The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

C30 - Epilogue

Epilogue.

Sorey wondered how in the world things had ended up this way.

He shook his head in pure disbelief, trying his best to rack his brain and connect the dots as to how it had gotten to this point. Yet regardless, no matter how much his mind reassured him that this was, in fact, real, and not some sort of twisted dream, he found that he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. It just didn't make any sense at all.

"If you just keep standing there like that," came Velvet's dry voice from behind him, "you're likely going to keel over in shock."

Blinking, Sorey turned from the full body-length mirror to find the therion standing at the door to his room, an amused expression on her face. It took him a second to recognize her – she was dressed in a flowing, dark crimson dress with black accents that perfectly accompanied her neatly combed raven hair hanging behind her.

She interpreted his look correctly with a roll of her eyes. "Look," she said at length, waving a hand wrapped in a smooth silk glove, "I'm not exactly comfortable about all this either, okay?" she sighed. "Blame Sergei and Alisha for their scheming if you'd like."

"Ahah," Sorey chuckled sheepishly, scratching at his cheek with an index finger. "Sorry. I just think this is all a little bit nuts."

Velvet's heels clicked on the polished marble flooring as she walked into the room with a slight awkwardness about her steps, her dress and hair flowing behind her as she did so. "Things are different now," she said as she carefully crossed over to where he was standing, disdainfully glancing at herself in the mirror that he'd been using. "Nowadays things are less about fighting hellions and more about keeping humans from fighting each other."

"I'm not sure I really signed up for that, you know," Sorey remarked wryly, absently fiddling with his collar. "It's a lot to take in." He frowned in irritation. "And are these clothes really necessary?" he grumbled as his collar failed to succumb to his demands.

An exasperated, familiar voice came through the open doorway. "We've been through this like, a dozen times already, Sorey."

The two of them looked over to find Alisha and Rose entering the room as well and walking towards them, both dressed in brilliantly accented dresses befitting the squires of the Shepherd. Unlike Velvet and Sorey, they seemed perfectly at ease in their clothing.

Rose, the one who had spoken, placed her gloved hands on her hips and frowned at Sorey. "If you really want to do this properly, then you've gotta do this right!" She chopped her hand into the palm of her other for emphasis. "Nobody in their right mind's gonna take you seriously if you show up wearing that dusty old cloak to the ceremony."

"It's a cultural relic from tradition!" Sorey protest unhappily. "Besides, I'm only doing this temporarily – people should understand that, right? So, there's really no need for all..." he gestured weakly at the immaculate clothing he was wearing.

Alisha shook her head sympathetically, although traces of amusement were evident in her expression. "Royal clothing is a symbol of power, Sorey," she said placatingly. "For the people, it sends a message of dedication – one could call it a necessary symbol to preserve the peace. I understand this is all very uncomfortable for you, but I promise you, it shall be worthwhile."

The Shepherd wilted a little at her words, his hands slowing in his attempts to right his collar. "Yeah," he said in resignation. "Alright." With his surrender, he returned to his efforts to right his clothing with a renewed fervor.

Velvet's eye twitched.

"That's enough," she growled dangerously, stepping up to him and irritably batting away his hands. "Stay still, unless you want me to eat you."