[ The full moons still end up as a mess for the both of them, but somehow— it's not quite as bad as those first couple go-arounds. Maybe because Vasquez has a better idea of what to expect, or maybe because the man has learned to keep his distance, or maybe because he's a little less circumspect when it comes to divesting the wolf of its blood.
Whatever the case, Faraday still worries, because this curse has been nothing but a worry, but he's at least a little more certain of Vasquez's ability to come out alive on the other side.
The change is rough, as it always is when they draw closer to the full moon, like the wolf knows its time is coming, and it grows more impatient with each passing night.
This bit of land they've staked out is convenient, to say the least; devoid of people, which means Faraday has little to worry about, come the night of the full moon, but filled with enough prey that he hopes it should keep the wolf occupied enough to hold its attention – maybe long enough to keep its sights off Vasquez, though Faraday admits that's just wishful thinking.
The plant life isn't quite as bothersome for Faraday – at least, not immediately. His fur in this form is thick enough that when the burrs and barbs sink in, he doesn't take note until they're good and buried into his undercoat. By that point, he has to struggle with picking them out with his teeth, hoping he doesn't just tangle them in further.
On the bright side, come morning, the mess should slough off with his fur. It's about the only convenience the transformation affords him.
When Vasquez pauses, looking back at him with that wince, Faraday's head tilts. Sure enough, his coat his covered in burrs and foxtail spikelets.
His eyes narrow, though, and he snorts out a breath.
no subject
Whatever the case, Faraday still worries, because this curse has been nothing but a worry, but he's at least a little more certain of Vasquez's ability to come out alive on the other side.
The change is rough, as it always is when they draw closer to the full moon, like the wolf knows its time is coming, and it grows more impatient with each passing night.
This bit of land they've staked out is convenient, to say the least; devoid of people, which means Faraday has little to worry about, come the night of the full moon, but filled with enough prey that he hopes it should keep the wolf occupied enough to hold its attention – maybe long enough to keep its sights off Vasquez, though Faraday admits that's just wishful thinking.
The plant life isn't quite as bothersome for Faraday – at least, not immediately. His fur in this form is thick enough that when the burrs and barbs sink in, he doesn't take note until they're good and buried into his undercoat. By that point, he has to struggle with picking them out with his teeth, hoping he doesn't just tangle them in further.
On the bright side, come morning, the mess should slough off with his fur. It's about the only convenience the transformation affords him.
When Vasquez pauses, looking back at him with that wince, Faraday's head tilts. Sure enough, his coat his covered in burrs and foxtail spikelets.
His eyes narrow, though, and he snorts out a breath.
You know I don't know what that means. ]