This isn't a sign guaranteeing the whole tune of the evening, but at least this is easier.
As the wolf takes a seat, looking expectantly back at Vasquez, some of the tension eases out of the vampire's shoulders. He's careful about his approach, keeping his hands visible and his movement trackable, until he can lift away the wood barring the door. He steps back, out of the way, to let the wolf bolt as Vasquez expects it to. ]
[ As it turns out, the wolf is predictable, at least to some degree, and when the bar falls away, the wolf lunges forward, bursting through the door. Once again, the poor thing is nearly taken off its hinges with a metallic screech.
The ring of wolfsbane gives it pause, makes it snarl in protest, but it rallies itself and leaps – and nearly collapses to the ground when its injuries shriek at the strain and the impact of its landing. It yelps, staggering, but instead of succumbing, it manages to get its balance again, keeping its hind leg lifted to avoid putting weight on it.
It turns gold eyes fixing on Vasquez – a warning to keep his distance – before it shoots off.
And to its credit, it heads off into the woods, ignoring the temptation to try its chances with the humans in the town. ]
[ Vasquez is right behind the wolf once it darts out, just to make sure it doesn't try to bolt for the town before Vasquez can pounce on the damned thing. He stays beyond swiping range, but he keeps his line of sight fixed on the wolf as it deals with the wolfsbane—
—easily.
Vasquez may elect to forego that little annoyance at the next moon.
He can't help the lurching impulse that swarms up in his chest as the wolf stumbles – to just help it, to keep it from hitting the ground. Before he takes a step, the wolf recovers, and Vasquez immediately chastises himself for the slip. This isn't the time to be catching Faraday's falls – especially since Faraday isn't the one at the helm right now.
Vasquez's hand hovers again by his pocket, ready to snatch up the silver, but the wolf takes off in the right direction before he has to worry about it. He huffs out a soft breath of laughter. ]
Buena caza, mi perrito.
[ The wolf disappears into the trees, and Vasquez follows close behind. ]
[ The instant the wolf crosses the threshold of the woods, it throws back its head and pierces the quiet night with an ear-splitting howl.
It waits, as it always does, listening.
And as it always does, it never receives an answer.
It does what it does best, after that – running through the woods, hunting whatever poor creatures have the misfortune of falling along its path. There's no art to how it hunts, no strategy. It runs and runs and runs, killing anything it happens upon, rendering its prey into fleshy ribbons and mush when it has devoured what it could.
Its wounds slow it down, keep it from reaching its full potential, and as much as its body begs it to stop, to rest, it doesn't. That ungodly hunger, the desperate twisting pain in its stomach, drowns it all out.
(If Faraday were in his right mind, he might wonder how badly this night will have set back his healing.)
The wolf is intelligent, but it loses that as the night drags on, madness and rage and blood thirst overcoming its senses – until eventually, it's nothing but a feral, volatile monster. There's a wide-eyed wildness to its gaze when it sights Vasquez from a distance, and it only grows worse as the hours pass.
And eventually, it happens – it turns on Vasquez, barrels into him, tries to rip him to shreds as it had with all its other prey. Unlike its other prey, though, Vasquez is more than a match for it, is able to fight, is able to hurt it with silver and claws and teeth. But the wolf doesn't back down, doesn't shy away, as it should – even after that bitter, corrupted blood washes over its tongue, tasting like goddamn poison.
But Vasquez makes good on their agreement, taking what he needs from the wolf to keep himself in fighting condition, until eventually— the blood loss is enough to slow the wolf down. It manages to throw Vasquez off with its last bit of flagging strength until exhaustion finally overcomes it, sending it to the dirt.
The only blessing, Faraday will think later, is that he's unconscious when the sun rises and forces the wolf away.
For the second time in as many full moons, Faraday wakes up in pain.
He's covered in blood again – and when he recognizes that dark, tar-like shit that Vasquez claims as his own, his gut twists. He's clawed to hell again, but the wounds look largely superficial, and the lingering throb at his neck tells him Vasquez must've gotten another taste. Faraday has no goddamn idea if he ought to take that as a good sign or bad.
He forces himself up onto the elbow of his good arm, in spite of how every inch of him pleads for him to stay down, and he casts around a little desperately.
[ Coming from weeks of watching Faraday and the wolf, Vasquez has a better frame of reference to observe the deterioration of the rational wolf (for all that the beast is rational). He used to think werewolves were feral whenever they changed, but seeing Faraday be himself has redefined the wolf's behavior on the full moon. The desperation drives it in a terrifyingly fierce way, and Vasquez can see animal give way to monster.
He expects the fight, unfortunately. He wasn't sure when it would come, but he braces himself for it as the hours wear on. He stays out of easy reach, and when the wolf lunges for him, Vasquez responds immediately in kind. Unlike the last moon, he doesn't try to talk the wolf down, because he knows there's no reasoning with it; the wolf comes at him with teeth and claws, and Vasquez does the same.
The chain comes in handy to distract the wolf with flashes of pain, and eventually, finally, Vasquez has done enough damage that the wolf is thoroughly wrung out.
Of course, that doesn't mean the beast immediately drops to the ground.
Of course not.
Vasquez is thrown free by the wolf, his fangs are wrenched from its neck. He ends up with a mouthful of fur for his trouble and teethmarks curling around his shoulder. His vision spins as he looks up at the night sky, the smear of pinpricks of stars overhead, and he huffs out a breathless laugh.
What a mess.
When the wolf doesn't get back up, Vasquez does the same.
Morning comes, and Vasquez's exhaustion from the night before is amplified by the sunlight. He's out like a light in the grass, covered in the wolf's blood and his own—
—and snoring.
Under his shirt, the bites and scratches are still open, but they look less like gaping wounds with the meager hours they've had to recover (with minimal blood from the wolf, comparatively). He's clearly not on any dangerous precipice, and he stirs when Faraday speaks. ]
Mmn—
[ He cracks one eye open, turning his head to look over at Faraday. ]
[ His gaze hones in on Vasquez, sprawled out in the dirt, and—
Once again, the bastard looks like he's been through the wringer.
Faraday winces to himself, scrubbing at the dried blood clinging to his beard and chin – though he knows there's nothing for it aside from another dunk in a river. He pushes himself up, holding his breath against the various warning flares from his various wounds – new and otherwise.
With obvious strain, ]
You look like shit.
[ Ostensibly a joke, but there's an undercurrent of genuine concern in his voice. ]
[ Which, considering everything that could have conceivably happened last night, he'll take as a win.
His hand goes to the ugly wound at the juncture between his neck and shoulder; it doesn't seem to be actively bleeding, and neither does it seem any worse than surface-level damage. ]
[ Faraday frowns all the more, looking uncertain as he traces the edge of the wound. Vasquez must've tried to take what he could from the wolf, but it clearly wasn't enough, considering his current state. The vampire's movements are slow, made with obvious effort – and considering the preternatural grace Vasquez usually exhibits, this is telling. ]
You look like you can barely move.
[ Hardly surprising, considering Vasquez looks about as sliced open as one could possibly get.
Faraday steels himself, gesturing to his neck. ]
Well, c'mon then. Hurry it up and take what you need.
[ Faraday's answering snort is definitely derisive. ]
You look like hell, Vasquez.
[ It's not as bad as the first time, Faraday is reluctant to admit, but it's still ugly. If this is how it's going to be every time, with the two of them mauling each other half to death every full moon—
Well. Faraday doesn't expect Vasquez will want to stick around for very long, if this is the course their travels are going to take. Then again, maybe Faraday is being too optimistic in assuming tonight hasn't changed the vampire's mind on riding out together from Rose Creek.
His jaw clenches at the stray thought as he tries to force it away. ]
You should've just chained it up and left it in the shed.
[ The wolf was slowed slightly by its injuries, but as the night wore on and it became more desperate and more feral, that shed would fold like a house of cards.
Vasquez scratches a few flecks of gore from his beard, shaking his head again. ]
He shifts back a little, trying to hide how difficult even that small movement is. He finds a nearby tree to lean back against and take the weight off the wounds throbbing around his chest. Ideally, he should lying down, but the concept sounds less than appealing, at the moment. ]
Maybe next time you'll damn well listen to me when I tell you to bring your guns.
[ Faraday sneers at that, frustrated beyond words. Vasquez has a point, obviously – and if Faraday's honest, they had been lucky that Vasquez was able to dig out the silver with relative ease during the battle in Rose Creek. There was every possibility that the silver might have shattered, might have broken into pieces too small and impossible to find.
He doesn't trust his future chances with another silver bullet.
He scrubs his face with both hands, taking a deep breath. ]
We're two for two on you wakin' up half-dead.
If you're there for the next full moon— [ And he's unconscious of the word choice. If, not when. ] —maybe you oughtn't follow it like you have been.
[ Vasquez breathes a rough sigh through his nose, rubbing at his forehead. Dealing with the wolf isn't easy, but he never thought it would be. It's a beast on par with his own strength, and unlike most things, it can do real damage.
The point about tailing the wolf isn't a bad one, though. ]
You want me to just let it loose? I follow so it doesn't find humans in the night.
[ He brings up his knees, resting his elbows on them as he tips his head back against the tree. ]
I've never had a minder. Used to be I'd just— scout out a place for a couple nights and hope for the best on a full moon.
[ Granted, he had no way of knowing whether or not anyone fell along his path during the night, and when the moon began to wane, he would spend a few days wondering if the lingering taste of blood on the back of his tongue was animal or human. ]
[ Vasquez's expression is somehow grateful and baleful in the same breath. ]
At least wash up. You smell.
[ And he eases down onto his back, this time without fully muffling the relieved groan as he stretches out. His shoulder throbs as he lies on it, and he's still acutely aware of the wounds, but he feels slightly less woozy when he's horizontal. ]
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no subject
This isn't a sign guaranteeing the whole tune of the evening, but at least this is easier.
As the wolf takes a seat, looking expectantly back at Vasquez, some of the tension eases out of the vampire's shoulders. He's careful about his approach, keeping his hands visible and his movement trackable, until he can lift away the wood barring the door. He steps back, out of the way, to let the wolf bolt as Vasquez expects it to. ]
no subject
The ring of wolfsbane gives it pause, makes it snarl in protest, but it rallies itself and leaps – and nearly collapses to the ground when its injuries shriek at the strain and the impact of its landing. It yelps, staggering, but instead of succumbing, it manages to get its balance again, keeping its hind leg lifted to avoid putting weight on it.
It turns gold eyes fixing on Vasquez – a warning to keep his distance – before it shoots off.
And to its credit, it heads off into the woods, ignoring the temptation to try its chances with the humans in the town. ]
no subject
—easily.
Vasquez may elect to forego that little annoyance at the next moon.
He can't help the lurching impulse that swarms up in his chest as the wolf stumbles – to just help it, to keep it from hitting the ground. Before he takes a step, the wolf recovers, and Vasquez immediately chastises himself for the slip. This isn't the time to be catching Faraday's falls – especially since Faraday isn't the one at the helm right now.
Vasquez's hand hovers again by his pocket, ready to snatch up the silver, but the wolf takes off in the right direction before he has to worry about it. He huffs out a soft breath of laughter. ]
Buena caza, mi perrito.
[ The wolf disappears into the trees, and Vasquez follows close behind. ]
no subject
It waits, as it always does, listening.
And as it always does, it never receives an answer.
It does what it does best, after that – running through the woods, hunting whatever poor creatures have the misfortune of falling along its path. There's no art to how it hunts, no strategy. It runs and runs and runs, killing anything it happens upon, rendering its prey into fleshy ribbons and mush when it has devoured what it could.
Its wounds slow it down, keep it from reaching its full potential, and as much as its body begs it to stop, to rest, it doesn't. That ungodly hunger, the desperate twisting pain in its stomach, drowns it all out.
(If Faraday were in his right mind, he might wonder how badly this night will have set back his healing.)
The wolf is intelligent, but it loses that as the night drags on, madness and rage and blood thirst overcoming its senses – until eventually, it's nothing but a feral, volatile monster. There's a wide-eyed wildness to its gaze when it sights Vasquez from a distance, and it only grows worse as the hours pass.
And eventually, it happens – it turns on Vasquez, barrels into him, tries to rip him to shreds as it had with all its other prey. Unlike its other prey, though, Vasquez is more than a match for it, is able to fight, is able to hurt it with silver and claws and teeth. But the wolf doesn't back down, doesn't shy away, as it should – even after that bitter, corrupted blood washes over its tongue, tasting like goddamn poison.
But Vasquez makes good on their agreement, taking what he needs from the wolf to keep himself in fighting condition, until eventually— the blood loss is enough to slow the wolf down. It manages to throw Vasquez off with its last bit of flagging strength until exhaustion finally overcomes it, sending it to the dirt.
The only blessing, Faraday will think later, is that he's unconscious when the sun rises and forces the wolf away.
For the second time in as many full moons, Faraday wakes up in pain.
He's covered in blood again – and when he recognizes that dark, tar-like shit that Vasquez claims as his own, his gut twists. He's clawed to hell again, but the wounds look largely superficial, and the lingering throb at his neck tells him Vasquez must've gotten another taste. Faraday has no goddamn idea if he ought to take that as a good sign or bad.
He forces himself up onto the elbow of his good arm, in spite of how every inch of him pleads for him to stay down, and he casts around a little desperately.
He croaks out, ]
Vasquez?
no subject
He expects the fight, unfortunately. He wasn't sure when it would come, but he braces himself for it as the hours wear on. He stays out of easy reach, and when the wolf lunges for him, Vasquez responds immediately in kind. Unlike the last moon, he doesn't try to talk the wolf down, because he knows there's no reasoning with it; the wolf comes at him with teeth and claws, and Vasquez does the same.
The chain comes in handy to distract the wolf with flashes of pain, and eventually, finally, Vasquez has done enough damage that the wolf is thoroughly wrung out.
Of course, that doesn't mean the beast immediately drops to the ground.
Of course not.
Vasquez is thrown free by the wolf, his fangs are wrenched from its neck. He ends up with a mouthful of fur for his trouble and teethmarks curling around his shoulder. His vision spins as he looks up at the night sky, the smear of pinpricks of stars overhead, and he huffs out a breathless laugh.
What a mess.
When the wolf doesn't get back up, Vasquez does the same.
Morning comes, and Vasquez's exhaustion from the night before is amplified by the sunlight. He's out like a light in the grass, covered in the wolf's blood and his own—
—and snoring.
Under his shirt, the bites and scratches are still open, but they look less like gaping wounds with the meager hours they've had to recover (with minimal blood from the wolf, comparatively). He's clearly not on any dangerous precipice, and he stirs when Faraday speaks. ]
Mmn—
[ He cracks one eye open, turning his head to look over at Faraday. ]
Some of us are trying to sleep, perro.
[ Ha... ha... ]
no subject
Once again, the bastard looks like he's been through the wringer.
Faraday winces to himself, scrubbing at the dried blood clinging to his beard and chin – though he knows there's nothing for it aside from another dunk in a river. He pushes himself up, holding his breath against the various warning flares from his various wounds – new and otherwise.
With obvious strain, ]
You look like shit.
[ Ostensibly a joke, but there's an undercurrent of genuine concern in his voice. ]
no subject
Says the man who always looks like shit.
[ He turns his head in the grass, clearly in no rush to get up. ]
How's your leg?
[ And his everything, technically. ]
no subject
[ Which, considering everything that could have conceivably happened last night, he'll take as a win.
His hand goes to the ugly wound at the juncture between his neck and shoulder; it doesn't seem to be actively bleeding, and neither does it seem any worse than surface-level damage. ]
How bad off are you?
no subject
[ He scrubs the heel of a dirty palm over his eyes. Moving reminds him of how sore he is, and he absently marvels at the sensation.
When was the last time he was sore?
(Other than the last moon.) ]
I just need to sleep when we get back.
no subject
You look like you can barely move.
[ Hardly surprising, considering Vasquez looks about as sliced open as one could possibly get.
Faraday steels himself, gesturing to his neck. ]
Well, c'mon then. Hurry it up and take what you need.
no subject
Our deal can wait until you're not falling apart.
[ Because honestly, Faraday's energy should go towards fully recovering.
Vasquez can get blood elsewhere. ]
no subject
Then, ]
I dunno how to tell you this, hombre, but between the two of us? You're the one who looks more like a chewed-up rag doll.
no subject
Then clearly you need to look in a mirror, cabrón. I just need time to wake up.
no subject
You look like hell, Vasquez.
[ It's not as bad as the first time, Faraday is reluctant to admit, but it's still ugly. If this is how it's going to be every time, with the two of them mauling each other half to death every full moon—
Well. Faraday doesn't expect Vasquez will want to stick around for very long, if this is the course their travels are going to take. Then again, maybe Faraday is being too optimistic in assuming tonight hasn't changed the vampire's mind on riding out together from Rose Creek.
His jaw clenches at the stray thought as he tries to force it away. ]
You should've just chained it up and left it in the shed.
no subject
[ The wolf was slowed slightly by its injuries, but as the night wore on and it became more desperate and more feral, that shed would fold like a house of cards.
Vasquez scratches a few flecks of gore from his beard, shaking his head again. ]
I can get blood from something else.
no subject
Assumin' you're able to stand up, at any point.
[ Faraday, clearly, has his doubts on that front. ]
no subject
[ How dare he.
Except Vasquez readjusts to get to his feet, and—
—his arm wobbles under him.
... This is not a shining moment in his centuries of life.
Vasquez's weight falls back on his ass, and now he looks genuinely aggravated. ]
... If I wait, more will heal.
no subject
Mostly, though, he's aggravated. Angry.
(guilty)
He offers a lackluster, ]
Told ya.
[ because that's what's expected of him.
He shifts back a little, trying to hide how difficult even that small movement is. He finds a nearby tree to lean back against and take the weight off the wounds throbbing around his chest. Ideally, he should lying down, but the concept sounds less than appealing, at the moment. ]
Maybe next time you'll damn well listen to me when I tell you to bring your guns.
no subject
He casts Faraday a half-hearted glare. ]
So what? I can shoot you?
[ He waves his hand dismissively. ]
I can't leave the silver in your body, and I do not see the wolf letting me dig it back out.
no subject
He doesn't trust his future chances with another silver bullet.
He scrubs his face with both hands, taking a deep breath. ]
We're two for two on you wakin' up half-dead.
If you're there for the next full moon— [ And he's unconscious of the word choice. If, not when. ] —maybe you oughtn't follow it like you have been.
no subject
The point about tailing the wolf isn't a bad one, though. ]
You want me to just let it loose? I follow so it doesn't find humans in the night.
no subject
Hell, I dunno.
[ He brings up his knees, resting his elbows on them as he tips his head back against the tree. ]
I've never had a minder. Used to be I'd just— scout out a place for a couple nights and hope for the best on a full moon.
[ Granted, he had no way of knowing whether or not anyone fell along his path during the night, and when the moon began to wane, he would spend a few days wondering if the lingering taste of blood on the back of his tongue was animal or human. ]
no subject
Ugh.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, waving again with his free hand. ]
I don't know – maybe I watch a perimeter next time. Make sure it stays in one area and only get close if it finds people.
[ Another heavy sigh. ]
No lo sé.
no subject
Just hurry up and take your damn nap. I don't wanna stay out here any longer'n I have to.
[ Especially considering neither of them have their guns.
And, you know. That Faraday is still in the buff. ]
no subject
At least wash up. You smell.
[ And he eases down onto his back, this time without fully muffling the relieved groan as he stretches out. His shoulder throbs as he lies on it, and he's still acutely aware of the wounds, but he feels slightly less woozy when he's horizontal. ]
Como un perro mojado.
(no subject)