that time of the month Tracker thinks that maybe, she should’ve just let the wolf kill her. If not that, maybe the universe should swallow her up and bury her alive. It would be far more enjoyable than this. “Okay, recon mission. We get what you need for your situation and then something sweet and we get out of here, got it?” Jawbone is being nice. He’s being incredibly understanding and helpful and Tracker wishes she could stop existing here and now. She always vaguely understood that something like this would happen to her, as punishment for eating the apple eaten at the beginning of the world. It was something for future her to worry about and the thought of the ever-constant reminder that she was becoming a woman sickened Tracker. She had gone through enough change. She didn’t need to go through more. Her body had other plans. She was always going to get her period eventually and she would have to be here, buying pads from Thrallmart, but it was something so uncomfortably sounding that Tracker didn’t want to ever think about it. Now she has to. And this shit sucks. Her stomach was hurting in a new and novel way. She was sore and sleepy, almost like after a full moon. When she got up to use the bathroom this morning, there it was, damning her. And she’s here now, under the bright fluorescents of Thrallmart doing this humiliation ritual. “Track, d’you hear me?” “Huh?” Tracker asks, pulling herself out of her own head. “What?” “We’re gonna get pads and some ice cream and head out, alright?” Tracker nods. “Yeah, sure, alright. Whatever we need.”
Jawbone claps her shoulder, giving her some kind of support as they walk towards the hygiene aisles. He starts to go on some great speech about how periods are nothing to be ashamed of and how he was able to pull off a massive con in the Swamps of Ruin with his friend’s period blood, but Tracker pulls herself to the recesses of her mind as the rest of herself fills with shame. She knows that this is natural, but Tracker is so base and monstrous now. She’s trying to get comfortable with this, the wolf and her new place in the world. Dealing with her period and becoming a woman feels like a cruel joke to add atop that. They get to the aisles they need. The pair stare at the packed shelves, filled with the brim with too many decisions. Solace has too many options. How are either of them supposed to figure this out? “Whoo, boy, this is a lot…” Jawbone comments, practically reading Tracker’s mind. “Okay, we trial and error these? See what you like and what works, for the future?” Tracker nods. That makes sense. It sounds like a lot of money wasted, so Tracker will suffer through a box of whatever brand she grabs today and just come in next time to figure out what she should grab. She does the shopping mostly for them anyway, Jawbone just decided to come with for moral support. She inspects the aisles, forcing herself to glance at all of them. Jawbone keeps his distance, not rushing her into this. She keeps quiet—thankful, but not knowing what to say to show it. Tracker grabs a package. It looks like a normal size. She doesn’t think she needs any of the bigger or smaller ones. She’s average sized. Her period should be as well? “Are you two doing alright?” A voice cuts through the aisle. Tracker’s head whips around, as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t be doing. Her heartbeat picks up for a moment, panicking the inner wolfish instincts. They relax when they see the woman.
She’s older, kind of reminding Tracker of her own mom for a split second, before Tracker pushes the thought away. She wouldn’t be helpful with this, nor would she be here with her. “We’re just trying to figure this all out. Her first time y’know. A little unexpected, so we’re flying in blind.” Tracker thinks that if Sol smited her right here, she would forgive him for everything Tracker hates about his church and his believers. She wouldn’t even mind going to hell and suffering for all eternity. It would probably be better than this moment right now. “Oh, a single dad, huh? Gods, this must be a nightmare to navigate! Do you two want help? I don’t mind. I raised three daughters and I’m here grabbing some extra supplies for my grandchildren, so I know this aisle and this stuff like the back of my hand.” “Please, that would be great.” Jawbone says, sighing a little at the end with relief. “I want her to have whatever she needs but this…” “Is more than it should be.” The older woman fills in. “Exactly!” The older woman closes with Tracker, leaving her buggy behind. She looks at the box Tracker is holding and she passes it to her, not really wanting to hold onto it anymore. “He’s my uncle, not my dad.” Tracker corrects, feeling weird calling him ‘dad’ or ‘uncle’, but one feels marginally better than the other. And it’s a decent enough explanation of their relationship. She’s not gonna outright tell people that she’s a teenage runaway living with a strange man who she helps sell drugs with. That’s a one way trip to to juvie or worse, back to Highcourt. She doesn’t need that.
Jawbone wraps his arm around her shoulders, giving her a side hug. “Got custody of her recently, though. Nasty car crash, took out her parents. We’re takin’ this one day at a time.” The older woman looks at them sympathetically. It’s a good lie, what they have explained. Why they need to give it to her, Tracker doesn’t know, but they’ve rehearsed this enough times that Tracker almost believes it’s the truth. She wants it to be, at least. “Oh, you poor dears! I’m glad I was here to help, then!” The woman shows the box and grabs one a couple of boxes down, holding both of them up. “Okay, so what you grabbed are pads, which is great for first-timers. I also recommend a bigger pad at night, since these are supposed to be changed every four or so hours, even if this is the right size for your flow. They make night pads, but if you just wanna size up two for the same brand, that also works. It just doesn’t take into account you lying down and the blood flowing differently.” Tracker nods, her ability for words right now being taken from her. She feels hot and claustrophobic, embarrassment swinging in with full force. “Which one do you want, Track Attack?” Tracker takes a second to look at them, eyes wide and a little panicked. She points at the night ones, the words not yet returning to her, and Jawbone uses his free hand to get both of the packages back. “What else do you recommend?” “Tylenol and a heating pad for the pain. Wait a little bit to start using tampons, if you wish, and then something sweet, to make this all feel better.” Tracker is looking at her feet now. This is a lot all at once. Desperately, she wishes that she didn’t ever have to go through this. This might suck more than becoming a werewolf. …Might.
The woman leaves with goodbyes given to Jawbone. Tracker chimes in, at the end, with a goodbye when she’s almost completely out of sight. Jawbone lets go, putting the two boxes into his basket, and giving her a bit of space. She looks at him as he waits patiently on her. “Sorry,” she tells him and she means it, but she didn’t intend to actually say it. “What for?” “I don’t know, I just…” It takes Tracer a second to say anything else. “You didn’t sign up for this? Any of this, really. It shouldn’t be your problem, it’s mine. I should’ve figured this out myself.” Jawbone looks at her, his wolfish face softening. “I signed up for all of it, when I brought you in. Tracker, I don’t mind doing this for you. Sure, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing like, sixty percent of the time, but we’ll figure this out. It’s what uncles do, remember?” Tracker looks back at him, unable to control her face. She bridges the gap between them, pushing off her tiptoes to wrap him in a hug. “Thank you!” She’s muffled, her face shoved into his furry neck. Jawbone reciprocates, wrapping his arms around her, holding her here for as long as she wishes. ================================================================= =================================================================
a new way to return home Kristen needs to stop going to church. She doesn’t live at home anymore. She doesn’t believe in Helio. She doesn’t want to be their Chosen One. It’s out of obligation that she still attends. She loves her family. She loves her community and the church she was raised with. She just doesn’t want this, from Helio, and her acceptance there is conditional on aligning herself with a god that does not love her, despite what everyone else claims. She’s trying to show that she’s still good, despite not believing anymore. She puts in the work and stays with the community, but they’re keeping her at arms length because she’s destined for Hell now, she knows it. They all know it. She’s forsaking Helio’s name and the only reason that he’s not smiting her down for coming back and not believing is his mercy. It’s exhausting. She should just stop going and cut her ties with her family. It’ll be hard, not seeing her brothers ever again, but it’s not like her parents are letting her talk to them. She at most gets a glimpse and hears their voices talking about her, overtop of everyone else’s judgy whispers. It’s awful. She hates it. But what does it say about her that she’s going to give up that so easily? She doesn’t like this train of thought. She flops atop of Jawbone’s well-worn couch, flinging herself over the edge of the arm rest. She lands face-first into the cushions and it hurts a little more than Kristen would like to admit. “Woof.” Jawbone’s voice announces himself in the room. “You good, Kristen?” Kristen speaks, but the couch cushion she’s trying to mesh into muffles her voice. She thinks that’s answer enough, but she turns her head, just enough to answer him. “No.” She sees that he takes a seat in his chair. Nobody else sits on it; Tracker was sure to tell them that it was his special chair. He’s had it longer than any of them have been alive, apparently. Kristen’s dad has a chair like that. Just the simple comparison makes her miss her family even more. He turns to her, setting down the mug of tea that’s in his hands. He straightens up a little, like he does when he’s at work. Kristen thinks she’s getting guidanced right now. She doesn’t want guidance. She wants to cry or scream or do something ill-advised, but Jawbone won’t let her, at least not without talking it out first.
“What’s up, kiddo? I’m all ears.” Kristen doesn't want to talk about it. Nobody understands her relationship with Helio and the church. Tracker comes close enough, but she has a hot werewolf goddess to worship. She isn’t in this shitty limbo state, not believing in Helio but without a real god. She has the book of World Religions that Fabian bought her and it’s enlightening, sure, but it isn’t anything to worship. She can’t be a cleric for everything. That’s not what clericdom is. “I think I have to stop going to church.” Kristen shifts onto her back, laying down like she’s in one of those therapy sessions Riz’s cop procedurals have. “And I don’t really want to.” Everyone knows that Kristen is going through a crisis of faith. It’s clear as day. She’s like the poster child for a religious crisis. Chosen One who died to the symbol of her god and then was almost sacrificed for a cult he was at least semi-okay with. That would bring anyone over towards being a nonbeliever, but the label feels awful. Kristen knows that Helio’s real. She has seen him. She has heard him. She has felt his magic. If belief was only just knowing that he is real, she would be the biggest believer. But belief is more than that. It’s putting your life in a deity’s hands and feeling as if they have your best interest at heart. Helio doesn’t, she knows that. Or, maybe he does and he can’t help her anyways. That might be worse, she thinks. If he does love her but can’t help. Then he’s not a god worth worshipping at all. It’s all so confusing and she can’t really talk to anyone about it. “Do you want to talk about it?” She does, desperately. Jawbone can’t possibly understand, but he’s offering. Nobody else really has, yet, except Tracker and Kristen knows that there’s something there, between the church and Tracker that makes Kristen not explain this to her. But Jawbone’s not Tracker and he’s asking. What’s the harm in one conversation? If he doesn’t understand, she’s just striking out again. What’s the harm in that? “How much do you know about Helio?” “A bit.” Jawbone admits. “I don’t know the like, nitty gritty of his doctrine, but I was raised in the church. I remember the bare bones stuff.”
Kristen shoots up, almost falling off of the couch. “WHAT!” Kristen looks at Jawbone. He doesn’t look like he’s messing with her and that’s not Jawbone’s M.O. “Really?” Kristen asks, hopeful. “You were raised in the church?” Jawbone nods. “Highcourt Baptist. That shouldn’t be too dissimilar from the church here, right?” “Solesian Baptist, yeah.” Kristen nods. “They’re pretty similar.” The Highcourt Baptists are where Solesian Baptists split off from, back when Solace was becoming its own nation. It wasn’t that long ago, in the grand scheme of things. The broad history and beliefs are the same, just Highcourt Baptists are more strict and traditional. Solace has influenced the Solesian church for the better, in Kristen’s opinion. “It’s been a bit since I’ve been to a service, but that’s where you were today, right?” Kristen looks down. She’s wearing a dress from one of Tracker’s ex-girlfriends. It’s the only semi-nice dress she has now. It’s not really what she should be wearing in church, but she’s not allowed in the kid services anymore, so she has to dress appropriately. “Uh, yeah.” Kristen admits. “Kind of obvious, isn’t it?” Jawbone nods. “Did anything specific happen there today, or is this more of a general thing?” “More general. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, it's just…” Kristen pauses, trying to find the right words. She is supposed to be good at this. She was taught how to preach from the pulpit. This isn’t that much different from that. “I know that I am unwelcome how I am and yet, I keep going back.” Kristen explains. “Nothing changes. It won’t get better because they think I’m the one in the wrong when I’m not. I know that I’m not. They just don’t believe me.” Jawbone lets her sit with that for a second. Kristen knows that her queerness is a good thing. She doesn’t have internalized homophobia or anything. Everyone else is just believing the book of a god that can’t do shit for them over a member of their community who would’ve done anything for them.
Her parents are believing in a god who was fine with her dying, over their only daughter. They have taken away her brothers and ostracized Kristen from them, fearing that Kristen will corrupt them somehow, like she’s tainted. She’s not. She knows that. She just doesn’t know why she wants to prove that she isn’t to them. “You have siblings, don’t you, Kristen?” Kristen nods. She’s mentioned Bucky, Bricker, and Cork. She misses them terribly. They probably don’t even know what really happened. They probably think that she just up and left to live a life of sin for no reason. She didn’t, she promises. They don’t know that, though. “You go to church to see them, don’t you?” Kristen nods again. She knows it. That’s all she wants, really. She doesn’t need the church or the community or Helio to see that she’s better now. She just needs her brothers to know that she is still good. “I think that going back to that church is just going to hurt you, Kristen, and your brothers wouldn’t want to see you hurting.” Jawbone breaks this to her gently. “They see you coming around. You’re trying, but returning to that church is just going to make you miserable. It’s not worth misery, just for a chance to see your brothers again.” “So am I never supposed to see my brothers again? Is that what you did?” “It is what I did, but I am not telling you to follow in my example.” Jawbone corrects her with the same soft tone. “You just have to find new ways to reach out. Your parents may not like this, but they cannot guard them all the time. You’re determined. You’ll get through to them in a way that doesn’t hurt you, every time you come around.” That feels so much harder. It’s more reasonable, but difficult. Kristen knows that important things need hard work, though. She’s never been particularly good at that, but she can try, for them. They deserve the effort. “...You’re right.” Kristen sighs, slumping back on the couch. “I just don’t know where to start.” “We’ll workshop some stuff.” Jawbone promises her, “it doesn’t have to be right now, but we’ll figure it out.” “Thanks, Jawbone.” She reaches her hand out to fist bump him. “You’re the man.”
Jawbone smiles at her antics, giving her one in return before taking his mug and giving her some space. She doesn’t know how to get to her brothers outside of the church, but she is going to try. It'll be better for all of them if she accomplishes this and goddamnit, she will. ============================================================ ============================================================
Even the strongest need comfort sometimes. Jawbone knew it was getting to be that time of the month. A house with two werewolves had to be religious about keeping track of this kind of thing. Sandra Lyn kept a calendar on the fridge, it was Adaine’s jobe to flip the page at the start of every month. So yes intellectually Jawbone knew this was coming, but he was still struck by the awful crawling restless feeling. This happened the week before the full moon and it was almost worse than the moon itself. At least with that his memory was foggy. It was something outside of himself becoming the wolf. He was attempting to power through and go to work as normal. The kids needed him. He couldn’t just take a week off every month no matter how awful it felt to be away from his den. Part of the problem was also being separated from his pack but he couldn’t ask everyone to put their life on pause for him. Sure he kept finding himself absentmindedly scratching at his arms but it was fine. He could do this. Sandra Lyn knew Jawbone was not okay from the moment he got up. However she also knew he was deeply stubborn and would never take the day off. What she did have control over was caring for him when he got home after the school day. When she heard his car pull up in the driveway she started by running a bath. She thought the warm water would help not to mention she could sit with him which would also help soothe some of the anxiety. On top of all of that she would give him another talk about caring for himself.