My Weird Analogies Really Make this Piece
Jun. 16th, 2014 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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hc_bingo, prompt "First transformation">
He felt a chill deep in his bones, and knew that it probably was coming from them -- it was never this cold in Rezten in the summer unless it was accompanied by a massive storm, and the faint fog-drizzle certainly did not count. With a shiver, Gareth pulled his coat tighter around him, though only half way; while he could feel the motions in both of his arms, there was actually only one left to accomplish the task.
With a grimace, he tugged the other part of jacket and awkwardly pressed his arm against his chest. It would have to do as he tried to navigate the Rezten streets home.
Andy had argued for hours to not let them go out alone, but Gareth was tired of the babying, of feeling Andy's bright yellow eyes following his every move, tucking his coat without confirming or helping him open doors when the wrong arm reached out. Every time he felt more of his pride drying out, and it felt like papery whisps were left in his brain and heart. He needed freedom; he needed to be Gareth, the crazy tough lawyer again.
It was hard being crazy tough when one was freezing to death and lost.
Rezten had changed after the war. The city never did get invaded, but the outskirts were bombed, and even slums could look worse when a bit of flaming schrapnel was applied. He used to know the streets, which were okay, which were a death's trap... Now most of them were collapsed rubble, and the rebuilded shacks were made from that rubble, and everything looked all the more dismal and strange. This did not feel like Rezten. It felt like the remains of Io.
He winced at the memory of a cannonball slamming moments from where he had been, taking his arm as a prize--
That wasn't in his mind.
Gareth froze, arm falling to his side in a weak fist. The noise came again, but multiplied -- growling. He knew Andy's growl -- usually faint toward him, a warning more than a threat -- but these were louder, angrier, and desperate.
He backed up a few steps before remembering there was no where to flee to. Perhaps it was this was a few years back, he would know, but then he would have his arm, and Andy could be beside him without shame coating Gareth better than his lover's fur.
The first wolf slipped out from an alleyway -- scrawny and matted, his bright blue eyes burning. He walked with the slightest limp, but that was still an advantage against Gareth. At least the were had that limb at all. Then the second jumped down from above -- a freakishly large house cat, looking only a bit healthier than the wolf, though her hazel eyes were too big for her face. And the last staggered out from behind the werewolf, though Gareth was not sure what he was. The were was stuck half-transformed, with most of his fur in patches on sweaty skin, his cheekbones prominent on his face sore-covered face. Half of a tail hung limply just above his oddly-bent legs, but his bony hands had brutal claws that could rival a demon's.
Their stare was anything but friendly.
"Easy, friends." Gareth cringed at his weak voice more than the wolf snapped his teeth.
"We're not friends." The half-were beast spoke in a strange hissing lisp. Gareth wondered if perhaps he was a sick demi, and not a were at all.
The wolf licked his lips, and Gareth felt his stomach churn. Great Dragon, they were hungry.
Food had become horribly scarce during the bombing and siege of Rezten, and a few months after the truce was signed, things had barely improved. The farms south of Io and Antelon had been completely burned, while the ports along the river were all destroyed. While the train tracks north of these cities were still standing, Pooselridge had stubbornly refused to add Welen since declaring its independence. Frenton had been left unsustainable after the rebellions to begin with, and rumour was that the city was deserted or dead, with the farmers effectively locking themselves in and shooting at any trespassers. The only food came from the Port of Rezten, and that was mostly seafood, with the occasional ship bringing other goods.
It was a famine of horrible proportions, and as always, the humans were not the ones to suffer the most.
"Look. I could buy you food." It was only half-true; Gareth had lost most of his money when Io was sacked, and what funds he did have could not buy a commodity that did not exist."
"The guards said the same thing." The half-were let the wolf and cat go ahead of him, sizing Gareth up. The wolf snapped at Gareth's foot and caught some of his pants.
Cannibalism was rumoured to be rampant up in Frenton. It made brutal sense that it would descend upon Rezten too, but somehow those dark thoughts always belonged to other people. Even Gareth, a lawyer for weres and vampires accused of eating humans, had comfortably assumed he would never have to deal with such a situation. Sure, the occasional accusation turned out to be true, but it would never happen to him, never in a city...
The cat lunged, claws out and aimed straight for his face. Gareth put his arm up, remembered the arm wasn't there, and threw himself to the ground instead. The cat soared above him with a hiss, but the wolf was already at him, enclosing his shoulder instead of his throat as Gareth turned. Pain like flaming needles arced through the joint and down his missing arm, and Gareth screamed as he thrashed a limb that wasn't there, trying to dislodge teeth that dug into muscle.
With a jerk, the were tried to tear off flesh, instead getting mostly clothing and skin; he had dug in deep, but did not have the strength he no doubt once possessed. Gareth watched in pain as the wolf began devouring his catch anyway, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had gotten more air than food -- and then the cat slammed into his back, gouging his flesh as easily as soft butter on a warm spring day.
Pain and panic blossomed in his mind, the perfect match to die with. Gareth struggled to throw the cat off, but he was lying on his remaining arm, and barely boxed the cat's ears with his stump. Desperately he threw one of his legs back, sending his foot slamming into her hindquarters -- her back claws dislodged more from surprise, though he felt the tips poking through his jacket, and as he looked up toward the sky half-mad he saw the half-were hovering over him with some sort of weapon.
Dammit, he felt really fucking strange. His throat seemed to be undulating like the tide, and Gareth frantically rolled toward the cat, forcing her to dislodge or be trapped against him. With his good hand he reached out to try and block the half-were, while his missing one went for his throat. He could not seem to breath, and opened his mouth to gasp--
And instead he fucking howled, a full wolf's cry that startled his attackers as much as himself. The sound echoed off of the buildings, and far in the distance, he heard someone howl back: Andy.
Gareth stared dumbly at the were beast, faintly relieved to find him staring dumbly back. Then the man began to back away, eyes widening, and Gareth wondered how a howl could be that scary... And then his legs suddenly jerked, then bent in ways no human knees were meant to do. Gareth screamed, trying to curl into a ball, but his body was not paying attention. His shoulders popped and shifted while his chest bloated outward, ribs expanding, and something pushed out of his tailbone and toward his legs, and then Gareth could not keep track of it all through the pain and agony, thrashing.
He smelled piss and fear, some of which smelled like him. But the rest was distinctly different, two other beings, and he heard scuffling backward and a little yelp that hit his ears like a whistling bomb. With a snarl, instincts pushed through the pain and he rolled to his feet, tail held high, teeth bared-- and then he lost his balance and collapsed onto his side with a startled yap, the moon too bright in his eyes.
"A were? Fuck, you didn't smell like-- Ben!"
"He wasn't." The voice was surprised and earthy, whines and growls underneath. "The smell was another were."
The conversation made no sense. He was not a were. He was a human, but what humans had tails and fur and as he looked down he realized Great Dragon he had a paw.
Paws echoed on the crumbling stone street, well down the road. The cat hissed and Gareth jerked his head to look at her. His blood reflected the moon on her claws.
"Are we goin' to eat 'im or what?"
"Fuck, Jen, he's a..." The half-were trailed off.
"He was a human a minute ago, I say he's still dinner." And the cat's paws hit the ground softly, but loud enough for his ears to perk and swivel toward. With a growl Gareth sat up as best he could, fur bristling like needles down his back. The cat hissed, ears flat. "Yeah, you have teeth now, but I still have all of my paws, so..."
"Jen." Ben spoke quietly, but urgency pitched his voice. "We gotta run."
Gareth's head jerked when the half-were moved -- but it was away from him, staring down the street, tightening his grip on his hammer. Ben rose and moved toward the alley, growling as the paws continued hitting the ground, one-two, one-two.
But the werecat's focus was all on him; Gareth turned back to see her crouching down to pounce, eyes shining with hunger. Gareth dragged himself to put his rump toward her, teeth still bared, but held tight toward his throat. Behind him, the shuffling of the half-were became muted in the alleyway.
"Jen." The werewolf whined. "Ru--"
The one-two, one-two ended abruptly with a snarl and a heavy slam; Ben's voice was cut off in a strangled yelp, and a dark blur rushed around Gareth and hit the surprised werecat hard. Bone snapped like haunted wind chimes, continuing as the large cat was shaken by a force not much bigger than she. Then she was tossed aside and Andy turned, blood dripping from his teeth and fur, looking more bear than wolf as he stared after slipping paws running toward the alley.
They listened to the noise of the attackers running or hiding, until the night was silent but for Gareth's ragged breathing. He nearly jumped out of his fur when Andy touched his wet nose to his shoulder, then promptly wished he had.
If he left his fur, perhaps he would be human again.
Jeez, this is even darker than the first writing of this story. But once I saw the prompt, I knew I had to rewrite when Gareth first morphs into a werewolf.
Need to clean it up some so the plot is less stereotypical and to make sure my metaphors aren't completely batshit insane. Comments welcome. Obviously, the comfort part is still to come.
Fun fact: every time I write Gareth, I get his pronouns wrong at least once.
Fun fact two: I first wrote that the cannonballs were sleeping. Slackers.
Tschuess.
hc_bingo, prompt "First transformation">He felt a chill deep in his bones, and knew that it probably was coming from them -- it was never this cold in Rezten in the summer unless it was accompanied by a massive storm, and the faint fog-drizzle certainly did not count. With a shiver, Gareth pulled his coat tighter around him, though only half way; while he could feel the motions in both of his arms, there was actually only one left to accomplish the task.
With a grimace, he tugged the other part of jacket and awkwardly pressed his arm against his chest. It would have to do as he tried to navigate the Rezten streets home.
Andy had argued for hours to not let them go out alone, but Gareth was tired of the babying, of feeling Andy's bright yellow eyes following his every move, tucking his coat without confirming or helping him open doors when the wrong arm reached out. Every time he felt more of his pride drying out, and it felt like papery whisps were left in his brain and heart. He needed freedom; he needed to be Gareth, the crazy tough lawyer again.
It was hard being crazy tough when one was freezing to death and lost.
Rezten had changed after the war. The city never did get invaded, but the outskirts were bombed, and even slums could look worse when a bit of flaming schrapnel was applied. He used to know the streets, which were okay, which were a death's trap... Now most of them were collapsed rubble, and the rebuilded shacks were made from that rubble, and everything looked all the more dismal and strange. This did not feel like Rezten. It felt like the remains of Io.
He winced at the memory of a cannonball slamming moments from where he had been, taking his arm as a prize--
That wasn't in his mind.
Gareth froze, arm falling to his side in a weak fist. The noise came again, but multiplied -- growling. He knew Andy's growl -- usually faint toward him, a warning more than a threat -- but these were louder, angrier, and desperate.
He backed up a few steps before remembering there was no where to flee to. Perhaps it was this was a few years back, he would know, but then he would have his arm, and Andy could be beside him without shame coating Gareth better than his lover's fur.
The first wolf slipped out from an alleyway -- scrawny and matted, his bright blue eyes burning. He walked with the slightest limp, but that was still an advantage against Gareth. At least the were had that limb at all. Then the second jumped down from above -- a freakishly large house cat, looking only a bit healthier than the wolf, though her hazel eyes were too big for her face. And the last staggered out from behind the werewolf, though Gareth was not sure what he was. The were was stuck half-transformed, with most of his fur in patches on sweaty skin, his cheekbones prominent on his face sore-covered face. Half of a tail hung limply just above his oddly-bent legs, but his bony hands had brutal claws that could rival a demon's.
Their stare was anything but friendly.
"Easy, friends." Gareth cringed at his weak voice more than the wolf snapped his teeth.
"We're not friends." The half-were beast spoke in a strange hissing lisp. Gareth wondered if perhaps he was a sick demi, and not a were at all.
The wolf licked his lips, and Gareth felt his stomach churn. Great Dragon, they were hungry.
Food had become horribly scarce during the bombing and siege of Rezten, and a few months after the truce was signed, things had barely improved. The farms south of Io and Antelon had been completely burned, while the ports along the river were all destroyed. While the train tracks north of these cities were still standing, Pooselridge had stubbornly refused to add Welen since declaring its independence. Frenton had been left unsustainable after the rebellions to begin with, and rumour was that the city was deserted or dead, with the farmers effectively locking themselves in and shooting at any trespassers. The only food came from the Port of Rezten, and that was mostly seafood, with the occasional ship bringing other goods.
It was a famine of horrible proportions, and as always, the humans were not the ones to suffer the most.
"Look. I could buy you food." It was only half-true; Gareth had lost most of his money when Io was sacked, and what funds he did have could not buy a commodity that did not exist."
"The guards said the same thing." The half-were let the wolf and cat go ahead of him, sizing Gareth up. The wolf snapped at Gareth's foot and caught some of his pants.
Cannibalism was rumoured to be rampant up in Frenton. It made brutal sense that it would descend upon Rezten too, but somehow those dark thoughts always belonged to other people. Even Gareth, a lawyer for weres and vampires accused of eating humans, had comfortably assumed he would never have to deal with such a situation. Sure, the occasional accusation turned out to be true, but it would never happen to him, never in a city...
The cat lunged, claws out and aimed straight for his face. Gareth put his arm up, remembered the arm wasn't there, and threw himself to the ground instead. The cat soared above him with a hiss, but the wolf was already at him, enclosing his shoulder instead of his throat as Gareth turned. Pain like flaming needles arced through the joint and down his missing arm, and Gareth screamed as he thrashed a limb that wasn't there, trying to dislodge teeth that dug into muscle.
With a jerk, the were tried to tear off flesh, instead getting mostly clothing and skin; he had dug in deep, but did not have the strength he no doubt once possessed. Gareth watched in pain as the wolf began devouring his catch anyway, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had gotten more air than food -- and then the cat slammed into his back, gouging his flesh as easily as soft butter on a warm spring day.
Pain and panic blossomed in his mind, the perfect match to die with. Gareth struggled to throw the cat off, but he was lying on his remaining arm, and barely boxed the cat's ears with his stump. Desperately he threw one of his legs back, sending his foot slamming into her hindquarters -- her back claws dislodged more from surprise, though he felt the tips poking through his jacket, and as he looked up toward the sky half-mad he saw the half-were hovering over him with some sort of weapon.
Dammit, he felt really fucking strange. His throat seemed to be undulating like the tide, and Gareth frantically rolled toward the cat, forcing her to dislodge or be trapped against him. With his good hand he reached out to try and block the half-were, while his missing one went for his throat. He could not seem to breath, and opened his mouth to gasp--
And instead he fucking howled, a full wolf's cry that startled his attackers as much as himself. The sound echoed off of the buildings, and far in the distance, he heard someone howl back: Andy.
Gareth stared dumbly at the were beast, faintly relieved to find him staring dumbly back. Then the man began to back away, eyes widening, and Gareth wondered how a howl could be that scary... And then his legs suddenly jerked, then bent in ways no human knees were meant to do. Gareth screamed, trying to curl into a ball, but his body was not paying attention. His shoulders popped and shifted while his chest bloated outward, ribs expanding, and something pushed out of his tailbone and toward his legs, and then Gareth could not keep track of it all through the pain and agony, thrashing.
He smelled piss and fear, some of which smelled like him. But the rest was distinctly different, two other beings, and he heard scuffling backward and a little yelp that hit his ears like a whistling bomb. With a snarl, instincts pushed through the pain and he rolled to his feet, tail held high, teeth bared-- and then he lost his balance and collapsed onto his side with a startled yap, the moon too bright in his eyes.
"A were? Fuck, you didn't smell like-- Ben!"
"He wasn't." The voice was surprised and earthy, whines and growls underneath. "The smell was another were."
The conversation made no sense. He was not a were. He was a human, but what humans had tails and fur and as he looked down he realized Great Dragon he had a paw.
Paws echoed on the crumbling stone street, well down the road. The cat hissed and Gareth jerked his head to look at her. His blood reflected the moon on her claws.
"Are we goin' to eat 'im or what?"
"Fuck, Jen, he's a..." The half-were trailed off.
"He was a human a minute ago, I say he's still dinner." And the cat's paws hit the ground softly, but loud enough for his ears to perk and swivel toward. With a growl Gareth sat up as best he could, fur bristling like needles down his back. The cat hissed, ears flat. "Yeah, you have teeth now, but I still have all of my paws, so..."
"Jen." Ben spoke quietly, but urgency pitched his voice. "We gotta run."
Gareth's head jerked when the half-were moved -- but it was away from him, staring down the street, tightening his grip on his hammer. Ben rose and moved toward the alley, growling as the paws continued hitting the ground, one-two, one-two.
But the werecat's focus was all on him; Gareth turned back to see her crouching down to pounce, eyes shining with hunger. Gareth dragged himself to put his rump toward her, teeth still bared, but held tight toward his throat. Behind him, the shuffling of the half-were became muted in the alleyway.
"Jen." The werewolf whined. "Ru--"
The one-two, one-two ended abruptly with a snarl and a heavy slam; Ben's voice was cut off in a strangled yelp, and a dark blur rushed around Gareth and hit the surprised werecat hard. Bone snapped like haunted wind chimes, continuing as the large cat was shaken by a force not much bigger than she. Then she was tossed aside and Andy turned, blood dripping from his teeth and fur, looking more bear than wolf as he stared after slipping paws running toward the alley.
They listened to the noise of the attackers running or hiding, until the night was silent but for Gareth's ragged breathing. He nearly jumped out of his fur when Andy touched his wet nose to his shoulder, then promptly wished he had.
If he left his fur, perhaps he would be human again.
Jeez, this is even darker than the first writing of this story. But once I saw the prompt, I knew I had to rewrite when Gareth first morphs into a werewolf.
Need to clean it up some so the plot is less stereotypical and to make sure my metaphors aren't completely batshit insane. Comments welcome. Obviously, the comfort part is still to come.
Fun fact: every time I write Gareth, I get his pronouns wrong at least once.
Fun fact two: I first wrote that the cannonballs were sleeping. Slackers.
Tschuess.
