It's a fool who plays it cool

[foolsmakeitcolder]

WHO: Jude & OPEN
WHAT: Arrival & settling
WHEN: Early Justinian
WHERE: First the Vimmark Mountains, then the Gallows
NOTES: Warning for giant ass wolf, giant wolf ass, nudity, violence.



Starters to come.

Comments

[foolsmakeitcolder]

[A wolf's nose can scent sweat and fear and discomfort, a wolf's ears can hear catching breath. But a human can speak. It's the age old tradeoff. But Jude has never felt more blind and cut off, because he doesn't rely on just that. His sentinel reaches to scent for the emotions behind the words, but is met with so little that it might be a mistake to trust it.

So he hangs on Fenris's words, trusting in them, trusting that he means it and isn't saying he can stay when he doesn't want him to. He doesn't know enough of him to assume otherwise, and all Jude can do is live up to that trust.]

Coming to realize that most people here don't take to "different" all that well.

["Most", he says- though Fenris is cut from a different cloth. Everything about him is unusual. Another, smaller smile-]

Thank you. I'll take some pants, if you have any I won't rip.

[-and that smile widens:]

And your name, now that I've hopefully finished scaring the shit out of you.

[doggish]

You didn't—

[No, he totally did, and Fenris doesn't bother trying to further deny it. With a little huff he disappears through a doorway— and as is her wont, Ataashi rises, trotting after him in quiet neediness. Stay close, and absently he strokes her behind the ears as he heads into his rooms.

He has . . . not a lot of clothes, honestly, and fewer still that might fit someone like Jude. But eventually there's something: a pair of somewhat stretchy trousers, form-fitting but with a great deal of flexibility. A boon in battle, and assuredly useful now. He throws them Jude's way as he emerges and half-turns away, giving the poor man some privacy. Ataashi, who cares very little for such concepts, stares at Jude openly, whining softly in her throat as she does. Is she scared of him? Probably a little! He smells like a wolf, but he isn't a wolf! This is not Astarion! What the fuck!]

Fenris is my name. And no, they do not. Though to be fair . . . we've had a great deal of different this past decade.

. . . how did you— you are a mage, then?

[What is a shifter, anyway, beyond the very obvious explanation of someone who shapeshifts.]

[foolsmakeitcolder]

[Jude catches up the trousers, and keeps himself mostly behind the furniture, though it's more for Fenris's modesty and comfort than his own. Nudity among shifters is far from taboo, though they don't tend to hang out like this, the same way one wouldn't go to the grocery store in their pajamas.

The trousers are low-slung on his hips and the ankles come up to frame his calf muscles, but Jude doesn't mind. It's better than a blanket or a sheet, or most recently, a tarp.

He ventures out from behind his furniture then, tilts his head to address the pup trailing by Fenris's leg. He rumbles out something low, soft, on the edge of human hearing, though Fenris's elf ears may pick it up. Something the wild ones understand, even if he can't speak to them as he would a person.

Ally. Safe. Shelter.]

No. I can't do any magic, not the way non-shifters see it. Just born with two forms.

My pack's the same. But they're not here. As far as I know, I'm the only one in this reality.