[center][h1][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5157622][color=goldenrod]Elra Silverfang[/color][/url][/h1][/center]
[indent][b][u]Night of the Selection[/u][/b]
Location: Dancing Badger, Timberholde, Ovyadell [/indent]
[hr]
Elra padded back to her room. She pushed the door slightly and then changed. She pulled the blanket to the bed and partially covered herself. 

There was a knock on her door. Then he said with concern, "I apologies for earlier, I did not know you were a shapeshifter. I know that you are wounded, and if you wish, I can help you." She knew the voice.

"Please come in Ernestus," she said as she covered herself. She was trying to reach back towards her ribs to put salve on them. Mostly to keep the bleeding from forming scabs with the sheets and tearing free. She had washed her face and rinsed her mouth of the blood. She had spent years on display: in cages and in chains. 

"That's me, the terror in the night, the stealer of small children, and killer of livestock," she said with a sigh and with resignation. "I can't reach the wounds on my upper ribs," she said to him giving him permission to do something more than look at her and permission to touch her. Men sometimes needed help in that department. She held out the salve to him and pulled her hair out of the way. Her skin was pale and she bore scars across her back and sides from her time in captivity. Necromatic marks had be cut into her skin leaving permanent marks from spells that had been cast through her and using her. She had others, scars forming symbols of power on other parts of her body, but she wasn't going to show them off. They made her feel less than human and even if the scars could be removed, they were in her mind now. They were visible signs that she was claimed and touched by the dark arts. The fact that she enjoying the taste and feel of the man's blood did not help. 

She moved slightly so the moonlight coming through the windows would shine on the wounds in the darkness.
"Do I need to go hide?" she asked Ernestus while trying not to cry. 
She gave in putting her head in her hands and cried a bit, "He was trying to break in. I didn't mean..." she paused and let the tears flow. "If he wouldn't have struggled.." said trying to collect herself. She both regretted and enjoyed what she had done. 

She couldn't really explain the wolf nature in her. The need to protect, to hunt, and to kill. She wasn't a cursed shapeshifter, she was a full born shapeshifter, the wolf was as much of her as the elf. 

Right now, she would accept what ever kindness he would offer her.