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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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.

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[Closed] Steel to my tremblin' lips

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