Side-Write: For Flora

Last time I pushed myself to find a good story just about friendship, and this time I wanted to explore another form of bond that might come up in this setting. This one is a little more complicated, and now that I'm finished, I kinda wish I'd focused a little more on it toward the end. I let myself get carried away with other aspects and had to wrap things up. Part of me feels like I spend too much time exploring these issues in the side-writes, but maybe they're going to be an inevitable part of any setting with such differences in the population. The alternatives of ignoring the consequences, or trying to make the prejudiced sympathetic, would be pretty tough to come to grasps with. Maybe I do need to work on that a little. I don't like writing anyone as a flat villain.

As always, this is an exploration of the possibilities in the world of Project Wild One, and shouldn't be considered directly canon. I hope you enjoy!

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We were at some city ball, probably a charity. I was a bored, petulant child, daughter to one of the most prominent merchants in the region. My parents tell me that I very nearly hadn't come, I'd put up such a fight over wearing my ridiculous little dress. I'd been determined not to enjoy a thing about the whole night. Then I saw her.

Some shady fellow had managed to capture and train a werewolf-- a small one, barely more than a puppy. Everyone was shocked to see this monster curtsying and standing stiff at attention. They even had her do a dance routine they'd drilled into her just to show how they'd broken her.

I think a lot about why I did it. For a while, I think I told myself it was because I could see how sad she was, deep down, to be living like that. That I'd wanted to save her. But if I'm being honest, I was just a little girl, and I think I just thought she was so beautiful and strange... I wanted her for myself. I was spoiled like that.

I pulled my father aside, and I demanded that we buy her. He was reluctant, but I insisted she could protect me, since he was always so worried about keeping me safe. Finally, he gave in. Years later, he admitted he'd been sure I'd get tired of her in a month, and he'd just sell her back or to someone else.

I don't know why I was never frightened around her. She is certainly a monster-- even at that age, she was strong enough to lift and throw a grown man, and her wounds would knit up almost instantly. She cannot speak, and she cannot understand our language. And even as broken as she was, there was still a ferocity to her, something innately terrifying to the way she held herself, to the shape of her broad, powerful body. But that night, despite the protest of my parents and the servants, I pulled her to sleep in my bed. Her fur was so soft, even then. My father posted five guards to stand in silence around the room, all night.

She was... uncertain what to make of me, at first. How to act. She'd clearly been abused often. She flinched away even from my little paws. But I cleaned her, and fed her, and I hugged her and fell asleep holding on to her. Maybe back then, she really was like a big doll to me. I don't know how many hours I spent brushing her fur.

Maybe that was it. She was more afraid of me than I was of her, and I could feel it. She wouldn't hurt me. She just didn't want to be hurt any more.

I played with her in the garden, and I put flowers in her fur. That first day, I named her Flora, on a whim. She was obedient, but I worked to get her to actually play with me. The first time I got her to run with me, someone cried out and the guards were everywhere suddenly. I dressed them all down as well as a snooty little girl could, standing between them and a scared werewolf.

So that night, four guards watched us sleep the whole night. And the next, three did. Then two. Father kept those two guards for a week, until I finally stopped talking to him. Then the guards were gone. It was just us, and she could finally, really relax.

She started to move differently. She'd still been walking like one of us, or more like a servant, always stiff and meek, upright but doing all she could to diminish her size. But sometimes when we ran and played together, she started to run on all fours. Her arms are easily long enough that it's probably more comfortable, and she's certainly faster like that. Gradually, her posture shifted, and she fell into more of a prowl, even just walking the halls with me. The servants had just been starting to relax, but that had them stepping well clear, and me being a little brat, I liked that.

The first hint of trouble came the next time we attended a ball. Of course, I insisted on bringing Flora. I let them put me in a ridiculous dress in exchange. My father is the cautious type, and he had four guards escort the two of us just so people didn't worry she'd do something. Which, of course, only drew more attention to us, and made her look more dangerous. I acted like there was nothing odd about having a pet werewolf, and happily talked to ambassadors who struggled to keep a straight face and not stare at her looming over my shoulder.

The real problem was, the high priest was there. He didn't say anything that night, but word passed around that the church was... displeased, to see our company associating with monsters. My father made excuses, but he told me I shouldn't take Flora out anymore.

So, of course, I started taking her out more.

It's true I was a brat, but also, I loved seeing how people acted around her. Which is really just another form of being a brat, I suppose. I was used to being a harmless little girl, but when Flora prowled at my side, even soldiers shied back. I made excuses to go into the city. I'd always had guards for such excursions, but they felt redundant with Flora there. I was already confident that she'd protect me, and better than any number of guards. My father, of course, was not convinced.

But then, more than her actual abilities, she probably kept me safe just with her presence. Who would dare to try anything with a girl that had a pet werewolf in tow? The only people that even gave us hard looks were church folk. And with them? I felt like I was the one keeping Flora safe. They wouldn't dare do anything to anger me. I liked the feeling of that too-- thinking I was protecting her.

I didn't get tired of her after a month. A year later, I celebrated the day we bought her like it was her birthday. I leaned on my friends to get her presents, and we all had a party, and she had all she could eat of her favorite food-- pheasant. She ended up sleeping through the last of the party, curled up around a swollen belly.

Everyone kept waiting for the spoiled girl to lose interest. They didn't understand. I'd found something in Flora. Maybe I'd been wanting a sister, or just someone that appreciated me for myself, and not because my father had money and it was the smart move to curry goodwill with me. I don't think my friends were all just there for political reasons, but... well, they were all children of people in power. How much could I really be sure? Flora, I'd pulled out of a dark place by my own hand, and she loved me for it. And I loved her.

We grew up together. Sometimes, as my body changed, I fantasized about what it might have been like if she'd been a boy. Maybe for the best. I don't know if I could have resisted. That said, it took a while to convince her it was okay for boys to get close to me. And longer to convince any boys it was safe, with her always lurking nearby.

I was fourteen when the church finally acted. They were sick of seeing Flora running free around the city, and they made a lot of claims about how it would lead others to think about mingling with monsters. Dressed it up like we were encouraging "immoral behavior." They made it clear to my father, if he didn't put a stop to it, they'd cancel contracts, arrange boycotts. Condemn anyone doing business with us. It wouldn't destroy us, but it would hurt the business, hard.

I didn't handle it well. We fought a lot, father and I. Finally, I resigned to never leaving the property. The two of us would hole up there and be miserable. Nobody was happy with it, but it was enough to satisfy the church. For the moment.

So I became the mysterious, eccentric daughter people whispered about. I don't know how much of it was rumors spread by the church, but over the years, folks started to talk about me like I was some kind of witch, and the secret shame of the family. But I was not idle, cooped up in the family manor.

I'd never been a very enthusiastic student, but I'd shown some promise with trade and business. Now, I hit it hard. I grilled my tutors. I ran simulations. I gathered my own staff of clerks, pulling all the information they could about all the trade around us, and I wrote out elaborate plans, then watched the shift of the market to see how well they would have worked. I started to turn on the sycophants trying to play friends, and asked them about their own businesses. Started making connections.

When I was seventeen, I came to my father with a proposal. We negotiated for weeks, when he had the time away from his work, and we finally came to an agreement. I spent the year preparing.

At eighteen, he officially disowned me. He ceded me some property on the edge of town, the staff that worked under me, and a small portion of what would have been my inheritance. His company disavowed all connection with me, and I formed my own company. Our brand was a wolf's head.

I don't consider myself political. I don't have any big statements to make about whether people everywhere should frolic in the fields with monsters. But the church has branded me an enemy, and I'll play the hand I'm given. I invested in trade with monster cities. Launched my own caravans. Improved the roads. Opened businesses near their territory. Any business the church didn't like, I'd dip a hand in. And honestly? It's been shockingly lucrative. The demand is great, and the supply is low, since so many businesses fear displeasing the church.

And sure, the church tries to make trouble for me. The problem is, they're not very good at it. They love preying on stray monsters that try to sneak in, but they don't know much about sabotaging businesses. But I do. I hired some people to keep an eye on them, to track their movements. Every time they send a mob, or a spy, or even an assassin, they blunder into a squad of town guards that happen to be right in the way. If they try to throw mud on the name of my company, I have people dressed in their robes openly enjoy my products and services.

They tried to gain influence with the Town Chairman, so I let a rumor go around about the Head Priest. Now, nobody wants to be seen having close ties with him. Honestly, I could go on, but my favorite was the time they arranged for a full-scale protest of my company's dealings.

Their plan was to gather everyone for Sunday service, get them all riled up, and go straight from their churches to protesting in the town square. So I took Flora out for a walk nice and early, and when the doors opened at their main cathedral, we were the first ones to come in for service. Me, Flora, the town guard, and some of my own guards besides. We filled the front two rows. I sat smiling cheerfully at the Head Priest as he emerged, with Flora seated so her towering form blocked him from view for maybe a third of the seats behind us.

He tried to maintain his composure. They like to pretend they're friendly and benevolent, so he couldn't just throw us out on our ears. He said I was welcome to stay, but "that" was not welcome here. "That," being my beloved Flora. I was a much better actor. I assured him happily that Flora was very sorry for being born the way she was, and she wanted to hear the good word. When he insisted, I asked the captain of the guard, who happened to be sitting next to me, if they could force Flora to leave. Since the cathedral was registered as a non-profit place of public gathering (and enjoyed various tax benefits because of it) they could not legally refuse anyone attendance during designated times of gathering.

So the Head Priest had to stand there and preach to a half-empty cathedral, looking right at the two of us. He'd clearly had a sermon ready all about how awful I was, but he didn't have the balls to insult me to my face. Still, he spoke at length about the problems my business created, and I couldn't help but laugh out loud a few times at an especially ridiculous lie. I apologized each time. I don't know how many people had come in, seen Flora, and immediately left again. Those that still sat just stared at us, and the Head Priest struggled to get his usual response out of the crowd.

He was red in the face when the service finally ended, and he encouraged everyone to head for the town square. We joined them. He struggled to get away from us, but we stuck to the Head Priest and let everyone in town see us walking together. We arrived at the protest together, and I smiled and waved at the confused crowds while he scowled.

People gathered to watch the protest, and even more came when they heard I was there, I think. I laughed and talked with the people. Told them I appreciated the free publicity for my company, and handed out flyers and coupons. The protest broke up early, and I caught the Head Priest trying to slink away. Buttered him up with compliments about the day's events while he stood there, stony-faced, pointedly not looking at my companion. Finally, I said I was looking forward to next week's service. Wanted to bring some more friends. From out of town.

His face was just... the best. The colors he went through. The expressions flying by. The best. Finally, he said he didn't think that would be necessary. The church had decided to "pursue new goals."

The protests stopped. So did the mobs, and the footpads. Now they're working behind the scenes to get classified in a way that lets them kick out whoever they want. I'm making sure they have a hard time.

The "friends" weren't an idle threat. At some point, folk started turning up. Monster folk. They didn't have anywhere else to go, and they heard I wasn't afraid of the church. So I put them to work, same as anyone else. I really don't mean to get political. But when someone shows up, and they just want someplace they don't have to be afraid, they remind me of Flora, when I first found her. It's hard to say no.

I used to think I liked walking around in town because I liked seeing everyone be scared of the two of us. These days, plenty of people act afraid of us, but a growing number of them are acting afraid of me. They know what I'm capable of. But the thing that really makes me feel warm just started happening recently. Some people aren't afraid of us. Some people smile and wave. At both of us.

And that? That feels the best of all.