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canis-or-cannotis-lycaon · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Before ‘Nightmares & Revelations’ LOCATION: In the forest near Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Gael (@canis-or-cannotis-lycaon) & Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) SUMMARY: Gael is back and one of the first people he wants to see is Monty. The two take a walk and reconnect but are rudely interrupted by a flock of keres. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

— — The sensation of meeting up with friends was always a nice one. Perhaps more so to Gael because of the man’s sensitivity and tendency to form quick, strong connections with everyone he encountered, which he knew worked to his detriment sometimes now. But the reception of his coming back was overwhelmingly positive, which subconsciously scratched a small itch in the scientist. It was a desire to feel like maybe he had made an impact, or was at least remembered - one of the last requests he had made to Monty before leaving. The same Monty that he had just about knocked down in his enthusiasm to give the zombie a tight, warm embrace when he drove back out to the ranch after waiting on his doorstep like an excitable dog who knew that one of his best friends was on the other side.

Ha ha. More dog imagery. Gael had been trying to get out of that mindset, distancing himself from wolves, werewolves, associating too closely with them (with the exception of Alan). Not trying to be rude, of course, but even after regaining the knowledge that there was a werewolf parasite that had burrowed and grafted itself onto his physiology, he felt… different. And he’d received pep talks, words of encouragement, and an idea that he could learn to deal with it but Christmas had happened and that was the final straw for him. This thing inside him, the wolf he called “Lycaon” with mockery and tightly gritted teeth, was a part of him, not the other way around. He was in control. This was also all stuff he thought before, and admittedly wasn’t on his mind at all as the two men shared the aforementioned embrace and Gael suggested they take a leisurely walk in the woods nearby, as the weather was preferable and he had too much energy and enthusiasm to have been content sitting and sharing a cup of coffee. Not to mention it would’ve given Monty a brief break from the mayhem of the ranch, ever since those mysterious, yet maddening sirens made themselves known a few days ago. “Sorry, I know I just like… infodumped to you but yeah! That’s pretty much everything that happened.” He finished his explanation, carefully leaving the “Christmas Incident” out of his report. Everything else he had learned and experienced during his travels, including taking Ren to a bug-themed… theme park, was now relayed to the zombie who was as patiently attentive as ever to the rambling scientist.

— —

“Wow. It sounds like this was good for you!” At the very least it had supplied Gael with a break from the insanity of this town, which anyone could use, really. Monty had been admittedly very curious about what his friend had been getting up to while he was gone, finding his own experiences here in town to be… rather routine. As routine as Wicked’s Rest allowed for anyway. Well… unless you counted getting kidnapped by a Christmas devil.

That probably didn’t bear mentioning. He was fine, after all, and Teddy was… mostly fine, if not emotionally scarred by the death of their third companion in the process of trying to get out of there. He didn’t want to worry Gael with things that were already resolved.

“I’m glad you were able to get some time away, mi amigo,” he added with a smile, glancing over at Gael as they walked leisurely through the woods near the farm on paths well-worn by the horses. “Things here have been… interesting, but not so bad, I don’t think.” His grin turned a bit sheepish and he rubbed the back of his neck, letting his gaze wander to the forest floor. “I have been trying to coax a young wild catoblepas onto the trailer… Montezuma is having a hard time defending the herd on his own, since his brother died. We’ve lost a few sheep and cows to… ahh…” He waved a hand in the air, trying to conjure the right word. “... beasts. I do not know what sort.”

— —

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Gael replied lightly, returning Monty’s glance before he turned his gaze once more to the woods, finding himself annoyed with the thing inside him when he instinctively turned his head when he caught a brief scent or heard a distant noise of some animal minding its own business. Then again, was it Lycaon or was it him? “Never a dull moment in Wicked’s Rest and if there is, you know it’s like… wrong. Like something’s waiting to catch everyone off-guard. “I’m sorry to hear Montezuma’s having a hard time, though.” He added, his expression growing pensive. “And I’m sorry that you’ve lost some animals to–” The words caught in Gael’s throat for a minute before he cleared it with a brief shake of his head. “...Beasts.” His eyes found Monty’s again, empathy filling them; he knew how close gentle-hearted Monty was to all of his animals and it hurt his heart to think that something like him, though arguably with less regret, might’ve been responsible for killing them. And, of course, it reminded him of when they first met. He wondered if Dulce de Leche was still with them. Then again, he also wondered if that was just another thing Gael was assigning sentimentality to, something that mattered more to him than everyone else. “Have you asked Kaden for any help on that?” He found himself asking. “Since he’s with animal control? Might be like one of those “beast whisperer” things?” When he asked that, he was actually asking if Kaden would have effective ways of killing the animals that hunted Monty’s livestock, but the chemist still didn’t know if Monty knew Kaden was a ranger… and he didn’t know if Kaden knew that Monty was a zombie.

— —

“The quiet before the storm, as they say,” Monty agreed, wringing his hands together for a few beats. He’d nearly forgotten the circumstances of their first meeting, it felt like a lifetime ago, and guilt flashed briefly over his features when he caught the expression on Gael’s face. Damnit, he hadn’t meant to draw a similarity there. There wasn’t time for him to beat himself up over it for long, thankfully, as Gael moved the conversation forward. Kaden’s name was brought up, and Monty gave his friend a curious look, his head cocked slightly to the side.

“Perhaps, but… if they’re not your average predators, I would be worried about putting him in danger. I know he knows about some of the creatures, and the people, but… knowing is different from taking them on. He is excellent with animals, no doubt.” Monty smiled. “But the things that stalk these woods…? I am not so sure.” He had no real reason to believe that Kaden had handled many creatures that weren’t mundane, even if he had heard of some of them—he’d known at least one hunter in his youth, so that wasn’t all that surprising.

The memory of that slayer in the bar in Tennessee made his skin crawl and he glanced away, trying to not let the flare of anxiety show. He was terrified of hunters, but he had good reason to be. Kaden was just a human, he had nothing to fear from them so it made sense that he could have known any number of them in his life—they seemed abundant enough, after all. He wondered briefly if Kaden still kept in contact with any other hunters, if he knew any other hunters besides that woman in the bar—no. No, there was no use speculating. That was Kaden’s business, and he already knew that his partner would never knowingly put him in a dangerous situation. … it was a bit odd, though, wasn’t it?

As his mind tried to wander down hallways he’d roped off for his own sanity, the cowboy shook his head, pulling himself back to the present. “Ah well. That is just life out here, I suppose.”

— —

“That’s probably a good call,” Gael agreed with a nod of his head; Monty must not’ve known that Kaden was a ranger, which made him feel like a jerk for suggesting it in the first place. “There are things out here that–” His sentence faltered again and he shook his head once more, furrowing his brow. “Sorry. It’s still… hard, sometimes.” He sucked in a breath and tried again. “There are things out here that can down elephants. Some people were talking about a mushroom the size of a tree. This town is dangerous!” The chemist managed to laugh towards the tail end of his miniature ramble. Was that what he meant to say? Not entirely. Did it distract him from what he was thinking? No, not really. It was strange, Gael realized. He was something of a nomad throughout his life, traveling from one city to another, staying at each for a few years before moving on to somewhere else. Making new friends, learning new information, forming new habits. But now felt… different, in a way that he couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe it had to do with the sensation that there was a veil over town, obscuring the unwitting public from the unnatural goings on underneath, hiding in plain sight. Before, he was part of that and now, he belonged under that veil whether he wanted to or not.

And he still really didn’t want to.

…Why was he thinking about this.

“Sorry, anyway! That was–” Whatever the rest of that sentence was going to be was abandoned as Gael felt a sudden rush of air force him back, accompanied by the sound of something heavy landing near him. Instinctively, he lifted an arm to cover his eyes from any incoming dust or debris, while another rush of air hit him as he did so. Then a smell greeted his nose, unfamiliar and not entirely pleasant and he grimaced. “What was that?” He asked before opening his eyes again.

— —

Gael was not wrong, of course, but Monty had always felt that people were far more dangerous than any beast acting on instinct. Even if immeasurably powerful, how could one fault a creature for following its evolutionary compulsions? It was the reason he never held anything that happened when Gael or Alan or anyone else he knew were transformed—they were not themselves, they were more animal than human at that point, and that required a certain level of sympathy. In his eyes, at least.

There wasn’t time to respond, however, as the sudden arrival of something he was certain he’d not heard coming kicked dirt up into their faces, blinding them for a moment. The zombie squinted through the debris only to see a figure sitting before them, and then another landed beside it. And then another. They were… birds? They had wings and naked heads like vultures, but their beaks were full of sharp looking teeth and they had arms and legs and long, rat-like tails. Monty gasped and stumbled backward, only to hear another land right behind him. He whipped around, stepping closer to Gael.

“I don’t—” He was cut off as the eagle-sized creatures suddenly leaped into action, beating their wings in a silent flurry of dirt and feathers as they lunged for them.

For Monty, specifically, it seemed. The creatures all but ignored Gael, swarming the zombie instead and biting at him with their toothy beaks, grasping his clothing with their claws and hanging their weight on him, slowly dragging him to the ground.

Now he was regretting what he’d been thinking about giving mindless beasts the benefit of the doubt, just a little.

Exclamations of surprise spilled from him, and he was thankful that he couldn’t feel the damage they were doing much at all, but seeing his black blood oozing and seeping from deep, numbed wounds was no less terrifying now than it had ever been before.

— —

Rubbing his eyes, Gael blinked them into focus to find that in just a few moments, they had gone from two friends taking a walk in the woods to suddenly surrounded by… Well, okay, he could process this. If he had to guess, they were… eagle? Vulture? Sized, but they were definitely not normal birds… unless normal birds suddenly evolved to include decidedly non-bird-like limbs and tails. And curiously, despite Gael’s annoyingly advanced hearing, they were unnaturally silent as they landed, almost as though their wings were mere apparitions. Instinctively, even if he hadn’t noticed that Monty got closer to him, he himself got closer to Monty, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Then, in a flash, the flock of birdlike monsters rushed at them and Gael covered his face again, dropping to a crouch and curling into a ball as they… flew right past him? He wasn’t being pecked or clawed at, he could tell but he still heard the clacking of toothed jaws. He reacted before Monty’s voice reached him and in a moment, his fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. “Uh HELLO??” He shouted at the monsters, closing the distance between himself and the flurry of feathers, dirt and leaves as they descended onto Monty. “Get off of him!” He unceremoniously entered himself into the fray as the smell of stagnant blood hit his nose, naturally riling him up more as hands wildly grasped for some purchase on one of the creatures. It was proving difficult, however, as they moved so erratically and seemed to be completely disinterested in Gael, himself. If this had been a more controlled environment, he would’ve attempted to understand what was going on but as it were, as the scent of Monty’s blood filled his nose, his mind grew fearful though he didn’t know why. What was going on? What were these things? What could Gael do about it? “Monty! Are you okay??” He called to his friend through the chaos of birds clawing and biting at the zombie. “I mean, okay you’re probably not but what do we do??” — —

His hat had been knocked from his head, which he was now using to swat at the bird things and at least keep them from chowing down on his face. “Kind of?!” he responded to his friend—it barely hurt, but he was aware that it needed to be stopped, obviously, or he’d quite literally be eaten alive. Unalive. Whatever. Not only that, but he could feel that gnawing hunger that’d been totally silent today start to rear its head in response to his body’s regenerative powers. That was never a good thing, birds or no birds.

“I think they’re trying to eat me,” he grunted, kicking and grabbing and throwing the creatures away from himself, barely able to make it a few steps before they swarmed him again. He didn’t want to kill them, but… “Follow me! I know a place I don’t think they will follow!” Still gripping the creatures by their throats and hucking them at the ground as they landed on him, Monty began an awkward, slow run off into the trees, toward one of the cave entrances he was aware of that was little more than a crack in the ground. The creatures squawked and screeched and hopped along after them, diving-bombing him as they went.

Nearly stepping into the crevice by accident, Monty held out an arm to stop Gael at its edge and took a long, sharp inhale. “Okay,” he breathed out, probably mostly in an effort to reassure himself that this was a good idea. They had just been talking about how much they didn’t like the underground… but the creatures were not relenting, so the zombie was forced to slip himself into the crack that was barely wide enough to fit him, disappearing into a narrow tunnel that dropped down into a small, dark cavern. His clothing hadn’t held up against the teeth and claws of those creatures, and he was a bleeding mess beneath the fabric and on his exposed skin, bites taken out of him here and there that were already beginning to heal.

The hunger in his belly grew more intense, and he held a hand to his stomach.

“Gael!” he called upward, sounding frightened. “If—if they aren’t after you, don’t come in here! I’m not—I need to—it isn’t safe!” His words had started to slur by the end of his warning and the cowboy doubled over on himself, trying his best to remain present.

— —

They really were like vultures then, if their blatant ignoring of Gael in favor of Monty was any indication. Not that the shifter liked that at all, regardless of what Monty was or what these things’ diets were. It could’ve been considered humorous, how they were just talking about creatures that might’ve posed a threat to someone like Kaden only for them to focus so solitarily on Monty but Gael didn’t think he could think of something less funny as the zombie, clothing torn and bleeding from multiple open wounds now, called that he had a place he could retreat to. Surely, once at least the cowboy was inside, the infernal flock of supernatural birds would leave him alone, right? Gael didn’t know where this place was but he dutifully followed after, doing his best to swat at any of the birds that he could. Just a little further, surely, before Monty would take him to a hidden shack or some rough equivalent– but his heart sank when he was stopped from stepping into a sliver of the earth, small, black, evoking thoughts of claustrophobia and the confusion of getting lost. Trapped. The scientist cast a worried look to the zombie, who only uttered an empty ‘okay’ before wriggling through the crevice, an opening barely big enough for Monty and too narrow for the broad shoulders or writhing muscle of the shifter. Despite that, though, Gael wanted to protest as the birds clawed at the crack in the ground to get to their prey. However, as Monty called up to him and the other man caught the slurred speech, he faltered. No, he couldn’t go in there with Monty. Monty was being forced under so the zombie infection could heal. He needed brains. Or meat, at least. Coupled with how Gael’s heart sank hearing his friend in pain in that small dark cavern, he wordlessly staggered away from the flurry of avians, starting to undress as a quick plan was formed in his mind. Material was removed to expose skin, which was starting to pull on itself, contort, become covered in thick sable fur. Bones popped, joints cracked, his clothes were bundled and tossed to the base of a nearby tree. “Just… for a little while.” His own speech was slurred now, growling through a mouth with teeth falling out and being replaced by sharp canines. “For Monty.” Transformation outside of the full moon was a relatively new concept to Gael, only having experienced in once or twice when he was… afraid. Afraid of being lost, of being abandoned or killed. He wasn’t afraid this time, not as his body contorted and extended behind the flock of birds that still grappled at the crevice, desperate for the man that was now alone in one of those damned caves, losing his mind. He wasn’t afraid. He and Lycaon finally shared something willingly.

Anger.

It was quicker than the full moon, that was for sure. And, for some reason, less agonizing. The scientist was replaced by the parasite that latched onto him, with long forearms, a messy tail, umber fur and a powerful bite force. Feeling pain radiating from his own body, only helping to fuel that anger, Lycaon’s amber eyes flickered to the unnatural birds and he sprang into action, colliding against the flock and effortlessly snapping one of them up in his jaws as they flew around in surprise, now confronted with wanting to get to the cowboy inside while now dealing with a large, lithe lupine.

— —

Wounds that would have taken months upon months to fully heal were repaired in minutes, and Monty’s undead hunger responded in kind, demanding sustenance for all the effort of keeping this vessel pieced together. He often wished he could just choose to heal slowly rather than face the oblivion that came with such an appetite, never able to remain in control despite every admirable effort made.

He wanted to tell Gael to run, to just get out of there. The thought of what could happen if he managed to crawl his way out of this hole in the ground tore him up inside, and he didn’t want his friend anywhere nearby, neither to witness it nor to be a victim to it. But his mouth could no longer form words, instead just pushing out guttural sounds that scared him. His mind was slower to let go than his body, and for a moment he was trapped—still awake, still aware, but unable to control himself. He watched as his hands grabbed at the rocky wall of the cave, more ashen than they’d been when he’d slipped down here, scrabbling for purchase. To the light. To the noise. To the meat.

No, don’t, he moaned, but all that came out was a long grunt. Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision, and he could feel the pull of the void at the back of his head, the base of his spine, dragging him into that inky abyss. His large eyes were wet with tears as he jerked his head back, staring up at the light that filtered down through the small crevice. The sounds of a shift met his ears and he growled, reaching for another rock and pulling himself higher. Shifting turned to fighting, a cacophony of violent sound, and Monty instinctively began to move faster. To the meat. To the blood. Feed, feed, feed.

He was gone now, his eyes turned milky white and glazed over with a lack of awareness. Muscles dragged him up the rock wall and into the narrow tunnel, higher and higher until his pale hand poked out of the crevice and grasped at its ledge with uncanny strength. Getting himself wedged up to his shoulders was no easy task, and once the zombie had one arm out of the hole, he became stuck. He probably would have been glad for that, if he’d had the ability to think for himself or feel emotion. Instead, he just waved that arm around stupidly, swatting at the birds that still divided their attention between their meal and the werewolf that was decimating them, unable to deal with one threat and unwilling to let dinner pass them by.

— —

This was exciting! There were so many birds! They tasted strange as his teeth sank into their mottled flesh, and it was unusual that their wings made no noise as they flapped about but that didn’t bother the Wolf too much as he wildly shook one of them in his mouth, an overgrown dog with a ratty toy. It was even more exciting because he wasn’t killing them immediately, instead tearing at their wings and attempting to pull limbs from the body. This wasn’t for food, this was for fun. The host had loosed the chain on purpose and Lycaon was taking full advantage. He was enjoying the sport so much that he hadn’t noticed at first when they were joined by a human figure poking from a hole in the ground, smelling of blood and decay but also something different. The birds did, though, and their distraction to change their attacks to the human who was stuck just made Lycaon’s fun easier. Of course, part of him wondered what the human would’ve tasted like and it wasn’t as though it was going anywhere - indeed, it couldn’t even seem to pull itself out of the ground - but again, this wasn’t for food. Lycaon could hunt anything he wanted and some human stuck in the dirt wasn’t nearly as engaging as the flying creatures that now bombarded the human, their focus on one thing lost. So he continued doing what he was doing, almost with a sense of simple-minded joy, burying his fangs into the body of another one, one he hadn’t touched before, one whose bones crunched under the bite force of his jaw when he tilted his head suddenly as though a high-pitched frequency had reached him through the haze of frenzied bloodsport. Feed. Lycaon landed from his spirited leap, the birdlike creature flapping in a panic as it tried to escape his locked jaw though he paid it no mind, neither did he acknowledge that it was attempting to flee. Feed. Amber eyes with their pinprick pupils looked over to the human who was still swatting at the birds that pecked, clawed and cut at it. Gathering the bird he had a hold of in clawed hands to hold it still, Lycaon released his grip on wherever it was and in a swift motion, shattered its spine just below its ugly, bald head with his blood-caked muzzle. Then, without realizing why he was doing what he was doing, he hopped over to the human and dropped the now-dead bird in front of it, just within reach of that swiping arm (and resisting the urge to snap it in his mouth, too). Then, for another inexplicable reason as the two were surrounded by the flurry of broken, bleeding flock of birds that he ignored any passing injury from, he stretched his elongated arms in front of him in a bow, hind legs straight, his rear and wagging tail in the air. Fun! He jumped back with a yip before raising himself to his full height, leaning back and catching another passing bird with a paw. He broke that one’s spine, too and dropped it in front of the human. Then he ran into the brush for a second, circling around a few trees, clawing at the bark as he used them to gain momentum before zooming back and leaping for the flock and snapping up a third one. This one was for him, though, and he shook it, again like a toy before flinging it into the unknown and moving onto the next one.

— —

If he’d been mentally present in the slightest, Monty would have appreciated how effortlessly Gael the werewolf dispatched the offensive birds. As it was, all he cared about was trying to snatch them from the air himself, groaning stupidly as they bit and clawed at him, furthering his injuries and only sending him deeper into a mindless stupor. That is, until a dead one was dropped in front of him. Milky eyes lifted from the corpse to the werewolf that had left it there, and something small in the back of his mind felt… deja vu? He’d seen this before, hadn’t he? A wolfy creature dropping food at his feet, sating his vicious hunger, saving him from himself. That wolf had looked different, though. That wolf had had deep intelligence behind its eyes, the sort of understanding that he himself now lacked.

Acting on muscle memory, Monty reached for the corpse and dragged it closer. Another was dropped before him as he lifted it to his mouth, biting down on its neck while reaching for the second offering. He couldn’t eat very easily stuck like he was, though, so he started to wiggle himself out of the crevice in the ground until he dropped back into the cave below, his meal clamped tightly in his fist and jaws. His ankles cracked as he landed gracelessly, sending him toppling into the dirt and rocks, but he paid it no mind. His focus was solely on ripping the strange bird things to shreds, smashing their skulls open upon the stones and wrenching their small brains free. He was slicked with blood and viscera in no time, but the more he ate, the more his blank gaze came into focus.

Sitting back with a soft sigh, Monty went from eating like a starved animal to picking away at the best parts of the beasts with gentle fingers, though he still trembled from the ordeal. He was thankful that Gael couldn’t see him feasting like this, werewolf or not, for it was not a pretty sight.

Once he was feeling much more like himself again, the zombie got to his feet, ankles fully healed from the shattering impact with the ground, and tilted his head up toward the crack. He wondered how long it would take for Gael to shift back, since he didn’t have the kind of control over it that Alan did. He wasn’t sure if he could help, or if his presence would be a hindrance… only one way to find out. Climbing back up the rock face, Monty peeked his head out of the hole in the ground and scanned the scene of slaughter, not pulling himself out any farther until he’d assessed the situation as completely as he could.

— —

How much time had passed, he didn’t know. He was a creature driven by the light of the moon and her will. This was fun, to be sure, but it didn’t feel the same as those nights where he had nothing on his mind but the hunt.

The flock, with its numbers dwindling, had grown scattered and careless and Lycaon wasn’t sure how many he had maimed and killed before the frayed remainders of the flock ultimately decided that the thing in the cave wasn’t worth losing the entirety of the group. With unhappy screeches and irritable clacks of their chipped beaks, they cawed and snapped at the wolf as they flapped their battered, eerily silent wings, collected what corpses hadn’t been offered to the hole in the earth and departed, though not without some challenge from the shifter who still sprang and clawed and snapped at their gangly bodies.

It wasn’t until they were safely too high for him to reach on his own that Lycaon’s fun frenzy had diminished enough that the wolf finally stopped moving. Panting, licking the blood from his muzzle, Lycaon padded around the destroyed clearing; feathers, pieces of flesh, and fur littered the muddy ground. Blood was sprayed on the grass and small drifts of snow that lingered around the bases of the trees. The wolf himself was caked in earth, mud, blood and lacerations from his reign of anti-avian terror. Speaking of, the animal sat down in the midst of the wreckage and started absently licking at the wounds he could reach - they weren’t healing.

He was made aware of the injuries as they lingered on his sable-and-cream-furred body, only given to him through his interference getting between the birds and their intended goal of the human in the crevice but they still irritated him. Why were they still here? A frustrated huff escaped him as he sat there attempting to clean himself off when he heard movement. Instinctively, his ear twitched before his head jerked up in the direction of the sound to see the human from before emerging from the hole in the ground.

In an instant, the wolf was back on his feet despite his protesting body (which, now that he had stopped moving, made its soreness acutely known) and the gap between the monster and the human had closed alarmingly quickly. A tongue lolled out of an open maw but something kept Lycaon from mindlessly biting into the human in the heat of the moment. Don’t. The wolf gracelessly crashed into the ground, sliding the rest of the way until his nose was less than a foot away from the opening, where he blinked stupidly.

— —

The feeling of having seen this before was more clear now in his mind’s eye. A silver and gray beast loping through the pasture, paying no mind to the livestock that gave him a wide berth as he carried something in his jaws, headed for the main house on the property. The farm hands that were awake did not try to stop him, nor did they call out in alarm. He was given free passage to the house, where his clawed feet carried him swiftly. Monty waited on the porch, carving something in his hands and glancing up at the werewolf that descended upon him, offering a warm smile.

“My friend,” he spoke in their shared language, “It’s good to see you unharmed.” The moon shone full and bright in the sky, the reason for this transformation, but an opportune night all the same. The werewolf stepped up onto the porch, the wooden slats creaking beneath his weight, and he dropped the upper half of a body near Monty’s chair. The zombie’s smile grew somber, and he nodded. “Thank you, Alan.” It was food for him, food for everyone on this farm—rationed carefully, mixed with less conspicuous vittles to keep them all going, to keep them from violence. What remained of the person on his porch was, no doubt, a hunter that had gone after Alan. That was their agreement, their pact. And Alan, though massive in size and covered in fur, was still Alan. A skill learned over time that afforded the zombie a friendship not fraught with danger—to himself, anyway. Alan protected him, he felt safe with the werewolf. Even now, as the beast lay down on his porch, capable of ending his unlife with one bite but feeling no desire to do so.

He was still Alan.

And this could still be Gael.

Monty rose slowly from the crevice, knowing that it was a dangerous thing to do. He stopped once his arms were free, resting them on the ground between them and staring into the werewolf’s eyes.

“I know you are in there, amigo. I know you can hear me. And I know you can… you can control this.” It would take work, lots of work, and Monty didn’t like the idea of asking the man to do it alone. So he held out a hand, the other arm tucked protectively against his chest, and waited. “Remember when you and I rode up into the mountains? When I showed you my favorite spot, where you could see all the town and the sea beyond it?” It was one he carried with him fondly, and one he had re-lived over and over in his mind after Gael had left town.

— —

Wild golden eyes stared fervently at the movement of the human. It was slow, deliberate. His nostrils flared as they took in the various scents of the human - decay. Rot. Blood from the birds. Wood and musk. Lycaon’s hackles were raised in hungry anticipation, feeling the muscles tensing and rippling underneath his sable fur. His mouth hung open, saliva-slicked teeth shining in the light that filtered through the trees above them. His blood matted in small sections on his quivering body as he stood at the ready. He was tired, but ever-vigilant and though the man smelled of rot, he wasn’t picky. He wasn’t hungry, but he wasn’t picky.

And then the human started speaking.

Amber and umber locked together in a clash of wills. And nothing the human was saying meant anything to Lycaon, who… didn’t attack the human. No, he didn’t understand what the human said but something inside him was… unsettled. Resistant. He opened his mouth wider as a growl rumbled out of his bloodied-filmed throat before he took a step back, breaking eye contact by shaking his head. Something buzzed inside him in response to what was being said, but he didn’t know what it was. He growled again, before huffing and his intense gold eyes snapped back to the human.

What was going on? His gaze drifted to the outstretched hand of the human before returning to the stare. Give it back. Lycaon snarled in protest, but not at the human. Not the human outside, anyway. Give it back. There was a sensation, a memory. Flashes of a horse. A fire. The night sky painted with stars. A friend. The scent of cows. The images of a farm. This forest was familiar. This human was familiar.

Give it back.

Lycaon lowered himself into a crouch, his ears flattening themselves against his large head as he whined. Long tail sweeping the ground slowly, he pulled himself along until his nose met the outstretched hand where it took in the scent of rot, of familiarity from the monster inside him. Briefly, with more uncertain whining, he licked the blood off the human’s hand before he laid on the forest floor next to the human to rest. For just a little bit. He’d take it back once he was better. Once his bones didn’t ache, his flesh wasn’t burning with superficial wounds that didn’t heal quickly enough. There was nothing to hunt here, not anymore, as he breathed deeply. Bones started to crack and pop, muscles spasmed and his keen amber eyes fluttered closed, never removing themselves from… Monty. That was the human’s name.

Gael had made sure that Lycaon knew that, if nothing else. The pain the two were experiencing had been worth it. Monty was speaking coherently. A thinking man, recalling a memory once he had returned from wherever he went when his own demon took over. Reaching through to get to him as he was curled into the subconscious of the wolf’s mind. He’d never been communicated to before while Lycaon was the one with the body, the fear of what the wolf could and would do keeping him away from anyone it could hurt with reckless abandon. But Monty had.

And thus the transformation worked in reverse. It probably seemed less painful, but it was also slower, shedding fur in clumps, skin grafting over itself to accommodate a shrinking skeletal structure. Whines turned into grunts of very human pain as canine teeth littered the ground. And soon, though he wasn’t sure how soon since he’d somehow never recorded the time it took to transform, Gael was left on his back on the chilled forest floor, shivering yet sweating as brown eyes stared up at the sky. Only the deeper abrasions and lacerations from Lycaon’s bird hunting were left, the rest of which having healed during the shift.

“Are… you okay?” He asked, breathless, the creak of pain in his voice as he forced himself to crane his neck, looking upside down at Monty.

— —

His eyes were wide as he watched the whole thing unfold. The creature seemed at odds with itself, and Monty could only guess that that meant Gael was fighting for control. He wasn’t intimately familiar with what it was like, because he was never present when his hunger took over. There was no amount of begging or pleading that could reason with the senseless need to feed once it had begun, and the man was always buried deep, so deep he sometimes forgot who he was.

But Gael had seen to it that he didn’t remain trapped, guiding this other part of himself to do the things that the werewolf who had protected him for years did. It was an amazing leap in the right direction, and for that, Monty was grateful. He started to pull himself out of the crack in the ground once the transformation began, getting stuck part way through and struggling for a bit before finally getting himself the rest of the way free. That was when Gael spoke to him, looking at him from where he lay on his back, and Monty couldn’t hide the worry in his expression. “I’m fine, are you okay?” he countered, shrugging off his jacket as he scooted over to Gael on his knees, draping it over his friend for both modesty and slight warmth. He pressed a hand to the other’s face, shaking his head. “Thank you. You—well, thank you. Let me get your clothes.” He’d noticed them scattered in a small pile while pulling himself out of the ground, getting to his feet to go fetch them now. He was quick about it, returning to his friend and helping him sit up, fretting over the wounds he still saw on the man’s body and knowing they needed to get him back to the house and on the mend.

It wasn’t until he noticed the shaking of his own hands as they helped Gael redress his torso that Monty realized he was on the verge of an anxiety attack. He was thinking about what could have happened without really realizing it—how close he’d come to being stuck down in that hole, or biting his friend… what would even happen if he bit a werewolf? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out. Stopping and taking a deep (albeit unnecessary) breath, the zombie tried to calm his spiraling thoughts.

“I’m so proud of you,” he offered, genuine in his words. The shift had been allowed, evidenced by the unripped clothing that’d been removed in earnest. And Gael’s return to his humanity had been fairly swift, commanded when he knew that things were safe again. Allowing his friend some modicum of privacy out here in the open woodlands, Monty turned his back to him and instead reached for a handful of the snow that still clumped around the base of a nearby tree, melting it in his hands and using it to scrub away some of the blood on his fingers and face. “That… was a huge breakthrough, no?”

— —

If he were a better man, he would’ve helped Monty get out of the crevice - one of Gael’s first thoughts when he came back was worry that Monty would’ve gotten stuck in one of the places that the two of them hated. He wanted to move, he needed to move, but his limbs felt like iron weights, in a state of mild paralysis as he always was the morning after the shift. He felt guilty, like he should’ve been doing more, as the cowboy squirmed out of the small crevice that wouldn’t have fit Gael anyway. He was thankful, for what it was worth, that Monty seemed physically fine, though.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Catching the look of worry on the zombie’s face, Gael smiled; tired, but easily reaching the corners of his eyes. That’s all that mattered to him, really, even if he could already feel guilt bubbling in his gut accompanied with the nausea of whatever Lycaon had swallowed during his frenzy. Monty helped sit him up, which Gael did his best not to seem too needy about (this seemed awfully familiar) and he took the opportunity as Monty was flitting about gathering his clothes to look around at the wreckage - feathers, Lycaon’s sable-and-cream fur, teeth, blood, large claw marks in the base of a nearby tree. What had happened?

When Monty came back and helped him put his shirt on - something that shouldn’t have been so difficult but the full brunt of the aches, pains and wounds Lycaon had “lovingly” left for him were obvious, now - Gael both noticed his hand’s shaking and that though the man was liberally covered in blood, it was all old, stale; he wasn’t actively bleeding, nor did he seem to be injured in any way, he was able to confirm. Now, mentally, on the other hand…

Mentally, even though Monty had said that he was proud, that this was a good breakthrough but Gael could feel the same sensation that was in his stomach rising into his esophagus and he found himself trying not to panic. “I’m… sorry.” He apologized first, in between grunts of labor as he scraped the dried blood and mud from his body as best he could and started to dress himself. Clumsy, with quivering hands and pauses to realize that he was accidentally finding new injuries. Fortunately, no bones seemed broken.

“I-I got scared. I saw that you were being attacked and then you fell into that cave and I couldn’t… do anything so I thought that…’ He faltered as everything tumbled from his mouth. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? What happened?” It didn’t feel like a breakthrough; it felt like a crutch, like Gael the person wasn’t good enough so he had to risk the wolf doing what he wanted without losing himself for God knew how long.

— —

“Sorry?” He waited until it sounded like Gael was done shuffling around with his clothes to turn and look at him, appearing… bemused. “Sorry for what? For protecting me?” Monty knew Gael still had a long way to go in accepting himself for what he was, and he shouldn’t press the matter too firmly at a vulnerable time like this—so instead of correcting him, the cowboy only parroted him. “No, he did not hurt me,” he assured his friend. “He went after the birds. Fought them off until they decided that they’d had enough. The ones he killed, he dropped for me.” There was a pregnant pause, and Monty placed a hand on Gael’s leg. “You told him to do that. I know you think you have no control when you are shifted, but you do. You did. You are getting better at it… Gael, this was a good thing. It is what Alan would have done. You protected me, you fed me, you made sure I was okay before you put away your advantage.” So much for not correcting him. “And you put it away! You did that, mi amigo. This is why I am proud, ¿entiendes?”

He might have been coming on too strong, and so he let out a soft sigh, maneuvering himself to be a crutch for Gael as they stood up. “It is okay to be afraid. But you did what you had to do, you couldn’t have gotten rid of those things any easier than myself. Now come on, let’s get you back to the farmhouse.” He made sure his friend was stable before beginning the trek back the way they’d come, stopping to pick up his hat that he’d dropped along the way. Plopping it back onto his head, he gave Gael a sideways glance and a somewhat cheeky grin. “Say… do you think this makes us even?”

#wickedswriting #writing || give it back #writing with || Monty #//I need to start making tags for the boy #too

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canis-or-cannotis-lycaon · 1 year ago

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We're Off to Find the Bigfoot || Elias, Gael

TIMING: Late January LOCATION: One of the hiking trails SUMMARY: Back from his journey, two WR nerds go hiking together. Gael (@canis-or-cannotis-lycaon thinks they're gonna catch up, while Elias (@eliaskahtri actually has a lead on Bigfoot. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Despite the constant fear of the unknown that Elias dealt with on a daily basis, it was nice to have consistent friends in his life. Gael was one of those friends. It was funny how similarly they disappeared only to return, and Elias supposed there was a story to tell there. They’d decided to meet up to hike in one of the many trails of The Pines, and Elias was there with a untold goal; Find Bigfoot Again. He didn’t tell Gael that he had a secret motive, but Elias was deadset on getting a higher quality photo of his favorite Sasquatch. The people of Wicked’s Rest seemed intent on calling him Bigfeet, since what, he’s got two feet? Elias didn’t like it.

The telltale slam of a car door jolted Elias out of his thoughts, and he turned to see the familiar figure of Gael approaching. “Oh, hey!” He called out with a bright smile on his face. “I’m surprised you said yes to a hike, seeing as how it’s winter.” Elias noted, but quickly set off toward the trailhead before Gael could change his mind. He was finding Bigfoot, dammit. “So how was your time away from good ol’ Wickeds Rest?” Elias asked, deciding to not jump straight into ‘hey man, we’re off to find Bigfoot, hey! Stop running away!’

—— If you had asked Gael what one of the first things he was gonna do upon his victorious return as the successful chemist, ‘going hiking in the middle of winter with his good buddy Elias’ wasn’t at the bottom of the list. Indeed, it felt nice to return to some semblance of normalcy after his journey down to Arizona and back. He felt like he’d learned so much, yet simultaneously nothing at all. Questions had answers but those just had more questions and those didn’t have answers and everything looped back around on itself and suddenly Gael felt similar to the ouroboros, only in this case, it was an unpleasant image of… a dog chasing its tail. But this would be a nice distraction. He could ask more about what Elias had been up to, if anything had changed, and hopefully successfully smother the small part of him that felt like he should’ve told Elias that he was… different. Even moreso than before, and more than before that. The knowledge that Elias had never known Gael before the latter was infected with the strain of lycanthropy was a strange one, and one that Gael had done some serious self-therapeutic training for after his– after Lycaon had murdered… a hiker. Similar to Elias, who was enthusiastically waiting around the bend for the tired, but enthusiastic scientist as the latter shuffled out of his little blue mini-cooper. The taller man, with his smile just as wide as it had ever been, peered down at Gael from under weather-appropriate winter gear and the latter offered his own crooked grin in response. “Psht, the cold never bothered me anyway.” He said, purposefully quoting the damn song that was everywhere for several years longer than it should’ve and tastefully leaving off the fact that it wasn’t the cold weather that was bothering him nearly as much as it was his skeletal structure still revolting against strenuous activity from the recent full moon. There was little time for standing around, as it seemed, for Elias had started off and Gael trudged after him, telling himself to get over any of the aches and pains now because they were only going to get worse on the way back. “It was… enlightening.” He replied as the two walked, finding himself keeping up much easier with Elias even with the throbbing pains going through his body; those two months had him doing some serious cardio and core-building. “Camped out a lot, got to see mi familia again.” He chuckled. “Christmas was an utter disaster but other than that, I think it went well!” He caught up to Elias and looked up at him expectantly. “What about you, how’ve you been?”

— —

Walking in the woods with Gael made Elias feel as if he’d been transported back in time, a time to when he was more naive and trusting of people. Now he wasn’t sure who he could trust. Hell, he felt like sometimes he couldn’t trust Regan on a good day, and he considered her his closest friend. In truth, the Elias that Gael had seen before he had disappeared from town was a different version of himself, or so he liked to think. Sure, he still got excited over things that were part of his interests, but he was a lot more careful about what he was putting out in the universe. Or at least, now he was.

Elias groaned at the quote that Gael dared to utter and rolled his eyes. “Alright, Elsa. Less Disney, more hiking.” He demanded as he picked up his pace, shaking his head. Upon realizing that Gael was lagging behind slightly, Elias relented and slowed his pace. Not everyone was as excited to hike as he was. “I specifically picked out a short and easy trail, that way there’s more talking less exhaustion.” Elias told the shorter man with a nod of his head.

“I’m glad to hear it, other than the Christmas thing. That blows.” Elias shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve been so busy with work that I didn’t get a chance to go home. My family was pissed, especially because my sister flew in from London.” He rolled his eyes. “They see me all the time, they’ll get over it.” Still, Elias couldn’t help the pang of guilt that rattled through him at the idea of something happening to him here and his family not being able to visit. Maybe he should ease up on the whole working thing… he shook his head, erasing the thought.

Elias thought about being honest with Gael, about how he knew the truth of certain things, but he didn’t know how much Gael knew. “Well, I…” he frowned, not sure how to word it. “Got myself into trouble, got myself back out of trouble. Work-life balance is atrocious, which means I’ve got more of a work life than a personal life.” He frowned, letting out a huff of frustration. “I’m working on it. Or at least, I’m trying to.” He looked over to Gael, a weird look in his eyes for a moment before he forced it away. “And weird shit I can’t explain that keeps me up at night.” He spoke in a rushed manner, then turned to keep walking.

“Hey, I’m keeping up better than I used to.” Gael insisted in response to both noticing that Elias had to slow down for him again and the comment about how he picked an easy trail on purpose. He better have been, anyway, latent soreness from the full moon aside. “And I’m sorry you missed your family for the holidays,” he added genuinely, even if it was out of obligation. With how often Gael tended to just wander around the country, his family had long since grown accustomed to him likely not coming home for the holidays, which almost made what had happened during Christmas feel all the worse. He didn’t want to think about it, so he shook his head and regarded the taller man once more with a quirk of his brow. “Oh, yeah? What kind of weird shit?” The chemist decided to attempt to use this as a gauge - he still didn’t know how much Elias knew, but he also wondered if whatever Elias had exposed himself (or been exposed) to was still worth attempting to take medication for.

— —

Elias nearly stopped dead in his tracks as Gael questioned what he was going through. It was a fair question, what kind of weird shit? He could be honest with Gael right now. He knew the guy wouldn’t judge him. He wasn’t sure he had a judgmental bone in his body if he were, to be honest. He took a deep breath and turned to look at Gael. “That job I had when I first moved here turned out to be a fae hangout.” He spoke, gauging the man’s reaction to his truth. “I was a laughing stock, a court jester.” He frowned, looking at the ground.

“Someone got me out, but it turns out that they’re fae just like them. And… and now I’m learning there’s more out there.” Elias began walking again, a look in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “My best friend is a fae, the guy I’ve been talking to turns into a seal, and who knows! Maybe everyone else is something cool, and I’m just a human left to realize that everything they knew was a lie.” There, he’d spoken his truth. Now it was just a matter of time before Gael asked if he went off his meds.

——

Though his expression naturally grew more empathetic as Elias told him about how he had worked at the bar before only for it to have turned out to be full of fae, Gael couldn’t keep the uncomfortable knot that had settled into his stomach from starting to unwind gently, almost as though in reaction to how he could hear Elias’ heart pounding in his chest. He had liked to think that he did a sufficient job keeping Ren’s identity as a fae hidden from the taller man, carefully combing the house for notes she left behind on what and what not to do around fae, though it wasn’t out of her safety - he knew Elias would have been far from the type to get her in trouble or treat her differently - but for Elias’ mental sanity. He knew how it felt, even if he hadn’t reacted the same way. For Gael, it was something he assumed was a fever dream during one of his benders. It was something he was so sure might’ve existed (he was religious, after all so far be it for him not to believe in things he couldn’t see), but didn’t apply to him. But Elias was decidedly different. Sensitive, excitable. And surrounded by the things he had no idea existed outside of the books and movies he’d consumed. Gael imagined that was a big culture shock for him, though he was thankful that he had someone help get him out. Then came Elias’ resignation, prompting the chemist with the werewolf parasite inside him to glance out into the woods, putting his hands into his pockets as he thought about that briefly. “...I dunno, I think being human’s pretty cool.” Gael gave a casual shrug, though he wasn’t quite sure why he said that first. “I’m friends with some fae, too. Know a couple of zombies. Werewolves.” He looked at Elias again, his expression earnest, nonverbally telling Elias that he believed him. “You got me beat on knowing a seal, though! But, um… No, I think you’re doing great. At least you know now, right?” Another pause, chewing on whether or not to admit that he wasn’t human, either. At least, not half of him. “Is there anything I can do to help? Like… I dunno, ease the weight? I’m still learning about all of it, too, so I'm not perfect but sometimes it’s easier commiserating with someone else.” Not right now. Not unless Elias asked.

— —

As they walked further into the woods, Elias came across the area where he’d seen the Bigfoot last. He looked around, searching for a sign that it had been in this area again lately. That’s when he saw it: footprints! Elias pointed down at the large footprints, then looked to Gael with a large grin on his face. Whatever they were talking about before, it didn’t matter to him. Sure, yeah, he had a friend to talk to about all this stuff that knew where he was coming from, great. But Bigfoot! He had to see it again, had to get a better photo this time.

That’s when it happened. A loud noise came from further in the trees, and there it was. Real, actual bigfoot. It hadn’t spotted the pair, not yet. But there was still time. Elias pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures. “Gael, are you seeing this?” He hissed out, pointing to the sasquatch in the distance. “That’s Bigfoot!” He practically squealed but was trying to keep his voice down as best as possible. “I mean, actually, Bigfoot!” Twice in under the span of a month, it had to be some kind of record, right? “Please tell me you’re seeing this!” He said again, continuing to take pictures. The Bigfoot stomped toward them but still didn’t seem to be getting territorial. They had time.

——

The smell met him first, an acrid, matted scent that had crept into his senses during the tail end of what he was saying. And of course though Gael had replied with what he hoped was comfort and connection to Elias, it was eventually met with an overly-enthusiastic point to the ground accompanied with an equally-as-overenthusiastic smile. Brown, darkly-circled eyes glanced at the ground where his gaze was met with the large prints, then back to Elias and he managed to keep his mouth from pursing though he couldn’t stop one of his eyebrows from raising as though to say ‘you’re being serious right now?’ Then again, he supposed there were reasons why Elias had been so sheltered from all the supernatural stuff. What Gael had said previously about how Elias was still childlike in a lot of ways still held weight, it seemed. A small exhale made it through his nose in resignation and he started to attempt to return Elias’ wide grin with a smile of his own when a noise sounded through the wood. Before he could stop himself, he tensed, his hands flying to his ears and his head turned sharply in the direction of the source– “...Yeah, I’m seeing it.” The chemist replied rather softly as though to compensate for Elias’ excited yelling as his tired eyes fell on a large, bipedal creature in the distance with thick, shaggy fur covering it. Details were hard to catch, appearing as it did in the old hoax photos that circulated for a while but it did appear to be humanoid in shape. And carrying a stench with it. Gael’s brow twitched with every noise that came from Elias and after the fourth or fifth one, the scientist removed his eyes from the creature just long enough to try to encourage the taller man to calm down. “Yeah, yeah I see it and–” His head swiveled in the direction of the creature again and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as it started to get closer to them. “And I think it knows we’re here.”

— —

Elias was listening to Gael, he swore he was. But he also couldn’t help the need to pull out his phone and start snapping as many pictures as he physically could. Twice now! He’s seen Bigfoot twice! Elias was practically bouncing with excitement, only calming himself to try and take more photos. But no matter how many he took, they all came out blurry.

Cursing under his breath, he snapped a few more before giving up. Gael was right, that thing was coming right for them. “Maybe we could befriend him!” Elias hissed in response to Gael’s comment, eyes alight with excitement and hope. It met Gael’s worried and annoyed expression, and Elias deflated. Gael was right.

“Alright, fine. We’ll dip.” He relented, pocketing his phone before grabbing Gael’s arm and beginning to back up slowly. As they did, the Bigfoot began to advance toward them. Bigfoot was fast. “Alright, time to run!” Elias shouted as he pulled Gael away even faster. “Don’t let him catch you!” He shouted before breaking out into a run.

——

Uneasiness tugged at the scientist’s stomach despite Elias’ apparent enthusiasm, but he stood his ground as the supposed cryptid kept advancing on them. Gael should’ve been excited, shouldn’t he have? After all, this was one of the things that people talked about, one of the great mysteries of the world that people had seen in hallucinatory states and in dreams and discussed in hushed whispers among their peers. But he wasn’t. Gael couldn’t remember that night he had been attacked, having since assumed that it had been locked away as a mechanism to protect his psyche, but something about this interaction inflamed something in his mind and he could feel Lycaon under his skin wanting to… react. Or was it him? Either way, despite his protests, he stayed next to Elias reliably until the latter came to the conclusion on his own that they should maybe not stick around long enough to find out what Bigfoot did to people who saw him. The taller man looked at him and he returned the look with a mixture of anxiety and dryness, to which he relented. But when Elias decided they needed to go, it was expedient, to be sure. The hand on Gael’s arm was unnecessary but the shifter allowed it, taking tentative steps back as Elias did, keeping his dark eyes on the cryptid. Then, as though from a scene out of a horror movie, the furred, smelly mass of muscle advanced. On a dime, Gael turned and took off after Elias as the latter fled. “Catch me??” He shouted ahead at his companion. “You’re the one who wanted to stay and take pictures!” — —

Elias let go of Gael’s arm as soon as he knew the man was following him, peeking behind to see how much the cryptid had advanced. After a minute of running, the Bigfoot lost interest and turned back around. As soon as they reached the parking lot, Elias immediately began to go through the photos that he had taken. Blurry. Blurry. Blurry! All blurry! Letting out a noise of frustration, Elias pocketed his phone away and turned to look at Gael.

“You alright? I… really wasn’t expecting a second encounter.” He spoke, not out of breath from his years of keeping up with his running. He felt bad, watching the expression on Gael’s face. “Uh… welcome back to town?” He spoke more in the form of a question than a definitive statement.

— —

He might not’ve been an experienced hiker still, but if there was one thing that Gael had learned how to do nowadays, it was run. He had too much energy on the days just before the full moon, as he and Ren had unfortunately come to understand, and he had quickly found that the most practical solution was either to work out or to run and they had much easier access to the rural countryside than local gyms open to non-members. So he ran after Elias as the latter led the way as far back as the parking lot where they met up in the first place. As the two came to a stop, realizing that they had run considerably farther than when the cryptid abandoned its pursuit, Gael took deep breaths as he placed his hands on his hips, feeling a furrow on his brow as he returned Elias’ gaze with something sterner than how his expression usually rested. “I’m alright, yeah.” He said, not meaning for his tone to sound so biting but his being relatively out of breath coupled with how he was correct before in that the residual aches and pains from the full moon a couple of days ago would’ve been back and more annoying after their hike made for a combination that shortened his patience. “And I’m guessing that you didn’t get any worthwhile photos.” He gestured to the pocket that Elias put the phone into once the exasperated grunt escaped the taller man. “But hey, I hope whatever you did get was worth derailing our conversation and just running off to go see.” Gael’s gaze was lowered from Elias and his frown was pointed in the direction of the woods now. “I thought we were going hiking to catch up. You should’ve told me that it was really just so you could see Bigfoot or whatever else.” He definitely wasn’t a little sore that their conversation had been abruptly abandoned. He definitely wasn’t a little frustrated that Elias knew more about the supernatural now and he still thought it was somehow a good idea to linger in an obvious place and try to get pictures of things that could be more dangerous than either of them knew.

— —

As soon as they were safe, Elias instantly deflated at the quality of the photos. Same as the last. Clearly, there was something about the bigfoot that led to these pictures. Was it some kind of signal it gave off? Was the bigfoot emitting some strange radio waves that interfered with something? He didn’t understand that kind of stuff, but he sure wanted to now that it had a possibility to explain why Bigfoot had never been successfully photographed. His own thoughts were quickly interrupted as he realized how angry Gael looked. His face fell and the phone was thrown into his pocket. He felt bad.

“I…” He trailed off, realizing that he was definitely the asshole in this situation. “Yeah, alright. I fucked up. But I did want to catch up, and I really didn’t expect to actually run into Bigfoot again.” Elias frowned, feeling like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Even worse, it was Gael. He was a good guy, and Elias had already slighted him once before by leaving without a word.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’m a shitty friend for that. But I really do want to catch up. I think I’m just… bad at it.” He admitted. “The last time I caught up with someone after leaving, they tried to get me to eat something called peascake. The hell is…?” He looked to Gael, then quickly dropped it. “Never mind.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

——

It was one of Gael’s weaknesses, depending on how someone chose to perceive it. As the emotions he expressed on his gaunt face were communicated to Elias, the latter reacting appropriately in turn, they began to fade. His brow unfurrowed, the creases in his forehead held less shadow. He didn’t like being upset, despite how easy it came to him nowadays. Elias obviously felt bad about it, and of course Gael couldn’t help but think that he should’ve worded something differently, been kinder, more like how he was before. After exhaling softly and glancing down at the ground for a moment in contemplation, he lifted his gaze again and managed a scoff with a half-smile. “You didn’t– you didn’t fuck anything up.” He stepped closer to the taller man, folding his arms across his chest tenderly. “I just like the transparency. Or to know when the plan changes or that there’s a different one, y’know? I want to help you hunt cryptids. I love your enthusiasm, I really do. We’re friends, and you’re not even a shitty one.” He chuckled now. “Trust me. Maybe we can work something out? Like, for every three high-stakes outings trying to take pictures of Bigfoot, we can have one calmer, more normal meeting. Like over coffee or we can, I dunno, go to the amusement park again.” There was a pause accompanied with a deep inhale. “I have no idea what peascake is, either. Last I checked, you’re the weird one out of the two of us.” The parasite, responsible for his aching body that day, caught his breath in his throat for a moment but Gael swallowed it. “I’m just a guy. A guy who’s still learning about all this supernatural stuff too but just a guy nonetheless.”

— —

From worried to amused, Elias nodded in agreement with Gael’s suggestion. “Yeah, you’re right. And I can agree to that.” He relented with a soft chuckle. At least Gael didn’t swear him off forever like he probably deserved. “Though I don’t know about the amusement park. I think I may be a bit old for those. And that roller coaster.” He shuddered. “I don’t do high speeds like I used to.” He felt old just saying it aloud, but it was the truth.

Elias pulled his phone back out of his pocket and began going through the blurry photos of the bigfoot. “I know this is a serious conversation, but… I’m a good photographer!” He spoke, showing blurry photo after blurry photo to the other. “Do you think a supernatural creature can emit a certain frequency that causes them to appear blurry on camera?” He asked, genuinely curious about Gael’s input.

“Next time, I’ll tell you all about what I’ve been up to over a cup of coffee, no hiking.” He held a hand up as if swearing to it. “And you’ll tell me all about your family adventures.” He shifted his weight back and forth, trying to think if there was truly anything worth mentioning. “I guess I’m just not good at talking about myself to people, even if they’re genuinely interested.”

——

“Yeah, I just recommended the amusement park because it’s got Cryptid merch.” Gael spoke through a purposefully-exaggerated groan, indicating that he wasn’t really big on the roller coasters, either. And it wasn’t about the rides, but he hoped Elias knew that. For all his flaws (and he was more aware of them nowadays than ever), he still wanted to show Elias that he was invested and certainly not the type to give up on a friendship just because there was some miscommunication.

If he did that, he’d be both a hypocrite and friendless. He didn’t like being either of those, either.

…Why was he thinking about that? The scientist craned his neck to get a look at the pictures Elias had snapped, scratching at his jawline absently in thought. “Well… the thing was moving pretty fast but I wouldn’t think it would cause that much blur.” He mused. “And it smelled pretty bad but–” The sentence got caught in his throat before he had a chance to admit that if there was some high frequency that was emitted, he might’ve been able to hear it whether he wanted to or not. Human. Gael was a human infected with a parasite. And Elias didn’t know that, nor did he need to know that. Gael had it under control. “Y’know? Maybe! Like uhhh a filter or something it surrounds itself with to give it a hazy appearance? Smudging the camera footage?” Nailed it. He followed up with a nod in response to Elias’ suggestion after that. “Alright, deal. I mean–” He shrugged. “I know we aren’t supposed to make deals but I’m not a fae, you’re not a fae, it’s all good, right? Not that my family adventures were all that… exciting.” A pause. “And that’s okay, you don’t have to be. But at least you know that doesn’t change people’s interest in what you do and like, right?”

——

Elias stared down at his phone, scrutinizing the photographs as Gael offered explanations, and they were better than Elias could come up with. Finally, he shrugged and pocketed his phone. It wasn’t important right now anyway. He’d have time to research a little bit into it later, if there was even anything to research on.

The man held up his hands with wide eyes at the mention of a deal or being fae. “I’m decidedly wingless,” he responded with a lopsided smile. “I think for our own benefit, it’s better to just erase that word from our vocabulary for our own benefit.” He advised, scrunching up his face at the idea of being stuck in a fae deal. He didn’t want to experience it.

“Tell you what, next time you get coffee, give me a buzz, I’ll go along with you. No cryptids.” Elias spoke with a friendly smile. “And if something weird happens, it wasn’t my fault.” He quickly tacked on, not wanting to be held liable if something did happen. It was nice to reconnect with someone, even if it did go a bit awry towards the end there.

“But I’m not going back to the theme park. I’m done with places that could be possible traps for humans.” He pulled a face, then shuddered. He didn’t trust anything anymore.

——

Man, he really was bad at talking about himself. Gael, momentarily bewildered by the other man’s ability to just glaze over questions if they were about him, shook his head and recovered from his stupor easily enough, giving the taller man a smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Took a long time for me to grow out of saying “thank you”...” He rubbed the back of his head, his brow furrowing slightly. But even pushing all the stuff about fae he’d had several crash courses in out of his head, he nodded in agreement when Elias offered to take him up on coffee. The scientist did love his coffee. And, y’know, just chilling out sometimes. Pretending that for just a day, or even an hour, he was a human. “Sounds good.” Gael smiled again before adding “aaand if something weird happens, it won’t be your fault.” He just hoped it wasn’t his fault. The battle for normalcy was persistent.

But when Elias mentioned places that acted as possible traps for humans, his expression fell. He didn’t have an explanation for that one. He wanted to say that he was concerned that the entirety of Wicked’s Rest might itself be a trap for humans. With how it seemed to be such a supernatural hotspot, he found himself almost surprised that there were so few people in it that knew about the supernatural in general. But who was Gael to protest? Elias wasn’t incorrect in his suspicion involving the town and the secrets that burst at the seams from every corner. At least the man had connections now, whether it was from his acquaintanceship with Regan or the guy who could turn into a seal (which still rose a bunch of curiosity in the scientist). “I think you’ll be alright.” Gael encouraged rather lightly. “You aren’t like how you were before. You have the power of “knowing things” and “friends who know things” on your side now.” He reached over and gave Elias a pat on the back, indicating that the intensity of their conversation was at a willing end. “Now, are there any more cryptids you’d wanna go find today or are you done for the day?”

All things in time, he supposed, swallowing the fact that he could hear Elias’ heartbeat.

#wickedswriting #writing || We're Off to Find the Bigfoot #writing with || Elias

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