defeated? Him? Judas could hardly believe it. There had never been a fight that he’d lost before! The mere word ‘lose’ put a bad taste in his mouth. To say the very..least. He was stunned.

The male sat in silence for who knows how long, his legs haven given way due to the fight. He didn’t know the being that defeated him, he didn’t know why it decided to pick a fight with him or what it expected to get out of this.. but Judas was certain that it knew it would have won. 

Gritting his teeth together, the male finally lifted his gaze, glaring the being down with a new fire in his eyes, “I don’t know what you want from me, but I refuse to believe I lost! I want a rematch!” He yelled, attempting to rise to his feet, but it was clear he was in no fighting shape. It wasn’t certain if Judas was being brave or just a complete moron, but he wasn’t ready to be bested. Not like this.

"What did I even expect!?" spat the elder as she scrambled up to her feet and leaned her weight against the back of her chair. Holy shit, was the ground seemingly spinning from Rochester's point of view. She bit down on her lip before shaking her head and heaving out a sigh- Wait, that was a cough. A harsh cough. Never mind. "I am not even one to pick fights, and yet..." Rochester glared down at the emptied bottle of wine that laid helplessly in front of the deception, and hers...

Hers was barely a quarter emptied. How pitiful.

But Rochester supposed that was what she deserved for - well - being a fucking idiot and challenging an apparent youth to a drinking contest, as she swiped at her side of the table (or at least tried to) and grunted in a slurred manner, "... I can see why I would fail miserably in that type of endeavor. So good for you there, really. I do not even drink that much, admittedly... That bit was a fucking lie, because I wanted to see how pissed you would get." Famous last words, maybe? Not that Rochester's nihilism was an attribute that really reached its peak, as she fumbled at the wood and spat more curses under her breath.

In fact, it seemed as the alcohol became more and more detectable in her breath, it seemed as if her nihilism was just going to keep increasing. She was, anyway, a bit morbidly intrigued when she learned from reconnaissance that he was what some would call a "cannibal." Rochester didn't even care that much about carnivory, but a hypercarnivore? Maybe that was something she could study.

But first... The older woman had to make sure she didn't get her ass kicked in this entire mess - both figuratively and literally. He didn't even look like he was affected, by one thing! Rochester, not knowing that superpowers were a thing, thought he either cheated or was just really good at bluffing sobriety, but whatever. She wasn't in the state to be questioning the rationale behind all this too much.

"I need some tea," piped in the elder before walking over to the counter and leaning her weight on there. Her pace was slow, almost as if she was... Wait a minute. Rochester wasn't exaggerating, was she? It wasn't like she was that prone to melodrama, yet... "I need some sweet tea," she reiterated before grabbing at the door handle of the fridge and pulling at it in utter futility. For a few seconds, she stood there dumbfounded before muttering, "Fuck," under her breath. She turned to face her guest with a frown afterwards.

"You can have some tea, right? You look like you can stomach that shit. I like tea more than wine, you know. At least tea doesn't fucking kill your liver. Want a swig? You can pretend that it is whisky, if you want... As a treat."

god I'm so slow with follow-ups today. I am so sorry. ANYWAYS. FOLLOW-UP TIME. cw for brief mentions of birth at the end!!

_{I once again messes with ur ocs age - im sorry that Grandma Rochester couldnt beat anyone up, but I want to revive this thread and I got an idea for Jack/Middle-aged Rochester}

Even though Rochester didn’t held the dagger against his throat the result was the same. Jack’s hand tremble. Sweat made his back cold and damp. The hairs in the back of his neck were raised and his lip curled in a snarl. Fully bearing his wolf like teeth.
The dagger lay in between them. Shimmering in the light of a few whale fat candles.
“I told you too not come down my cellar and still you did,” Jack said. A hissing tone audible in his tone. It was clear that the silver made him even more, quickly agitated than usual. Defeated he slummed in his seat, his eyes constantly darting between Rochester and her weapon.

“I trusted you and still you didn’t listen,” Jack said. His eyes squinted into tiny splits. “Things went out of hand didn’t you know? I attacked... People. Hells,” he threw his hands in the air. “Maybe I even killed them, who knows! Nót me.” Jack lowered his hands and reached for his nose. He pinched the bridge before letting out a soft growl. Okay furry. “I don’t want to be a murderer. I that’s why I live so far away from the village. That’s why I have that bloody cellar in the first place.” Jack rubbed his wrists. A sombre expression had dawned over him.  
“We’re lucky I can’t spread the curse,” he muttered underneath his breath. “Or that Seeker’s team Skinner hired would be filled with uncontrollable beasts right now.”
He eyed her. But his gaze directly dipped back down at the dagger. He couldn’t drag his gaze away from it. Just the sight of the metal made him utterly defenseless.  
“It burns me,” Jack finally said. He swallowed. Trying to moisten his dry throat. “A splinter is enough to... Kill me.” The werewolf gave his nose bridge another pinch. “It, the silver, it interfere my mind. I can hear it, Rochester,” Jack leaned forward. But in such an angle that he still was quite removed from the dagger laying there.
“It’s like a buzzing humming in the back of my mind. It’s driving me crazy. So please, please, remove it.”


Finally he  pick up his glass of water again that had been standing untouched on the table all that time. He gulped down a big chunk of it. Then rubbed his mouth clean with the back of arm. The snarl was gone. His hand still trembled though. He eyed Spot that had hidden himself between the books of a bookcase and grimaced. Jack was fully aware of the effects he had on animals.
“I don’t know how long I can keep up these lies,” Jack confessed. “The Seekers were scarily close to my house that night and Skinner is bombarding me with questions.” Jack held his glass in his hand. His long blackened nails making a soft ticking sound against its sides.  “Besides they are getting bolder too. One shadowed Beatrice like some high profiled mark.
“It’s only a matter of time they bring out the real big threats. Those witch hunters we saw before.” Jack took a sip of his water.
“I don’t mind sheltering Brown,” he confessed. The glass still pressed against his lips. To cowardly too admit that he actually liked the company of the woman. You know, like a none-daughter.
“But we have to think for a better.. solution. Things are getting heated.” He paused. Then finally set down his glass.
“Did you know she had a daughter?” Jack eyed her. "I sure as Hells didn't but Skinner is using hér to rat Brown out. Guilt tripping the shite out of me."

--

That's totally okay! I love me some angst!🐺

(I'm pretty explicitly implying that my OC lost to Jack's wolf form, i hope that's okay.)

As the sun rose, Lea groaned, slowly coming to her senses. She was lying on the floor in the middle of the forest; her axe stuck in a nearby tree. She slowly sat up, looking around her and asking, “Did I hurt anyone?”. She let out a sigh of relief as she only saw a single man, who appeared to be unharmed. 

Not remembering how the fight started, Lea assumed she was out of control and attacked the innocent hermit. “My apologies, I did not mean to attack you, I just can’t control myself sometimes…”  She still hadn’t noticed the claw marks on the nearby trees, or the inhuman blood on the blade of her axe. Otherwise, she might have considered that the man before her can somewhat understand her plight. She was a little curious about how this man could have possibly stopped her; He looked quite strong, but stopping a juggernaut like her was a herculean task. No matter how he did it, Lea considered his victory quite impressive… and attractive too.

She stood up and took off her helmet. Bowing before Jack, she said, “Please allow me to make it up to you, can I invite you to dinner at the local restaurant?” She was hoping he wouldn’t notice her ulterior motive. Standing up straight, she asked, “I haven’t introduced myself, have I?” She held out her hand and said, “I am Lea Moore.”

---

Lea tightly gripped the handle of her axe. Thinking it was unlikely she could get hurt in this place, she took a deep breath and recalled all the frustrating thoughts she had repressed the last few days. As her heart rate sped up and her breathing became erratic, she swung her axe and felled the tree before her with just one hit. Looking over to her opponent, who seemed to struggle just lifting her axe, she considered that she might have been tricked… Regardless of that, she couldn’t just back out now, so she got to work cutting the massive truck into smaller pieces.

Earlier, Dolores had challenged her to some sort of wood-cutting competition. Lea could get quite competitive, especially when challenged by another woman, so she accepted. She hadn’t considered that her challenger might not be used to physical activities like this; She preferred to believe that former maid was just stronger than she looked.

Looking at the messy pile of splintered wood before her, Lea thought, “I should have sharpened my axe first… Or maybe been a little more… gentle.” She turned to Dolores and said, “This should last you this winter, and maybe the next one too. But you should probably wear gloves while handling it, you could get some splinters otherwise.”

“You should probably leave this kind of work to others,” Lea said, “There’s no shame in asking for help. You could get hurt, trying to do such strenuous work yourself.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “You can come to me next time you need some firewood too… Although I might not have time to do it right away.” She choose to ignore Dolores' remark about her emotions, she would have been embarrassed about her lack of restraint otherwise.

Lea wanted to say something like, “It’s not admirable,” but saying it so bluntly seemed rude to her. Instead, she tried to explain, “I… well… I didn’t have to work for this strength. To be honest, I don’t even put much effort into using this gift properly…”

She hastily put those thoughts aside and started gathering as much firewood as she could carry.

With a sheepish grin, Dolores stared at the pile of firewood that the younger woman had managed to make with that axe of hers, while Dolores's hands just... Kind of wrung themselves together. Just trying to pick up that rusted axe from her storage closet and swing ig was enough to kick her ass, if the measly little dent made into the trunk of the tree right next to her wasn't enough to demonstrate her... How should one frame this? Physical weakness?

Her arms sure did tremble like her voice, as she chirped carefully, "Well, you're, uh... Doing a great service for me, miss! By helping me cut down these trees, you're not only freeing up more light and space for the saplings, but I'm pretty sure that the firewood stocks will remain fairly high for the time being!" Well, never mind the fact that it'd probably be a pain in the ass to get said firewood into the house when the snows inevitably kicked up, and the fireplace became more than just a cutesy addition to the overall cottage aesthetic, but... The sparkle in her eyes suggested genuine regard, so why ruin it now?

"To be honest," added the older woman rather awkwardly, "I... I kind of hired someone to prepare the firewood piles for me when I first moved up here. I didn't actually cut down any trees myself-" Dolores paused for a moment to frown slightly and rub her chin. "Not that I'm supposed to, anyways. My hands are a bit too smooth for this type of labor, and decades of working as a maid really don't prepare you for frontier life like this-"

Great. Now she just felt bad. Who was she, a mere servant to many, to order someone around, especially for a task as menial as this? It almost felt like she had lied to the younger woman, all because she saw that axe and remarkable strength, then suggested this as a little "battle" between them.

In an attempt to lighten up the conversation, the elder continued to ramble in between nervous chuckles, "But that asides, it's good that you got those emotions out, at least... Even if that axe probably isn't... Meant for cutting down trees." Oh, she still remembered the clang of armor against her humble residence's wooden floor when the woman had first arrived; admittedly, it still gave her the heebie-jeebies, even if she had been visited by a large variety of intimidating folk at this point- Okay. Correction: intimidating men. Maybe that was why seeing a woman in full armor was enough to almost make Dolores faint, and yet...

She didn't feel too woozy now, for soon she added, "You really are so strong, though! That's admi5rable, if you ask me, huh?" With a titter into her knuckles, Dolores hopped past the tree she had made the measly dent in - in favor of carefully eyeing the other and tilting her head while she assessed the berserker's condition. Unless the elder was misreading something, she was pretty convinced that the other was doing just fine - the effort of chopping down so many trees apparently not affecting the young woman's energy. It almost didn't seem human in a way. Hmmm...

"Though, if that's the case," joked Dolores with a hum, "I'd be admiring pretty much everyone! You young folks are always so sprightly and energetic; I only wish I had that type of attribute, even if I'm retired." She took a few steps back - her shoes crunching against the snow - before pointing a hand in the direction of her home. More excitedly, the elder declared, "Now, come along, miss! If you still have the energy, you can help me carry this wood back home! I'll make you something nice, rich, and warm later on as repayment! Besides, we should pick up before it starts snowing again - you know..."

Dolores is.... going to keep being nice even if it kicks her ass, unfortunately. follow-up time!!

Fire was the reason why her wife didn't want to get Beatrice one of those fire horses to keep as a pet, and fire sure as hell was the reason why Beatrice's ass was kicked, as she glanced over at the incinerated notepad... Then curled her lip back into a snarl.

"Are you kidding me?" she was quick to hiss before carefully getting up to her feet, her nostrils still picking up the all-too-acrid scent of smoke coming from... Everywhere. The bushes, the notepad, a part of her coat sleeve... The older woman stepped back and adjusted the brim of her hat. Almost miraculously, the journalist's hat and flesh remained intact - and thank the skies that she could ascertain that! Her hats were precious to her, even if she had a closet full of them at home, and... Well... It was kind of obvious as to why she was relieved that she didn't have to refer herself to a burn unit anytime soon.

"The archives weren't kidding when they said you were a powerful ghoul," breathed Beatrice before loudly cutting herself off so that she could cough into her sleeve. Her arms, legs, and torso all hurt from trying to dodge the onslaught of fire, and yet... With a shake of her head, the elder insisted, "But that's no excuse to attack an journalist on a whim, you know! I looked at your charge like that-" She narrowed her eyes to recreate her gaze prior to the confrontation, but...

In hindsight, Beatrice was quick to realize how much of an asshole she was being, so...

With a heavy sigh and roll of her shoulders, the older woman grunted, "Okay, so maybe I can see how that could've been construed as threatening, but you've heard of curiosity, right? How you want to learn about the world around you because of the very set of peculiarities..." She paused, then took a step back to get a bit closer to her notepad. Though Beatrice was well-aware that the charred remains of her stationery were beyond saving, it was like she could remember things a bit more clearly when she was next to what she had used to write before... Well... That. Her nostrils still stung from the smoke.

"... Not everything is full of malice, but I doubt you'd know that," stated an elder who was a bit of a cynic herself, "I mean... I'm glad that you didn't totally destroy me, but I bet it's out of pity. I bet it's out of the fact that you think I'm so weak that it'd almost be too easy for you to use all of your power-" She broke off to stare at the ghoul's mask. "Or... Even half of it, apparently. Archives tell a lot, you know?" Finally, she took a foot back to brush aside the ashes of her notepad, spreading them on the tip of her shoe before shaking her head and letting out a sigh:

"Still, if you want to be a bodyguard so badly, then I hope you realize that being so wanton with your battles is going to make your charge sound rather despicable. I'm not here to hurt him unless the facts are against him - that's all. Besides, there are greater dangers out there than an old woman with a notepad and a pet sea slug. Don't waste your time on trivial skirmishes like this, if you're really concerned about his safety..."

maybe I'll do a follow-up for NP if I have the time......

Spoiled for length and length only! Roswell breaks his nose but nothing super graphical happens after that. 

You can't tell me what to do >:o! 

[don't feel like you need to respond to this because Roswell doesn't actually get interacted with but ldmfkfmadmasdw]

Aminia could not believe that she was so stupid. Having returned to her house to find it empty, she thought nothing of it at first, and assumed that her guest simply got bored and ventured into the gardens, and... oh boy, he probably was doing that right now, considering the location of the stable where his camel was kept. But! That wasn't important to the noblewoman, even though it should have been, because right now she was suffering.

Her jewelry was gone. A fistful of necklaces and a number of bracelets. She was even missing an anklet. Who the FUCK would steal an anklet? She recounted her jewelry over and over again, careful to be certain that she wasn't just... getting it all wrong!

And, guess who was absolutely useless while Roswell snatched her most valued accessories?

Fennel, a very stupid and very useless dog, sat on the floor beside her owner and licked her slimy tongue across the woman's face in an attempt to comfort her, though her attempts were for naught. Aminia remained grief-stricken, her eyes brimming with tears, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. And rage! Oh, goodness, she had never felt such rage before.

She allowed him into her home. She let him rub his stinky feet all over the place. She made him a sandwich. And this was how her kindness was returned? With treachery? With deceit?

She made... a sandwich for him...

She felt so dumb...

After too long of a time, Aminia clenched her fists, tore her head away from poor Fennel, and screamed -- such an action that scared the poor dog, causing her to flinch -- saying:

"GUARDS! GUUUUAAAAARRRDSSS!"

Run.

for np: aminia isn't a physical fighter at all! she could probably beat your character at a simple game/contest, though.

With a snort, Brown wiped away a droplet of sweat before peering over at the archivist and grinning far, far too widely at him. It almost seemed as if she were bullshitting this on the spot - and honestly, who could blame her? She could feel her hands aching from trying to organize all these antiques, or at least enigmas that adorned the other party's collection, which was... New. It wasn't even the good type of novelty, to add salt into the wound; it was just the type of novelty that really, really pissed her off and caused her to move her feet rather uncomfortably in the process.

"Shit," she grunted before hoisting a dusty skull back up into a shelf, "You weren't kidding when you said that you organized this sort of shit for a living, huh?" Her words just barely spoke over the scraping of her heels against the floor. Hopefully it wasn't being ruined in the process. Brown hoped otherwise, to be an asshole. But for now, she peered up at the seemingly limitless shelves, ones that seemed to go on and on without any regard for a ceiling, and huffed, "Not that it is a bad thing, of course. Looking back on the past is always something that archives like this tend to facilitate, and..."

She trailed off, her teeth protruding slightly as she started to chew on her lip. Needless to say, there was no denying that her side of the shelves was still relatively messy, whereas his... His seemed pretty much immaculate. Almost too immaculate.

Brown's eyes narrowed at hm for a second, though she maintained her grin as she sniffed, "... It could be worse. Though the universe is bound to increase in entropy, or disorder, over time..." Another pause. Now fluttering her lashes at the other party, the aristocrat stepped away from the skull she had nudged into its shelf, just to see if it would somehow hit the ground - and break into a bazillion bony fragments - in the process. "... One could try decreasing it now, mm? Or at least..." She carefully rubbed her chin with one hand and placed a hand on her hip with the other.

"... In the moment. That could be something worth considering later on, mm?" Huh.

Her voice, in spite of the defeat stinging at her very dignity, was surprisingly calm while her attention shifted from the archives she had attempted to organize to the archives in general. They were why she was here in the first place, huh? They were why she didn't flinch too much at the loss, just delivered a few backhanded statements before moving on- Actually, that sort of applied to just the fossils. Brown loved fossils. She might as well have learned nothing if it weren't for those.

"Now..." the aristocrat muttered to nobody in particular, though it was certainly audible enough for the other to pick up on, "... You did mention that some of your more valued fossils are farther down the hallway, right?" Almost like an expectant puppy, Brown cocked her head at the other and fluttered her lashes. Ugh. "Not that I want a rematch or anything." Sure. "I just happen to be curious about those, mm? I hope that I have not seen them before anyhow..." Suuuuuuure.

@ NP: for reference, Brown is mainly a fossil hunter as a hobby, so expect her to be fairly well-versed in that!! she's also rather buff and skilled with fighting, so physical combat is okay as well. just keep in mind that she doesn't have any powers or special abilities; she just happens to be lithe and fit for a middle-aged woman. she can also garden and cook if you prefer something more unconventional, but...

honestly, go creative. your character deserves better than Brown either way.

NP maaaay also get a follow-up if I have the time!!

just as an OOC note, but... I'm opting for Lewther's human form just because the fashion idea.... captured my interest ngl.... 👁👁

Rochester was pissed- No. Wait. Wrong word. Rochester was... Disappointed? Upset? Not pissed, but definitely not happy either, as she looked down at the pile of hats she had gathered for the impromptu "fashion show" she had decided to host right in the middle of their abode. Well then.

"Okay, fine," Rochester grumbled while taking off a sunhat and placing back into the absolute hell that was the hat pile, "The hats? They're not even mine. They're my wife's. You think that I would wear a hat when I have all of this hair?" in spite of the harsh words, a coy smile was laced on her face as she combed her fingers through her hair and eyed the draakfol before her. Admittedly, he did look rather fashionable in his outfit, with or without the hat that he had borrowed from the household for the sake of this competition. Borrowed, huh... Rochester pondered to herself as she started to consider the idea of just... Giving him the hat. Beatrice had a lot of hats, right? One hat wouldn't make a difference, and she did have to admit that the hatted look - though unconventional - did work for him.

Then again, there was the fact that Beatrice loved her hats. Rochester knew that, and so her stomach started to twist as the offer - previously sweet like the tea she drank on a daily basis - started to turn saccharine, then bitter... Like the asinine poison that it'd eventually reveal itself as... Apparently.

The older woman, deep in thought, had her smile falter for a second before she stepped off to the side and sighed, "I mean... That is no determinant by any means. My wife has a decent crown of hair as well, and I must say that she looks rather... Well... Pretty!" Rochester then started to laugh as if nothing happened, her smile clearly reaching her eyes as she turned to face the other party after grabbing the sunhat from before. "And of course, I can see that a hat fits you... Not in the same way that it does to her, but it fits nonetheless, huh!" she quipped in between laughs before trying to fit the sunhat back on her head.

Needless to say, she looked like a wreck - with several sprigs of hair clearly being out of place, but... Rochester seemed fine after giving the hat a (directionless but) quick adjustment.

"In fact, that reminds me of something," babbled an increasingly enthusiastic Rochester as she pulled out another hat - this one resembling a cowboy hat - and put it off to the side. What the hell was that for? Rochester's brow furrowed in thought as she then took a step back and admired the pile of hats... Or hell pile, for that matter. It really wasn't an exaggeration to describe the hat pile as a bit of a mountainous mess; it didn't reach the ceiling by any means, but it was... Sizable. And Rochester had her eyes fixed on that as she rubbed her chin and mused aloud, "... Would Beatrice mind if you ate with that hat on? I know she's not home at the moment, but..." She pointed at the hats.

"This looks like a fucking tea party," the older woman jested with a chuff, "... How about I get some tarts and tea while we wait this out, though? I'm sure I can reason with her about this anyhow." Yea, hopefully. That pile of hats looked like it was going to be a nuisance to clean up anyhow.

@ NP: tbh Rochester's main asset in an actual fight is her slug Spot, who can breathe fire if he feels that his or Rochester's life is at stake!! this is a last resort, though, as he's rather pacifistic;  the burst of fire is also rather weak, so I'd actually prefer if you didn't go for this route since I'm pretty sure it wouldn't affect the average individual that much rtsfdggrfd-

on the other hand... Rochester was a researcher!! she can relay useless scientific trivia and jargon for hours on end, and she's also rather skilled with dancing (even if she doesn't care for it). obviously, though, feel free to get creative!! she's more likely than not to follow the "work smarter, not harder" approach when it comes to defeating your character anyhow. ^^

I'll also try my best to do a follow-up for NP or ELSE. maybe.

This was it, Ace’s last chance to win. Rochester just needed one more correct answer to win this little trivia contest. Ace drew the card and read, “Which Pokemon can’t learn ‘Bubble beam’? Poliwrath, Totodile, Cubone or Kabuto.” It was concerning that the potentially last question was about Pokémon, but the answer was not something Ace would have guessed, so she considered herself lucky, at least until she heard her opponents answer.

“What?!” Ace exclaimed, hearing the human give the correct answer, “Why that one? Doesn’t Cubone seem like a much more likely answer? I mean, that one’s a ground type?” With a sigh, she admitted, “Totodile is correct… you win…”

“You’re pretty good at this, you know?” the demon remarked, “I mean, I know you’re a scientist, but so am I. I spend my whole life reading all kinds of books about just about any topic, and it still wasn’t enough to beat you.” To be fair, if the trivia game included more questions about magic and less about Pokémon, the game would have likely gone differently.

Gathering all the game pieces and trivia cards, she asked, “So, what were we betting again? I was supposed to help you with some stuff?”

NP: For combat, Ace is quite strong. Her physical strengh is about on par with a heavyweight boxing champion, although she's not very good at hand to hand combat. She can use magic, like fire, lightning, illusions or telekinetic sword throwing. For non violent options, she's quite smart and talented. And she cheats.

Standing triumphantly over her defeated opponent, Ace said, “What DID you expect? Demons shouldn’t be taken lightly.” She shook Andrea’s hands, saying, “Sure, stay put for a moment, I’ll get you some.”

Although Andrea has some advantages like horns and hooves, she still suffered a loss. She can't believe the defeat, looking at bruises that were given to Andrea by Ace. "Ughhh, it hurts so much." Andrea complained along with deep huffs. "I wasn't expecting that, but thanks. Congratulations." Andrea offered a weak handshake to Ace, Andrea knew that Ace had a smart advantage, but accepted it. "Also, could you get me some water, I feel dehydrated." Andrea said with a weak voice, kicking the dirt with her hooves.

FOR NP: Andrea had a strong advantage over the battle partner. This is because she is athletic and can tire out the character. Andrea also is a hybrid of a wolf and a goat, her horns can jab you and her hooves can bruise you badly. Andrea also has good vision and sharp teeth :>>