Gaining Strength [Part 7]
Jul. 1st, 2020 12:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
esp_dragonv2Fandom: Noblesse
Summary: Frankenstein needs to gain strength to protect humanity; the werewolves might hold the key to that.
Notes: Frankenstein decides werewolves are the bigger threat AU.
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word count: 2,111
Total word count: 14,963
Status: Work in progress
Now that he knew the throne clearing was in use, Frankenstein avoided it over the next week. It could be interesting to see how werewolves resolved other issues but it wasn't that important, and not everything would be focused around humans, if any. That would be if he was allowed to listen in as well.
He continued his exploration of the island, mapping the area and finding areas of interest. The fauna was different from anything Frankenstein had encountered before and hm, could it have something to do with being separated from the mainland? Growing in a different way... Were the werewolves unintentionally influencing them, or was it something else?
His hand flew to his dagger hilt when someone jumped down from one of the tree branches above.
It was one of the werewolves that Muzaka had called to him. The redhead that had snapped at him for baring his teeth at Muzaka.
"Oh, hello," Frankenstein said, watching her. What did she want?
The werewolf didn't say anything for a few seconds, looking him up and down. "Would you like to spar?"
Frankenstein raised his eyebrows. Well then. That was unexpected. "I'm surprised you'd want to spar with a human." With the differences between them, it should be an easy fight. Though, his surprise was from his earlier perceptions of werewolves; maybe the criminals were the minority, rather than the norm.
"Hmm," she said, still studying him, her brow furrowed. "You're...interesting. I want to know how a human was strong enough to take down werewolf warriors."
"Not everything is won through brute strength," Frankenstein told her lightly.
The werewolf just gave him a blank look at that.
"Though it does help, for the most part," Frankenstein admitted. Or else humanity wouldn't be struggling against every werewolf attack. If he hadn't gained the werewolf strength, he wouldn't have been able to hit the werewolves with the dagger in the first place.
"I doubt you'd want to see exactly how I took down your brethren, since I used silver to do it," he added.
Her gaze drifted down to where he kept the dagger. She looked at him again. "You still haven't answered my question," the werewolf said.
Oh. "You still want to spar?" Were werewolves that interested in fighting?
"Preferably without the silver though," the werewolf said, a small smile curling her lips. "I want to see what your transformation looks like."
"My transformation?" Frankenstein repeated. The transmutation?
She nodded. "Your claws. I haven't heard of a human getting claws before."
So that's what they called it. If things went well, more humans would be able to.
There was a chance it was trap though. A 'friendly fight' where he conveniently ended up dying. No-one would suspect foul play.
But the information he could gather about how they used their transmu... Transformation. Transformation. That was what they called it.
"All right," Frankenstein said.
The werewolf grinned, flinging off her cloak-
Frankenstein averted his eyes, taking a startled step back.
"Huh? What's wrong?"
Why was she asking? "I, ah, thought this was a spar?" Had he misunderstood her intentions?
"Yeah, that's why I took off my cloak," the werewolf said. "Take yours off already so we can start."
Frankenstein ran through the conversation they'd had and couldn't find any hint that she'd wanted anything different. ...Unless this was a difference in werewolf communications?
"When one asks to spar with another, that means you want to fight each other, yes?" Frankenstein asked. It would be best to clear this up as soon as possible.
"Yeah? Does it mean something else to humans?"
"No..." Frankenstein said, making sure his gaze didn't go lower than her face. "I was surprised when you removed your cloak. Disrobing to, ah, show that much skin usually means an intent for more...intimate relations for humans."
The werewolf raised her eyebrows before an amused smile grew on her face. "Getting rid of your cloak signals the want and readiness for a fight to start."
Cultural differences. Right. The other werewolves he'd seen and fought hadn't done that, but they had been criminals, and he'd never given them the chance to.
...This was going to take some getting used to... "And not taking off the clothing is seen as a refusal?"
The werewolf nodded.
All right. "When in Rome..." Frankenstein murmured, pulling off his tunic.
"You really haven't done that a lot, have you?" the werewolf said, amusement clear in her tone as she watched him set his tunic to the side.
"I've never had need to do it with the flair that you did," Frankenstein replied. "Shall we begin?"
The werewolf grinned at him. "You start."
...Hm. This was different from his usual sneaking tactics. The werewolf had already had ample chances to attack Frankenstein and hadn't.
He would leave the dagger out of the spar.
Frankenstein drew on the now familiar energy, his nails transm - transforming as he lunged forward. He gritted his teeth, his palms stinging as he pressed his claws into them.
He reached her as he unfurled his fingers.
As soon as he did, he had enough time to register her hand grabbing his wrist before he was slammed to the ground, his hand held behind his back. The impact jolted him enough to let go of the transformation.
...Dammit. In a fair fight with a werewolf, he had no chance.
The werewolf didn't say anything for a few seconds. "You're not used to fighting like us, are you?" He felt her spreading his fingers, prodding his palm near the wounds.
"No..." he admitted. "I'm far more comfortable with a blade in my hand, and humans don't use claws to fight." The habit of making a fist in a fight was far too strong.
"Hm." She stood up, letting him go. "Once your wounds have healed up, we'll try again."
Frankenstein didn't move, blinking. "What?"
"What?"
He got to his feet, but she was waiting patiently a short distance away. "You want to continue?"
She tilted her head, furrowing her brow. "Of course. We've just started."
There was something in her manner... "I wouldn't have thought I would make a good sparring partner for you."
She blinked at that, not saying anything for a few seconds. "...And what does sparring partner mean to humans?"
...Huh. It was good to know the confusion would go both ways. "Hm," he said, tapping his lips, "a person you spar with regularly. For werewolves...?"
She frowned, her brow furrowing. "It's someone...who's equal to you in strength and you can push each other to get stronger together."
That...sounded the same? What was the nuance he was missing?
She huffed, seeing his blank expression. "Yes, you can spar regularly with anyone, but a sparring partner is someone you could spar with every day and never tire of it. Or not spar and enjoy your time with them because you don't tire of their presence."
Aaah, he was starting to understand. "I wasn't asking for a, hm, committed relationship," Frankenstein said, shaking his head, "merely that it didn't seem like I would give you an interesting fight." Seeing how it had ended in one swift move.
The werewolf smiled softly at that. "No, but maybe in time, once you've learned more."
Frankenstein studied her, turning her words around in his head. "Are you...offering to teach me how to fight like a werewolf?" She hadn't pressed any advantages she'd had, hadn't used more force than necessary, and was waiting for him to recover before starting again.
She raised an eyebrow. "Haven't we already began?"
...So they had.
She grinned at him. "Ready to go again?"
Frankenstein rubbed his palms with a thumb. The blood had dried and there were no open wounds under it.
He returned her smile. "Yes."
* * *
Frankenstein panted as he stared up at the sky, laying on his back. Mmm, no, he couldn't continue any further. He wasn't sure if his legs would be able to hold his weight. Everything ached, his heart racing.
He could see the reason for removing their cloaks beforehand now - with claws involved, it would have been destroyed within a few slashes. Even though throughout the spars, the werewolf hadn't transformed - she still trounced him soundly.
"You learn pretty quick," the werewolf said as she walked over. "My name's Garda." She held out a hand towards him.
...Ah, right. They'd never formally introduced themselves to each other. "Frankenstein," he said, taking her hand.
She pulled him to his feet. He stumbled a step before he caught himself.
"We'll get washed up and then we'll get something to eat," Garda said, picking up her cloak. "Dinner should be ready soon."
Frankenstein stared after her. "Dinner?" She made it sound as if it was already being prepared.
"The evening meal? How often do you humans eat?"
Well. "We're meant to eat three meals a day." Though he hadn't always succeeded, too engrossed in his work.
"Then it's time to eat. The others'll like seeing you."
...The others?
* * *
Where the werewolves had dinner was on one of the neighbouring islands, which would explain why Frankenstein hadn't encountered many werewolves since he'd arrived.
He could smell the cooking meat even before he heard the rumbling crowd.
When they reached the source of the sounds and smells, Frankenstein paused at the sight of so many werewolves in one place. There were multiple campfires, each one roasting a different animal. Around each one were werewolves sitting together, chatting.
"Hey, Garda!" one werewolf called out, waving her over.
Hm. Where should he go...? Frankenstein drank in the sight of so many werewolves together. Not everyone wore the white robes - there were others who wore more than one layer, and hm, what was the difference? It seemed the ones who were younger wore multiple layers, but there were also adults who did as well, so if white robes signified warriors, was there something else in the others' clothing that would-
"Frankenstein?"
Garda had taken two steps away before turning back to look at him.
Oh. He followed her to one of the campfires.
"So who's this?" the one who had called Garda over asked. He looked more like a bear than a human, his blond hair tied in a braid over his shoulder. "I haven't seen you around before."
"I would be surprised if you had," Frankenstein said. "Frankenstein."
He noticed out of the corner of his eye the other werewolves around the campfire lean forward when he said that.
"The human who grew his own claws?"
"...Yes." It seemed like that would be his moniker with werewolves. There were worse things to be called. And it seemed that as different as werewolves were to humans, they were also prone to gossip.
"Heh, you should tell us how you did that," the first werewolf said, offering him a filled cup.
He took the cup, sitting down. He wouldn't go into the specific details, but...it did look like he would be at the centre of attention for a while.
* * *
Frankenstein set his cup down beside him, massaging the back of his neck. "I've enjoyed my time but I should be heading back."
He smiled at the disappointed calls, but stood up and left anyway. He found where to wash his plate and set it on the pile afterwards.
Frankenstein listened as he walked away, hearing the voices fade with each step.
He exhaled, relaxing once he couldn't hear them anymore. That...had been more of a shock than he thought it would be. After spending months on the run and before that, spending most of his time alone, it was overwhelming to be speaking with that many people at once. They were curious and drew him into their conversations, but he was far more used to staying back and observing.
Frankenstein kept an ear out in case he was followed, but all he heard was the insect nightlife.
He was more drained after all the social interaction than the spars with Garda. Granted, he had talked for longer but...
He would be glad when he reached his lab again. It had been a tiring day.
For a fic that's all about gaining strength, I'm just skipping past the actual spars, because they're kinda boring for me to write, haha.
Summary: Frankenstein needs to gain strength to protect humanity; the werewolves might hold the key to that.
Notes: Frankenstein decides werewolves are the bigger threat AU.
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word count: 2,111
Total word count: 14,963
Status: Work in progress
Now that he knew the throne clearing was in use, Frankenstein avoided it over the next week. It could be interesting to see how werewolves resolved other issues but it wasn't that important, and not everything would be focused around humans, if any. That would be if he was allowed to listen in as well.
He continued his exploration of the island, mapping the area and finding areas of interest. The fauna was different from anything Frankenstein had encountered before and hm, could it have something to do with being separated from the mainland? Growing in a different way... Were the werewolves unintentionally influencing them, or was it something else?
His hand flew to his dagger hilt when someone jumped down from one of the tree branches above.
It was one of the werewolves that Muzaka had called to him. The redhead that had snapped at him for baring his teeth at Muzaka.
"Oh, hello," Frankenstein said, watching her. What did she want?
The werewolf didn't say anything for a few seconds, looking him up and down. "Would you like to spar?"
Frankenstein raised his eyebrows. Well then. That was unexpected. "I'm surprised you'd want to spar with a human." With the differences between them, it should be an easy fight. Though, his surprise was from his earlier perceptions of werewolves; maybe the criminals were the minority, rather than the norm.
"Hmm," she said, still studying him, her brow furrowed. "You're...interesting. I want to know how a human was strong enough to take down werewolf warriors."
"Not everything is won through brute strength," Frankenstein told her lightly.
The werewolf just gave him a blank look at that.
"Though it does help, for the most part," Frankenstein admitted. Or else humanity wouldn't be struggling against every werewolf attack. If he hadn't gained the werewolf strength, he wouldn't have been able to hit the werewolves with the dagger in the first place.
"I doubt you'd want to see exactly how I took down your brethren, since I used silver to do it," he added.
Her gaze drifted down to where he kept the dagger. She looked at him again. "You still haven't answered my question," the werewolf said.
Oh. "You still want to spar?" Were werewolves that interested in fighting?
"Preferably without the silver though," the werewolf said, a small smile curling her lips. "I want to see what your transformation looks like."
"My transformation?" Frankenstein repeated. The transmutation?
She nodded. "Your claws. I haven't heard of a human getting claws before."
So that's what they called it. If things went well, more humans would be able to.
There was a chance it was trap though. A 'friendly fight' where he conveniently ended up dying. No-one would suspect foul play.
But the information he could gather about how they used their transmu... Transformation. Transformation. That was what they called it.
"All right," Frankenstein said.
The werewolf grinned, flinging off her cloak-
Frankenstein averted his eyes, taking a startled step back.
"Huh? What's wrong?"
Why was she asking? "I, ah, thought this was a spar?" Had he misunderstood her intentions?
"Yeah, that's why I took off my cloak," the werewolf said. "Take yours off already so we can start."
Frankenstein ran through the conversation they'd had and couldn't find any hint that she'd wanted anything different. ...Unless this was a difference in werewolf communications?
"When one asks to spar with another, that means you want to fight each other, yes?" Frankenstein asked. It would be best to clear this up as soon as possible.
"Yeah? Does it mean something else to humans?"
"No..." Frankenstein said, making sure his gaze didn't go lower than her face. "I was surprised when you removed your cloak. Disrobing to, ah, show that much skin usually means an intent for more...intimate relations for humans."
The werewolf raised her eyebrows before an amused smile grew on her face. "Getting rid of your cloak signals the want and readiness for a fight to start."
Cultural differences. Right. The other werewolves he'd seen and fought hadn't done that, but they had been criminals, and he'd never given them the chance to.
...This was going to take some getting used to... "And not taking off the clothing is seen as a refusal?"
The werewolf nodded.
All right. "When in Rome..." Frankenstein murmured, pulling off his tunic.
"You really haven't done that a lot, have you?" the werewolf said, amusement clear in her tone as she watched him set his tunic to the side.
"I've never had need to do it with the flair that you did," Frankenstein replied. "Shall we begin?"
The werewolf grinned at him. "You start."
...Hm. This was different from his usual sneaking tactics. The werewolf had already had ample chances to attack Frankenstein and hadn't.
He would leave the dagger out of the spar.
Frankenstein drew on the now familiar energy, his nails transm - transforming as he lunged forward. He gritted his teeth, his palms stinging as he pressed his claws into them.
He reached her as he unfurled his fingers.
As soon as he did, he had enough time to register her hand grabbing his wrist before he was slammed to the ground, his hand held behind his back. The impact jolted him enough to let go of the transformation.
...Dammit. In a fair fight with a werewolf, he had no chance.
The werewolf didn't say anything for a few seconds. "You're not used to fighting like us, are you?" He felt her spreading his fingers, prodding his palm near the wounds.
"No..." he admitted. "I'm far more comfortable with a blade in my hand, and humans don't use claws to fight." The habit of making a fist in a fight was far too strong.
"Hm." She stood up, letting him go. "Once your wounds have healed up, we'll try again."
Frankenstein didn't move, blinking. "What?"
"What?"
He got to his feet, but she was waiting patiently a short distance away. "You want to continue?"
She tilted her head, furrowing her brow. "Of course. We've just started."
There was something in her manner... "I wouldn't have thought I would make a good sparring partner for you."
She blinked at that, not saying anything for a few seconds. "...And what does sparring partner mean to humans?"
...Huh. It was good to know the confusion would go both ways. "Hm," he said, tapping his lips, "a person you spar with regularly. For werewolves...?"
She frowned, her brow furrowing. "It's someone...who's equal to you in strength and you can push each other to get stronger together."
That...sounded the same? What was the nuance he was missing?
She huffed, seeing his blank expression. "Yes, you can spar regularly with anyone, but a sparring partner is someone you could spar with every day and never tire of it. Or not spar and enjoy your time with them because you don't tire of their presence."
Aaah, he was starting to understand. "I wasn't asking for a, hm, committed relationship," Frankenstein said, shaking his head, "merely that it didn't seem like I would give you an interesting fight." Seeing how it had ended in one swift move.
The werewolf smiled softly at that. "No, but maybe in time, once you've learned more."
Frankenstein studied her, turning her words around in his head. "Are you...offering to teach me how to fight like a werewolf?" She hadn't pressed any advantages she'd had, hadn't used more force than necessary, and was waiting for him to recover before starting again.
She raised an eyebrow. "Haven't we already began?"
...So they had.
She grinned at him. "Ready to go again?"
Frankenstein rubbed his palms with a thumb. The blood had dried and there were no open wounds under it.
He returned her smile. "Yes."
Frankenstein panted as he stared up at the sky, laying on his back. Mmm, no, he couldn't continue any further. He wasn't sure if his legs would be able to hold his weight. Everything ached, his heart racing.
He could see the reason for removing their cloaks beforehand now - with claws involved, it would have been destroyed within a few slashes. Even though throughout the spars, the werewolf hadn't transformed - she still trounced him soundly.
"You learn pretty quick," the werewolf said as she walked over. "My name's Garda." She held out a hand towards him.
...Ah, right. They'd never formally introduced themselves to each other. "Frankenstein," he said, taking her hand.
She pulled him to his feet. He stumbled a step before he caught himself.
"We'll get washed up and then we'll get something to eat," Garda said, picking up her cloak. "Dinner should be ready soon."
Frankenstein stared after her. "Dinner?" She made it sound as if it was already being prepared.
"The evening meal? How often do you humans eat?"
Well. "We're meant to eat three meals a day." Though he hadn't always succeeded, too engrossed in his work.
"Then it's time to eat. The others'll like seeing you."
...The others?
Where the werewolves had dinner was on one of the neighbouring islands, which would explain why Frankenstein hadn't encountered many werewolves since he'd arrived.
He could smell the cooking meat even before he heard the rumbling crowd.
When they reached the source of the sounds and smells, Frankenstein paused at the sight of so many werewolves in one place. There were multiple campfires, each one roasting a different animal. Around each one were werewolves sitting together, chatting.
"Hey, Garda!" one werewolf called out, waving her over.
Hm. Where should he go...? Frankenstein drank in the sight of so many werewolves together. Not everyone wore the white robes - there were others who wore more than one layer, and hm, what was the difference? It seemed the ones who were younger wore multiple layers, but there were also adults who did as well, so if white robes signified warriors, was there something else in the others' clothing that would-
"Frankenstein?"
Garda had taken two steps away before turning back to look at him.
Oh. He followed her to one of the campfires.
"So who's this?" the one who had called Garda over asked. He looked more like a bear than a human, his blond hair tied in a braid over his shoulder. "I haven't seen you around before."
"I would be surprised if you had," Frankenstein said. "Frankenstein."
He noticed out of the corner of his eye the other werewolves around the campfire lean forward when he said that.
"The human who grew his own claws?"
"...Yes." It seemed like that would be his moniker with werewolves. There were worse things to be called. And it seemed that as different as werewolves were to humans, they were also prone to gossip.
"Heh, you should tell us how you did that," the first werewolf said, offering him a filled cup.
He took the cup, sitting down. He wouldn't go into the specific details, but...it did look like he would be at the centre of attention for a while.
Frankenstein set his cup down beside him, massaging the back of his neck. "I've enjoyed my time but I should be heading back."
He smiled at the disappointed calls, but stood up and left anyway. He found where to wash his plate and set it on the pile afterwards.
Frankenstein listened as he walked away, hearing the voices fade with each step.
He exhaled, relaxing once he couldn't hear them anymore. That...had been more of a shock than he thought it would be. After spending months on the run and before that, spending most of his time alone, it was overwhelming to be speaking with that many people at once. They were curious and drew him into their conversations, but he was far more used to staying back and observing.
Frankenstein kept an ear out in case he was followed, but all he heard was the insect nightlife.
He was more drained after all the social interaction than the spars with Garda. Granted, he had talked for longer but...
He would be glad when he reached his lab again. It had been a tiring day.
For a fic that's all about gaining strength, I'm just skipping past the actual spars, because they're kinda boring for me to write, haha.