faderift | It's a fool who plays it cool

Jude's arm tenses, then relaxes. His wolf turns towards him, metaphysically gravitating toward familiar, ally, friendly. Jude is usually one to trust his wolf's intuition. He's a pretty smart guy, for being fuzzy.

But there's some nuance to this. Lots of it. He has questions.

"Thanks," Jude mutters, looking down at the green glow in his hand. It hasn't budged, hasn't closed in the least. However, it no longer twinges and aches, pulsing along with the rift. But could it again?

"Is this going to be dangerous for you?" he asks, indicating the palm of his hand.

The danger to Jude himself seems a no-brainer, so he doesn't ask. Not yet. He needs pants for that conversation.

Mobius shakes his head. "Not unless you work on developing some extra powers and then decide to turn them on me. Nah. But there is a danger to you. Nothing immediate; you're safe now."

He is not aware of this pants/no-pants line, but Riftwatch has been taking in Rifters since long before it was ever Riftwatch. There's reading material, there are resources, there are people who can give him the rundown--maybe not in the middle of nowhere without pants.

"There's a lot to take in, a lot to acclimate to. I'd say don't push yourself."

"Easier said," Jude answers, with a wry smile. But the look in his eyes gentles it. Mobius is doing his very best to wrangle the impossible. And right now, Jude is part of that tangle of impossibility.

The questions are endless, and overwhelming. But no matter what, he knows where he isn't, even if here remains to be named. If there is a way back, then he doesn't doubt that it would be offered. They jumped in to defend him readily enough, and there are others in the same boat.

For now though, his wolf is still fucking frantic, and Jude's rapidly reaching the end of his capacity to distract him. Some things are easier to face in human skin, and some things are easier furry.

His wolf latches on to the important things.

There are others. Base of operations.

"Back to the base, right?" he asks. "I just need to follow you?"

He speaks like someone trying to get things straight, before he runs out of time. Unconsciously, he leans into Mobius, physically close. Just the way he leaned his wolf body up against his leg before he shifted.

For just a second, he spares a grateful thought to the idea that his pack isn't here. They'd be tearing down walls to get to him, with the amount of distress his wolf is howling into the atmosphere. He won't bleed out, but sentinels still bleed.

"To the Gallows," he says with a nod, "in Kirkwall. Don't let the name unsettle you; it's a nickname that's stuck because of some...unsavory history, but it's where Riftwatch calls home."

Big, tall people aren't intimidating to him, not really. And there's something about Jude that is in particular not intimidating in spite of said size and stature. Is it that he seems like a cool dude genuinely trying to make sense of a fucked up situation? Is it that he's a Rifter and therefore is already, in Mobius' mind, somewhat set apart? Unclear. But size doesn't do much to him save just making him feel a little small for all the six-foot-and-up monsters around him. They don't grow 'em that tall where he's from.

(Maybe. He doesn't actually know?)

But this is still new big naked guy leaning into him. Not in a way that reads as hurt and needs a shoulder to rest on. Just. Leaning. Maybe that's normal where Jude's from? Maybe that's just the socially accepted thing. Which, wild if true.

"Okay," he manages to say evenly, giving Jude a pat on the buff chest. This is him rolling with it. "We'll be packing it in shortly; let's actually get you on the caravan here." And something to wrap around his middle. Spare armor, maybe? "We can start filling you in on details along the way. Sound good?"

Even if it isn't physical, the hurt's there, and it takes real effort for Jude to straighten up. He accepts the pat without a single blink, like that's utterly normal for him too.

Mobius will come to find that leaning, pats, squeezes -- they're all just how he does affection, regardless of whether he's wearing skin or fur.

"Good," he echoes with a nod, but he's forcing the word out. He's never been one to retreat into fur to slough off his human emotions, but it's a coping mechanism intrinsic to his kind, and right now, he does need it. Needs a good hard run, and to lick the blood off until he feels right again.

"Actually," he says, pausing, easing back in a way that is in no way a rejection, if how he's still turned to Mobius is any indicator, "You mind if I run alongside? If it's far enough back I won't scare your animals."

They might do themselves an injury if he rides in one of the wagons. Even in human form, they know he's a wolf.

There's a little bit of a shift in the way Jude talks. Like he might not be all present. And then he mentions being a wolf instead. Mindful of the beasts of burden, too.

He does not technically have the authority to be giving any orders here or to actually rightfully say what Jude can and cannot do, but. He considers for a moment, then laughs. "Hey, it'll keep me from having to throw a sack over your manhood. Don't run off on us, though. Last thing we need is to lose a Rifter in the woods and find out you got snatched up by a dragon."

He also means it.

Jude searches his face, trying to see if he's being joked with, and is forced to conclude that dragons are a thing here.

Super.

"I'll stay close," he promises, which is probably more serious than he wants to be right now, but he's about reached the end of his rope with new things, and he needs to run and settle his mind, and get used to the thousands of new scents.

The next few days are going to be all kinds of unsettling, but he can do it. Turning just enough for a bit of modesty, he reaches up to re-tie the blanket along his shoulders, making the knot secure and at a practiced distance -- he knows how to carry things in his fur.

The shift is smoother this time, fur and claws and eyes, and within seconds, he's a wolf again, with intelligent eyes and a blanket around his shoulders. It'll mark him for anyone who hasn't gotten a glimpse of him yet.

Jude pushes his cold, wet nose into Mobius's palm, gives him a slight lick, and then with chilling silence disappears into the surrounding landscape.

It's a fool who plays it cool

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