Carjen didn’t look up from where he was slouched over his third shot of brandy for the evening, not initially, even when an odd sound rang out from the doors as the young man’s antlers gently padded the doorframe. He could hear it over the throng of socialization going on in the little tavern section of the inn but he didn’t look up, far too wrapped up in his own mind and his own thoughts as to where he was going or what exactly he was doing. He didn’t know where his journey was taking him, why he was even embarking on it, or if he’d even be welcomed there but Caylin had insisted and she was always right so there he was, on his way to Aelfmann on his own in the dead of winter, cold and alone, seeking anything other than that.

He downed his new shot in one careless swig, sniffing slightly as the burn made his nose run and the flush of warmth tinted his sharp cheeks. It felt good, the inn was drafty and the weather outside was cold beyond cold, even though the sun had not yet retired in its place in the sky. It was going to be a chilly night. The jaguar shifter shivered as his flush waned. He didn’t like the cold, wasn’t built for it, he was lean and muscular, not an ounce of fat on him and even in cat form his coat was thick but breathable, not very insulating. He wore a thick fox fur cape over his black leathers to try to make up for it but even inside he was cold. He considered retiring to his room for the night, to curl up under the covers and not move until dawn. But that thought only reminded him that the chill would be worse in the morning and with a sigh, he poured himself another shot and sniffled a bit.

It was then that he caught an odd scent on the wind. Faeries were unique in that they always smelled so sweet for some reason, a natural lively little scent that matched their colorful forest and their usually playful attitudes. But the scent that reached his nose when he sniffed was musky and off-putting, another werebeast if ever he’d smelled one. Immediately, his head had jerked up, somewhat hopefully, but as his green eyes scanned the room, they fell upon the unfamiliar face of an antlered young man. Carjen wasn’t keen enough to follow the scent in such a crowded and cluttered space, the smell of food and the tinge of alcohol too much for his meager nose. But the man stood out like a sore thumb so it didn’t take much brain power to deduce that he was the source of the musk.

Carjen scowled deeply, turning back in his chair to stare blankly into his reflection at the back of the bar. Mostly, he wanted to be left alone, to get drunk alone, to puke all night alone, to set off in the morning miserable and in pain alone. He deserved that, deserved this to be abandoned like this. But he was who he was, a generous man with a particular sense of need to be with his own kind, to help them to not be a burden on society and to show the world the good that they could do. He looked down thoughtfully into the now empty shot glass in his oversized hand. Maybe he deserved to be alone, to be left in the dust and discarded like nothing, but not everyone did.

Not everyone…

He gave the deer boy another thoughtful glance, chewing somewhat nervously on the inside of his cheek before something in him made a decision and he stood from his stool with a flap of his cape. Leaving some silver on the counter beside his glass, he strode over to the only other werebeast in the room, cool and casual, but also cold, stiff postured, unyielding like an old oak in a cold wind. He stopped at the edge of the table, hands clasped behind his back, and waited for the young man to notice him. Their eyes met for a moment before Carjen unbashfully looked a little higher, eyes tracing the prongs and taking in the smooth surface of the odd appendages rising from the stranger’s forehead.

“Bet you don’t get many admirers but… here I am.” He started, a bit unsure of what to say at first. He blinked and motioned with his head to the empty chair across from the deer shifter. “Mind if I sit?”

The chair made a bit of a groan in complaint as Carjen pulled it out from the table and folded himself onto it. It was a little small for him, all faerie things were, his knees were resting against the bottom of the table and he had to slouch forward so as not to lean back and tip the damn thing over backward. But he managed a position that didn’t look comfortable but was. He didn’t show any nervousness at being so out of place on his harsh features, instead his green eyes were blank and calculating, observing but not judging, quiet, keeping whatever thoughts they were hiding to themselves. He rested his leathered elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers, resting his chin against his hands, looking like he wasn’t planning on saying anything at all. But as a woman came over with a plate of food, he paused her with a raise of his hand.

“Two glasses of Cleric if you would.” He ordered from her. She didn’t seem to acknowledge him at all but he chalked that up to suspicion between the species. He was clearly much too tall to be a faerie and hanging out with a man with antlers probably didn’t look good on him either so he just let her be and turned back to his conversation, the wine only a hopeful possibility. Cleric was a ritzy kind of wine, a bit rare and very expensive, it was possible that they didn’t even have it but he liked to splurge, it made a good impression on strangers.

“I’m Carjen Brando, a simple nobleman and leatherworker from Mir.” He paused, looking over his shoulder for a moment as though admitting this made him uncomfortable. “I’m on my way to the Elf Kingdom, I’m looking for someone, a hybrid like you.”

He was guessing. Most full blooded werebeasts had excellent control over their shifting and didn’t dangle their animal bits for all to see unless making some sort of play. So he assumed that lad was a hybrid of some kind, but what kind remained a mystery for now. He paused patiently as the man- Frey, prepared to dig into his food. That was when Carjen noticed the tattoo on his arm, peered at it curiously but didn’t bring it up. It could’ve just been a tattoo, he didn’t want to embarrass himself by guessing further. So he didn’t and merely gestured at the antlers.

“I thought you might know her. Her name is Larkin.”

Though it was stilted behind a somewhat obvious attempt to remain neutral, Carjen could not hide his disappointment when the lad admitted that he didn’t know Larkin. Granted, it was a pretty big shot in the dark, it wasn’t like hybridism gave them a telepathic link or some reason to know each other. Some might’ve taken his assumption of such the wrong way, he realized. But this Frey fellow seemed in good spirits so the cat shifter assumed he’d made no offense. Still, he looked away harshly, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek as the floor to his left took up the brunt of his attention. How the hell was he going to find her? She’d just vanished from the castle in the dead of night and though he had been awake at the time, working, somehow he hadn’t noticed and now it was a desperate search trying to pick up the pieces. Why had she run? Where had she gone? He was only guessing that the home of the Elves was her destination but once he was there, how would he find her? She was just one of many elves that could be in such a place?

A little lost in thought, Carjen gave the hybrid some time to eat his soup, listening to him talk but only half heartedly as his mind scrambled desperately for answers. He looked up somewhat slowly, peering at the young man out of only the corner of his eye. Ah yes, the Grand Library, a popular spot for travelers seeking the many knowledges of the world. If he wasn’t so concerned about his friend’s safety, Carjen might’ve offered to join him in the quest, he’d always wanted to see the library up close and loved to read. But finding Larkin was the biggest task on his mind so he said nothing, simply went back to studying the floor at his side.

“In the morning.” He responded casually, though his body language was screaming anxiety. One of his fingers tapped the back of his other hand where they crossed and his leg bounced against the underside of the table gently, quietly. He too did not want to draw too much attention to himself. “I plan to stay the night and then set off first thing.”

Just as he finished the sentence, the win arrived and Carjen thanked the serving woman with a delighted smile and a shiny bit of gold, which he’d apparently had ready because it was already in his hand and didn’t have to be pulled from anywhere. The woman looked at it wide-eyed, though the wine was expensive a piece of gold could pay for two bottles, he simply told her to keep the change with a wink and then waved her off. Taking a glass in one of his slightly trembling hands, Carjen took it upon himself to uncork the bottle and pour himself some of the deep red liquid. The conversation paused as he studied it, sniffed it and swirled it about, looking down into it deeply in the low light before finally taking a hefty swig of it. He didn’t really like wine, he was definitely more of a brandy man, but three shots down already he was quite tipsy so the gentle alcohol would be better for him than getting plastered would be.

The wave of relaxation hit Carjen like a wave on the ocean and he blinked a few times, surprised, but trying to hide it. It was like a flushing sensation, a warmth that came when you were sick, and though the feeling should have concerned him in that way- it was the season for sickness after all- he found himself oddly uncaring. Not just of the flush but of everything. He still worried for his friend, worried she’d been taken against her will or was in danger out there somewhere, but he felt a strange confidence that he would find her and his fingers stopped their fidgeting on the backs of his hands. She was almost certainly somewhere in the elven city, assuming she had left of her own free will and nothing nefarious had happened to her. He saw no signs of a struggle in her room and the castle had been calm and quiet in the morning, no one had heard or seen anything so he assumed that she snuck out and headed out after their conversation about her finding her brother again. If he was looking for his elven sibling, Aelfmann would be where he’d begin his search so it just seemed logical to look there first. He had no idea how he was going to track her down among the throngs of elves in the city but he had to try, he had to start somewhere.

Still looking down into his wine, the jaguar sighed through his nose. He considered the possibility that she did not want to be found, did not want him to follow. He couldn’t imagine why, they were on good terms he thought, he hadn’t been unusually crass with her at any point. But perhaps she tired of him. He shook his head gently and took another swig of his wine. No, she was just confused, lost, looking for a place to be. He had to find her and convince her that that place to be was with him where he could keep her and her baby safe. His internal unrest resolved, green eyes lifted from the glass to the hybrid across the table. They looked out from beneath a heavy brow, cold and calculating, but not malicious, just the eyes of a big cat considering whether or not he wanted to chat with the young man or stalk and eat him. He’d already had dinner so he wasn’t hungry. He sniffed thoughtfully and rubbed his nose with the back of one hand, lowering his glass to the table. He turned away a bit, looking sideways toward the door as he considered the hybrid’s offer to accompany him. He didn’t really want to have to explain himself, to explain Larkin and why he was looking for her, it sounded too involved, like he was in too deep when he said it aloud. But on the other hand, the hybrid might have helpful powers when it came to tracking. Carjen leveled his gaze again, still thoughtful.

“Can you track?” He eventually blurted out, deciding that finding someone who could help him find his friend was more important than political correctness. He gestured haphazardly toward the deerman with one hand. “Or something…? Like I said, I’m looking for someone, I have no idea how I'm going to find her once I get to the city. If you could help, I wouldn’t mind paying your way.”

Carjen shook his head, turning back to the table. Turning in his seat was the only fidget he could muster and, as he was still worried for his friend, his body still took use of it. But he was calmer, softer, and this plus some brandy and some wine made him a little more open to explanation. He supposed this Frey deserved it, the jaguar had been the one to approach, the young man deserved to know why exactly that was. He crossed his arms on the table and leaned on his elbows. “I don’t trust authority, you can’t when you’re…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “…not human. You probably know how that is.”

He let his eyes fall to the table somewhat sadly. “I don’t know if she wants to be found or not, she left mysteriously without warning. I don’t even know if she left of her own free will or if she was taken. But there was no signs of struggle and we were still on good terms with one another the night before so I can’t imagine why she’d leave other than…”

Carjen paused, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck sheepishly. What he was about to say made him realize that in some capacity this was his fault, the worry, the fretting, the danger Larkin may or may not be in. He stood by what he’d said, that she should go find her brother, but he didn’t mean now, while she was pregnant and possibly in danger, certainly not alone. If she had only asked, he’d have gone with her to help, he had excellent senses, if her family smelled anything like her he could pick them out of a crowd. But now he had nothing all because of that stupid suggestion. He sighed again.

“I kind of told her to go find her long lost brother.” His hand moved from his neck to rub at his face. “I didn’t expect her to go that night so suddenly or alone. Now I know nothing of her whereabouts, I’m only guessing she’s in Aelfmann.”

His hand dropped to the table again, exhausted from anxiety. He didn’t look at Frey, just stared into the space between them, obviously lost, maybe a little desperate. “If there’s anything you could do to help, I would appreciate it friend. I don’t mind the-“ He gestured to the antlers haphazardly. “I’m a werebeast myself.”