Luke Garroway (
notaretriever) wrote2017-06-10 11:01 am
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It doesn't happen often, not in Darrow, but every once in awhile Luke can pick up the scent of an unfamiliar werewolf coming around.
Most of the other werewolves in Darrow are either people he already knows and knows well, or those who simply keep their distance. He knows not all the Downworlders in Darrow are like him and Derek, he knows there's bound to be trouble once in awhile and that's why he's glad for people like Alec and Isabelle, but because his scent is all over the store, most of those who want to cause trouble don't come around here. They know better.
It's interesting to him, but he does tend to keep his distance. After being a pack leader in Idris for such a long time, Luke has a tendency to shy away from other wolves, not because they've done anything wrong, but because the idea of a pack is something he equates with war. Wolves in packs fight for territory, they fight for anything they need to, and Luke is done with that. He's done with war, done with fighting, and he's done with being an alpha.
But at the scent of a wolf he's never met before, he pauses in the midst of his shelving and turns toward the front of the store. Whoever it is, they may not come in here, but the scent is getting stronger and Luke can't pretend he isn't just a little bit interested in who might walk through that door.
Most of the other werewolves in Darrow are either people he already knows and knows well, or those who simply keep their distance. He knows not all the Downworlders in Darrow are like him and Derek, he knows there's bound to be trouble once in awhile and that's why he's glad for people like Alec and Isabelle, but because his scent is all over the store, most of those who want to cause trouble don't come around here. They know better.
It's interesting to him, but he does tend to keep his distance. After being a pack leader in Idris for such a long time, Luke has a tendency to shy away from other wolves, not because they've done anything wrong, but because the idea of a pack is something he equates with war. Wolves in packs fight for territory, they fight for anything they need to, and Luke is done with that. He's done with war, done with fighting, and he's done with being an alpha.
But at the scent of a wolf he's never met before, he pauses in the midst of his shelving and turns toward the front of the store. Whoever it is, they may not come in here, but the scent is getting stronger and Luke can't pretend he isn't just a little bit interested in who might walk through that door.
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The former, however, does make it a shop of particular interest.
He pushes open the door with a little jangle of bells and takes in the other smells, those of ink and wood and paper. It's refreshing, in a world that seems to be mostly inhabited by text on lit screens, to put himself in places like this.
Lyall pauses, realizing very quickly that he's being observed, and tilts his head to find the man watching him. "Good afternoon," he says, mildly, pausing at a front shelf.
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In Manhattan, he'd been challenged too many times. Too many wolves had wanted to be a leader and they'd been unable to leave Luke alone, sensing that he'd been an alpha at one time. It doesn't happen here and he still hopes that wariness will fade.
He smiles then, forcing his way past it. "Are you looking for something in particular that I can help you find?"
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Which are to peruse books, mostly, and certainly nothing more aggressive than that regarding their seller.
"Specifically, no," he says, "but I have an interest in science and technology and rather a long period of history to catch up with, so anything you've found of interest lately is welcome."
He adds, politely, "I suppose you can tell I had this store pointed out to me. I don't know how well you know Biffy?"
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It's comfortable in a way New York had never been for him.
"He and I have met and spoken a few times," he says. "We're not extremely close, but we know one another." And he likes Biffy. It's not Biffy's fault Luke has had strange experiences with other werewolves in New York and even in Idris where he had been the leader of the pack. "You're friends?"
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It's relieving, then, to know there's been polite talk between them. Even if just brushing elbows.
"We're -- packmates, from back home," he says, and though he doesn't get the impression that the other wolf would disapprove of their arrangement, it's still difficult for him to find a term for it that fits. For one thing, because it's not something he's used to discussing in polite society. But also because it's less important: the reason he was so keen to live with Biffy was, after all, at least as much because they're family, regardless of their status as lovers. "I was very lucky to find him here when I arrived."
"I'm rather the one of us who'll be insatiably in need of books, though, I think," he adds. "Randolph Lyall," he introduces himself with an offered hand.
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It's an odd thing, going from being a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder, and even though he'd been the pack leader in Idris, it had always felt more like an army than a family.
"Luke Garroway," he answers, shaking Lyall's hand. "It's nice to meet you. And if it's books you want, well, I have plenty and can usually manage to track down something in particular if you're looking and I don't already have it."
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To be fair, Lyall would probably already have intelligence on who they were, anyway, but that's an entirely different thing.
"It's a pleasure, Luke," he says back genuinely, and smiles at the idea of an unlimited supply of reading material. "I won't try to fathom where you import books from, here," he says in a wry way that suggests that he has already put some thought to the matter of imported goods. He runs a thumb over the spine of a volume purporting to teach history they , and wonders how it might differ here from his own.
"Were you a bookseller where you're from, as well?"
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"And I was, yes," he said. "I owned a store in Manhattan where I sold books. I specialized in first editions and hard to find texts, which was difficult, but still easier than it is in a place like Darrow. Here it's mostly just whatever books I can get my hands on."
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There are many people in the world who are like that about everything. Lyall's professions and stations don't really allow him to become complacent, and he'd be hard-pressed to tell you how much of that is training and how much is just his choice.
His eyes go wide and a little professorially excited at Luke's clarification, so perhaps it is just him. "That sounds wonderful," he says. "I'm sure I'd have been a patron there as well. I suppose it'd be very hard to find first editions and rare texts from any given universe, here that's for certain. Though I suppose sometimes people bring unique texts from their own worlds."
"Manhattan, that's -- New York, yes?" He likes to keep up with the goings-on of the States, but in his world the United States are so very puritanical and dangerous for those like him, it isn't as though he's planned a visit.
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The world and all the realities and dimensions in between are far more vast than most people understand.
"I miss the city sometimes. The store." Then he looks at what he's built here and smiles, giving a slow shrug. "But this city is something else in its own right, isn't it?"
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He nods, understanding that best of all; it's only been a short time since he left London and, much as he loves what -- or who -- he has here, Darrow is certainly not London. "It certainly is something. I haven't been here very long, granted, but it hasn't stopped surprising me."
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"No," he says. "We're hidden in New York, in most places, as far as I know. Including Britain. The city I was born in is... somewhere in there and I've never been able to tell anyone outside of those who were already in the know, as it were."
Other Downworlders, people like him, and sometimes Shadowhunters.
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"You weren't born in New York, then?"
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He grins then, still a little amused by the way his life has changed from the course he always imagined it would take.
"But then, I wasn't born a werewolf either. That happened later." And until then, he'd been part of the law that told werewolves what they could and couldn't do. With Valentine, he'd been worse still than that.
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Lyall can't help grinning back. "Well, I'd assumed," he laughs softly, then realizes he might not be able to make that assumption. "Is anyone born a werewolf where you're from? Werewolves can't reproduce, in my world. Well --" He pauses, thinking of Prudence and the drama surrounding her birth. He can't think of her without imagining a small child suddenly turning into a wolf cub. It had been chaos, but cute chaos. "Under very rare circumstance," he amends.
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"More people are born werewolves than infected," he answers. "Most wolves where I'm from are happy to live separate from the human world or, if they exist around humans, follow the laws of the Clave. Human attacks happen, but they're extremely rare, the infection rate is only around seventy percent and even if someone is infected, they'll often die before they're able to recover. Made werewolves are far more rare where I'm from than born werewolves are."
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"How very fascinating," he muses, trying to imagine families of werewolves living as separatists rather than found packs in relative concordance with human society. He has to imagine it's quite different politically. There's something about the idea of playful werewolf pup toddlers and their parents running around after them that tugs at his heart in a way he dismisses promptly as over-sentimentality.
"Transferring the curse is rather hard to survive where I'm from as well, and it requires a very specific process, but it is something that some humans want. And you can look for certain sorts of traits, as well, that might indicate a resilience. An excess of soul, we call it, though there's always quite a bit of research going on as to the science of it all. But I have to say, I've only ever met one werewolf with a child born after he was turned. I -- it's something to try and imagine whole families. Especially as female weres are quite rare where I'm from."
He pauses. "The Clave. Is that a sort of governing body for the supernatural, then?"
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Even in Darrow, he's not comfortable being that open with it.
There will be time for his questions, though, and so instead he nods in response to Lyall's question.
"Of a sorts," he says. "They have a tendency to be unfair and to impose rules that really only benefit them rather than the society as a whole. They refer to us as Downworlders, which should give you an idea of how they view supernatural creatures."