Shadow Town (Katherin & Donut)

Ezra had picked up early and fast that Griffin and his tribe posed against the threat of curious pressing. He kept his lips shut, only smiling when he ambled towards a smiling Kevin, and continued to tune his ears to a solemn Griffin in silence. He swallowed a lump in his throat when the man's voice grew pointedly firm upon telling his memory. Eight years old, Ezra's thoughts were loud but he did not fight them back, letting them swarm around his head instead in a collection of memories from when he was barely ten. He nodded vigorously as Kevin beamed at him, mouth open and ready to teach him the mechanics.

"Does your...status," Ezra began with a wise, deliberate choice to his words. Right now, he wished to remain off Griffin's angry side, especially the tribe's. "...Have anything to do with this mansion you're housing the kids with? Like, with your dad and everything..." Ezra tensed his shoulders in preparation of getting yelled at. No one could blame him if he wanted to know just a bit more about people who are going to be looking after him, right?
 
Griffin snorted. "My father was a cruel man. He committed crimes in both our world and the human world. There wasn't a thing he wasn't above doing. He lived to make others suffer. The only good thing he ever did was get sent to prison. He has nothing to do with what I have now. Everything I have I built up myself. This house is mine because I am one of the riches Elders currently alive. And I like to rub it in the faces of the men who left me to fend for myself in a world a lot harsher then the one you grow up in." He was proud that he had been able to rise above his father's name. His father was a criminal. It had been hard for him to get out from under that shadow. "I went from living on the streets to living in a mansion because I wanted to prove I was just as good, if not better, then the pricks that left me to die."
 
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So much for tact, Ezra scolded himself, letting a brimming quiet settle over the conversation. Ezra shrugged the tension off in a soft laugh, "And I thought my childhood was bad." He didn't, really - he thought for a long time that he was lucky, too lucky, to have had the old foster parents look after him, a beast in the making. The thought of love with no conditions, no payment drove him restless at nights until finally his young, boisterous self leaped from his warm household into garbage bin to garbage bin. "You must feel all high and mighty, don't you, Griff? I know I would. This mansion, you say you worked for this sh-stuff," he coughed to cover his slip, taking note of Kevin's presence and the informal rule of no swearing. "And all the kids too. That's pretty frickin' cool."

Nicholas remained in the solitude of silence and leaned against the edge of the foosball table with Mark. His arms folded, lips into a thin line, he listened to Ezra and Griffin with a judging quiet - a contrast with the growing impatience of Mark beside him.
 
"Living on my own was better than living my father. My father was a cruel man. When I was young he had to be creative to inflicted the pain he desired. I was his favorite target. After all he could pretty much get me when ever he wanted to. I had no where to go. He would chain me up Friday after school and release me Monday morning for school. The things that he would do between aren't appropriate for young ears. Needless to say they were painful and against every law ever written. So yes. I am proud that I have pulled myself out of the gutter. I am proud that I can offer a safe haven for boys like myself that have no where else to go."

Kevin too Erza's hand. "It's nice here. You'll like it. We get to learn stuff and be ourselves. We go exploring and hunting. And you get to be with others that understand you."
 
He exhaled, loudly, slowly, as though he had been holding his breath - he wasn't, but the tension in the air, albeit slowly dissipating into a lone cloud, stifled his senses. His emotional reception was the sharpest sense he had that stood on par with his sight and smell, though it proved to be more of a hindrance than an advantage. Perhaps, with Griffin's story and his brusque life, he would learn to harden his heart. The older man droned on about his pain but not a single word was soft or asking for pity. He felt his pride radiating through solid eyes and the squaring shoulders of Nicholas next to him. Respect was an easy thing to give to this family.

Ezra jumped and his muscles tensed on reflex but his thick callous fingers remained in the small, pale freckled child's grip. Kevin was all soft and bubbly with the bright fire of his hair being the only wedge of brave among his gentle features, and he could feel it in his hand. Ezra nodded with his lips quirking into a smirk that matched the same gentle that Kevin had. "I know. That's why I begged your dad to let me out of the cage. You know how much it stinks in there?"
 
Griffin snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'm no one's father. No one needs to be stuck with me for life." He patted Nicholas on the shoulder. Honestly he didn't know how he felt about having children of his own. But it didn't matter. Female shifter were few and far between. And there was no way he could explain this insanity to a human woman. He would be alone for the rest of his natural life. At least he had his Lost Boys and that eased the ache most days.

Travis hated listening to Griffin's story. He admired everything about the man. But Griffin's past made him ache for his Alpha's pain. He took Mark's hand in his. "Come on guys. Let's play a few games of foosball before the little ones have to go to bed." He lead his small charge to the foosball table. "You take the left Mark." He knew the younger boy was stronger on the left side then the right. He wanted to give them as much advantage as he could.
 
Ezra pursed his lips after that, his hand encased in Kevin's warm ones, whose grip though small stayed firm. His back prickled at the thought of this hand snapping into red scales and iron claws, and Kevin's ancient reptile snout flaring at his face. He shook his head, glancing back again at the child - who, certainly, remained in his pale and freckled human form - and breathed out as he stood next to him across from his older brothers.

He let the child next to him lead their game, learning his control over his clumsy aim and weak wrist-flick that he had only seen once on an old television. Although grinning and energy bursting around him, Ezra's attentions drifted elsewhere, to a grim and observant Griffin and a solemn Nicholas. Indeed, respect was an easy thing to give to this family, but how hard to earn it?

He'd have to see, he concluded, as he beamed at the child next to him.
 
Griffin watched the boys play. It was good them relaxing. Nicholas would take the longest to adjust to the changes in their world. Thomas would watch Ezra until the boy proved that he wasn't a threat to their world. Kevin had already accepted Erza, maybe because the older boys arrival made it so he was no longer the newest to the family. The little dragon had someone he could teach their ways too. That responsibility would help Kevin's confidence something the boy badly needed. Mark watched Erza warily simply because he didn't know what to expect from the new arrival. Eventually he would relax and accepted the other boy. Griffin was going to wait and see if the kid was going to stay and learn or make him fight every step of the way as he tried to teach him how to survive the shapeshifter world.
 
"Hell yeah, suckers!" Ezra roared as he solidly blocked a quick strayed pass from Travis. He jumped and knocked his knees together, turning to kneel at a young, amused Kevin, his palms open and wide in the air as Ezra tried to calm his excitement. "Highfives, Kev!"

He got his high fives, or didn't; Ezra's mind reeled to the growling in the pit of his stomach. He was not used to heavy, periodical eating after all - from when he was barely a dozen years old, his body a lithe figure of black fur, he was constantly munching on soft rat flesh, sometimes bird on occasion, and would be immediately rummaging through the evening's batch of uneaten dinner. His stomach was a bit too loud, however, and he blushed at the stares he would receive at the sudden noise.

"S-sorry, haha," He laughed and cleared his throat, eyes glancing left and right at his audience. "I eat a lot. Well not a lot, I mean, I always just tend to have a dead rat or half of one in a plastic bag for me to nibble on..."
 
"Sounds like it is snack time." Griffin commented with a chuckle. "Don't be embarrassed Erza. Most shapeshifters need a lot to eat. The bigger your animal the most you need to fuel it." He assured the younger man. "Im afraid we are out of mice. They don't last long around here. Most avoid shapeshifter houses." He explained. "Come on boys let's get something to eat. The little ones will be in soon so we'll get ready for story time." He headed out the door. He didn't have to look back to know they would follow him. If only for the promise of food.
 
The courtesy extended to him by the whole family, voiced through the firm yet calm Griffin, seemed to blend in seamlessly with the warm crackle of the fireplace or the rich wooden frames that structured the house. A home that was so typical its residents wouldn't be suspected of actually being a pack of wild beasts, though young; a home that was too typical it brought nostalgia into Ezra's eyes as he trailed after the pack in an unusually tired silence. The domesticity that flavored every inch of the house - the carpets, the little crayon drawings held up lopsidedly on the fridge with a heart-shaped magnet, and the organised mess that littered the living room in the form of small toys and squeaky balls - haunted Ezra and would haunt him, as the family summoned the memories he had preferred to forget or to bury.

His foster parents weren't all that bad - in fact, they were angelic, with a kindness so invaluable that Ezra had a hard time believing they were actually human. His mother, with soft brown eyes that wrinkled when she smiled, fed and sheltered him with his father, a curious man who laughed with an wide mouth and a big heart.

They were a bit too kind for him to stomach.

"Are we going to hunt? You guys do hunt, right?" Ezra hummed as they left the gameroom. "I mean I'm pretty frickin' sure that Griffin hunts. Kev, d'you hunt?"
 
Griffin had worked long and hard to be able to provide his boys with everything they needed. He had worked his way from the streets to a mansion. And he had done it honestly. When he had first started carving he hadn't thought much of it. He had figured that he would sell the little carvings for a few bucks. Enough to feed himself. To his surprise the little animals he carved were popular. He had gotten 20 dollars for his first. Now he get hundreds per sculpture. The best thing was that he could support himself and his boys by doing something he loved. Not everyone could say that. "We don't hunt in town Erza. In town we are humans. Those shifters who need to hunt do so on the weekends when we can leave town without anyone being suspicious."