Survival Of The Fittest

"Oui, maman. Merci, maman. T'aime aussi, maman. À bientôt, maman."

Parked out in the driveway of a high-quality mansion in Las Vegas' own Silver Springs, a new car swung its door wide open to reveal a small woman stepping out. Leaning in, she listens to her mother's last remarks about timing and politeness and et cetera et cetera (lawyers love their details) before kissing her goodbye and fully stepping out of the car to face the mansion as the vehicle drove away. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her smile was wide and bright. Maybe a bit too wide. It was just hanging out, right? She'd be fine. Juuuuuuuuuuust fine.

[Sylvie Rattray-Aubert memory III, start]

Sylvie stood in front of a door much larger than herself and took a moment to think about how she'd gotten into this position. Just earlier this year, she was as nobody as she was last year and the year before that. Then, on Ms- Coach Harper's recommendation, she put herself down for cheerleading... and it was like the world turned on its head in an instant. As it turned out, a cheerleader typically isn't messed with, as a rule. In a school where sportsballers were the ruling class, being a member of their sister species was a title which in and of itself came with a prestige, even when just a freshman. Beyond protection, it meant a return to the social scene, to parties and fashion and friends she'd sorely missed... and new friends alongside. New friends like fellow cheerleaders and, new friends like the jocks they typically stood by. New friends like one Claude O'Neil Porter.

A gentle giant in every sense of the term, you'd have thought his picture would show up if you googled it. They even shared a mother tongue, which they'd cheerfully converse in when alone together. What stuck out to her was the implacable sense of kindness and gentleness he radiated, always kind and cheerful towards her even before she'd reestablished herself, treating her with the utmost respect and gentlemanliness completely despite his imposing stature. And she of all people definitely had the right to call out that stature as imposing. She'd had to crane her neck to look at her friends for a while now, but him...

It was a little bit dreamy, if she was being honest.

bUT she wasn't here to think about any of thaaaat, she was here to hang out like a normal person! Would someone here for non-hanging out reasons wear casual clothes? She had sneakers on, after all, and her skirt and pastel crop top were only pastel white under her slightly-too-large (but comfy) Rattlers varsity jacket. She'd only touched up on makeup a little more than normal, and had only spent a little extra time with her hair and her bow's position in front of the mirror. The shampoo and conditioner and body washed she'd used this morning were only a little higher quality and shinier and nicer smelling than what she usually used. Only a little.

She was fine by the way KNOCK ON THE DOOR

Her courage finally gathered up and her brain moved out of its jumbly whatever red in the face state, she moved up to the Porters' front door, lifted her hand, and knocked on it daintily, now waiting patiently for someone to open. Right, she'd be meeting his family as well... she wondered what they were like beyond stories she'd heard. Smile was back. She really, really couldn't wait.

RUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRUFFRU-

Loud barks from a rather large sounding dog erupted within the mansion, pitter patter of paws thundered up to the other side of the door, "ROCKWELL, CALME-TOI!" ("ROCKWELL, QUIET DOWN!") A voice from an older woman could be heard—a high school graduate, from the pitch of her voice—to calm down the canine who was in an uproar. Whoever it was that spoke didn't greet or call out to Sylvie, who knocked on the door, simply unlocking it and opening the door so they could see who alerted the beast.

"Puis-je t'aider, petite fille?" ("Can I help you, little girl?") A woman who dwarfed Claude stood in front of the miniscule Sylvie. She was damn near pushing 7' feet, being only an inch shorter at 6'11, and she looked to be in much more impressive shape than Claude was; this was apparent since her muscles were subtly visible beneath the light green sweater she wore–that and the fact that her abs were openly visible due to how the shirt she wore under her sweater was a bit tight, but eh, it could've been whatever, in all honesty...

Very loose and older gray sweatpants covered the mountain of a woman's lower body, which was fortunate for Sylvie because who knows what seeing even an inch of her ankles would've done to the evolving mind of the freshman cheerleader...

Right beside the woman was a large dog, a black Cane Corso, that stared intently at the smaller girl, slobber dripping out of his mouth as he whined periodically. If the dog, presumably named Rockwell with how this woman referred to it, had the opportunity, it would pounce on Sylvie and start sniffing her to see if she was a threat. Thankfully, with the woman right next to him, he didn't have the chance to do so. As said woman continued to look at the tinier Sylvie with a raised brow, it was quite obvious that she must've been Claude's older sister due to how much she looked like him, she simply had a rounder face and longer hair with fuller lips and softer arched eyebrows, but she had the same good looks Claude had, "Did you need something?" She suddenly spoke in English as she assumed that Sylvie didn't speak French.

It didn't help Sylvie any further that when Lucie put her hands on her hips, her shirt being tugged down because of it and subtly revealing how curvy she was to Sylvie by showing how slim her waist was...

This surely wouldn't serve to fuel any such desires later on in life. Surely it wouldn't.

Sylvie flinched at the sudden and unnaturaly loud barking that immediately permeated the house and most of the entire planet outside of it. This alongside the pitter patter of approaching paws which was less pitter patter and more THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP informed her that there was a rather large dog rapidly approaching. Claude had described his dog as big but Sylvie could practically already hear that he was taller than her on hind legs. She wasn't much one for large dogs. She liked Liz! Liz was the appropriate size for a dog! She could pick Liz up and cuddle her close and not be crushed!

Her self-ruminations were interrupted by the sounding out of her sleeper agent activation phrase (any amount of words in French) in a distinctly unfamiliar voice. Female. In the Porter house. It must be... Lucie! The had-been-mentioned-to-her Sister had calmed the dog down and was approaching! She calmed down and reaffirmed her posture, instinctively pre-craning her neck so she could greet her with a look in the eye, not paying much mind to whatever aches this produced. Had to be polite, as usu

Mère de Dieu

Sylvie had been prepared for Claude's family members to share the Claude height genes. She had not been prepared for this. A short circuit occurred in her brain as she stared up at the titan of a woman looking down at her, her head craning at what felt to be nearly ninety degrees. She heard the woman address her in French but was too dumbstruck in general to respond or otherwise consider that Claude seemingly hadn't informed anyone she'd be coming. It was like staring at the Grand Canyon for the first time. Sheer disbelief that something—in this case, someone—like this could exist.

Trying to wrench herself out of her state of stunlock, she tore her eyes from the woman's to try and regain her bearings— only to immediately lose them even harder as she realized the true nature of the woman who stood before her; some kind of gender-swapped and entirely upgraded higher on the skill tree version of Claude. Lucie's clothes were relatively baggy and "sculpted" as an adjective remained ever-applicable. Up, down, up, down went Sylvie's eyes, like the world's most efficient elevator, only increasing her capacity for stammering and nothing else. Her heart was doing funny little circus flips and she didn't like it and she was making her fool of herself in front of a really cool girl who now didn't even think she knew French and- and- how the HELL was she built like that WHILE having a cinched waist

Was this God????

A firm throat clearing resounded through Sylvie's body, stabilising it and her mind by extension. CLAUDE. She was there for Claude. Not to gawk at some Goddess-type figure- shemeantLucie. She could push all that red in her face and whatever those thoughts about the way Lucie looked into the back of her mind for later rumination (screaming into a plushie on the bed). COMPOSURE was the name of the game. Straighten the back. Keep your face normal. Deep breath in and out. This is a person in front of you, and people aren't things to just stare at like a big idiot. Small smile on, trying to disregard the presence of that absolutely giant animal in the back. Craned neck again. Observation of the eyes in greeting. It's your mother tongue, literally. Now go.

"Bonjour, Madame Lucie."

Formal. All the right vocabulary, like mom and her family taught. Even the accent was there. Off to a great start.

"Je m'appelle Sylvie, je crois que Claude t'a parlé de moi—" TOO cocky, reel it back- "—mais il ne semble pas t'avoir parlé d'aujourd'hui. Il m'a invité."

Lucie's brow furrowed upon "Sylvie" mentioning her baby brother's name, not necessarily in an angry way but more so in a way that she was very suspicious of the small teen, "Ah vraiment, il l'a fait?" ("Oh really, did he now?") Overprotectiveness laced her voice as she asked that question, the next course of action Lucie would take was anyone's guess, really. She easily noticed how Sylvie looked her up and down, clearly having never seen a body like hers, and while she took pride in it, now was not the time to openly flaunt it to someone who could be a risk to Claude's wellbeing.

"Eh bien, alors, je suppose que ça ne te dérangerait pas si je fais juste ça..." ("Well then, I guess you wouldn't mind if I just do this...") Sylvie was given no time to react as the massive hand of the goddess of an older sister reached out towards her before it wrapped around the back of her neck. Quite frankly, the size difference between Lucie's hand and everything above Sylvie's collar was terrifying; it was like the behemoth of a woman could hide the cheerleaders head inside one hand alone. But she didn't do that, instead, she gently, and quite effortlessly, picked the little girl up by the scruff of her neck, lifting her in the air until they were both at eye level. "Quelles sont tes intentions envers mon petit frère, Sylvie?" ("What are your intentions with my baby brother, Sylvie?") Lucie said Sylvie's name in a way that made it seem as if she didn't believe that was her real name. This was an investigation the likes of which was seen in movie scenes where FBI agents interrogated someone, but instead of a hard ass FBI agent, it was an overprotective older sister.

Rockwell, the large dog, looked up at Sylvie as if she were a piece of chicken that Lucie was about to give him, the slobber in his mouth dripping out even more intensely as he looked up at the hanging girl. RUFF RUFF The intimidating dog barked before he began to whine as he waited in anticipation to do something to Sylvie; not eat her, per se, but to get a sniff of her to see if she would pose a threat to the O'Neil family.

Let's be honest, what could Sylvie really manage to achieve when she was easily lifted up in the air by the scruff of her neck by Claude's older sister, Lucie, who wasn’t even using much strength to do so? Not much, if we're keeping it real here. Now, of course, Lucie knew this, but that didn't stop her from being overprotective of Claude all the same, "Attends une minute..." ("Wait a minute...") Her nose suddenly caught a whiff of a familiar scent on the girl, there was no mistaking what it was, "Je reconnais l'odeur de ce shampooing, tu essaies d'être belle et de sentir bon pour Claude, n'est-ce pas?" ("I recognize the smell of that shampoo, you're trying to look and smell good for Claude, aren't you?") Just the casual audacity she had asking her that would make even the toughest person in the world go slack jawed–Lucie could practically tell that Sylvie had a crush on Claude, "J'ai utilisé le même shampooing pour essayer d'impressionner mon petit ami avant même que nous sortions ensemble!" ("I used the same shampoo to impress my boyfriend before we were even dating!") It would've been refreshing to know that someone saw and understood how Sylvie felt about Claude, if she weren't currently being held high up in the air by the the woman with the body of a goddess.

Sylvie tried to keep that composed smile firm on her face as she inwardly tried not to resort to panic at the visible signs that no, Claude had not told his family about her and she was looking even more like a weirdo. Even so, she could keep her composure up despite the way she had to crane her neck, nodding along at her remark. If nothing else at this point, she could present herself as even less of a non-threat than she already wasn't to a woman like Lucie. Where was Claude anyway? Or at least his Grandfather? You'd have thought someone else would have come to the door at this poin-

Sylvie's ruminating was interrupted by a very very large hand making its way behind her and clamping around the entirety of her neck before pulling her up like she was one of the plushie prizes in a claw machine. Immediately finding herself two and a half feet off the ground and meeting someone's eyes for the first time since around the third grade, Sylvie looked down, looked up, and began to enter a state of very understandable distress. There was a woman who could choke her with her index and thumb in front of her currently holding her at a place where she could do nothing but look wide-eyed and panicked and do mid-air kicky legs, two and a half feet off the ground.

Oh God she was going to die here.

"Qu- d-dépose-moi!"

She stuttered out in a tone which had very nearly abandoned all politeness for the comforting embrace of fearing for one's life. Now she was talking about some "What are your intentions with my son"??? What the hell could Sylvie do to Claude in this woman's eyes for her to start acting like some papa wolf????? "Je voulais juste passer du teeeeemps! Il- I'l m'a invité! Je le promets!" Her pleading continued. The rapid heartbeat in her chest was now mostly out of some kind of primal terror a bunny would experience in the jaws of a wolf. It was a fear and nervousness which overwhelmed any other possible emotion, forcing them to have to pop out for Sylvie to process a while later.

Still squirming, she could of course do nothing as Lucie... sniffed her? Was she actually a wolf?? What was she sniffing anyway? It was something that seemed to somehow make her even more suspicious than she already was? What could it-

Hey.

Hey, hey.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, HEY, HEY, HEY HEY HEY WAIT WAIT WAIT

A creeping red flare started to make its way right across Sylvie's cheeks, and her entire face eventually, as Lucie proved to be a better cross-examiner than Sylvie could ever aspire to as a potential lawyer. You try to have something nice ONE time by going to visit a boy you like and fate apparently sees it fit to slap you in the face and spit at your feet. It was the way Lucie had said it with a complete sincere lack of hesitation. Beyond that- WHO RECOGNIZES FLORAL SHAMPOO BRANDS FROM SMELL?? WHO WAS THIS WOMAN??? This wasn't refreshing at all, it was like some comical nightmare tailored specifically to her! In some desperate attempt to recover the scenario, she stammered out some more words as she tried to cover her face up with her hands. "M-mais ce n'est pas vrai du tout! Je suis juste ici rendre visite, il m'a invité, j-je te le promets!"

As Sylvie pleaded, Lucie gave a light-hearted chuckle before setting the terrified bunny of a girl down, practically freeing her from the wolf's jaws, "Calme-toi, je te crois, mais il n'y a pas besoin d'essayer de nier que tu aimes mon frère, car je peux facilement le deviner chez toi!" ("Calm down, I believe you, but there's no need to try to deny that you love my brother since I could easily tell that about you!") It was so over for Sylvie, Lucie knew her secret, there was no point in hiding it when someone clearly knew the truth. This could spell disaster for her if Claude's older sister went ahead and told him all about her crush on him. Seemed like leaving the country and faking your death to live a new life was the only way this could go well for–

"Ton secret est en sécurité avec moi, Sylvie, donc pas besoin de t'inquiéter." ("Your secret is safe with me, Sylvie, so no need to worry.") Nevermind! Crisis averted, the gods weren't completely intent on playing with Sylvie's life like a cruel game where she had no chance of winning! There was a chance that things could turn out as they were–maybe even better! "Eh Claude, ton amie Sylvie est ici!" ("Hey Claude, your friend Sylvie is here!") Claude was suddenly called over to the front door by Lucie, and there was a brief period in which Sylvie would need to make sure she looked good for Claude, and Lucie planned to make that clear to the short cheerleader, "Y a-t-il autre chose que tu penses avoir oublié, parce que maintenant c'est aussi bon moment que n'importe quel autre pour vérifier une deuxième fois!" She leaned down and whispered to her in hopes that she would do just that to make sure everything was all clear from here on out.

Footsteps came from within the house, seemingly coming down the stairs from the sound of it, and then in came the man of the hour himself: Claude O'Neil Porter. "Salut Sylvie ! Désolé de ne pas avoir pu te saluer moi-même à la porte, mais au moins tu as rencontré Lucie!" ("Hey Sylvie! Sorry I didn't get to greet you at the door myself, but you finally got to meet my sister Lucie, at least!") A wide smile was plastered on Claude's face as he walked towards Sylvie and Lucie. While he didn't seem to notice the effect he had on his "friend", Lucie and Rockwell, who is the family Cane Corso, mind you, could easily notice the state Sylvie went to when she saw Claude; Lucie with a smug grin on her face as she playfully nudged the freshman girl on the shoulder while Rockwell looked at her with an unwavering gaze and expression that made it seem like he spoke to her and said, "I know what you are..." But he didn't, obviously since he was a dog, as he just stared at her with a knowing gaze that both he and Lucie shared.

Sylvie was practically still trembling by the time Lucie released her from uppie bondage. Her head felt light as several reebots were attempted and failed in succession, especially as Lucie launched into explicit, almost cheerful detail about how she knew everything about her feelings. Damn. Was she that unsubtle? A harrowing thought. Surely, Sylvie considered as she began to properly come back to her senses, she would get better at hiding it within, what, a few months or so? Surely.

Lucie's promise felt like a wave of relief had crashed right over her. Relief and sanity and still that now-familiar tinge of embarrassed nervousness. A cocktail of indescribable taste. Auspicious stuff. She put one of her hands up to her hair to fix it post having hung from the jaws of the wolf-god-woman as she called- CLAUDE! Hair fixing began to take even more priority. Getitsmoothgetitniceyou'refineyou'refineyou'refiiiiiine he's not coming down that fast. And. And it's not like you're waiting for a prom date or something (God, if only) you're just hanging out! Calm-

My God he looked good. As always. No matter the amount of effort he put into his appearance.

It was very nice to see him, and his smile. It made Sylvie perk right back up in tandem. He had one of his proprietary calming auras(tm) up around him today, it seemed. There was only a little red on her face and her smile only looked a little stupidly enthusiastic as her head turned and its angle of craning adjusted to the comfortable level of looking that man in the eyes. A very comfortable angle, which she'd already gotten used to putting her neck at via muscle memory.

"Claude! Salut!"

A cheerful and bouncy lilt in her voice as she addressed the freshly arrived boy, partly in admiration and excitement. Hanging out! It would be fun! She would not die because a woman who could step on her threw her at a brick wall for her remains to be nibbled at by a dog who was taller than her! She might've been getting a little too hyper at that point, so she had to remind her to tone it down just a little— as Lucie bumped into her with what was a "playful nudge" by the taller woman's standards (kind of a shove by Sylvie's (come on, look at them)) she was knocked right into some more demure and mindful senses. Right, not five seconds ago she was under threat by this lady. Turning back to Claude, the smile returned, a measure calmer now, though still excited! She was allowed to be happy today!

"Ouais, j'ai rencontré Lucie. La ressemblence est..." Eyes to the left. Eyes to the right. Literally an upgraded and genderswapped version, uncanny valley style. "...visible."