Thar Shaddin

Leni left Clarice in the bedroom, and returned to the small room that served to contain her and Scraps and everything between them that hung, spoken or unspoken, as it had for the past several years. She sat in her chair as she did nearly every day, waiting for death or blood like she always did, always.

Scraps took his sweet time. When he finally came through the door he was balancing a basket and a cloth sack in one hand, the key in the other. She'd let him struggle with the lock, considering her empty thoughts as she waited for him to manage. Irritation showed in his expression first, as he saw her in the room, as it always did. Irritation, resignation, smoothed quickly behind a mask of calm.

Leni wondered if he let her see his frustration.

Scraps didn't bother to ask her why she hadn't gotten up to help him. Nor did he bother to complain at the mess she'd left. He hoarded the anger, the resentment, because he knew there'd be no satisfaction in confronting her. She knew he knew that, and waited out his outbursts with the quiet enthusiasm of a woman driven to the end of her rope. She hungered for his dissatisfaction, lived for the moment when he dug at her with his words and his angry face. It was the only pleasure she got out of her long, boring days.

Leni watched him stuff all of it away, and quietly wondered if she'd bring it out of him with the job she'd taken. He knew something was different. She was smirking. She let him see her triumph, but he ignored her to take his purchases to the table in the corner that served them as counter and surface. It was always in need of cleaning.

Silence existed between them until she couldn't stand the wait any longer. She stretched like a cat, and said, "I got a job." She heard him go still for a moment. It was enough.

He waited.

"That fox came by --"

"Which fox?" Two deliberate, measured words.

Leni's smile grew cruel. "Fayane." Silence.
"What'd she want?"
"Wanted me to keep her kid for her."
"You? Wanted you to -- no. Leni --"
"Left the kid here."
Silence.
"Alenia." His voice was dangerous.
"She even paid for't." Leni lifted her hand, the purse with its clink of coin dangling from her fingers.
"No."
"Scrappy-bo," she mocked, and teeth showed through her smile, "you don't like kids?"
"Give it, and her child, back to her. Where's her daughter? I'll take her if you're too fucking high to do it."

Oooh, dangerous. Leni's knife hand itched something awful. She caught up the pouch of coin, tangling the string in her fingers before Scraps could snatch it away. Her grin widened. She knew him so well. He caught up her wrist, but before he could push his finger into the right spot to make her let go she exploded up and out of the chair, knee coming up with her. Wasn't expecting that, was he? Slow ol' Leni rotting away in her chair, too stupid and slow to do much of anything to him.

She rode him down to the floor, her face split open wide with a feral grin. "Shhh," she said around the gleam of teeth between her lips as he tried to curl up around the pain, "Shhh, we wouldn't want to wake the brat, now would we?"

Clarice heard the scuffle and curled tighter into her doll, whimpering quietly. Well... she was alone... without further thought, she shifted, grabbed the doll in her mouth and hid. Skittering out a moment, barely a heartbeat, she had her cloak in her mouth and was back in the niche within seconds. She managed to tug the thin material in fully before she curled up on top of the doll, cloak on top of her.

If Leni looked between the wall and the thing she could call a dresser, she'd find the small kit huddled in a ball and within easy reach, covered by her bunched up cloak.

Scraps whispered a word from where he huddled on the floor, and Leni screamed. Pain drove itself on lightning tendrils through her neck, from the collar. The sizzling sensation resonated up to her jaw and teeth, and down through her collarbones. She could feel it in her chest, and she gasped. But she didn't fucking fall, not for Scraps. Never for Scraps. The bastard crawled out from beneath her, and he whispered the word again. This time she went down to her knees, and out of her peripheral vision she saw Scraps get up, and felt more than saw him pull the pouch from her fingers. There were fucking tears in her eyes, it hurt so bad.

Scraps didn't wait for her say so: he left her to the vibrating, awful pain, and started to look for the brat. The house wasn't that big. Looking wouldn't take long.

"Clarice," she heard him call, a mix of sternness and gentleness.

Leni mouthed a 'fuck you' that didn't make it much past her lips. She heard him move into the bedroom, all quietlike in the way she hated.

"Clarice? Where are you? I would like to speak to you, please."

She'd just started nodding off again when Leni screamed. Clarice was up, on all fours and hiding under her cloak when the strange man entered, calling for her. He knew her name. She didn't like that. Every nerve in her body was terrified, her fur was puffed up, but Leni has SCREAMED. This man hurt Mama's friend. That would not be tolerated. She exploded from the dresser, coated in flames and snarling. She dove at him, slammed into his chest, only to bound off him and out the door; shifting halfway as she moved, only to stop between Leni and the man, snarling.

The flames that licked at her fur didn't harm her. They appeared more intense at her paws, shoulders,belly, eyes and mouth, and crackled. "You hurt Mama's friend, human. I have nothing to say to you." And she lunged again, snarling, her teeth aiming for his neck, her claws seeking to dig into flesh.