Post by ωΘĿƒ on Sept 7, 2010 20:37:54 GMT -6
So very odd, this place was. Like where he used to come from, but with buildings. There was activity in the day here, but it was a shadow - a lean and ragged thing subsisting on the meager ones that remained awake. And then the sun went down, and the moon came out. The stars shone bright and life, although singed by the burning cold and the searing darkness, emerged. It was remarkably similar, but the wolf felt no kinship with these things. They were dead. They smelled of rot and decay; they perpetuated this deathly stink about their town and they were like the most lowly of scavengers - eating all that they saw like ravenous dogs.
Not even a wolf would be so forthright... Not even a wolf in a world of ice.
And yet, it was interesting to walk just as the sun was going down, and just as the leering eyes were taking in his presence. They shone like stars, but with a cold light, not a beauty. It was predatory, and Le Cyll was particularly aware of those kinds of looks. He liked to be the one to give, not receive in this instance. The very thought of him as food for something else made his fur crawl as if with maggots.
And yet, this curious sensation he got from watching these eyes and avoiding them did not constitute his return to the town. He much preferred the school, and much preferred the twilight there. Here, however, he had met someone. Hendrix. A strange creature, to be sure. Mad as you could possibly be, talking to himself and listening to the things that they told him.
You should do the same...
"I'd rather not."
Yes, certainly a crazy one, that Hendrix. But he had said things... reminiscent of something Le Cyll had heard once. Perhaps more than once. He did not understand it, but the babbling of that lunatic had caught his attention in its tentative grips. He had thought much more about Hendrix after meeting him, and eventually, he had decided to see if the man would follow up on what he'd last said to Le Cyll. "we should do this again."
Well, perhaps not the exact wording, but paraphrasing him as he had, Le Cyll gleaned the meaning and attempted to test it. With no luck, he might add. He had seen the man before in the bar, on the rare occasions he'd come; and yet he was nowhere to be found this night.
Then, something very strange happened. Le Cyll smelled blood.
You might not think it so much to be an odd smell, considering the location, but indeed he'd never scented even a drop of blood in Colleger before. He imagined it dried up quickly... But this. What was this? A dying thing, he might think. So much of a smell, and so close. His first impulse was to avoid it - being painfully aware that blood meant food, but also being aware that blood meant these eyes were more so eager to come out and find the source of this blood than he. Though, on second impulse...
None of them had come out yet. They could not, he surmised. This left him a small window of opportunity - if only to see what this strange smell was about.
So he followed it, and where the yellowed and nearly depleted rays of the sun seemed to all convene for a final display of light, he found it.
....him. Hendrix.
Immediately, Le Cyll reverted to his true form. Not out of any kind of fright or loss of control, this. But humans were owkward things. Hendrix was lying bleeding on the floor. He did not have to be highly observant - which he was - to notice something may be awry, and he may need the more adept abilities of his birth form than those of his secondary, lesser form.
Ears flicked forward and muzzle to the ground, Le Cyll inched forward. Why...? This was a good question to begin with. Why was Hendrix on the floor bleeding. Who would be a next best one; because had it been any of the owners of these eyes, he doubted they would have left him in such intact condition.
And this was a relative term he used. Le Cyll did not move toward Hendrix, but circled him, confused, cautious, wary that this might be some sort of trap.
Yes, yes... A trap for you... Run. Run! Leave him!
Head bent low, ears rotating over every direction of this open space, Le Cyll remained perfectly still.
"...You can't stay here."
Relevant enough, but it seemed not to convey all of what needed to be said. "are you okay?" would have been a good one. Even "do you need help?" obvious as it seemed, would have been better. However, it didn't really concern him to make conversation at such a time.
He would like to leave. Now. Hendrix might want to consider the same option, although he may not be as capable as the wolf.
....and so, working this all through as methodically as possible, Le Cyll came to one singular conclusion: He would not bother with the pleasantries, or the caution. Nothing had happened, but it would soon. It was getting dark... Impending danger. He would have his questions answered later.
Shifting awkwardly at first, from one paw to the other, Le Cyll tried to see how exactly he would do this. So many wounds... He would have no choice but to aggravate a few for the sake of Hendrix as a whole.
So, without anymore adeiu, Le Cyll nudged his nose under Hendrix' back, sliding him up between his wings and holding him there as he made a hasty retreat to somewhere less imperiling.