2018.09.18: Nothing is There
| Nothing is There | |
|---|---|
| Proof positive that Lleu is losing his mind. Right? | |
| IC Date | Tuesday, September 18th, 2018 |
| IC Time | 18:07:01 2018, PDT. |
| Players | Skully, Lleutrim |
| Location | Deep Forest, somewhere... |
| Spheres | Shifter |
It's usually quiet in the woods, but currently the sounds of hacking and slashing can be heard as Skully takes a machete to a patch of brambles, goggles over his eye and patch while he clears the brush away. He swings the blade with a steady lack of expertise, a cleaver hacking loosely through thorn and briar. He seems to be muttering under his breath, a low, angry mumble repeated: "Fucking squirrels."
That racket can be heard for a little distance. Enough to wake the dead. Thusly it draws the attention of a wolf who's been out hunting. Lleupine shows up in wolf form, coming through the woods to where Skully is attacking, and possibly being defeated by, briars, vines, and nature herself. The Galliard cocks his head this way and that, then circles, trying to see what the hell his friend is doing.
<< Why hack brambles? Bears and birds eat fruit. >> Lleu stays back out of the way so he's not anywhere within reach of that machete should it suddenly fly out of Skully's hand by accident.
"Because this is where the squirrel was," Skully replies with a grunt, holding his machete out to indicate a huge tree laying felled nearby. "That's the tree I tore out of the ground. Damn squirrel dashed through here. I'm eliminatin' his cover before I haul that tree off to turn it into a tannin' rack. FOR SQUIRRELS!"
The last words are shouted off into the woods as a warning before the brawny metis continues hacking at the brambles, trying to bring them down to nothing.
An ear flick. << Poor tree. >> The grey wolf circles slowly around to see if he can get to the fallen tree at all or whether the brambles will keep him out. Lleupine sniffs around, checking things out. He lifts his head, silvery eyes to watch Skully at work. << We need to find ... >> How to phrase it? << Where they building things. Not here. >> It may well be that the Ahroun is too absorbed in his work to hear the wolf's soft sounds and read Lleu's body language.
Nothing wrong with Skully's ears, irritated or otherwise. "That we do," he agrees, taking a few more swings at the brambles before stopping and sneering at them. "Need to find out what made 'em so crazy, and what made 'em a damn /gun/. I ain't really know where to start with that, so I started here." He sticks his machete into the grass, cracking his knuckles and looking back to the wolf.
"I come out here to fetch that tree as I said, but it ain't goin' nowhere without me. You got a better idea?" The cyclops seems open to suggestions, at least.
Lleupine stops sniffing around, << They must gather materials ... a great hollow tree, or building, somewhere in or along the fore - >> The Galliard wolf doesn't finish his thought for he suddenly freezes, staring off into the trees. Lleu says perfectly still, his head held low but his muzzle, eyes and ears clearly focused on /something/, ultra alert. Except for his nostrils to flare, trying to take in a scent, the Fianna stands rigidly still for long seconds watching or listening.
Then, slowly, every hair on Lleupine's body starts to stand out from his hide. His tail also to bristle.
Without warning, the grey wolf suddenly leaps back! Snarling, he backs up and shifts almost instantly into Hispo, gaining size dramatically and every fiber of his body ready to FIGHT! He then rushes forward, jaws snapping on air before he flinches HARD! /Still/ he stares and stares, standing rigidly as though seeing something. But, there's ....
Nothing there?
Skully tenses as the wolf goes silent, turning his eye to the spot in the woods and staring. When the wolf snaps, he scowls, and... /damn/ nature sometimes! Maybe it's the frustration, maybe the suddenness, but this random performance anxiety is ill-timed. Skully growls and closes his eye, concentrating and flowing into his enormous Hispo shape, opening his senses to his surroundings and trying to catch sound or scent of a /fucking squirrel/.
Skully detects ... nothing, nothing at all. Unless he wants to peek into the Umbra.
Lleupine remains in Hispo for several seconds more watching something, then blinks. He lifts his head and looks around, then looks at Skully, then looks in the direction he'd been watching. Everything /seems/ quiet.
The dire wolf shifts through his forms and reverts to his human self. Lleu stands there naked and looks concerned, "I ... it's been a while ... did that happen?" He turns his head to look at Weathers-the-Storm, "Did you see that huge beast?!"
<< Beast? >> the huge wolf replies, baring its fangs and sniffing around again. He looks up, ears perked, and /listens/. << No beast >> he comments, blowing a puff of breath out his nose. His tail swishes a few times in the long grass, irritation clear, and he turns to look back at Lleutrim.
<< Spirits here? >> he asks, curious. He stretches his neck, opening himself up to the Near Umbra, and /listens/.
The Umbra is quiet. On the other side are tree spirits, a little wind spirit ruffling the leaves above, a few perfectly normal woodland animal spirits in the area. Everything is peaceful and as normal, safe, and as unthreatening as can be on that side.
Donnachaidh continues to stand quietly, looking quietly as though thinking really hard and remembering what he had seen. He lifts a hand and sort of gestures, "The trees thinned out and I could smell the sea, feel the wind in the pines on the edge of ..." Lleu's brows furrow and if he's aware that he's standing there buck naked without dedicated clothes, he shows no awareness of it. His baritone is real soft, "the moor. With my pack around me. And it was there." Lleu sort of points out a direction, "And I thought I could get in a killing blow if I could just reach it's throat, but it lifted a great single claw like a ... like a curved blade of ice, and it struck me a mortal blow."
His heart beating pretty fast, it's rate is beginning to slow from the memory. Adrenaline fading in his blood. "I lie there dying, and my pack kept fighting it..." Lleu shakes his head, dropping his voice to barely audible, "As real as ..." He frowns and looks at Skully.
"Why do I keep seeing these things? As if I was there. Someone else's life?"
The big Metis pushes back onto two legs and flows easily into his Homid form, reaching up to scratch his scruffy hair while he listens to Lleutrim speak. He looks off toward the woods, thinking deeply, and responds almost randomly, "The drums are beatin', and the pack is dancin'. Heart-of-the-Pack leads; he's full'a the energy of the Manitou, and while he's no Moonsinger, he beats his chest an' tells the tale. So many in the dark woods, an' they kept comin', but the pack was strong. Heart-of-the-Pack kept them together, an' they survived where the enemy did not."
The brawny giant pulls off his shirt -- a red tee with "DEATH FROM ABOVE 1979" on it, sized for his massive form -- and tosses it to the naked Lleu without comment. He sighs, bare-chested now and looking at the ground. "Your ancestors, cub. They sing in your blood. You don't know them, but they know you, and they /want/ you to know them. Like Heart-of-the-Pack asked me t' know him. An' I remember."
The big lug kicks a stone, sending it bouncing away, and looks back at the Fianna. "So... you gotta decide how you're gonna handle that."
Lleutrim is still thinking real hard about it, "It... I wasn't finished, yet." His gaze sharpens once more on Skully and he /listens/ to the Ahroun. The shirt he catches, looks at it, then wads it up and tosses it back. "I don't need your shirt. I'll return as a wolf, later." He drops down to sit in the ferns and mosses at the base of a tree away from Skully's brambles. Brows furrowed, Lleu frowns, "Ancestors?" A faint negative movement of his head, "I have no idea. I haven't ... it hasn't happened much since before my change. I kept seeing things then. Loosing my damn mind, Skully. -How- do I handle that?"
Skully takes his shirt back with a shrug, pulling it back on and commenting, "Jus' don't catch cold." He sniffs, then inelegantly puts a knuckle to his nostril and shoots a snot rocket from the other, frowning. "I breathed in a thorn."
The huge Metis moves over to where Lleu sits and crouches nearby, arms on his knees. "Instead'a treatin' it like a hallucination or acid flashback you gotta step into it, with your mind. Learn from it. They're tryin' to tell you 'We are you'; they's who came before you, like echoes. They want to help. They still watch over you, is what they're sayin'; they got lessons to teach an' gifts to share. So... stop runnin' from 'em and start runnin' to 'em. Let 'em in."
His friend is studied, "You don't think I'm going nuts?" -That- would be a huge relief, if not. Lleu licks his dry lips, "How, Skully? I haven't ... dared to tell anyone. Not even Faith. I stopped seeing things, after my change. Why would it be starting again now? Ancestors are dead people. I don't think I believe in ghosts."
"You could be nuts, but I doubt it," Skully replies patiently, looking the man in the eyes. Well, eye; he's only got one to do it with. "An' ghosts... that's a whole 'nother thing. You gotta remember, Lleu; we ain't half-man, half-wolf. We's part man, part wolf, and part /spirit/, like the ones you see in the Umbra. The part what gives us Luna's gifts, Gaia's magic. What makes us more'n just 'werewolves' like in a story. An' that spirit... it keeps on. Our Ancestors... they may not be 'round no more, but they stay with us, in our blood an' in our spirit, and sometimes that's strong enough we can draw on it an' make 'em a part of us. Share what they knew, what they could do. Who they was. Jus' as clear an' plain as havin' your daddy's nose or your grandma's smile."
The gentle brute stands again, brushing his hands on his jeans. "You need'a talk to Journey 'bout this, or Dragomir. I know you ain't told no one, but you /should/. They'll know what to do. They's a lot wiser'n I am."
Well, Skully certainly has Lleu's attention like never before. Catching every word, thinking, considering. "And you met one of these? One of your own ancestors, and he helps you?" He's tired, mentally fatigued after these past weeks and months. Still, Lleu is taking what Skully says seriously. Finally a tired sigh, "I can ask. If you are sure. If you really think that is what is going on. I don't want them to think I'm ... fucked up. A liability. I can pull my shit together." Somehow, damn it.
"His name is Heart-of-the-Pack, and he is my greatfather of old," Skully replies evenly, bowing his head. He smiles a little, admitting, "He doesn't answer as often as I'd like, but he is always there. Sometimes when things were bad when I's a cub, he'd let me know he was still proud of me. That I was Gaia's warrior, like him. That I'd grow up some day an' know what it means to be like him. Kept me goin' sometimes, when things was hard. Reminded me that bad things pass, too."
Skully crosses his arms over his chest, looking down at the Galliard patiently. "Hidin' it ain't doin' you no good, is it? You feel like this is the best-case scenario, right here?" He tilts his head toward the empty woods, chuckling softly. "Go talk to your elders, cub. Have someone smart teach you 'bout it. All's I got is stories."
Lleu frowns "I'm glad. You aren't a piece of shit, Skully. It boggles my mind .. to imagine you are still a kid, only half my age and bigger than I am. But you /are/ my friend." He looks at nothing, "I miss my fellow Marines. Buddies from my units. My brothers. We looked out for each other. Went through hell and back. I lay awake at night sometimes wondering where they are, what they are doing."
From where he's sitting, he looks up at Skully, "You should have friends like that too. So I'm glad he's been there for you when you really need him. I'm glad to have you here." A slow breath and closing his eyes, Lleu is quiet a long moment. Then he gets himself up, "I will, Skully. Don't put your stories down though. They're good stories."
The big lug smiles, shrugging his shoulders with that cool equanimity he's always got. "It's hard to lose touch with your past, but... it's also who we are. Your friends... it'd be hard for them to see you now. Real hard. But you'll get control of it, Lleu, an' when you do, maybe you'll see 'em again. When it's somethin' won't hurt you to do."
Skully sighs looking up at the sky for a long moment. "I /do/ have friends like that, Lleu. I have /you/. I have /Alek/. I have Miz Vesta an' Miz Giselle an' Miz Rhea, Defiant Storm-rhya an' Shaderunner-rhya, an'... all kinds'a folks now. Them ol' days is back in Los Coyotes, an' they can /stay/ there. But Heart-of-the-Pack is always with me, an' it makes me powerful proud to know he was my ancestor."
He smiles broadly at that, looking back down at Lleutrim with that guileless face of his. "An' hey, jus' 'cause I'm younger'n you don't mean I ain't learnt things you didn't, as you well know. Jus' a different kind'a growin' up. Metis grow up faster'n humans. Not so fast as four-legs, but... you know. Faster."
A hand Lleu skims over the back of his neck, "I don't know a lot about Metis." He can feel how the air's cooled now the sun's gone down. "Given me things to think on. I'll do as you suggest and speak to Journey or Dragomir, Jake, somebody about it tomorrow. They must be getting sick of dealing with me. Thanks for telling me about your greatfather. I had .. no idea."
A faint smile, "I messed up your work. I'm going to head on back. I can lend you a hand with clearing the rest of these brambles tomorrow and get at the tree, all right?" A moment later Lleutrim shifts back into a wolf, warmer than with his thick pelt. He shakes himself and at once seems a little happier. The Galliard starts to move off.
"Yeah, it's a lot to keep in your head if'n you get it all at once," Skully murmurs sympathetically, nodding his head. "An' you didn't mess up nuthin'. Work's gonna be waitin' for me 'til I finish it, an' that's the way of it."
The hulking brute retrieves his machete, which is sized perfectly for him, and sets it to his shoulder. "I'm gonna let 'em know you're comin'. Ain't that I don't trust you, cub, but call it... insurance. You need to talk about this, so if'n I see 'em first, I'm preparin' 'em for the lesson. Don't get too offended; standard thing for cubs. Your teachers need'a know, on account one of 'em should'a already taught you, an' that's on them."
