tunicaintima | Supernatural AU for Roland

[Good. This is good. Much as he's had to keep hunters and curious folk away from his particular patch of forest, it's easier when he doesn't have to fight the way men fight. The way he'd used to, once upon a time.]

[Nevermind. The point is, where there's already a fight, there's something he can use. The shadows behind the hunter shift as the man reaches for the bolts to his crossbow, sitting in a pouch on his back. The shadows behind him reach out, close over the wound in his leg and through the muzzle of the beast which made it, making the hunter reach toward the wound himself and shiver. It'll give the wolf more time before the hunter actually grasps one of those crossbow bolts, maybe.]

[Firo yelps when he feels the cold on his nose. He leaps back, snapping at the air to try and find whatever must be attacking him.

It comes out like a growl, but it's a plainly human voice, young and rammy:]

The hell's that?!

[God, he can't be jumping at shadows. It was probably nothing. Firo growls, this time like a wolf, and this time leaps for the hunters arm. If he wants to reach for those bolts, Firo's going to try to tear up his hand.]

[He doesn't consider trying to explain. There is only this, for now; the task at hand. He continues it with a breath of wind over the side of the hunter's head, over his ear, down the arm he's trying to reach behind him - maybe onto the thing attacking the hunter, too. Simple, maybe, but as it's a warm night, it should be plenty distracting. And a distraction, he knows well, can cost someone in a fight everything. With luck it's the man who'll be slow enough to let himself be distracted, and not the beast who's attacking him.]

[The hunter is distracted indeed--he draws his arm closer to his body, looking around frantically for the source of it all.

It's a good enough opening for the wolf who's decided that the chill is all in his head. He clenches his jaws around the hunter's hand and gives it a rough shake. The man cries out in pain, and Firo finds that rather satisfying. He plants one paw on the man's chest as he considers what the pack would want him to do. Leave the guy maimed or take him out?]

[There's another cold breath, this time a sigh of impatience. The most efficient way forward, to the shade, is obvious. How to lead the beast to it? Make him attack, maybe. A hand of shadow crawls across the hunter's body, reaches out toward the wolf's eyes, wanting to cover them. Simplistic, not really a plan, but it's his best chance of making the wolf want to attack whatever happens to be in front of it - the hunter, in this case. The threat.]

[The hunter's more focused on the burning pain in his hand than the chill now, so he only notices it moving off in the far back of his mind.

The wolf, though, feels it over his eyes and, spooked, instinctively lashes out--right at the hunter. Ashamed as he may be to realize it later, thoughts of the pack go away as his teeth bite into the man's throat. Instinct takes over, and he goes for the kill bite.]

[No time to feel satisfaction, faint as it might have been, had there been a chance for it. Just before the bite sinks in the hunter finally grasps one of those bolts with his free hand and, on some very old but not forgotten instinct, the shade's hand - or what passes for it - darts out to intercept. He doesn't expect the bolt to catch in him, but it does. The shadow of his hand is next to the wolf's face, the bolt is stuck in it, and it sizzles, somehow. The hand is connected, now, to the rest of the shade's body, which was drawn out from the shadows somehow and flickers there in the torchlight, wind whipping around it and around the beast it's just saved, too, wind that whistles around the edges of the buildings around them in a way that almost sounds pained.]

[Firo hesitates when he finally sees this strange thing, feels the wind ruffling his fur.]

What... What are you?

[Ah, but then he remembers what's more important. The hunter is here and, bolt or no bolt, that limb still looks like it'd be nice to play with. This strange thing is in his way, and Firo assumes that it's been messing with him. He doesn't connect it to the chill feeling yet, but what else would it be doing? Certainly not saving him--his mind doesn't even go there despite the obvious. ]

Get outta my way!

[He tries to give the shade's hand a warning snap.]

[Two chips of blue appear where eyes might sit in the area of the shade which might vaguely suggest a face. They appear there for the sole purpose of narrowing balefully and the hand with the bolt in it gets shoved closer toward the wolf's muzzle, uncaring of how close the teeth get to it. From the feel of it, the crossbow bolt is made of something special, some type of holy wood, maybe, and he's guessing whatever is making it so painful for him will effect the beast in front of him, too. Surely that will explain things.]

Edited 2016-09-13 03:04 (UTC)

[Firo can't help the yelp of surprise when the bolt comes closer--it hurts and it's not even touching him!]

Damn it!

[A low growl rumbles in his throat. He doesn't know what's going on here, but he knows the hunter is bad. The bolt is bad. This shadowy thing it probably bad too. Firo doesn't quite know how to deal with all that, but he does know that he should make it so there are fewer bad things. He plants one paw on the hunters face, both as an attack and as a way to brace himself. Because with the other paw he's going to move fast and try to swat that bolt away from the shadow, no matter how much it hurts.]

[That knocks the bolt away from him and if the shade still had any weight to hold up he might stagger with it now. But as it is, he only flickers, draws in a low, chill hiss of air and as soon as he's realized he's lost patience with this whole thing he's moving forward, and a shadow reaches out from him to try and pool under the beast's paw, wanting to cover the hunter's eyes and nose and face. Finish this quickly, because so long as the shadows stay where they are either the man will flail out and make the beast finish him, or he'll strangle. Might as well spend the energy on it; he'll have to go rest after this, anyway.]

[Firo wrenches his paw away from the coolness--he doesn't want it touching him. He's sure that'll do something to him, too.

But he can't just leave it, can he? Or the flailing hunter--if he escapes in this state, it'll be bad. So he sinks his teeth back into the throat and tears. The only movements coming from the hunter now are involuntary.

Blood drips out of Firo's jaws as he looks to see if the shadow is still on the hunter's face.]

What are you? Are you tryin' to pick a fight? I found him first!

[Still, it doesn't occur to the shade to try and form words. Instead he glares, facelessly, at the stubborn, shortsighted creature, then moves the shadows of him down around all those crossbow bolts, and draws all the shadow back, leaving all those dangerous things in unnaturally bright light. Drawing attention to the reason it was important to take this man out in the first place, to the thing he saved the beast in front of him from, the shade considers this eloquence enough.]

[Not eloquent enough for this critter, apparently. Is it a threat? The wolf growls again.

He steers clear of the bolts, but he takes the crossbow in his mouth and bites down on the wooden part. Restringing it might've been easy, but now it's useless. He lets it fall out of his jaws.]

Come on, I know you're there!

[The shade considers this a moment. Then, under the roof of the closest cottage, the semblance of a human body forms again, tall and narrow, standing just far enough outside the rest of the shadows to give itself definition. Its face turns those blue spots toward the other hunters in the distance, although if he has a head per se, it does not need to turn in order for him to see. But he 'looks' at the hunters anyway, then at the beast's eyes, then over toward the forest. Then in a single long stride the form of him is standing under the next cottage over, closer to the forest, and he tries to grab the wolf's eyes and tilts his head toward it. Yes, he's here, and it's time to go. Clearly the other creature can't handle another hunter much more easily than he himself could.]

[Firo, of course, is going to misinterpret that gesture, given that this weird thing is currently labelled as "enemy" in his head. But he does at least understand the indication that they should move for the forest. He starts loping off in that direction, eyes fixed on this strange figure.

Once they're farther from the hunters, he decides to cut to (what he thinks is) the chase.]

So you want a fight, huh?

[That's why the thing wanted to go, right? To take their battle away from the approaching humans? It's safer for two supernatural beings to fight where hunters won't sneak up on them.

For a certain definition of "safe."]

[The shade stops. He turns his head toward the wolf, and eyes it silently. Then he sighs. That's one sound he does still make, the whisper of a cold breeze over dead leaves. There are even the motions of a sigh, though the shade does not breathe. Shoulders lifted, chest moving as if to in- and exhale. Then he puts the place where hands aren't on the place where hips aren't, an exasperated gesture he thought he'd long ago forgotten but doesn't think twice about making. He shakes his head. Points at the wolf, then at the forest.]

[It's very simple, if someone stops refusing to put their ego into it. He only wants the two of them to be safe.]

(ooc: I was thinking if we need to time skip at some point and have them see each other later after this first meeting we can do that too, so if there's no reason for Firo to stick around he doesn't have to.)

[Weird. But Firo keeps going in that direction anyway. He speaks as he races towards the trees:]

If it's a trap, I'm not fallin' for it. What do you really want?

[ooc: Makes sense! He might run off in a bit, so I'll let you know.]

[Oh, to be able to roll his eyes. He keeps pace with the wolf effortlessly, because there is very little he needs to pace with. Anywhere there is a shadow, one shadow connecting to another, he can be there, too. So he keeps pace, for now, and he sighs, and he gives in to another old urge he'd all but forgotten about. It feels like this one was more often used with cattle than people, and all the more appropriate for that: a swift swat on the ass. Get on, little doggie. That's how it goes, isn't it?]

[The horror! The indignity!

Firo jumps with a yelp, and for a moment he doesn't even comprehend what just happened. He whirls around in one hop, all four paws coming off the ground. But he can't see this creature stopping in any one place, so he jumps around again to follow the moving shadows. At least he's going in the right direction?

The growl rumbles in his throat, embarrassed and squeaking more than low and menacing.]

You do want a fight! Keep your hands to yourself!

[The shade's paying no attention. The hand he'd used - the place that hunter's bolt had stuck in, somehow, to living shadow - still has a hole in it. Instead of paying attention to the wolf he's paying attention to that, turning that particular bit of shadow this way and that, studying the very small bits of him drifting out of the space in his hand where he isn't. Distracted, he makes a noise which, under the wind, sounds like it might almost be a voice. If a grunt counts as a voice. It doesn't quite, in this case, but it comes close.]

[He waves his other hand absently toward the forest, uninterested now in either the werewolf or in how young it seems, bristling for a fight like that. It's a very easy dismissal, one the shade does not think twice about making. More important things happening than you now, the gesture says. Off with you now, little werewolf.]

[He's ignoring him? He's ignoring him. It's hard for Firo to tell what this strange, shadowy figure is doing, but he thinks he's right about that.

Then there's only one thing for him to do.

Firo growls and then springs at the figure, jaws snapping.]

[He sees no need to even slip somewhere else. He'll simply stay where he is, and if the werewolf - as he fully expects - moves through the darkness with only a little more difficulty than he'd have moving through a very dense fog, the darkness will probably look up from its hand to cock its head at him. The hand will probably go on the space where there ought to be a hip. It's a very expressive expression the shadow will probably make, especially for a creature which does not particularly have a face.]

[Firo's about to lunge again, this time aiming to mess with that hand the shadow seems fixated on. He can't tolerate this disrespect.

But just as the muscles in his legs are bunching, he feels that familiar pull, the one that tells him the moon is going down and it'll be harder to maintain his form.]

Shit--!

[His clothes. He can get to them, but he'll have to leave this jerk. Firo growls in annoyance.]

It's not over, okay? I just can't waste all night on you.

[He turns to scamper off, but finds that it's like he's trying to run through chest-high snow. Something's holding him back so long as the shadow stays in place.]

[Now that that little annoyance is taking care of itself, he can focus on the larger problem - the one of that odd hole through him, that odd drained feeling. Best save energy, figure it out later. The shadow squints at the figure moving away from him, ignores - for the moment - the odd pull he feels, and disappears, as much as he is able. As much as he wants to hold this form, it isn't his, not really, and he forces himself to let it go. The almost human shape of him becomes something almost imperceptible to the eye.]

[Almost. Because unbeknownst to him, when the werewolf runs under a strong enough light source now, he'll have two shadows.]

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