At the Beginning

Something about the house rattled Arian’s old bones, but he ignored the feeling. It was a Halloween event, it was bound to stir up some emotion in the supernatural creature only due to the holiday it represented. Still, he was feeling a bit more … barbaric. Strange.

“What do you think makes us brave? We were human once. Do you think it’s the transition, or something in the new blood?” It had been so long that Arian couldn’t remember being changed in detail. He didn’t remember fear or worry, or even any confusion. He had been human, and then he had been a wolf. There was no inbetween.

Something sparked in the old wolf’s eyes when Eliza giggled and he moved to make her do it again. “Ticklish?” He laughed the word and grabbed at her sides a few more times before stopping. Tickling was all fun and games until someone seriously got pissed off and punches were thrown. It wouldn’t be a very good date if Eliza ended up giving him a black eye. The wolf cleared his throat and pulled back on the Cheshire grin that crossed his face, dulling it down to a small smirk.

Again the feeling rattled his bones as they walked into the house and Arian cleared his throat. He felt the wolf within him acting up and blinked a few times, but thought nothing of it as they went further into the dark house. Screams, then fearful laughter followed from within and Arian charged boldly ahead with no fear whatsoever, very much taking the character of the costume he wore. “I’ll protect you.” He said and pulled Eliza in closer as a few ghouls jumped out ahead of them

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If there was one thing about Arian that should have been know it was that he didn’t care what people thought. He cared what Eliza thought, which was strange for him, but other people didn’t matter. He had once been the laughing stock, the wild man in the village, but he grew past it. You live and learn. “Who cares.” The wolf said with a Cheshire grin before stopping like she asked.

It was true. The haunted house was not as frightening as it would have been had Eliza and Arian not been part of the races that were the ones frightening the costumed people. He nodded in agreement, but soon became too distracted and felt himself growing more and more defensive of Eliza. He felt strange… there was a tingling in his body and an old feeling he hadn’t felt in who knows how long. Part of the old wolf wondered if he ever had been a human, if it hadn’t been just a dream, but tonight he was reminded. To those who jumped out at them he scowled and yelled rather than growled, putting himself first before Eliza so no harm would come to her. What gives? He knew they were fake but still he felt protective.

Instead of letting it go that the teenagers frightened Eliza he let her run and took the stick that they held the spider with and hit one of them with it. It was plastic and didn’t do much harm, and Arian didn’t swing hard, but he smacked them in the side of the knee and threatened something in Norse before tossing the stick and going after Eliza. “Foolish children.” He mumbled before seeing Eliza on the porch and rushing to her side. “Elizabetia!” He dropped to her side and pushed the teenager away with the expression only a warrior could give. “Get back, child.” He touched her shoulders then her face and brushed her hair back. “Wake up.” He leaned down and pressed his ear to her chest, then sat up straight and leaned back quickly when she gulped for air. “Are you alright, fair maiden?”

What on Earth was going on? Slowly but surely the wolf became more and more confused and irrational. He stared at Eliza as if staring at her would hold him in place and keep him rom slipping into what he could only know as a delirious fever. Was he dying? Had he been bitten again by a Hellhound? Quickly the man looked himself over to see his armor clad body and his grip on reality slipped even more.

What year is it? He turned to look at the woman again. “Elizabetia.” He said in a rough voice and touched her face. What was her question again? He couldn’t focus. There were too many strange sounds and voices, and as he looked around he became threatened. The Viking had reemerged, and down to the core Arian had been a protector of those close to him. He didn’t exactly know why but Elizabetia was close to him. He felt connected to her. Was she a lover? Had he hit his head or drank too much? The Viking shook his head and stood up straight, and the sound of a wolf howling near by chilled his bones. “We need to go.” He spoke in the dead Norse language and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her up a little and dragging her to where he thought his horse would be.

Instead of a sturdy stallion there was a big, black, metal box in it’s place. "Where is my steed?! What has this monster done!" His blue eyes widened and he pushed the woman behind him to keep her safe while he stared, then ran to the box and kicked it in what appeared to be it’s mouth. Though there was a curse on him making him think he was a Viking, Arian still had the strength of a werewolf and broke the truck’s headlight and part of it’s grill (or the great beast’s teeth) with a loud cry. He yelled some things in Norse, then moved to the great beast’s side and broke it’s strange arm off and reflective glass shattered to the ground. As he rounded to the beast’s rear end he saw his sword and quickly removed it, then stabbed it into the side of the black creature, twisted it, then pulled it out.

Oh how he would regret this when he came to.

“What is this strange metal creature? Do you control it?” Was she to be trusted? How could such a fair maiden control such a beast? “Are you a witch?” Why was he protecting a witch? The (secret) wolf huffed and sneered his upper lip as he looked over the metal creature, then his blue eyes focused on the strange woman he felt necessary to protect. “Elizabetia…” He repeated again, remembering her name as it came comfortingly through his lips. He could trust her, but why? Who was she?

A stern but confused and wild look expressed over his features as he watched her reach into his pocket then move the beast’s appendage and gesture for him to get in. He eyed her for a moment, then bravely crawled in and sat upon the strange innards. What the hell was this thing? When she came in the other side he watched her curiously. The roar of the animal made him look to it’s front but finally he didn’t stab it. Instead he focused back on Elizabetia and reached to touch the side of her face, then hair. Vikings were bold men with little manners, and he was comfortable with her. “I’ve never known a witch to be so lovely, maiden. Tell me how I know you. Have you cursed me?” Maybe it wasn’t such a bad curse after all. He leaned back and began touching the strange scented insides of the beast, feeling the cold and wondering how such a creature was made. "Yes, a beer is exactly what I need. How will we get there?"

And then the creature moved. Arian looked around quickly and tightened his grip on the seat until he began looking around. Things were so strange in the world he had landed in, but there was little fear left in the old Viking and he often just went with things rather than fight to stay in the same place. He was nomadic to the bone and the need for change ran in his blood, along with a curiosity that ignited his soul. He began touching things again and turned a knob that rolled the window down, then stuck is arm, then his head out of the window and enjoyed the night air. Laughter rumbled out of his chest as he hung out the window and swayed his arm in the wind, feeling the breeze as if it were a river through his fingers.

Machines? Machines were contraptions by crazy men or men who couldn’t run their farms properly. Machines were in ships and made of wood and coal not fully made of steel and this strange… soft yet hard grey substance. Arian wasn’t familiar with plastic, but instead of questioning more about the machine he felt it up for himself. He was a hands on learner, not a listener. His hands moved over the dash and seatbelt as he tried to figure out how the contraption worked.

“Magic doesn’t mix well with anyone. It tricks them.” To the Viking Arian magic was a devilish thing that tricked people and persuaded them to do foolish things. His hands pulled at the strap across his chest and he fiddled with everything in the car like a curious child after he touched her. If she wasn’t a witch then what was she?

It would have to wait to be figured out, because within what felt like the blink of an eye they were at a pub. This was something any Viking knew. It may have been in a different country, a different land, or a different time but he would always know where he could acquire booze. It sang to his soul like a siren to a sailor. As Elizabetia got out of the car Arian jerked the strap across his chest and put himself in the safety lock before realizing how to unbuckle the belt and got out without a shred of embarrassment on his face. He smiled at the maiden, trying his best to be ‘polite’ thanks to the teachings of his mother, and headed inside. “What a strange tavern. Tell me, are they all like this?” The language spoken in the bar was exotic to him and as they walked he listened intently to the strange words, but knew signals to the bar keep. He gestured for two brews just as Eliza did and finally took a moment to look at her. To really look at her. His blue eyes roved up and down her body, then to her face and he swallowed hard. It felt like it had been a century since he saw a woman. “I’ve never seen such a beauty as yourself, Elizabetia. You’re exotic and strange. Tell me, where are we? Is this your home?” So many questions ran through his head as he listened to the foreigners around him and tried to take it all in. “I’m feeling … stimulated.” Why did she care how he felt? “What of you? Your cheeks look flushed. Are you uncomfortable, fair maiden?” Or was she ill? The (secret wolf) Viking reached out and touched her cheek once again, but became distracted when a tall glass of beer was set down in front of him. He raised the seemingly thin glass and examined it before tasting the beer in a long, famished gulp. With that he set the nearly empty glass down and motioned to the bar keep who stood nearby with an amused grin. "More!" The Viking called out.


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It was probably for the best that Eliza chose one of the more “comfortable” bars. The attire of the bar goers was strange but slightly familiar, and his eyes roved over quite a few before focusing back on Eliza. No matter how curios he became he always turned back to look at her. She was a magnet to him. She drew him in over and over.

“You’re far from normal.” Normal to him was blond hair and blue eyes. Sure, there were a few women with darker hair where he was from but none so lovely as her. “But it’s you I want.” Though the Viking was curious he hardly looked at other women (according to his standards. Arian looked at the other women up and down, but would always turn back to Eliza with loyalty).

“America?” Where the hell was that? Arian didn’t pay much attention to the name of the land’s they traveled, but America was foreign. The word was strange but he shrugged and drank the next beer they bar keep creature set down in front of him. He must have been dreaming. That was the only explanation as to why strangers were touching him and speaking such odd languages, and there was a weird creature keeping up the bar. For a few minutes he turned and watched the crowd again and gave a man a strange look as he patted him on the back. Blue eyes darted around and focused on so many things that he had to do a double take once the burger was set down in front of him. What should he focus on? Obviously the food.

“I’m always hungry.” The (secret wolf) Viking said with a smirk, and couldn’t help but look Eliza over again when he turned to her. There was always a growl in the pit of his stomach, and other strange feelings stirred when he looked at her. Instead of focusing on his feelings and trying to figure out what his emotions were doing he looked at the burger and picked it up without a second thought. There was no need to teach Arian how to eat. He picked up the burger and took a big bite with no hesitation and chewed, then looked surprised and took another bite. Once he had enough room in his mouth to speak he looked to Elizabetia with a light in his eyes. He set the burger down only to take another few drinks of his beer and nearly downed yet another one, motioning for a refill. He was a Viking. Their blood was made of alcohol. “Your home has good food, Elizabetia!” Ari said with a grin and wiped his mouth before biting into the burger again and testing out the fries. "Beauty and good food. What does your family do?" Did they run taverns? She must have been the daughter of someone very important. How did he have such luck?

“I say what I mean and I mean what I say.” The Viking teased playfully and finished off his beer. He gestured for the bar keep to bring him another and glanced at Elizabetia with a smirk. The man could drink like a fish and still stay seated on the narrow bar stool with little issues, or so he thought.

America was made even more beautiful by the inhabitants. Arian was about to open up his mouth and say this, but chose to shut up and simply smile. He wasn’t a poet and it wouldn’t come out right, and he’d most likely end up telling her she had nice breasts. Noble women always had nice breasts. The wolf stared at his drink as she spoke, then raised a brow. “What happened?” But before she could answer she was up and gone to join the band and left the wolf gapping in his seat like a fish on land. He grinned and clapped along to her song as many other’s in the bar did, and even jumped down off of his seat to clap and cheer as she played. How was she not a witch?

As she came back Arian was still on the high from the excitement in the bar and grinned. “That was fantastic, maiden!” His face lit up as he looked and spoke to her and he grabbed her to congratulate her, then in a mix of emotions found himself kissing her. The Viking didn’t know where it came from, but didn’t question his actions as he cupped her face and kissed her. His lips lingered on hers as he tried his best not to seem like a starved sailor on leave, and soon he pulled back slowly with the same light in his eyes. “Like I said, you are splendid, Elizabetia.”

Where the Viking came from women did not pick up violins and start to play them along with the band unless they were very, very risqué or drunk. So it impressed Arian that Eliza was so bold. He didn’t like meek, timid little women, and he was beginning to understand why he was so drawn to her. But how had they met? Where did she come from? So many questions rambled about in his head and began to run together as all the beer he drank slowed his quick mind down.

When he kissed her he was bold about it. His hands cupped her cheeks then back into her hair but before long the kiss was over and he was left with a feeling to chase after her like some love sick pup. Wherever she moved he watched, wherever she went he followed. The Viking was much more bold and blunt than the werewolf Arian, years of travel had made Arian a recluse about what he was feeling but this curse may have been just the thing to bring him back out.

“Back to the machine.” The Norseman stated and nodded in agreement. Something sparked in his eyes when she said they would go back to her home for the rest of the evening. “Is it far?” It wouldn’t likely take them long to travel there with her glorious metal steed, but the Viking Sutherland still had a hard time grasping this new world. Instead of asking more questions he followed her out of the bar, his hand on the small of her back as they walked out then around her shoulders once outside. “I could get used to this land, Elizabetia. You will have to teach me to harness your mechanical steed someday.” Once inside the truck Arian rambled on and on about the magic of the new world he was in, and quizzed Eliza about her strange witchcraft like a curious child. Maybe he should have had one less beer, but a Viking Arian was something to celebrate.