undergrounds | [Closed] Steel to my tremblin' lips

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[Closed] Steel to my tremblin' lips

How did the night ever get like this? (May 11; Full Moon; for Fun Ghoul)
He wasn't trying to make it a habit to be out in the parks wolves liked to frequent during the full moon, but this one was close to home and he'd thought it was safe. Turns out a certain pup didn't get the unwritten memo and had decided to come sniffing around.

In Daryl's territory.

Letting out a low growl, Daryl approached the wolf - on the ground this time - attempting to warn him off from going any deeper into the scattered woods. This place was his hunting grounds and very much off limits.

One shot and the whiskey goes down, down, down (May 15; for Jean-Claude)
Guilty Pleasures still made him nervous to go to. Still too many bodies on display in ways his brother would have been hootin' and hollerin' about. Still too few places to slink off and be left alone at without having a perfectly good view of the stage. Sure, he knew that was the point, but that didn't stop it from making his fur stand on end. And of course there was Jean-Claude.

Jean-Claude and his office where the door could be shut and they'd be the only two people in the room. Just him and the vampire who always looked like his clothes had to be poured onto him with how tight they were. Well, mostly the pants. But that was enough.

Jean-Claude who smiled at him and looked at him like he was worth looking at. Jean-Claude who he didn't know if he was just another conquest to toy around with or not. And him. Daryl. Not sure if that was enough of a turn off not to try and go for it.

Also not the reason he came all this way.

Daryl took a deep breath and when the office door was opened for him, squared his shoulders and entered with head high. Like he wasn't walking into a snake's nest and could be bit at any time. Even if the biting would come from an awfully nice mouth he'd had far too many dreams about doing things it really shouldn't be.

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A frustrated, cranky Ghoul makes for a frustrated, cranky wolf. Coming here hadn't specifically been on his agenda, but Daybreak (and Richmond in particular) has been on his mind almost nonstop. Things tend to blur together strangely when he's a wolf; bits and pieces of ideas, impressions of things that have been bothering him- it's not surprising that he'd been drawn here after transforming.

He doesn't have full awareness, of course, so he has no idea what he's actually wanting to accomplish. All he knows is that he's extremely agitated, his nose to the ground as he searches for- something. Something that he hasn't pinpointed yet.

And he doesn't appreciate having his concentration broken. His head lifts at the sound of a growl, his ears pinning back as he locks eyes with Daryl. The scent is familiar. He knows this Not-Pack-But-Acceptable cat. If circumstances were different then Ghoul might've greeted him happily, perhaps tried to play. Now, though, he seems to hold no interest in the cat. He huffs moodily and turns his head away, resuming his sniffing and searching, giving Daryl a wide buffer of space as he continues moving into off-limits territory.

There's something Important around here.

That was a decidedly different greeting from the last time they'd met in these forms. But it was still not an acceptable one. The pup was trying to ignore his warning and keep moving into Daryl's territory. From the way he was sniffing around, he was tracking something. Which meant he was on the hunt.

Uh uh. Not happening.

Daryl moved to block Ghoul's path despite the large buffer of space given. Clearly cutting him off from going further. He let out another low growl that moved into a hiss as his own ears went flat on his head.

It is different- he's stressed, which is a pretty dangerous trait for a loose wolf to have. His head jerks up when he finds his path blocked again, and at first he makes a couple of short, high-pitched whining sounds as shifts his weight awkwardly like he wants to go around again. But ultimately his temper ends up getting the best of him.

His fur bristles up and his head dips low, teeth showing through a menacing growl of his own. The cat doesn't seem to realize who's bigger here.

The whining was new, too. Not that he whined, but the way he did. Like he was in deep distress over something. That ended quickly enough though and the wolf was ready to challenge him.

Daryl stayed still for the most part for several long seconds. Then his butt gave a tiny wiggle before he darted forward and swiped at the wolf with one paw in an attempt to get him to back off, that low growl that was almost a hiss emanating from him the whole time.

The claws weren't out. Yet.

God, it's a shame he's not himself. That butt wiggle would've been the funniest thing in the world, but that's not what he sees now. What he sees now is an attack, and it only makes him mad.

He makes all the snarling noise of a provoked canine and lunges forward, snapping jaws and all. It's clearly not a threat this time- he has every intention of sinking his teeth in and flinging him around a bit, since that's what usually works on things smaller than him. And the quicker he gets kitty out of the way, the quicker he can get back on track.

Daryl is able to avoid the teeth. This wasn't his first rodeo with a canine, after all. He knew how they moved. So when Ghoul lunged forward, Daryl darted to the side, reversing almost immediately as he launched himself toward the pup's back.

That part was instinct. Get his teeth sunk in somewhere soft and let gravity do half the work of pulling him down. In this case, though, he wasn't really out to eviscerate the kid. Just get him to back off and understand this wasn't his territory. So instead of going for the throat (tempting, tempting) he dug his claws into Ghoul's shoulder as his hind legs slid across the pup's back.

If Ghoul thought him being smaller meant he wasn't a threat, he was about to get a lesson in not underestimating an opponent. Daryl's weight belied a strength to match any werewolf's and he put it to good used pulling the pup down on his side.

Fighting a cat is a little trickier than fighting a dog. Cats are quick and can grab on in ways that he can't, with their stupid flexibility and stupid retractable claws. Claws that should hurt, and they definitely do to some degree, but currently he's too preoccupied by the scuffle to feel it to its full effect.

He's still very noisy, though, even as he half-falls/half-flings himself on to his side. Laid out on the ground is not where he wants to be, but it's easier to thrash and maybe dislodge his catpack that way.

The thrashing is a bit unexpected. Usually canines try to flip themselves back up onto their feet, not convulse like a fish out of water. It was enough to get Daryl to release his claws. He skittered away a couple feet and made himself look nice and small, ears laid back, all compact. Short little tail still save for the tip twitching in a way he couldn't control.

Ready to pounce.

The low sound that was half-whine, half-growl continued. He wanted Ghoul to back off. That was all.

Poor Daryl, he never asked for this. But he's the unfortunate bastard who broke the dam, and now all of Ghoul's pent-up aggression is going to end up misplaced on to him. Within a matter of seconds, he manages to scramble up again and as soon as he's back on all four paws, he's running at hunkered-down little Daryl.

If at first you don't succeed, try again? And get whooped again, probably.

Daryl skittered to the side, letting the pup pass him in his attempt to charge. His own paw darting out again to wallop him on the backside as he went by. Then he followed after, once more lunging at him in anticipation of Ghoul attempting to turn around. Hopefully he'd hit the wolf's side and send him down to the ground again.

The swat at his haunch isn't taken well. As predicted, he whips around with plans of biting that paw right off but what he's met with is a small, fluffy missile slamming in to his side, toppling him off balance.

It's not enough to flatten him out, but he loses his footing to the point of dropping down to the ground, staying low on his belly as he flattens his ears back and snaps his teeth threateningly. He's watching Daryl carefully, waiting for him to misstep- or get close enough for him to spring.

Well, it wasn't on the ground the way he'd wanted, but at least the pup was down and staying there. For the moment.

Daryl hunkered down again, getting himself compact just like before as he met Ghoul's eyes in a stare he hoped was at least a little intimidating. Then he spoke: "You need to stop, pup. Can you understand me? Stop this. Ain't your territory."

For the moment, indeed. He stays put, watching Daryl with one of those wild stares and growling at him. It's an awfully loud growl, maybe he can't hear Daryl's words over his own snarling.

Wishful thinking. Perhaps if he weren't so wound up, he'd be able to recognize voices or words. In his current emotional state, however, that's too much to ask. Language is nothing but noise to him- noise that he wouldn't mind cutting off entirely, so he does a quick little hop forward, snapping his teeth again.

Daryl returned the hop and snap with a loud hiss in warning. He was trying to be diplomatic and the stupid pup was too worked up to listen.

For the moment, since the pup seemed to be staying down out of wariness, Daryl stayed where he was. He'd move and retaliate if Ghoul came at him, but maybe he could wear him down with just a standoff. Get him to tucker himself out that way.

For a few seconds, it seems like a standoff might actually happen. He remains in place even if he does continue to make angry, threatening noises... but evidently he starts feeling either antsy or brave because all of a sudden, he's scrabbling forward. Lunging at Daryl once again.

Thinking taking down something this small should not be this hard is a bit too complex for him, although he definitely feels frustrated by the gist of that.

This time Daryl pivoted his body around so his hindquarters spun to the side while his upper body rolled and he could bap at Ghoul's face with his paws - claws out - when the wolf came in close. Flipping up to deliver a follow up swipe before any teeth could get sunk in anywhere uncomfortable.

The claws manage to get him in the face pretty good that time- there's a high-pitched yip of pain before he retreats backwards by a foot or two, his head shaking.

His face, Daryl. His face. That'll definitely leave a mark (or two) whenever he changes back, which is Very Rude... and besides that, blood shows up too easily on light fur. Double rude.

It's what he gets for trying to bite like that.

"Ya don't like that?" He grumbled, pulling himself back into that compact little pose of his. "Then stop it."

Another few seconds of staring down Ghoul before he sighed and stood up and took a step forward, this time purring low in his throat, "Come on, calm down already."

Ghoul's settled back down on the ground again, seemingly not aware of Daryl's approach. Sure, he hears him moving and making sounds, but his attention is elsewhere. His face is sore now, which is prompting him to rub against his forelegs in an attempt to relieve it. All that's doing is aggravating the scratches and smearing a bit of blood around.

At least it's his own blood, right? And this can, perhaps, be considered calming down... If he's busy fussing over his own face then he can't try to eat anyone else. Progress?

Daryl continued to be cautious in his approach despite how distracted Ghoul looked, taking each step nice and slow until he was right near the pup's shoulder. He increased the sound of his purring and moved in to nudge the kid's shoulder with his head. Far enough back that he could still dart away if Ghoul snapped. It might take a few times getting in and close, but the purring usually had a calming effect, no matter what animal he did it to. Eventually.

He doesn't realize how close Daryl has gotten until he feels the gentle headbutt against his shoulder. At that, he jolts in surprise, his head snapping up and the whole front half of his body whipping around to get Daryl back in his sight. There's no show of teeth this time, although he does let out a long, rumbling growl while watching the cat warily.

It's a tense stretch of time, but he seems to slowly realize what the sound Daryl keeps making is. A fucking purr- he doesn't know the word for it or anything, but as a human he's always been sort of a sucker for purring cats. It's that remembered impression that gets him to accept the sound as something positive, and what ultimately gets him to huff out a sigh. His ears are still folded back, because he's definitely still grumpy. But he seems much less frantic.

Stupid cats and their stupid noises.

As soon as Ghoul moved, Daryl froze. He stopped moving save for the purring and waited for the pup's response. He was internally relieved when the wolf eventually gave the sort of irritated sigh he recognized as resignation.

He might still be upset, but at least he wasn't looking like he'd attack when Daryl started approaching again. He did it slowly, letting Ghoul watch him this time. His steps bringing him once more against Ghoul's shoulder where he could curl up into the pup's neck in a tiny bundle of loud purring and fur.

These are low tactics. Just awful.

Ghoul breathes out another moody puff of air, sticking his nose in to the ridiculously loud ball of fluff at his side. Snuffling at it turns out to be a poor decision, as all that does is make him turn away and sneeze a few seconds later. Sneezes are better than bites, so perhaps it's not so bad.

Still, he's not exactly at peace. Although he remains where he is, he picks his head up, looks off in the direction he'd been traveling before, and whines quietly. Maybe Daryl has gotten distracted and forgotten that's his territory over there.

Daryl has not. But instead of hissing a warning, he reaches out with a paw to pat at Ghoul's nose and pull it back toward him as the purring continued. And once it was close enough? He started licking at the wounds he'd made as if in apology.

...of course, once he got going on grooming something with that much fur, he couldn't exactly stop at just a couple scratches. He stood and shuffled forward to get more comfortable while being able to hold Ghoul's face in place so he could move his tongue bath up the snout, over his forehead, and into the fur near his ears.

Sometimes instincts were hard to fight, okay?

He makes a disgruntled sound. Doesn't Daryl understand how serious this is? There's something bad there, something he has to get rid of, but then there's Daryl making all this loud rumbly noise and licking his head.

If there's any advantage to being a wolf with little control, it's the one-track mind. All the negativity he'd held over from before is extremely hard to cling to when he's having his face groomed, because this is fine. Maybe he can stick around for a second. That whatever-bad-thing isn't going anywhere, probably. What was it, anyway?

By the time Daryl's fussing makes it to ear-level, Ghoul's head has ended up resting against his forelegs and his eyes have ended up shut. Instincts are, indeed, assholes.

Daryl's purring stopped being forced at some point between taking care of Ghoul's nose and getting to his ears. By then, he was relaxed enough and focused on his task that he was actually in a decent enough mood. It took a bit of time before he was satisfied enough to leave Ghoul's head alone. When he did, however, he laid down next to the pup, pushing his back into the kid's neck and let his eyes shut. It was getting close to time for his mid-night naptime as it was. A comfortable spot next to the warm walking puffball was as good as a tree for that.

Ghoul drowsily picks his head up once the licking stops. Now that Daryl's done, he can go back to- oh.

He blinks, recognizing the feeling of his neck being burrowed in to. That's nap stuff. Usually nap piles are a pack thing, but this is okay. Maybe this is what he came out here for to begin with- he can't remember, it feels like ages ago now. Daryl seems pretty sure of himself, though, so he's probably right. Ghoul does a bit of squirming, laying his head back down and curling in a protective half-circle around the cat, because he is bigger and it only makes sense to shield him. Cat is small, after all. Something might try to snatch him up mid-nap.

Daryl is perfectly able to wake up at the drop of an acorn or the scuffle of a foot in the grass. Absolutely able to if he feels he's not sleeping in a safe enough place to really get a good cat nap. However, big warm wolf curled around him eventually becoming big warm human as the moon disappeared just before dawn apparently did not qualify as something that would wake him.

So when he eventually stretched himself awake in the light of the rising sun just after dawn, he was more than a little surprised to find himself snuggled into the warm stomach and arms of some punk kid.

Maybe if was careful, he could sneak away without being noticed before the pup woke up...

No such luck. Ghoul can sometimes be a heavy sleeper, but all of that flies right out the window when his comfort is being disrupted. Like now- his warm fuzz is moving away, and that almost immediately annoys him awake. It's bullshit, that's what it is. Everyone always thinks they can take his pillows and his blankets and whatever else whenever they damn well please, he's sick of it.

He grumbles angrily as he throws an arm out to yank his shit back, cracking an eye open seconds later.

Only to find a large cat nearby, not a blanket. When the situation sinks in he lets out an exasperated sigh, mumbling a sleep-slurred wordmash that could possibly be something along the lines of fuckin' serious? before he gently tugs a bit of kitty's cheekfluff. Just to antagonize him.

Fine, maybe he also gives it a little scritch afterwards. It's a cat. It's there. It must be petted, even if only briefly. It's a law, sorry.

Being unceremoniously yanked back against the kid pulled Daryl out of the decent enough mood he'd been in and right into cranky. The tugging on his cheekfluff did not help the situation, nor did the apologetic scratching afterward (though it did not go unappreciated).

Daryl leveled his best glare at the kid, "Yer in my territory. Leave."

Yeah, so, he could definitely talk while still a cat. He didn't particularly care if the pup recognized his voice, either. He'd recognize it soon enough from the scent if he hadn't already.

He looks puzzled- either by being genuinely glared at by an animal, by the fact that the very same animal is talking to him, or by realizing who it is. Forget the scent, that's an unmistakable voice. Even if it is coming from a cat.

Ghoul frowns and simply says, "Kay," though he makes no effort to move. At all. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he adds, "In a minute, swear. Fucking hurts." He's convinced that his joints age an extra ten years every month, and no one can tell him otherwise.

Daryl sits up, continuing to stare before he swivels his head around, ears perking, and makes sure the spot is still safe. Their little kerfuffle hadn't taken them anywhere near the main walking paths, so they were probably fine for the moment.

"What were you doing out here, anyway? This is awfully far for a wolf to go during the moon. You weren't thinkin' of marking this whole place up as yers were you?"

And here's another downside to being horrendously sore. He's trapped in an interrogation.

It's not even particularly a bad one, but he still flinches because sharing is hard. "I didn't get home in time." He'd gotten sidetracked with his project for Lillian, and he knows better than to outright say so, hey, I was nearby making a bomb and I ran out of time, my bad.

"You don't gotta worry about that though, I ain't interested in it." East End has their own piece, and he's not the type to strike up a whole new pack and a whole new territory on his own. He's happy where he is. But... "Just been thinkin' about some stuff around here a lot lately, I guess, and I dunno. It's hard to keep it all straight when you're four legged and furry, y'know?" Pause. "Well, maybe not." Stupid Daryl and his stupid control and his stupid... talking abilities.

It would have been easy to say 'maybe for you' and rub it in, but Daryl didn't. He may have been petty but he wasn't needlessly cruel.

"Yeah, I get it," he huffed out, the annoyance still there, but bleeding away. If the kid was just in the area there wasn't much to be done about it. "Guess it's better I found you 'fore you could get into trouble than not."

"I wasn't gonna get in trouble." The protest is out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop it, it's almost like an instinct that he can't help. And, clearly, he knows it's bullshit because he wrinkles up his nose only seconds after saying it.

He was absolutely going to get in to trouble. Some real shit would have gone down if he'd actually found witches or the Center- and even though he hadn't run across either one, he still ended up doing bad. Which he also knows (at least to some degree, the details are kind of fuzzy), if the glum look on his face is any clue. "Did I get you?"

Daryl snorted and chuckled, genuinely amused by the question, "As if a pup like you could've done anything to me."

He stood up, stretched, and padded the five or six inches it took to get into the kid's face. One paw came up - claws in - to press lightly against Ghoul's cheek. The paw was damn near the size of a human palm (minus the fingers) and he was gentle enough with the touch.

"I got ya pretty good right here, though. Shallow. Stopped bleeding hours ago. But you should be careful or it'll scar."

Daryl sounds awful sure of himself, but Ghoul's not convinced. The truth of the matter is that he hates this shit.

Maybe he was the only one to get hurt this time (as proven by the paw against his cheek, which makes it twinge a bit), but that's this time. He despises the fact that there will always be a next time. Someone's luck is bound to run out. Maybe Daryl's, maybe somebody else's. It's the worst kind of waiting game, and all he can do is give Daryl a tense, sad little smile as he reaches up and lightly strokes the fur behind one of his ears in a silent apology.

He doesn't stay silent for long, of course. "I like cats better when they don't run their fuckin' mouths." There, sass is better. He can handle that like a pro. "A gnarly lookin' scar might be kinda cool, though."

Daryl shakes his head to try and dislodge the fingers from their spot. He wasn't some pet and didn't need to be treated as such.

"I like pups better when they ain't tryin' to act bigger than they are," he returned and moved away several feet before shaking his body again and transforming back to human. Unlike many a shifter, his clothes came with him. A boon from a fae that he was grateful for. Came in handy in times like these.

He stood up and stretched, "Wasn't plannin' on staying out all night. Got a kid back home who's probably tearin' up the place. You safe to walk?"

Ghoul rolls his eyes. He's totally big enough to act however he wants... as a wolf. As a human, not so much. Which he is instantly reminded of when Daryl shifts back and stands there looking all tall and shit.

That won't do.

Step one is pushing himself up to sit, and he does so with a sour look on his face. It doesn't feel good, but it's fine. The norm by now. He waves a hand dismissively. "I got it. Just gonna be slow." There are leaves stuck in his hair, and his face is scratched up and dirty; he is not going to be dragged out of here in addition to all that mess. "You better haul ass back home before she decides to make her own cereal or somethin'."

He lifts his chin in a nod and starts to walk off. Long as the pup wasn't getting into trouble, things should be okay.

Jean-Claude is surprised at the announcement of who it is that has come to pay him a visit this time, but pleasantly so. If he were honest with himself, there is some part of him that had been worried he might have pushed things too far with the other man. But Jean-Claude never lets it be known that he is worried about anything, whether or not it is the truth.

He makes certain that he is posed behind his desk, as if he were in the middle of his work. As though he were not poised and waiting for the footsteps down the hall upon the announcement that there was a cat shifter by the name of Dixon here to see him. He glances up at the door as the bartender shows Daryl in the door of his office and the smile he offers the other man is soft and slow.

"I was beginning to think you did not like me anymore, mon chat," he says, by way of greeting.

Daryl had to stop in the doorway to catch his breath. It had been some time since he'd seen the other man, but he was just as frustratingly pretty as he'd been. Damn vampires and their lack of aging. Not that a couple months would have done much on that front, but it still felt like forever now that he was standing in front of the man.

He cleared his throat and took another step forward to clear the door and give it room to be closed behind him. Leaving just the two of them. Alone. Together. In the office. Together.

Suddenly it was stifling and Daryl felt like he'd have to shake his clothes to get some air moving. He cleared his throat again and crossed his arms. Nodded his head toward Jean-Claude, eyes meeting the man's before daring away almost immediately.

"Been busy," he said, gulping hard. "Lotsa shit been goin' on 'round the flat I rent. Some of it good. Some of it crap. Mosta the crap Daybreak's fault."

Jean-Claude offers the other man a smile, indulging him on taking his time on entering the office as he does. He can be patient -- he is a vampire after all. He has all the time in the world to wait. He has demonstrated this already, has he not? At least Daryl is inside his office with the door shut behind him, now. Progress, he thinks to himself, as he continues to smile at the other man.

"Oui," he replies, "they have been rather troublesome of late, have they not?" He gestures to a chair across the desk from him. "Would you like a seat? Or perhaps we might make ourselves more comfortable?" He tilts his head towards the sofa across the office, raising an eyebrow at the other man inquisitively. Does he enjoy the fact that he can get such a rise out of Daryl as this? Immensely, but it is an enjoyment built out of fondness for the other man, make no mistake.

Daryl's eyes darted between the couch and the chair and in the next moment he was striding to the chair. He needed his head clear and sitting pressed in close to Jean-Claude on the sofa was in no way conducive to that. Sitting across from him wasn't a lot better, but at least there wasn't any potential physical contact to get at him.

"I'm good here," he said, nodding a little too much in his haste. "Was actually somethin' I wanted ta talk ta ya about."

His accent thickening wasn't on purpose. It just happened when he got nervous.

Jean-Claude is a little disappointed that he cannot be closer to the other man, but he supposes he must be understanding of his hesitance. He offers him a simple smile and a slight nod before sitting back in the chair behind his desk and moving to lean his chin on his hand to cock his head at Daryl inquisitively.

"Something to talk to me about which has brought you out of your hiding? I am all ears." Now he might be taking the piss a little. It is sad, that the only thing to bring Daryl back to him should be business.

Daryl's nerves were more on display than they had been in a long time. And all of it had to do with the man behind the desk. This should have been easy. Step in, ask for a favor, step out. Instead it felt like he was talking to a grand jury with his freedom on the line.

"Came ta ask ya about returnin' that favor I did ya with the asshole." His words were a little slower than normal, clearly trying to figure out how to best put this. "Need some help with an asshole of my own."

Jean-Claude cocks his head at Daryl, studying his expression as he speaks. An asshole of his own, is it? "I welcome the chance to help repay you for your aide, mon ami," he replies. "Though you understand that I must be cautious. I need more information on what exactly it is that I am agreeing to. Who is this 'asshole' you speak of, and what exactly are you proposing?"

For it is sadly not what he would have wished to have brought Daryl back through his doors.

"Daybreak," he said straightforward. That much was easy to get out. "The Center of theirs. It's an eyesore and should be shut down. Only a couple ways to do that." He sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward, trying to get into the mind of all business and push the distraction of Jean-Claude away from his thoughts.

"They ain't done nothin' for no one in Richmond for over a year and they decide it's the perfect spot to put that thing? Uh un. Gonna take the district. Need... want yer help to do it."

Jean-Claude's lips quirk at the sudden change of word choice that the other man employs. Want, not need. Now that is more like it, he decides.

"You want our help to do it?" he asks. "My help?" For he is under no illusions -- it is him personally that Daryl came to speak to after all. He leans forward onto his desk, propping his chin on his hand as he does so. "You ask a great deal of me, you realize, mon ami. Samantha will not be well pleased. Not only with you for making such a choice to take her territory, but also with me, for taking your side against her."

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[Closed] Steel to my tremblin' lips

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