After a long evening of being missing, a certain Worgen meanders back to where he left his faithful companion. Atop Shepard's back is a bloodied, glossy-eyed deer carcass - the area around the neck is torn wide open. Smatterings of red cover the entirety of Shepard's muzzle.
It's not hard to figure out what happened.
With a passive grunt, Shepard jerks his head off towards a random direction. "Meet me at home," he calmly commands. And before Mairead even has a chance to say anything, he sprints off.
Mairèad has, in fact, been waiting for Shepard all this time and feeling increasingly stupid for doing so. She wants to believe that it's different this time, that he's just off hunting or pondering the situation, but she wasn't born yesterday. Still, when he approaches her, despite that he doesn't nuzzle her affectionately or give any other indication that he's not left, he says "meet me at home." So it's still a home they both share.
That's her thought process, at least, as she shuffles abashedly back to Shepard's house. Home. Whatever. Mairèad doesn't really knock on the door, just lets herself in quietly and strips down to her leggings and undershirt before padding around the lower floor. "Shep?" she calls.
"The kitchen." The reply is devoid of emotion, leaving his mood, thoughts and plans a mystery. Inside the kitchen, Mairead would find the deer propped up on a counter, belly facing the door. There's a long, exposing gash across the midsection and flank.
Blood is now leaking off and down the counter's edge. Shepard stands nearby, quietly watching; he's studying Mairead's reactions with all the normalcy that can be afforded with him and this situation.
Mairèad makes her way back to the kitchen, still as embarrassed and shamefaced as she has been all night. The blood trailing back there doesn't even phase her; he had a deer, not a person. Still, she isn't expecting the carcass to be splayed out on the counter, blood dripping onto the floor. And, Light help her, Mairèad licks her lips at that sight, suddenly hungry despite having eaten another raw steak only few hours ago.
"...Shep, I'm so sorreh!" she blurts after a long minute of staring. Yes, her hands have clenched into fists. Yes, her gaze keeps darting to the food... the deer. The deer, not food. But she's trying her damndest here.
Shepard waves her apology off, gesturing to the deer with the simple pointing of a claw. "You're hungry, aren't you." A statement more than a question. There's a painful silence in the air as he makes his way to Mairead's side.
He pushes the tiny woman off towards the meal. "If you are... eat."
Mairèad is clearly unnerved by this. "I..." she hesitates a moment. "...guess I could go fer a bite."
Only it's not a bite. She steps forward, meaning to eat in a humane way, but the second that blood touches her lips, it's like the deer is a slurpy and she's a fat kid at the carnival. It doesn't stand a chance. She tears at it with her hands, her teeth, blood dripping down her chin and cheeks. Every time she tries to stop, tries to be full, her stomach growls again and she tears off another piece until she's devoured more than half her fair share.
Only then does she realize what's happening. Mairèad pushes herself back, horrified. "Oh, Shep, yer dinner..." she says, because -that's- what he's worried about right now.
The telltale flicking of the ear gives way to yet another common gesture: the knowing smirk. "I ate before I returned," he explains. "That deer was for you; you've been eating raw meat for some time now." Shepard scratches the underside of his chin.
"When, exactly, did those cravings begin?"
Mairèad self-consciously swipes some of the blood from her chin with the back of her arm, only realizing too late that she's gotten it smeared all over her undershirt now. So she does the logical thing and tears the shirt off, tossing it into a corner. "I... probably a little bit before I got sick. A couple days before, roughly."
The blood is still dripping down her chin and there's still half a deer sitting there, uneaten. Mairèad sheepishly scoots over and tears another piece of meat from the carcass. With her teeth. Yes.
Shepard steps forward, nodding. "I see. And what, exactly, did you do during those days?" The man is fishing with enough bait to draw the entire pond, as it were - his questions are deliberate, focused, and he knows he's onto something.
"Tell me everything you remember. And... don't skimp on the details. This is for science, after all."
Mairèad continues to chew on her meat, the blood dripping down her chin, across the bare skin of her torso. It's all kind of... disturbing, really. "Well... Light, most 'a me time was spent with you. I trained, I prayed a lot. Ate a lot more than usual... lots 'a steak tartare. Got rill pissed at Lius a couple times, but that's normal."
She frowns slightly and looks embarrassed again. "I'm sorreh. I don't have a memory like yers, and th'sick days kinda fuzzed errythin' up." Another tear into the deer carcass. All dat blood.
Shepard fetches a clean cloth from a nearby cupboard, dampening it with some unknown source of water. "And would you say... it happened after that night overlooking the docks?" he innocently asks, suddenly standing before Mairead. He runs the warm, wet cloth down across the bloodied portions of Mairead's chest.
What a gentle... werewolf. Yes. A kind, caring werewolf lover. What a catch, Mair.
"...y'don't think I'm turnin' into a wergin 'cause you bit me, do you?" Mairèad suddenly asks, her voice sharp for some reason. " 'Cause if yer gunna start havin' guilt complexes and shit, I fuckin' told you to bite me."
Even so. Even as she snaps at him, the slightest bit, her muscles relax under his gentle touch, much of the evening's earlier tension seeming to ebb away into that damp cloth.
"If that were the case, you would have already turned." Setting the soiled cloth aside for now, Shepard gently runs a finger through Mairead's hair. He leans down, and his tongue flicks out to caress the nape of her neck; it almost seems like he's buttering the girl up.
"However..." he mutters, standing straight and true. "Something might have- 'infected' you, regardless."
Conflicting feelings ahoy! Mairèad shivers, as usual, when Shepard licks the nape of her neck. "Y'mean... d'you mean when I bit you?" she guesses, still eyeing the remains of the carcass hungrily. Light, can this girl never get enough to eat? "Or...d'you mean all those times you..." She fumbles for words a moment before finishing, "...marshmellow'd?"
Cue amused snort, followed by restrained laughter. "N-no, Mair. Not from... 'marshmellowing'. It could be my bite, it could be from my blood - whatever it is, you're infected." There's a motioning towards the remains of the deer.
"Your hunger has increased, and your appetite has undoubtedly changed. Today's outburst -- your anger, your growling, the way you reacted to a perceived 'threat' -- reminds me greatly... of a Worgen."
Mairèad frowns, more embarrassed than anything else, glancing over at the deer corpse. "I..." She hesitates. How does one react to such news? "What do I do, then?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure." How blunt and honest. "I've no knowledge of someone being- 'partially infected' with the Curse. But, that's what you appear to be." A furry palm runs down one of Mairead's arms, more as a soothing gesture than anything else.
"None of the fur, some of the traits. If I had to guess, though, it's because you're a Paladin. That invisible form of protection the Light grants you must stave off the Curse just enough to prevent a full transformation. That being said, the only choice might be to adapt to these changes."
Mairèad leans into his touch, closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest. "Adapt to these changes. So get used to gettin' so mad I can't see straight, get used to lovin' raw meat, get used to... Light, what else? Am I gunna have stamina like yers?"
Despite the darkness of the news, Mairèad tries to put a brave face on it, a laugh at the back of her throat.
"It's possible..." The uncertainty in Shepard's voice betrays his lack of knowledge. "There's a lot that could happen, Mair; there's a lot to being a Worgen. The one thing you'll need to learn above all else, though, is control." He looks down, resting his chin on the top of Mairead's head.
"And I'll guide you through this. Just as I did- well, tried to do, with Bryn."
"I'll be a good student." Mairèad looks back up at Shepard. She obviously is about as terrified of this as he is, but here is where the palerdin training comes in: she's pretending that it's not frightening. "I promise I'll practice what you say and listen when you say somethin'. I'm alright with... I'm honored t'be part 'a yer pack, to call you me alpha."
After saying it, Mairèad frowns pretty deeply as if just now realizing how weird the conversation is. She shrugs, though, and looks back up at Shepard, her expression one of determination.
A swift kiss finds its way onto Mairead's forehead. "You're still you, Mair. You're still human, even. The only difference is..." Shepard frowns, rolling an explanation around in his mouth. "You'll be angrier. That's all."
He then playfully nudges the side of Mairead's face with his own. "And, what did I say about calling me the Alpha? I loathe that title." His chastising breaks into a loving rumble. "I'm simply yours, remember?"
"Simply mine. And I'm simply yers." Mairèad smiles eventually, touching Shepard's cheek with a bloodied hand, the tenderness of the gesture ruined by the streak of blood she leaves behind. "So what's the first thin' I should learn about bein' a sorta wergin? Whaddya wish someone'd told you when you first turned?"
"...not that I'm turnin'." Now Mairèad has started babbling. "Jest. Y'know."
"Ahh, well..." Shepard's head tilts up in thought, eyes wandering around the kitchen. "...how to hunt. It isn't all instinct, you know?" He chuckles softly, a hand idly scratching his leg.
"You, uh, won't have to worry about that. The first thing you should learn is to control your emotions - to prevent that fog of rage from blinding you."
"And that's probably somethin' that'd onleh happen in th'heat 'a the moment, huh." Mairèad purses her lips thoughtfully and moves her hand from Shepard's arm to tear another bit of meat from the deer carcass. "I've also decided that I don't like Gnomes very much."
Following this statement, Mairèad dangles the piece of meat from her mouth playfully, raising an eyebrow at Shepard.
"Really? But they absolutely adore you." With that piece of commentary out in the open, Shepard snatches the morsel with a careful bite, his tongue easing it down the gaping chasm that is his throat.
And THEN? A bloody, meat-flavored kiss. Because that's attractive.
It's kind of like chocolate body paint, but with more protein! Mairèad kisses him back, about as deeply as she can manage, half out of a desire for Shepard and half because, well, it just tastes so damn good. It doesn't completely matter that there's deer blood all over the place or that they're in the kitchen--she's not got very much control over even these positive emotions.
See? Attractive! Shepard's arms slowly wander around Mairead's body before they settle on enveloping her with a furry embrace. Then they ditch that idea; up goes the Palerdin! Essentially forcing her to straddle him at this point, his hands just under her thighs, Shepard blinks.
"Oh. Right. Control."
The whine that comes from Mairèad's throat is almost puppy-like. "Do we hafta practice control right now?" she asks, kissing along Shepard's neck. She's wrapped her legs around his waist, holding herself close to him. "I mean... I think control'd be somethin' better to learn when it might hurt someone if I lost control. Y'know?" More kisses along his neck.
"Now, Mairead..." Shepard admonishes, a hand already fiddling with his belt and pants. "We've- we've got to-" Down go the pants. His hand has betrayed him. "-Pra-practice. Control." Then there's a lengthy pause as his hand now tugs at what remains of Mairead's garments.
"...tomorrow."
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