a job at one of the local farms, Mareike couldn’t fully hide her relief at not having to loose her friend. Her first and indeed only friend. She wasn’t sure exactly when she began to trust Clayton to that level, the two learning more about each other, Mareike always eager to hear his stories of his travels, although she made sure to keep her family stories vague.
Bit by bit, Mareike began to feel something she’d never before; hope. It was small at first, easily ignored but as the days passed and they spent more time together, she began to wonder if perhaps she could trust him with her secret. More important, Mareike began to hope that if she told him what her father was really capable of, Clayton might be able to do something. Exactly what, she wasn’t sure, not able to think that far ahead, still too stunned at the idea that someone might care. Shame kept her from speaking though, even after she decided she should tell him. It terrified her to think that he might learn the truth, that he would look at her differently, pity her or worse be disgusted and so she hesitated.
It turned out to be a mistake. Dirk wasn’t a man to take kindly the idea that someone was trying to take what was his; he considered his family to be his personal property and the simple fact that Mareike was spending her time with someone other than him boiled his blood. Even his attempts to ‘chastise’ her failed, Mareike showing real defence for the first time in years and refusing to give up her friendship with the interloper. Watching the two interact, paying one of his men to follow them, it didn’t take long for Dirk’s paranoid mind to come to the conclusion that his daughter was about to betray him and reveal their private family life. That was the last straw for Dirk, man no longer prepared to share Mareike with anyone and so one evening he paid the same man to follow the two of them again.
Oblivious to her father’s scheming, Mareike left Clayton near the outskirts of the village, having to go to the other side to collect a herb, little realising that he wouldn’t make it back to his accommodation, not even knowing he was missing until she took another detour on her way home to drop off some of the plants she had just collected, the herb making a delicious addiction to any stew. Her friend was nowhere to be found and at once she turned to head back to where she had last seen him. Although she couldn’t understand why Clayton would have gone into the Black Forest, it was the only place she could imagine him getting lost in, but before she could begin to look for him, her father appeared out of nowhere.
He wasted no time in ordering Mareike to return home with him, forcibly dragging her through the streets and back into the house when she tried to resist, just wanting to look for her friend. When she tried to leave, Dirk resorted to his usual tactics, almost throwing his daughter across the room, the young woman connecting painfully with the table, the blow knocking the wind out of her. It was enough of a distraction for her father to take advantage, grabbing her once more and pulling her upstairs to her room, locking her inside with the promise she could come out in the morning.
As the hours slowly ticked by she paced her room, knowing from bitter experience that she couldn’t get though the thickset door. Something was very wrong and although Mareike tried to tell herself that not even her father would go so far, some part of her knew what had happened to Clayton. As soon as morning came and he unlocked the door, she was out of the house, hurrying towards where she had last seen her friend, Dirk not far behind. As Mareike approached the edge of the village, she noticed a small crowd gathering there, watching something coming out of the tree line. A little afraid of what she might see, the young woman pushed her way through the group, eyes finally falling on the bloody and battered form of Clayton.
Without hesitating, she tried to move forward, to get to him and help him somehow. Once again, Dirk stopped her, hand wrapped firmly around her elbow, locking her in place. Only when she couldn’t move did Mareike fully take in the scene around her, the way in which everyone was looking at her friend with fear and suspicion. The shock on the faces of the rest was almost certainly mirrored in her expression when he announced the death of Stefan. She knew Stefan, knew him as well as she knew anyone in the village, the man a constant visitor to the family home. Before she could even comprehend that news however, Dirk was speaking accusing Clayton of killing Stefan. Numbly, she stood and watched as the injured man was arrested, hardly hearing the ridiculous claim of some monster being the murderer.
Meekly, Mareike went with her father, not speaking until he outright asked her if she thought Clayton had killed. She told him she didn’t know what to think and with that her father had to be satisfied, grimly telling her that they had found Stefan’s body, horribly brutalised and that the only suspect was Clayton. After Dirk had left, Mareike sat alone in the near dark for quite a while before everything slotted into a kind of lucidity. She still didn’t know what to think about what Clayton had claimed to have happened but she knew two things, knew with a clarity she had never perceived before.
If he said he didn’t kill Stefan then he didn’t. And she couldn’t leave him to be tortured by the inquisition and almost certainly executed as a practitioner of the dark arts.
Guilt played a part in her decision, Mareike knowing that her father was in some way responsible for the events that terrible night even if she didn’t know the full story. It was her fault that Clayton was in the mess he was. Making up her mind was easy; actually helping was another matter entirely, Mareike knowing she would have to act carefully and slowly if she was going to get him out without getting them both killed. Her father was watching her every move, still not sure if he had managed to drive the knife deep enough and so the next time Dirk asked if she thought Clayton had been behind Stefan’s death, as the rest of the village did, she quietly voiced her agreement. It was easy enough to be remorseful and fake regret, Mareike channelling everything she felt about her life and simply twisting that so it seemed as though she felt bad about trusting Clayton.
It got harder and harder as the days and then weeks passed, knowing that every moment had to be agony for Clayton, a pain she couldn’t even begin to imagine, not even with Dirk as a father. With every passing moment, she was acuity aware of failing her friend, of letting him down somehow, a small traitorous thought that after all this time death might be a blessing for the man. It wasn’t until he was dragged from the cells and placed into the cage on the outskirts of the village, a monstrous contraption designed to destroy a person’s body and spirit that Mareike felt able to act. By now her father had relaxed slightly, lowering his guard and no longer watching her as closely as he had before, clearly believing that he had won in this respect, although it didn’t stop the beatings. Rather, they had increased since Clayton’s arrest, Dirk determined not to let anything like that happen again.
As soon as she felt there was a good chance, Mareike snuck out of the house by the back and made her way towards the prison. Years of abuse had taught her how to move without being seen, how to remain in the background and she was able to sneak past the houses without any real difficulty, slowing down as she reached the foreboding building. No matter how much she had tried to prepare herself mentally, she couldn’t stop the small gasp of shock and horror as she discovered far from being in the prison, as she had expected, Clayton had been moved to the hanging cage and exposed to the elements. The brutality of what they were doing only fuelled Mareike’s conviction that she had to get him out of there before it was too late.
Grabbing the nearest weapon to hand, a loose but heavy piece of wood, Mareike crept ever closer, getting up right behind the first guard before swinging wildly. Somehow, her attack managed to make contact with the man, knocking him down. Before the second could react, she stuck again, pent up rage and fear giving her the strength to knock them both out cold. Mareike didn’t allow herself time to pause and really comprehend what she had just done, but forced herself to carry on moving, to search the guard and take the key to the cage. It wasn’t until she was unlocking it that Clayton seemed to fully realise she was there at all, her anger and concern building at the state he was in.
Even as she helped him out of his prison and coxed him up the path and into the Black Forest, Mareike knew that the small bag of medicines she had brought would not be enough to treat the extensive range of injuries he suffered. Despite that, and despite the fact it was obvious now, without actually having to say anything, what kind of a man her father was, Mareike refused to leave her village and family behind. In recent weeks her mother had fallen ill, another excuse for Dirk to hit his daughter, frustrated that one of his stress relievers was denied him. There was no way Mareike could or would leave her mother to the mercy of Drik, she knew only too well what he was capable of. Instead, she gave Clayton the pouch of medicine, promised she would return soon and then ran back towards the village, hoping that her presence hadn’t been missed.
She was too late. Too late by far. It hadn’t taken long for Dirk to realise his daughter was missing, nor to head towards the prison and see that Clayton had gone as well. Without even bothering to check on the men unconscious, he had returned home and started to take out his rage on his wife, uncaring of her illness and weakness. Hertha was unconscious from the blows by the time Mareike returned, the young women giving a cry at the sight facing her. There was no thought in her mind as she darted forward, trying to shield her mother and place her body between them. Her reappearance only seemed to increase Dirk’s rage, the man grabbing her by the hair and physically throwing her across the room before advancing on her mother again.
Barely able to more, Mareike could only watch as Dirk landed blow after blow, long after Hertha had stopped moving, stopped breathing even. At the sight of the still form of her mother, Mareike felt her body freeze up even more, breath catching painfully in her throat that had nothing to do with the way her body ached. Her father turned to face her, the rage still evident and Mareike could do nothing but cry out in pain and fear, realising with a cold and dim kind of certainty that this was it; she was going to die.
The warm breath of Dirk was on her neck, his hand wrapped in her hair when suddenly he pulled away, distracted by something. Slowly, almost in a trace, Mareike followed his gaze, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Clayton. She had not expected to see anyone, much less the man who had been injured so terrible and shouldn’t have been able to walk unaided. In his hands, he held an axe, weapon glinting in the light as he swung it, blade connecting solidly into her father. The sound of the first blow snapped Mareike back to her senses, recoiling from Dirk as Clayton swung again and again. As the man dropped down to the floor, as dead as her mother, Mareike struggled to her feet. Her breath sounded oddly harsh in her ears, erratic and wild. It was almost too much to take in, the idea that after all these years her tormenter was finally gone. Dead.
With a jolt, she suddenly realised he might win even now, that the murder charges which she had so strongly refused to believe in were now true – Clayton had killed someone, no matter how justified the death had been. Bluntly, knowing that there was no time for pleasantries, Mareike told him that, saying that they had to run before anyone found out and had them executed. With only a few moments to grab some more dried herbs, they did just that, stumbling out of the village and once more into the Black Forest.
As much as Mareike tried to support Clayton, aware that he was hurt badly, she could feel the shock of the recent events and the pain of her own injuries taking their toll, clouding her mind and making it hard to think or move unaided. Time seemed to move oddly, slipping by in strange globs and after what had seemed only a few blinks of her eyes, they were suddenly deep in the forest, Clayton stumbling and collapsing to the ground. Only as he passed out did she realise that he must have supported her weight all this way without her even knowing. Somehow, luck was on their side for once, Clayton having managed to reach what appeared to be an abandoned camp before his energy gave up, as there was no way she could have moved him far.
The remains of a shelter, fire hole, small spring and even a rusty axe were littered around the clearing, Mareike thinking only for a moment of the irony in the weapon before she focused once more on doing what she could for her friend. Carefully, she dragged him a few feet to a more comfortable spot, building up the fire before she began to treat his injuries, thankful for both her extensive knowledge when it came to this kind of thing and the dried medicine she had on her. Using the spring water, she cleaned out his injuries and generally cleared away the grime of the past few weeks. It was only then that Mareike discovered something unexpected.
He was healing far too fast. Worst, now that she had a chance to examine him carefully, Mareike knew he shouldn’t have been alive at all, that the marks and evidence of the injuries he had sustained should have killed him, not given him the strength to move and act as he had. Mareike didn’t know what to think, the memory of the accusation of witchcraft hovering unpleasantly in her mind. Not knowing what else to do, she finished tending to him and then backed away, grabbing the axe and simply waited for him to regain consciousness.
It was another point of worry when he did, waking after only a few hours when it should have taken him much longer. The fear was evident in Mareike now as she hovered a little way away from him, demanding to know the truth about what was going on, about how he was able to heal so unnaturally quickly. When Clayton finally spoke, it wasn’t what she expected, listening silently to his tale of Stefan and the large wolf then man that had appeared, how it had hurt him. Her grip on the axe loosened a little, wavering slightly, Mareike not sure what to believe or what to do. She wanted to trust Clayton, and when he asked her to put down the axe, she hesitated for only a few moments before gingerly lowering the weapon. Part of her expected her trust to be betrayed and it was something of a relief when he didn’t attack or move as she placed the axe on the ground, settling herself down in front of the fire.
For what felt like an entity, she simply watched the flames, digesting the information he had told her, weighing it against everything she had ever known or trusted. In the end though, it was no contest, Mareike turning to face him and admitting what she felt in her heart; she believed him. She might not have any clue about what to do with the information or what it even meant, but no matter what, she believed what had happened to him. What she did know however was that neither of them were in any state to really move; Clayton might be healing faster than he should and her own injuries would fade quickly enough but if they kept moving they would only delay that much needed healing. Mareike insisted they remain at the camp site they had found for a few days, believing that they were deep enough in the forest to escape detection from the people they had left behind.
For the next few days therefore, they remained still, Mareike using her knowledge of the area and of plant life to collect the necessary herbs to treat Clayton’s injuries while also collecting food for them to eat. The wounds on the man were healing at a staggering rate and even though Mareike knew why, she still had trouble believing that such a thing was really possible. She was so caught up in making sure he was better before they moved again, always on the alert for some sign that someone had found them that the days blurred together. Before she realised it, it was the night before the full moon. By then, Clayton had recovered enough to move and it didn’t surprise her that he was growing restless, the young man leaving the camp site to stretch his legs and work off a little energy. As the hours passed and the sun set, he didn’t come back, Mareike growing worried. A nervous energy twisted in the pit of her stomach, feeling far too familiar to the night she had almost lost him for her to be comfortable. Eventually, she fell asleep waiting for him to come back.
Mareike didn’t know what it was that woke her in the early hours of the morning, the fire having long since died down. It was still dark and quiet, but something made her uneasy, the feeling only growing at the knowledge that Clayton still hadn’t come back. Nervously, she moved closer to the fire, trying to get it to burning again, working on the embers. It almost seemed as though they didn’t want to light again before suddenly flaring into life, Mareike able to see the whole clearing for the first time since she woke up. There, on the opposite side stood a beast, large, hungry eyes fixed on her. Instantly her mind flashed to the stories Clayton had told her and the man who had hurt him, changed him in the first place. As she moved, so did the werewolf, chasing after her as she fled into the trees, trying to loose it in the dense wood. No matter how she tried though, Mareike could feel the creature gaining on her and stupidly she looked back, just as it leapt.
Flinging up her arms in a bid to protect her, as useless a gesture it was, she felt the beast crash up against her, propelling them both into the ground. With a scream, she twisted, trying to get away, ever conscious of the hot breath against her, knowing that unless she did something, she was going to die. Wither it was the sound or something else, Mareike didn’t know but for some reason the animal hesitated, pulling itself back perhaps to attack again. As it moved, its claws raked across the underside of her left arm, still lifted up over her face. Panting in fear, she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the killing blow. Nothing happened and after a few seconds, her eyes unwillingly opened, curiosity winning out. There, just as it had been before, stood the wolf only now it was twisting itself, body shuddering and moving as though waging some inner war. Then it was changing, fur fading away to be replaced by skin and a face she knew only too well.
Clayton. The pain in her arm was nothing compared to knowing that it had been Clayton who had attacked her, who had tried to kill her. The only person she had ever truly trusted had hurt her, Mareike inwardly harshly berating herself for ever being as stupid as to think she could let her guard down. Part of her was aware of the stunned and horrified expression on Clayton’s face, and of the apology that was starting to slowly come out of him. Mareike didn’t want to hear it, didn’t wait to hear it but stumbled awkwardly to her feet and ran again, tears stinging at her eyes, the throbbing pain in her arm flaring back up again. She didn’t know where she was running or what her plan was – all she knew was that she wanted to put as much distance as possible between her and him. Blindly she stumbled deeper and deeper into the forest, only slowing when she felt sure he wasn’t behind her. She kept moving all the same, too confused about recent events to really think deeply on them or what the marks on her arm really meant.
The day passed in the same dazed like state, Mareike only really snapping out of it as the sun set and an intense pain swept over her, causing her to double up, every limb in agony as they shifted and broke apart, her form changing and shifting until a black wolf, similar to Clayton’s form remained in her place. The wolf appeared to be in no hurry to move, remaining in her crouched position and simply taking in all the scents of the forest, including the rapidly approaching scent of another wolf – something like her. She waited, only pulling herself onto her four legs when the male appeared on the edge of the clearing.
The wolf watched him approach, her behaviour almost curious than anything else, no desire to try and dominate or protect herself, somehow knowing that the male opposite her was not a threat but something else entirely. When he bumped his head against her in a crude greeting, she returned it, the two quickly settling into a pattern and the rest of the night was spent together, the two wolves exploring the forest and hunting as a team so that when the sun finally rose and Mareike became aware of herself once more, it was to discover that Clayton was only a few feet away from her. Before she had time to really gather her thoughts, he began to apologise for his actions the day before and for the wounds on her arm he had accidentally caused.
At first, Mareike remained silent, aware of a change within her. She felt different somehow, and it wasn’t just the tiredness or the taste of blood in her mouth that made her realise she had become different, that she like Clayton, had changed. Any anger or fear she might have felt towards her friend faded away with the clear knowledge that he had no memory or control over what had happened two nights ago – her own experience had taught her that. Quietly, almost calmly, Mareike told him she accepted his apology and asked him to accept her own in running when she should have known that he would never have done anything like that on purpose. They couldn’t do much in the day that followed aside from trying to rest and recover as best they could before the third night stole upon them, the painful transformation occurring yet again. For the second night in a row, the female wolf found herself next to the tantalisingly familiar male and again she knew he wouldn’t attack her, the two roaming happily once more without any tensions between them.
With the third night of the full moon now finally behind them, they made concrete plans to leave the Black Forest at last. Mareike for one was eager to see the back of it and any links to her home. She could only hope that things would get easier once they got away from there, even though they both knew they would only have a month to find someone safe to hide and protect themselves. In the end, Clayton suggested they travel to England, the home of his mother’s ancestors. With no other ideas, she agreed and they set off, the male slowly teaching her bits of English as they went so by the time they finally reached the island country, Mareike could say and understand the more basic of conversations.
It frustrated her to not be able to understand people or have them understand her, and it frustrated her that the language was hard to get a grasp on at first, but Mareike was determined to learn it and learn it well, to make Clayton proud and to make sure he wasn’t embarrassed by her. Bit by bit, as time passed, her handle on the English language grew until she was more than passable, enough to function and deal with anyone if Clayton wasn’t around. It was hard going at first, the two struggling to make ends meet with the male doing any odd job going, and as soon as Mareike felt she could handle it, she began to clean in some of the inns and richer houses of the area, bringing home a little bit of money herself. The gradual increase in money enabled them to get their own small place and slowly they began to heal from the events of Germany.
To her worry however, Clayton seemed far from healed, her friend liable to panic in enclosed or crowded areas and suffering from nightmares so bad that often left her frozen on the threshold of his room, almost afraid to enter. She wasn’t even sure if he would want her to know about them and so she kept quiet, trying her best to help him whenever she could and to fill his life with more pleasant memories. The area they had settled in was quiet and peaceful, something Mareike was grateful for at first. She enjoyed that it was a small community and that everyone seemed content enough to leave her and Clayton to themselves. As time passed however, Mareike became aware of someone new in the area, someone she couldn’t recall seeing speaking to anyone and nobody she spoke to seemed to know who he was.
Time and time again, she would turn around see that same man watching her, always at a slight distance and always silent. Often she would enter one of the inns for work conscious of the man standing across the road and when she left hours later, he would still be there, waiting. It made the wolf inside of her pace anxiously, the concern only growing as he appeared at more and more of her work places, outside shops she would visit and even as she went for a walk.
Finally, she had enough. Mareike had already decided she wouldn’t let another man treat her as her father had done and in her own mind that extended to letting some stranger stalk her without uttering so much as a protest. Boldly she approached him one day after a shift, bearing down on him with intent clear in her gaze. As she drew closer, Mareike realised there was something ‘off’ about the man – he smelt different to everyone else around, reminding her more of herself and Clayton than anything else. Along with the way he held himself, it was enough to make her privately worry he was a werewolf as well although she didn’t voice that, instead demanding to know what he was doing following her around.
Unfazed, he introduced himself Gerald von Ritter and explained that he had indeed been watching her – and Clayton and that he had been watching them since the Black Forest. For years. That sick feeling in her stomach only intensified as he carried on, saying that he was starting up a pack and he had decided to honour them both by letting them be the first additions. Everything about the other man – wolf – sent all kinds of warning signals to Mareike’s brain and she bluntly informed him that neither she nor Clayton had any desire to join any pack, along with warning him to stay away from now on. The wolf simply smiled and told her she would change her mind but she didn’t wait to hear anymore, turning and moving as swiftly as she could along the streets without drawing attention to herself. To her relief, von Ritter didn’t appear to be following her and she reached the building where Clayton was working soon enough. Her behaviour must have told him that something was wrong, her friend climbing down before she even had chance to call up to him.
Quickly, almost in a hushed whisper, Mareike filled him in on her recent encounter, apologising for not bringing it before but saying she had thought she was merely being paranoid. The ‘promise’ von Ritter had given still weighed heavily on her mind, the two deciding to leave the town before he could carry it out. That same night they left and travelled deeper into the country, finding another, similar town that was hopefully far enough away from the strange rogue. Paranoid, and in her mind rightfully so, it took a while for Mareike to stop being twitchy, turning every corner and expecting to see the rogue but no matter how hard she looked, there was no sign of him anywhere, no movement out of the corner of her eyes and nobody watching and waiting outside of any work she or Clayton might find. Gradually, she began to relax and really breathe again.
Mareike had just started to feel safe – she should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Neither of them had any work that day and so they spent it really exploring the town and the surrounding area, just enjoying a day without having to worry about anything. It was late and dark by the time they returned back to their home and it wasn’t until they were both inside that Mareike felt something was ‘off’. From the tense way in which Clayton was holding himself, it was clear he felt it too. She half turned to speak, the words forming in her mouth when a dark shape launched itself out of the dim room and tackled Clayton roughly. She barely had time to take in the sight before the shape was moving again, coming close enough for Mareike to recognize Gerald von Ritter, the male having a dangerous look in his eyes.
Her first instinct was to try and move round him, to get a clear view of Clayton and see exactly what had happened for him but Mareike was no fighter. She didn’t know how to defends herself past the very basics and she was no match for the clearly older and more experienced werewolf, the male grabbing her roughly by the hair before she could so much as move, the familiar and skin crawling sensation a fatal distraction as von Ritter moved with deadly grace, his other hand lifting while the first one held her in place. Mareike felt her body go limp as he connected heavily against her, her mind remaining conscious for a split second longer before it too surrendered to the dark.
She woke an unknown amount of time later to find herself lying on a bed she didn’t know, in a room she didn’t know, completely alone. Any relief Mareike might have felt about von Ritter not already being in the room was swamped by fear for Clayton, a fear that only increased as she explored the room and discovered that despite the attempts to make it look liveable, it was a cell. She knew how her friend felt about cells but he wasn’t the only one who felt uneasy at being contained, memories of her father locking her away still hovering too close to the surface for her own comfort. As time passed, she felt herself become more and more worked up, worry, concern and fear all boiling together so that when the door to her cell – Mareike refused to even call it a room in her head – opened and von Ritter stepped inside, she felt ready to explode.
It took everything she had not to launch herself right at him, knowing that even if by some miracle she managed to get past him, she wouldn’t get far without more background on where she was and what was going on. The way in which he had managed to subdue her – and she could only assume Clayton – so easily told her that he wasn’t a wolf to be taken lightly. Instead Mareike forced herself to listen to him, to take in the repeated demand that they both join his pack. While inwardly rejoicing at the admission that Clayton was still alive and hopefully unharmed, Mareike flatly refused, von Ritter for some reason not pressing the point but simply leaving.
He returned again and again, always trying to convince Mareike with words that she would join his pack and that it was only a matter of time. At first she replied defiantly, sometimes rudely, pushing back against him. No matter what Mareike said however, he never raised a hand to her, simply leaving when the rage apparently became too much. After a while and a lot of thought, Mareike changed tactics; sheer pig-headiness wasn’t getting her out of here but perhaps cunning and guile would. It had worked against her father after all. Gradually, Mareike began to become more receptive to his speeches, outwardly apparently considering conforming. The only way she was getting out was if von Ritter lowed his guard enough to let her out and so she began to do what she could to that end.
At one point, von Ritter even tried telling Mareike that Clayton had seen the error of his ways, that he had decided to be good and do as he was told but the only response was a raised eyebrow and disbelief. She knew Clayton too well to ever believe such a weak lie and informed von Ritter so, the elder wolf apparently amused by her logic, almost going as far as admit he had lied. Weeks and then months began to blur dangerously into each other, Mareike always on edge, almost insane from the boredom and the fact she hadn’t seen, heard or even smelt Clayton once. Her tactics might be slow going but she had a feeling that he wasn’t following anything like them and it scared her to her core to think what he might say or do to push von Ritter over the edge.
Finally, she managed to convince von Ritter that she understood his plight, his reasoning and why he was making a pack. Her patience and perseverance paid off with von Ritter inviting her to speak to Clayton, although it took her, if she had only known it, eight solid months. All Mareike knew was that it had been a hellish time, and that they had to leave. Convinced that he had worn her down enough, von Ritter now hoped to use her to do the same to the male, to convince him of the error of his ways and to make him see there was no reason to fight any longer. Meekly, Mareike let von Ritter lead her out of the cell and along a serious of hallways, the female always making sure to keep her position submissive and non-threatening. When they were close enough to the cell that contained Clayton that she could actually pick up his scent for the first time it almost make her stop, the intense emotions trying to overwhelm her.
For once though, she could use her rage, finally allowing all the months of pent up frustration and fury build up in her and explode. Spinning neatly on her heel, Mareike lashed out, the sudden snap from docile to fighter taking von Ritter by surprise, so much so that he didn’t have time to move. Her fist connected squarely with his nose, Mareike taking a savage kind of satisfaction from the crunching sound and the blood that was already pooling on his face as he dropped to the ground. Pausing just long enough to roughly grab the chain of keys from his hand, Mareike hurried to the locked door, afraid of the state she would find Clayton in inside.
Thankfully, it wasn’t quite as bad as her imagination had suggested, but he had clearly born the brunt of von Ritter’s physical aggression, the dried blood a testament to his stubbornness. As quickly as they were able, the two began to move away from the cell and the crumpled form of von Ritter. Not for the first time however, they underestimated the elder, stronger wolf. Far from being unconscious, Mareike’s blow had only served to distract and anger him, the male reaching out as they passed and roughly grip Clayton by the ankle, stopping his escape and even dragging him down and back towards the cell. At the sound of his cry, Mareike turned back to try and help, ignoring Clayton’s cries that she just get out – as far as she was concerned, if they weren’t getting out together, they weren’t getting out at all.
It turned out to be the latter. Despite landing another blow on von Ritter, kicking him in the face and enjoying the sound, it only served to infuriate him more and give him more energy, lashing out and grabbing her, throwing her against the ground. Mareike barely had a second to try and twist, to avoid hurting herself before connecting harshly against the floor, her head hitting against it the hardest and knocking her out without another attack. She was unconscious for what followed, the way in which Clayton tried to attack and was defeated for his efforts, unconscious as von Ritter moved them both to new and distinctly unpleasant surroundings.
When she finally woke, it was to a pitch black room, every hint of light blocked off so that she couldn’t make out a single thing. Calling out didn’t help, silence the only response. Gingerly, Mareike began to feel around, her progress instantly hampered by the thick set of cuffs around her wrists. Attached to the middle was a chain, Mareike slowly tracing the strong links down and across the floor, to an equally strong ring set into the ground. No matter how hard she tried, there was no way to get out of the cuffs or to break the chain and in the end Mareike was forced to admit defeat, returning to explore as best she could. To her frustration however, the chain was only long enough for her to reach one wall, leaving her with no way of knowing exactly how big the room she was in was. It was devoid of anything else, simply open air. When the door finally opened, it was almost a relief, telling Mareike at least which direction the way out was.
Her new cell was all Mareike needed to know that whatever had kept von Ritter patient and under control was gone. He appeared almost hurt by what he pleased to call her ‘betrayal’, that he had trusted her and she hadn’t appreciated the gifts he had given her. When she demanded to know what had happened to Clayton and if he was alright, he ignored her for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, the elder wolf told her that she had forfeited the right to know anything about anyone and whereas before he had at least told her Clayton was alive, she would get no more favours.
Coldly, von Ritter explained that he was a gentleman and as such, had no desire to hit a woman unless there was no other choice. There were, he told her, other ways of ensuring she learnt to behave. That was the start of the emotional abuse, von Ritter doing everything he could to mentally break her. He kept Mareike in the pitch blackness for most of the time, depriving her of any light, to the degree that when he would finally open the door, the sudden appearance of light would actually hurt. It was small at first, little more than a cringe, but as time went on, the periods of total darkness began to increase in time, making the eventually light something she dreaded. As he promised, von Ritter refused to tell her anything about Clayton, leaving her without knowing if he was even alive or dead.
Continued below…