į“
į“į“”É“ į“É“ į“ŹŹ Ņį“į“Źs. werewolf kiri au.
you wake up under a mountain of furs.
light comes flickering from the hearth and, warm and welcoming as it isāyou've no idea where you are.
you don't recognize the inside of the cabin; it's certainly not yours, nor is its layout that of any youāve seen in the village. it's rather plain, with a singular window and table and chair and small fireplace, empty enough that you wonder how anyone could live comfortably with so little.
outside, the winter storm rages on, and there's a howl that cuts through the air that strikes bone-deep.
all at once your memories come back to you: dragged through town with bound hands and ankles, in only a thin night dress, screaming with all your might as the physician that delivered you into this world tied you to an old pine, along with the priest and the man that sold you blueberries in the spring.
people you knew and loved. had trusted.
the memories become hazy after a while, darkening with the night that crept in. you remember your body losing its feeling, but not its fear. you remember the violence of the storm, breaking trees and branches and uprooting the forest floor. you remember the horrible and hulking shape of something rising in the moonlight.
the door shoves open then, with enough force to send you scurrying back into the corner of the room. the blizzard tries to rush inside, but a man stands in its way, leaning back against the wood to keep the wind and snow out where it belongs. he'sābig, as tall as the frame and just as wide, with thick hair that he's tied back, messy and low.
he's rosy in his cheeks and on the tip of his nose, as bright as the eyes that snap to you the moment you dare to breathe.
he doesn't say anything, at first. the bag of firewood he sets at his feet settles as he turns to you in interest, eyebrows raised. the clothes he's wearing lookāold and worn, certainly not suitable for the storm roaring outside, with the holes and tears in the fabric. the boots he has on, however, seem heavy, have his steps echoing when he moves further into the room.
you pull your knees up to your chest and try to shrink away; beneath your thin dress, your skin has pebbled up, reminding you of just how vulnerable you still are.
your fear translates; the man stops on the other side of the little table, breathing in deeply before raising his hands up in what reads as surrender.
"hello," he finally says, and when you don't respond, he places a thick hand to his dark-haired chest and introduces himself as, "eijirou."
he nods emphatically and then repeats himself, as if to reinforce the name. you only grant him a small nod in returnāand he smiles. it's wide, stretching across his face, and friendly, authentic enough that you question whether you're as damned as you thought, or perhaps saved.
how did you even get here? the question finally thaws out from the recesses of your brain and you take another look around the room as if the answer lies between the wood or nestled into the furs. this place looks too hand-crafted, you realize, all of itāand the man before you looks like he could move mountains, if he wanted to.
the chains that had bound you were iron-strong and didn't once budge in all your thrashing, before things went darkābut now you are inside by a well-maintained fire, warm and free, and all that remains of your ill fate are the indentions worn into your wrists.
he's still staring at you, the man. eijirou. he's not moved any closer, either, and when you meet his curious gaze, his lips twist and his eyes narrow. a thoughtful noise comes out of his mouth, like he's thinking of what to say or how to say it, and you're reminded that you don't recognize where you are, nor do you recognize him in the slightest.
big as he is, you don't think he could have carried you too far in a snowstorm such as the one still raging outside; are you still somewhere deep in the forest? in a cabin at the heart of the wood? saved by a man that somehow survives with so little out in the middle of nowhere?
"eijirou," you test the name on your lips and he perks up at the sound, attention snapping back to you instantly. you don't know if it's winter seeping through the floor, or if it's in the way that he watches you, that makes you shiver.
finally, he asks, "cold?" and when you nod, he slowly makes his way over to you, carefully, as if approaching a deer ready to run.
āand then he sheds his shirt with a quick shrug and holds it out to you.
you should want to look away, for decency sake, but you'reāstunned by it, by him. there's a litany of scars that paint him in odd and worrisome places, but he stands tall and strong before you, unbothered by his own state. unbothered by the eyes that run over the expanse of his bare shoulders, the dark, thick trail of hair running down from his belly button, the ripples of muscle his loose shirt did well to hide.
you take it from him carefully and it's so warm, almost hot, that you press it to your face immediately to chase away the chatter of your jaw. the material itself, however ragged, is big enough to drape over your curled form like a blanket, and so you do just that. it carries the earthy smell of the woods, deeply woven into the fabric; pine and musk and something smoky.
with your cheek still pressed to his shirt, you look up to thank him, at last, but the words still in your throat at the minute changes of his face: still smiling, though sharper now, somehow, and his eyes are still wide with that keen, rapt interestābut the crimson to them has set like the sun and they've grown just as dark as the night outside.
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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of
Flesh and bones and they're all scared of
A lost little boy who has lost his heart
Fear's not enough, they have to
Tear him apart
ā-------
There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:Ā
Heās adopted.
He canāt remember anything else before that.Ā Ā
āAdoptionā is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Aliciaās cabin, and then she went and got her parents.Ā
What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didnāt belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isnāt there, and when it isnāt his mind stutters, like heās tripped at the top of a steep hill.Ā
When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. Heās twelve.
(He thinks thatās his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)Ā
The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.
Itāsā¦ a strange experience, to go to a ānewā home when he doesnāt even remember his old one.Ā
The official adoption processā¦ happens. He canāt say itās easy, or difficult. Heās oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny canāt say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, thatās one new thing he knows about himself.Ā
His adoption papers say āDaniel J. Fentonā. Danny remembers staring at the name āDanielā for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But itās not Daniel. But he doesnāt know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.
(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Dannyās shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Dannyās mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the manās fingers for daring to touch him.)Ā
(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fentonās heavy hand stays on him.)Ā
They found Danny in the summer. Itās a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says itās enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that theyāll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.Ā Ā
(Thereās something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesnāt know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)
Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesnāt want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.Ā
He turned back around and went inside.
ā-------
Where do we go
When the river's running slow
Where do we run
When the cats kill one by one
ā------
One day, when the house is empty ā or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.Ā Ā
Heās almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.Ā
Itās not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.Ā
He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.Ā
Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved ā about what? ā before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.Ā
(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)
After that, he leaves the house more. Itās more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.Ā
Heās not sure how to feel about that ā he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.
ā------
Hazel beneath our claws
While we wait for cerulean to cry
Unsettled ticks run through time
Enough for the hunt to go awry
ā-----
Thereās another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesnāt know who, but he knows they must have been close; heās always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.Ā
He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when heās lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He canāt remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when heās not thinking. He canāt.Ā
Dannyās found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.Ā
(āThatās a pretty song, Danny.ā Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadnāt realized he was humming. āWhat is it?ā)Ā
(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesnāt know what song it is, but itās not for her. āI donāt know.ā)Ā Ā
He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldnāt feel like heās missing a chunk from himself. He wouldnāt be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand thatās missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.Ā
A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, heās holding onto someone smaller than him, theyāre tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. Heās humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny canāt remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.Ā
He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their fatherās, that his person ā a sibling? That feels right ā will beā¦ the word fades from Dannyās mind before he can make sense of it.Ā
His person hugs him tight, hisā¦ brother? And their mother ā a woman whose face he canāt remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless ā appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, āher sonsā. Thereās ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.
Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.Ā Ā Ā
ā-------
Harpy hare
Where have you buried all your children?
Tell me so I say
ā-------
When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that heās smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one heās getting now.Ā
Everyone knows heās adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but itās not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.
He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.
Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesnāt remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.Ā
(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)
(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. Itās easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)
(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principalās office later, he wisely doesnāt mention the worse things he couldāve done than break Dash Baxterās nose.)Ā Ā
ā--------------
It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders
And they will never
Hear me here listen to croons and a calling
I'll tell them all the
Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow
Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare
ā-------
More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.Ā
Danny can barely remember the lyrics, heās begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that itās the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. Heās a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.Ā
His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once heās almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isnāt home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.Ā
They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. Itās beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.Ā
It is a fast dream.Ā
His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. āWatch your feet, habibi.ā He murmurs low, a hand on his back. Itās hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.
His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.Ā
The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air ā impossible, it shouldāve been, at least. He never trips. ā and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.Ā
The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldnāt have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He canāt find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.Ā
His mother and brotherās horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.Ā
(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ātrain fallā in his journal, before heās flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)Ā
ā---Ā Ā
She can't keep them all safe
They will die and be afraid
Mother, tell me so I say
(Mother, tell me so I say)
ā-------
When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he canāt remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.Ā
The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he canāt recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen ā he doesnāt need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.Ā
(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was ā was? Is ā a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly ā the grooves worn to fit his palm. Theyāre just a little small.)Ā
(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. Heās kept it on him ever since, like heās reunited a lost limb to himself.)Ā Ā Ā
Danny doesnāt have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. Heās haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. Heās ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesnāt, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he canāt figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father ā what, he canāt remember what ā then his little brother will be a little bird.Ā
(He doesnāt have a name for his brother, yet, but heās calling his birdie in his head. Itās better than nothing.)
ā------
Seeker, do you ever come to wonder
If what you're looking for is within where you hold
Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path
You'll soon forget
Home
ā---------
When heās fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.Ā
When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. Itās blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Dannyās mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.
āLazarus,ā he mouths to himself. Itās familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesnāt think sheās that too far off.Ā
He doesnāt tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.
He ends up calling himself Phantom.Ā
(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)Ā
----------
Home is where we are
Home is where you are
Home is where I am
-----------------
Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.
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