middaeg | [CLOSED] Feb catch-all.

[One long, arduous, (and honestly? Kind of exhausting) week of work later, and Cloud finds himself back within Aefenglom proper. He doesn't like this place, he's come to realize.

It's a lot of things. The aesthetic of the city, with cobblestoned streets, horses and carriages mixed with the industrial nature of the place reminds him, vaguely, of Midgar's upper plate, and the way that the locals, even after all of the time they'd had to get used to them still rub him the wrong way with their stares and their remarks about monsters- and honestly, the fact his lupine ears mean he can pick up the faintest whisper hasn't helped in that regard.

But. He's here.
The photo place isn't that hard to find. As mentioned, it's bang in the middle of town, and it doesn't take long to get there. And as he enters, with a swing of the door and maybe even a bell chime from one affixed to the back of it-]

I'm looking for a guy called Prompto.

[Brisk. Direct. To the point. But maybe his eyes widen as he takes sight of the man that was also a shibe. For no reason at all. Nope.]

...You know where he is?

[The Sly Sea Dog sure as hell was just as rowdy as described. The patronage was almost entirely monster as well, and as such, the place wasn't entirely unused to scuffles. One of such was threatening to happen right now.

It wasn't as if monsters were argumentative by their nature. Just... territorial, sometimes, and some of them? They hated each other just because. It seemed to be that way for Cloud, anyway. Not long after he'd walked inside, bought himself a drink and settled into some corner of the bar (...half wondering how the hell he was to identify the hound which had spoken to him without knowing anything about them) he finds himself approached by another turnskin.

Not a hound. More like a tiger, if the scent and the eyes were anything to go by. And there's a saying about cats and dogs.

He's not happy he's been approached by some asshole looking for a fight, sure. But there's something else, too. Something he can't explain, can't even really understand. Something that gets his fists clenched and his heart rate up, even if he's doing his very best to seem surly, disinterested.]

... I can smell at least five other canine turnskins here. [He states, lowly, carefully.] And you're going for me.

[He raises his eyes- too bright eyes to the tigerman.]

I get it. Pick a fight with the person you ain't seen here before, the one that probably doesn't have backup. Coward.

[Cloud had told Aerith that it would be a few days time until he could get to Aefenglom, but honestly, his concern had made the trip that much shorter because... well, he wasn't stopping. Not for the night, not for bad weather, not for Clywd, not for... well, anything.

He's there tired, sure. He's there borderline exhausted, actually. But he's there, having got the location of Tifa and Aerith's place from Zack as he travelled. And he's letting himself in, not giving a damn for conventional manners associated with knocking at someone's door. Nope.]

Tifa?

[They hadn't taken her to the Coven, had they?]

[As stated, on the next full moon, Geralt would possibly note something vaguely familiar in the section of the forest of which he hunted.

Maybe he'd remember the presence as something that occassionally ventured into the outskirts of the grounds he'd chosen as his- there briefly, fleetingly. Something hesitant, something that never allowed their paths to cross. It's still hesitant. It could have been noted a few times as it enrouches on neutral territory, and its hesitance would perhaps indicate that it wanted no part of any meeting.

But it's there.
Should Geralt follow its scent, track its movements and find it, it would be in a clearing. The creature is almost certainly a wolf- that's for sure- but it's smaller than others of its kind. Its fur is, like most wolves, its summer coat, a bright blonde, with darker patches only visible at the base of its tail. Yet its eyes are unusual. The wolf's eyes are an unnaturally bright blue- practically glowing in the dim light.

And the wolf spies him.
From where it had been absently smelling the ground, it raises its head, and its lips curl upward in a faint snarl.]

[ Like usual, Geralt takes to the woods when the moons shine. Rare that he's too far from one of his bonded during the full moons, but lately his mind has felt clear enough during his shift to venture a bit without either Jaskier or Yennefer right by his side.

Besides. He's curious if the Turnkskin he'd spoken to might make an appearance. A few Turnskins have crossed his path. None have been a wolf like him.

Well. Almost like him. Not quite. The wolf he sees in the distance is smaller than he expects. Geralt, by contrast, is larger than most wolves, thick coat a shining white under the moonlight except where scars have left the fur missing. His medallion circles his neck -- an emblem those who've met him before might find familiar.

The Turnskin hadn't said who he was when he'd asked for company. It's the eyes that clue him in: that luminescent blue. There are only two people here who share that color. Not entirely a stranger of a Turnskin, then. Even if he knows more of Cloud through Zack than through Cloud himself.

Geralt takes a single step forward before stopping as the wolf lifts its head. He tilts his own head, watching with ears perked. Hard to say how much of himself Cloud retains on the full moons. He waits instead, sitting down to let the other Turnskin examine him at will. Just in case his size comes off as a threat by itself. ]

[Prompto turns around and just sort of chuckles because honestly now. Two blonde dogboys with spiky hair?

Though this guy's looks a bit less gelled.]

Thaaat's me. How can I help ya?

[The big wolf sits down?

That's confusing, and the smaller one seems confused. It doesn't take its eyes off the larger one. It knows, well, not to do that- lest it invite teeth at its neck or claws. It hesitates though. Its gums retract over its teeth, and it paces from side to side, breath coming out of its nose in a faint mist against the cold air.

It doesn't know what to do.
This large wolf seems benign. It seems content to just stay there, and it shows no signs of aggression. So, what seems like inch by inch, the smaller one paws its way over, raising its snout as it does.

This wolf smells okay.
He can't see teeth, can't hear a growl, and doesn't detect any malice. So as he gets closer, it's not without a faint, small sound.

...Yes, he borked.
If he remembered anything about this? He'd probably dig himself a hole.]

Uh..

[They're about the same height too. Weird. This guy though, he's not like him. He's outwardly cheerful, even downright sunny. But that's not important. He tries not to linger, instead making his way to the counter, allowing his gaze to drift to the assorted bits and bobs, and all of the merchandise behind it.]

I spoke to you on the network. ...Mostly about your chocobo. I'm Cloud. You wanted to go hunting, right?

[ The tiger was popping his knuckles, rolling his neck, and staring down daggers at Cloud, not even put off by those shining eyes of his. He snorted, speaking nothing to confirm or deny what Cloud was saying, but it was still pretty obvious. Cloud was new, unspoken for by a regular. That meant he had to get put through the rough...

Well. He was unspoken for only for a moment more, at least.

A woman seemed to just appear from behind the tiger, swinging a blood red actual spear to cross over the tiger's shoulders and slap into him, her leg kicking out his at the same time to send the giant brute crashing to the floor, drawing plenty of eyes to the scene.

The woman, her tail wagging and her laughter brought, spun the spear back around to rest on her shoulder, stepping on the tiger's stomach and digging her heel in, just slightly. ]

Ah, Tim, what have I told you time and again about bullying the newbies? The owner's gonna have your tongue for it. I think only buying the whole room a round will make up for it this time...

[ As the smaller wolf approaches, Geralt leans in, giving Cloud a sniff of his own. Hmm. No fear or aggression he can smell. He has to wonder what Cloud has been doing during his change if not hunting. He can't imagine avoiding that instinct for long -- it's nearly overpowering for him.

The sound Cloud makes is friendly enough. Geralt's tail thumps once on the ground before he gets up. Seems he's been accepted. That's all he needs to be going. The moons make him restless.

When he speaks, his voice is even rougher than his usual, jagged around the edges. ]

This way. [ He turns around. He's been through enough full moons by now to know a Monster can't always talk during a shift. Worth a try, though. Maybe Cloud at least understands the words. ] You remember me?

[The only reason Prompto isn't having a Moment is this guy is way too beefy to be a clone.

He grins when the guy gives his name.]

Yeah, or at least run with you while you hunt. Not, uh, not too sure how good I'll be at the hunting.

...Why d'you want to see it?

[That question comes first. A few others come to mind, sure, but that's most important. As well as something else.]

...I don't remember anything when I change. Pretty sure I don't act like myself too. You sure you want to do this?

[His eyes can't help but shift to the woman as she plays across his field of vision. He's concerned, of course- that this person is something to do with the tiger, that some act of violence is going to come from her- from somewhere he can't see, that the tiger's going to follow up with as many cheap shots as it takes for him to feel he's done something worthwhile with his time at the bar today.

But that's not what happens. Stupid as the man is, obnoxious as he is, ...as disgusting smelling as he is, he's damn good cover. He's broad. Burly, one might say, and tall besides. So as the spear's shaft strikes him squarely between the shoulders, he doesn't fall forward to crush Cloud underneath his bulk. He whirls around, or attempts to- before the woman's kick forces his knees to buckle, forces him backward.

Her heel is planted squarely on him, preventing him from getting up. And normally, Cloud would take it as a cue to leave. Let the both of them do whatever roughhousing they wanted, it was none of his concern anyway.

...But he doesn't. Mainly because now, he smells hound.]

Pass. [At the upcoming drink offer.] I don't want anything from someone like him.

[And. With her foot still on his gut:]

We talked on the network.

[Speech was certainly not a trait he shared. If anything, the moon seemed to take away far more than it gave. His sense of self was entirely gone. As were subsequent memories from the time he spent changed, reduced to bursts of hazy, foggy actions. The ground behind close. Moving at great speeds. The taste of blood and sinew. Nothing solid- more like the vague feeling of familiarity when recalling a dream.

The smaller wolf attempts to answer, but fails. He gives it a damn good shot though- puzzlement on its features as it licks at his chops, swallowing before making an attempt- something which sounds like a cross between a whine and a low grumble. Finally, it tilts its head, as if it, itself doesn't understand a single word that came from the larger one's jowls.

It moves its head around, ears swivelling at something. And it sniffs, just faintly- before barrelling off.

Follow? y/n.]

[Prompto just sorta shrugs.]

I've...been here a while. Like, over a year a while. The transformations kinda suck, and it sucks more when no one's around to distract you or keep you company, y'know? Besides, maybe with a buddy you'll be more yourself?

[ Well. An attempt was there. Geralt's not judging; he'd attacked anything that moved during his early moons, never mind said a word. He's about to head off to see if the wolf will at least understand to follow when Cloud takes off in the opposite direction.

His own ears swivel. Geralt doesn't hesitate to run close behind, longer strides catching up without much effort. Lots of smells and sounds in these woods. He can't say what caught Cloud's attention in particular.

But he does know there are not only prey here. Other Monsters venture into these woods, same as them, not always with a clear mind. One run-in with a dragon was enough for Geralt (he still has that scar from Eren). He knows better than to let Cloud go too far on his own, as lost in the change as he seems to be right now. ]

Edited 2021-02-09 01:30 (UTC)

Pleasure to meet you, lad.

[ Tim gathered up himself, and his shattered dignity, and grumbled off to leave them be. He knew better than to try his luck with that woman...

Scathach, for her part, settled herself down at the table Cloud had been sitting at, signaling for her drink to be brought over. From that close, her features were more obvous. He drooping ears matched her hair so well as to nearly be unseen, but patches of fur still peaked up over the loose collared blouse she wore. ]

I could tell from just the way you stood there against him you're no slouch. He would never have seen the first blow from you coming...

[ Her instincts were sharp, as well... ]

[Its always unique, going through the woods like this. Humans tend to stick to paths, but animals? Not so. Anything is a path. Everything is a path. And running, quickly, underneath ancient, gigantic tree roots protruding from the ground, through thick, spined thickets without any fear of becoming entangled, across wide open areas, and barrelling down almost sheer cliff edges is cathartic. Running with someone capable of keeping up, not needing adjusting for, or looking back on, is just as cathartic.

The forest grows darker as they reach the belly of it. Then it starts to grow lighter, more sparse, less full of interesting things and more devoid, empty- a signal of human woodcutting and exploration- and then finally, they reach another edge of it. Another dip lies in the way before them, and the smaller wolf comes to a halt, lying down on its stomach. its jaws open and it pants mist into the night air, looking to the larger one and then to what lies below, in the little valley.

A settlement. Nothing substantial. More a single farmstead, a rickety fence running around it, perhaps thirty sheep lying bundled together, asleep in various places within the fence. Between the greasy, earthy smell of the animals is something synthetic- a multitude of manufactured scents. A human. A closer look, in the dark, would show one sitting on his porch. Some accompanying smell of gunpowder, as well as a glint in the dim moonlight should indicate he has a musket on his lap.

But then there's barking.
Distant barking, coming from the farmstead, proof of its new additions. Mastiffs. Large, muscled, lumbering things, running to the edge of the fence and allowing all hell to break loose from their mouths.

The smaller wolf stands, evidently surprised, a low growl coming from him, as well as a bristle.]

[He's explaining, sure. But something seems off- something seems to be unsaid, and... well, honestly, he gets what's unsaid more than what's said. Being here for that long, no-one being around.

Maybe people have left.
...And he gets it. He really does. ]

Right.

[He should probably tell him that hunting isn't the best thing. That maybe he just needs other people, and not monsters, but...]

You familiar with the forest?

[So many people have left. It's part of the reason Prompto reached out in the first place--he's lonely.

But he's never gonna admit that.]

Familiar enough, yeah. I don't go out into like a lot of people do, but you don't live here for that long and just. Avoid the forest, y'know? It's literally right outside!

[ His initial thought is that Cloud is going towards the herd of elk he can smell in the air. The further they go, the more he realizes the scent is fading. That the trees are fading, too. He recognizes this path. Not consciously, but a vague memory of having come here or some place like it: the thick scent of sheep and manure and chickens.

He pauses at the edge of the land. When the wolf had sought to hunt, he'd presumed hunting. Even with Cloud's state of mind -- he remembers being eager to sink his teeth into anything that looked like food, but more than that, he remembers desiring a good chase. Livestock hadn't been on his mind. Not at first, before hunger overtook all else.

Shit. It isn't the morality of it he's concerned about. At least, it isn't the main thing he's concerned about. Sheep can be replenished. But there's a human there, watching. Dogs on alert. The last thing he wants is a man clawed to death or either of them winding up with a cross bolt in the throat. Word getting out of feral wolves roaming. Geralt knows full well he's recognizable in either form. Hard to miss, the way he looks.

He steps in front of Cloud, to try and stop him from going further. ] Wait. Not here.

[In the late hours of the full moon, someone's home. As there tends to be on nights of the full moon, there's a bit of a ruckus outside. Banging, scratching, and pacing until he discovers a way in, and then the sound of something heavy barrelling its way up the stairs.

There's pacing in the hallway, and then a bang as the creature forces its way into Zack's room by pushing its face against the door until it gives way. More pacing, probably in a circle, and then...

Well, the bed sags- combined weight and all. There's a faint sensation of something cold and wet at the back of Zack's neck as the creature huffs in his scent, and that's followed up by a series of scratches to his shoulder, intended to rouse.

....The scratching. It's wet.
Something doesn't smell good, either...

What do.]

[Hm.]

You know the clearing? It's about a half mile in, south of the houses that're burned out. I can meet you there at the full moon, if you want.

[Small pause. He's concerned, vaguely. There's monsters there, as well as worse things nearby. And Prompto said he was a shiba inu, right? So... he can run. But still. He's kind of concerned that he can't defend himself.]

Or I can meet you on the edge of town. ...I can't stay there for long though. The natives get weirded out seeing me.

Yeah, likewise.

[His gaze flicks upward when he hears the sound of a chair scraping against floor, but he says nothing. If he didn't want her to sit and talk, he wouldn't be here after all.

But the compliment. That makes his gaze move away, in some sort of vague modesty. Is it modesty? Or is it more the fact that he's disconcerted to have been seen through so easily? Who knows. Maybe it's both. But, he's pretty quick to respond.]

No idea. He might've been more monster than human. Besides, last thing I want's his friends too.

[A small pause. And:]

...So why'd you answer? No offense, but I don't get why a hound'd wanna hunt.

[A quiet whine comes from him as Geralt moves to block his sight, his tail falling from where it'd been bobbing behind him, to lightly touch the ground. He seems all the more confused, his head tilting ever so- but he seems to understand.

It's a good thing he does.
Because as the mastiffs, huge, lumbering things, each wearing spiked collars (...to prevent something biting their neck? Had the farmstead been attacked before?) continue to bark at the elevated position of which Geralt and Cloud are, the human finally becomes aware. He shouts into the darkness- discharges a few bolts as well.

You ain't getting any more of my babies!

Babies? The sheep? The dogs? Or something else? There's not all that much time to ponder that. The man keeps firing, and a few of his volleys are getting close.

Time to go? Probably.]

[CLOSED] Feb catch-all.

[CLOSED] Prompto;

[CLOSED] Scáthach;

[CLOSED] Tifa;

[CLOSED] Geralt of Rivia;

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[CLOSED] Zack;

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