[ After the weeks since the last moon, it's been easy for Vasquez to forget exactly how difficult the wolf had been. Especially given how immobile Faraday is, only really getting his legs under himself properly last night, Vasquez has let a lot of his guard down about the approaching full moon. He isn't worried.
On the other hand, Faraday's managed walking, and his strength seems to be trickling back, day by day. At what point does that make him physically formidable again? The wolf had been a challenge on a normal night, but maybe this time, it will only take a little wrangling.
Vasquez is ready to come prepared.
A few nights out, he catches Sam in passing. Oddly enough, Sam doesn't let him get into the asking before he presses the silver chain into Vasquez's hand. Sam claps Vasquez on the shoulder with a flash of— something in his gaze that Vasquez can't place.
Approval, maybe. Gratitude?
Vasquez doesn't have time for puzzling out an answer.
The next days of changes are spent outdoors with Faraday already a bottle or so in by the time Vasquez joins him before sundown. He works hard with the town while the farmers are awake, which means by the time he wiles away the night with Faraday, he's tired from the hours spent in the sun. Vasquez makes it until a bit before dawn, and he usually ends up napping for a few hours beside the wolf, until Faraday changes back – and the cycle starts again.
Until the night of arrives.
Unlike the last moon, Vasquez cuts nothing close: he ducks out early to go find Faraday. He's still in his work clothes from the day (easier to replace and repair, with no concern of damaging anything nice that he owns) with the silver chain in his pockets. He doesn't bring his gunbelt; he has no plans to load his revolver with silver, and it's easier to wrestle with the wolf with less on his person.
As he's setting aside his hat, ruffling soil out of his hair, he's given time to consider what he's walking into again. Faraday as a wolf is different from the wolf itself. He knows how to relate to Faraday, and he genuinely trusts that the most he ought to worry about from the obnoxious gambler is a nip or two.
The wolf might try to literally rip his throat out again.
If he's honest, he has no idea what real level of threat is paused by the wolf. The creature ripped through Vasquez's flesh with all the ease of scissors through paper, and he hadn't healed quickly. He's only experienced wounds like that from obsidian – and, apparently now, the wolf.
Even with the unknowns staring him in the face, the danger, it doesn't sway his decision.
Vasquez meets Faraday at the saloon to walk together to the shed.
Like before, the shed is circled by a ring of wolfsbane, only broken for entry. Vasquez has to wonder who was responsible for it – maybe Chisolm, maybe he'd enlisted help – but he's grateful that it's another thing he doesn't have to worry about. With the toe of his boot, Vasquez nudges the ring closed behind Faraday, following him inside.
Vasquez drops the heavy bar of wood in front of the door, then turns back to Faraday. ]
[ Faraday heals, which is a miracle, as the folks in town like to tell him.
As much evidence as there is to the contrary, Faraday isn't an idiot. He knows well enough that the primary reason for his survival is the wolf's curse – something that increases his resiliency, something that makes him stronger. He knows he's straddling that odd place between mortality and other, and knows that if he had suffered those wounds in the daylight hours, he would've been scooped up and dumped into a pine wood box, colder than a wagon wheel.
It's the wolf that kept him alive – though Vasquez had a decent hand in it, too. And a stupider person might wonder why he calls it a curse when its greatest impact is mostly a matter of inconvenience. When it has the benefit of allowing him to survive a war.
Faraday wouldn't have an answer for them, aside from bristling and snapping on instinct.
(but some days, he wonders the same thing.)
The full moon draws closer, and uneven as Faraday's temperament is at the best of times, it only gets worse with each passing day. He can feel the wolf prowling in his chest, biding its time, and each night when it rises to the surface, it becomes more and more brutal, tearing its way to freedom.
Drinking himself silly beforehand helps ease the way, but only a little.
There are too many people – fewer now, thanks to the battle, but enough. The brightening moon has the drawback and benefit of heightening his senses, sometimes to the point of overload, until his head aches and stomach clenches with it. The stench of sweat and the beating of hearts, the rushing of blood through veins—
It's enough to drive a man mad.
He thinks a little too long and hard about the last full moon, about the state the wolf had Vasquez in by sunrise the next day. He remembers the stench and taste of the vampire's blood, remembers the cold, choking fear that had hit him when he thought the wolf had done Vasquez in. At the time, Vasquez had been a stranger, had felt more like an annoyance than an ally, but—
They've spent weeks together, now. Faraday wouldn't claim to understand Vasquez, and neither would he deign to admit that Vasquez might understand him, but— he thinks there's still a kinship between them, being what they are.
(God above, Faraday doesn't want to lose that.)
This time, though, he abandons his previous moratorium on drinking before the full moon in favor of downing a handful of shots.
When Vasquez comes to collect him, Faraday goes without protest – hell, he hardly says a word, preoccupied as he is with all the variables. The wounds he still carries should slow the wolf down, he thinks, or else it'll infuriate it, leave it desperate. The alcohol should make the wolf sluggish, should give Vasquez an edge in keeping it in check, when the need arises – but it'll also make it unpredictable. Vasquez knows he has free reign to claim whatever blood he needs – both from the wolf and Faraday – but Faraday knows the vampire's intention is to subdue, not eliminate.
Faraday can't help but feel that's a mistake.
Even before they reach the shed, Faraday balks at the revolting stench of the dried wolfsbane, and he has to force himself to move closer, in spite of the way his stomach churns. Once they've passed the circle, once Vasquez has admitted them into the flimsy shed and barred the door, Faraday lets himself sink down to the floor. ]
Oh, it's fine. Never better.
[ He breathes it out, something close to a laugh, as he lays his crutch beside him. He carefully stretches out the leg in question, resting his palm atop the scar.
There's still time before the sun fully sets, and he leans back against the wall, catching his breath. He wipes cold sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. ]
[ Vasquez leans his hip against a stack of crates, watching as Faraday lowers himself down. ]
Sí.
[ He reaches into his pocket, producing a small length of the silver chain in demonstration, before dropping it back. He pauses, then pushes away to join Faraday on the ground. He crouches beside him, giving him a close once-over. ]
Anything else you need? That you can think of before?
[ He eyes the bit of silver, nodding his approval, but something strikes him as off for a brief second. Hazy as he is with the whiskey, with the impending change, he frowns as he tries to work it out.
A little wryly, ]
Not much for it, 'less you've got a way to make it so I never got bit.
[ But that bare bit of humor drops away as he gives Vasquez a once-over of his own, jaw working to one side as he thinks.
It strikes him after a second or two, and Faraday goes rigid with the realization. ]
[ Faraday absolutely means to argue, throat working to summon up a few more insults, to question Vasquez's wisdom and intelligence.
But something in him lurches, and he sucks in a startled breath, gracelessly dropping back to the floor. Still a few more moments before sunset, but it's not nearly enough time to make it to the boardinghouse, find Sam, and make it back to the shed. ]
Jesus wept.
[ This, as he's working to yank off his shirt. ]
You're a goddamn idiot. You got no one to blame but yourself if this all goes sideways.
[ And he tosses his shirt away. These days, he doesn't look like he went a few rounds with a speeding locomotive and lost. He's healed far faster than he had any right to, but the wounds are still tender, still like to shriek at him – as if he needs the reminder to stay the hell away from any more silver bullets. ]
He's pissed. The sun hasn't even set, and the evening already isn't going the way he figured it would. He figured Vasquez would have the good sense – and the self of preservation – to keep his guns on him, to have those silver bullets chambered and ready for the wolf.
Obviously Faraday doesn't want to go through the experience of getting shot again, assuming he survives it, but he's always prided himself on being practical. If faced with a bloodthirsty, nearly unstoppable monster, it's always wisest to arm yourself with what can stop it.
He works at the fastening of his jeans. ]
For the record, Sam's gonna think you're a goddamn idiot, too. And if we both come back from this, I ain't explainin' to him why you're missin' half your body.
[ Maybe? Vasquez has never lost an appendage to test the theory, and he's content to continue that pattern.
But he still doesn't think he needs the silver bullets. He's confident that he can physically handle the wolf, and with Faraday's consent, he has few compunctions about sinking his teeth into the wolf to let it tire itself out with anemia. ]
[ Vasquez snorts out a short laugh, giving Faraday a pat on the shoulder as he gets to his feet. ]
Have a little faith, my friend.
[ He doesn't expect the evening to be easy, but he also feels more prepared this time – at least knowing what to expect. Last time, he underestimated the wolf, but, even if the creature has the potential to be slowed by healing wounds, he won't make the same mistake tonight. ]
[ Angry as Faraday is, he still shoots Vasquez a sharp, heated glare. They’re certainly going to talk about this, should they both manage to survive the night. Faraday is far from done berating Vasquez’s lack of intelligence and his misplaced sense of confidence.
Once his clothing is tossed away, he settles back, breathing through the familiar chills that run through him – exclusive to the full moon, when the wolf fights for control of his body. He wipes at the cold sweat on his brow again, tipping his head back against the wooden wall of the shed. ]
Whatever you’ve gotta do, don’t let it bite anyone.
[ This demand sobers some of Vasquez's projected confidence. He may be less concerned about how he'll come out of the night, but other casualties are not negotiable.
He nods once. ]
You have my word.
[ Faraday won't wake with lives on his hands – corpses or a newly-infected victim. ]
[ That, at least, manages to dampen some of his anger, and while he still certainly looks irritated, he manages to give Vasquez a grateful little nod.
With the sky darkening and darkening, Faraday knows there isn’t much time left. He licks his lips, readjusting himself on the floor to sit on his haunches. ]
Try not to die.
[ His voice is strained, breathing growing erratic as the wolf rises to the surface, but he still casts it out as a feeble joke – though he means it.
It’d be at least a little funny, he thinks a little darkly, to hitch your wagon to someone else’s, only to be the one that wrecks it.
[ The crook in his smile lacks genuine amusement, and he takes a few extra steps back; there's little room in this small shed, but he needs to offer Faraday what he can.
... And to make it harder for the wolf to snatch Vasquez up in his teeth. ]
[ Mighty optimistic of you, is what Faraday wants to say.
But he's interrupted when his eyes flash gold, when something in him cracks, and he doubles over with a startled grunt.
It's the same as it always is – hideous and agonizing and awful, even with the booze in his system helping to dull the pain. His screams turn to guttural, canine groans, interspersed with the grinding of bone and snapping of muscle. The only difference between this and a normal night is the queer way he can feel his mind slipping sideways, fading away into sleep.
The wolf falls to the floorboards, kicking up a faint cloud of dust as it wheezes. Its body throbs in a way it's hardly ever felt, and for a few seconds, it whines to itself, licking at a scar on its hind leg. ]
[ There's a bitter twinge Vasquez always feels when he watches Faraday transform (because seeing him in pain is—).
But there lies the wolf, trying to get its bearings. Vasquez keeps his posture relaxed (but ready) as he maintains their distance. He keeps his hands visible, but he's still just a flinch away from the silver in his pocket. ]
Sore, eh? I can only imagine.
[ A flash of sympathy crosses his face as the wolf licks at a healed-over wound that Vasquez knows well. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
drops this mess on u
On the other hand, Faraday's managed walking, and his strength seems to be trickling back, day by day. At what point does that make him physically formidable again? The wolf had been a challenge on a normal night, but maybe this time, it will only take a little wrangling.
Vasquez is ready to come prepared.
A few nights out, he catches Sam in passing. Oddly enough, Sam doesn't let him get into the asking before he presses the silver chain into Vasquez's hand. Sam claps Vasquez on the shoulder with a flash of— something in his gaze that Vasquez can't place.
Approval, maybe. Gratitude?
Vasquez doesn't have time for puzzling out an answer.
The next days of changes are spent outdoors with Faraday already a bottle or so in by the time Vasquez joins him before sundown. He works hard with the town while the farmers are awake, which means by the time he wiles away the night with Faraday, he's tired from the hours spent in the sun. Vasquez makes it until a bit before dawn, and he usually ends up napping for a few hours beside the wolf, until Faraday changes back – and the cycle starts again.
Until the night of arrives.
Unlike the last moon, Vasquez cuts nothing close: he ducks out early to go find Faraday. He's still in his work clothes from the day (easier to replace and repair, with no concern of damaging anything nice that he owns) with the silver chain in his pockets. He doesn't bring his gunbelt; he has no plans to load his revolver with silver, and it's easier to wrestle with the wolf with less on his person.
As he's setting aside his hat, ruffling soil out of his hair, he's given time to consider what he's walking into again. Faraday as a wolf is different from the wolf itself. He knows how to relate to Faraday, and he genuinely trusts that the most he ought to worry about from the obnoxious gambler is a nip or two.
The wolf might try to literally rip his throat out again.
If he's honest, he has no idea what real level of threat is paused by the wolf. The creature ripped through Vasquez's flesh with all the ease of scissors through paper, and he hadn't healed quickly. He's only experienced wounds like that from obsidian – and, apparently now, the wolf.
Even with the unknowns staring him in the face, the danger, it doesn't sway his decision.
Vasquez meets Faraday at the saloon to walk together to the shed.
Like before, the shed is circled by a ring of wolfsbane, only broken for entry. Vasquez has to wonder who was responsible for it – maybe Chisolm, maybe he'd enlisted help – but he's grateful that it's another thing he doesn't have to worry about. With the toe of his boot, Vasquez nudges the ring closed behind Faraday, following him inside.
Vasquez drops the heavy bar of wood in front of the door, then turns back to Faraday. ]
How's the leg, perrito?
no subject
As much evidence as there is to the contrary, Faraday isn't an idiot. He knows well enough that the primary reason for his survival is the wolf's curse – something that increases his resiliency, something that makes him stronger. He knows he's straddling that odd place between mortality and other, and knows that if he had suffered those wounds in the daylight hours, he would've been scooped up and dumped into a pine wood box, colder than a wagon wheel.
It's the wolf that kept him alive – though Vasquez had a decent hand in it, too. And a stupider person might wonder why he calls it a curse when its greatest impact is mostly a matter of inconvenience. When it has the benefit of allowing him to survive a war.
Faraday wouldn't have an answer for them, aside from bristling and snapping on instinct.
(but some days, he wonders the same thing.)
The full moon draws closer, and uneven as Faraday's temperament is at the best of times, it only gets worse with each passing day. He can feel the wolf prowling in his chest, biding its time, and each night when it rises to the surface, it becomes more and more brutal, tearing its way to freedom.
Drinking himself silly beforehand helps ease the way, but only a little.
There are too many people – fewer now, thanks to the battle, but enough. The brightening moon has the drawback and benefit of heightening his senses, sometimes to the point of overload, until his head aches and stomach clenches with it. The stench of sweat and the beating of hearts, the rushing of blood through veins—
It's enough to drive a man mad.
He thinks a little too long and hard about the last full moon, about the state the wolf had Vasquez in by sunrise the next day. He remembers the stench and taste of the vampire's blood, remembers the cold, choking fear that had hit him when he thought the wolf had done Vasquez in. At the time, Vasquez had been a stranger, had felt more like an annoyance than an ally, but—
They've spent weeks together, now. Faraday wouldn't claim to understand Vasquez, and neither would he deign to admit that Vasquez might understand him, but— he thinks there's still a kinship between them, being what they are.
(God above, Faraday doesn't want to lose that.)
This time, though, he abandons his previous moratorium on drinking before the full moon in favor of downing a handful of shots.
When Vasquez comes to collect him, Faraday goes without protest – hell, he hardly says a word, preoccupied as he is with all the variables. The wounds he still carries should slow the wolf down, he thinks, or else it'll infuriate it, leave it desperate. The alcohol should make the wolf sluggish, should give Vasquez an edge in keeping it in check, when the need arises – but it'll also make it unpredictable. Vasquez knows he has free reign to claim whatever blood he needs – both from the wolf and Faraday – but Faraday knows the vampire's intention is to subdue, not eliminate.
Faraday can't help but feel that's a mistake.
Even before they reach the shed, Faraday balks at the revolting stench of the dried wolfsbane, and he has to force himself to move closer, in spite of the way his stomach churns. Once they've passed the circle, once Vasquez has admitted them into the flimsy shed and barred the door, Faraday lets himself sink down to the floor. ]
Oh, it's fine. Never better.
[ He breathes it out, something close to a laugh, as he lays his crutch beside him. He carefully stretches out the leg in question, resting his palm atop the scar.
There's still time before the sun fully sets, and he leans back against the wall, catching his breath. He wipes cold sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. ]
Sam gave you the silver?
no subject
Sí.
[ He reaches into his pocket, producing a small length of the silver chain in demonstration, before dropping it back. He pauses, then pushes away to join Faraday on the ground. He crouches beside him, giving him a close once-over. ]
Anything else you need? That you can think of before?
no subject
A little wryly, ]
Not much for it, 'less you've got a way to make it so I never got bit.
[ But that bare bit of humor drops away as he gives Vasquez a once-over of his own, jaw working to one side as he thinks.
It strikes him after a second or two, and Faraday goes rigid with the realization. ]
Where're your guns?
no subject
Back at the boarding house. They just get in the way, if I'm not going to use them.
no subject
[ And there's heat in the insult, far more than Faraday's thrown at Vasquez in weeks. ]
Go get your guns, you stubborn ass. And get the bullets from Sam.
no subject
I have the chain. That's enough, perro.
Told you before: I'm not going to shoot you. No point having them, if I'm not going to use them tonight.
no subject
Hell, Vasquez.
[ And he hisses out the curse, grabbing up his crutch and starting to push himself up to his feet. ]
We don't know how it's gonna be tonight, but you remember how bad it got last time.
You need your guns.
no subject
I didn't use them last time, even once. I'll be fine.
[ And a little more firmly, ]
Sit back down.
no subject
[ With Vasquez gripping the crutch, Faraday abandons it, instead trying to leverage himself to his feet with the help of the wall behind him.
With a touch of strain in his voice, ]
What happens if it gets away from you, huh? What happens if it turns back on the town and you gotta put it down quick?
Chain ain't gonna do you much good, then.
no subject
I already said I'm not shooting you – or tu lobo. I can keep up with your wolf, perrito, without a gun.
You don't have time to fuss, so don't waste your energy.
no subject
But something in him lurches, and he sucks in a startled breath, gracelessly dropping back to the floor. Still a few more moments before sunset, but it's not nearly enough time to make it to the boardinghouse, find Sam, and make it back to the shed. ]
Jesus wept.
[ This, as he's working to yank off his shirt. ]
You're a goddamn idiot. You got no one to blame but yourself if this all goes sideways.
no subject
Vasquez gives Faraday a beat of space, now that he isn't trying to go for the door. ]
Lo que digas.
[ He gives Faraday room to start wriggling out of his clothes, sitting back on his heels. ]
Rest a little easier; we made it through the last moon, this will be no different.
no subject
The wolf mauled you to hell and back.
[ And he tosses his shirt away. These days, he doesn't look like he went a few rounds with a speeding locomotive and lost. He's healed far faster than he had any right to, but the wounds are still tender, still like to shriek at him – as if he needs the reminder to stay the hell away from any more silver bullets. ]
You were practically missin' half your flesh.
no subject
[ No harm, no foul. ]
I heal, Faraday. I know what to expect from it now.
no subject
[ He says it with open derision.
He's pissed. The sun hasn't even set, and the evening already isn't going the way he figured it would. He figured Vasquez would have the good sense – and the self of preservation – to keep his guns on him, to have those silver bullets chambered and ready for the wolf.
Obviously Faraday doesn't want to go through the experience of getting shot again, assuming he survives it, but he's always prided himself on being practical. If faced with a bloodthirsty, nearly unstoppable monster, it's always wisest to arm yourself with what can stop it.
He works at the fastening of his jeans. ]
For the record, Sam's gonna think you're a goddamn idiot, too. And if we both come back from this, I ain't explainin' to him why you're missin' half your body.
no subject
[ Maybe? Vasquez has never lost an appendage to test the theory, and he's content to continue that pattern.
But he still doesn't think he needs the silver bullets. He's confident that he can physically handle the wolf, and with Faraday's consent, he has few compunctions about sinking his teeth into the wolf to let it tire itself out with anemia. ]
Don't worry about this part, perro.
no subject
[ Faraday mockingly grumbles it under his breath as he strips down. ]
All the vampires in the world, and I get stuck with the only one with a goddamn death wish.
no subject
Have a little faith, my friend.
[ He doesn't expect the evening to be easy, but he also feels more prepared this time – at least knowing what to expect. Last time, he underestimated the wolf, but, even if the creature has the potential to be slowed by healing wounds, he won't make the same mistake tonight. ]
no subject
Once his clothing is tossed away, he settles back, breathing through the familiar chills that run through him – exclusive to the full moon, when the wolf fights for control of his body. He wipes at the cold sweat on his brow again, tipping his head back against the wooden wall of the shed. ]
Whatever you’ve gotta do, don’t let it bite anyone.
no subject
He nods once. ]
You have my word.
[ Faraday won't wake with lives on his hands – corpses or a newly-infected victim. ]
no subject
With the sky darkening and darkening, Faraday knows there isn’t much time left. He licks his lips, readjusting himself on the floor to sit on his haunches. ]
Try not to die.
[ His voice is strained, breathing growing erratic as the wolf rises to the surface, but he still casts it out as a feeble joke – though he means it.
It’d be at least a little funny, he thinks a little darkly, to hitch your wagon to someone else’s, only to be the one that wrecks it.
It would be just Faraday’s luck. ]
no subject
... And to make it harder for the wolf to snatch Vasquez up in his teeth. ]
See you in the morning, perrito.
no subject
But he's interrupted when his eyes flash gold, when something in him cracks, and he doubles over with a startled grunt.
It's the same as it always is – hideous and agonizing and awful, even with the booze in his system helping to dull the pain. His screams turn to guttural, canine groans, interspersed with the grinding of bone and snapping of muscle. The only difference between this and a normal night is the queer way he can feel his mind slipping sideways, fading away into sleep.
The wolf falls to the floorboards, kicking up a faint cloud of dust as it wheezes. Its body throbs in a way it's hardly ever felt, and for a few seconds, it whines to itself, licking at a scar on its hind leg. ]
no subject
But there lies the wolf, trying to get its bearings. Vasquez keeps his posture relaxed (but ready) as he maintains their distance. He keeps his hands visible, but he's still just a flinch away from the silver in his pocket. ]
Sore, eh? I can only imagine.
[ A flash of sympathy crosses his face as the wolf licks at a healed-over wound that Vasquez knows well. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)