Well I know you hold your head up high Who: Wild Child & Mastermind When: Saturday morning Where: Jason's jet, staring at his manor, in the air, at Revolve and back again What: Wild Child is ready for the tournament but... something is off. Notes: Log format Kyle was restless. Something was... off. What it was he was not entirely sure. He was anxious, uneasy, it felt like something was going to happen, but what that 'thing' was he had no clue. His joints were vaguely aching, had been for a few days, but he had not bothered to mention it. He worked hour almost endlessly on a daily basis, it only made sense that he would be aching or sore in one way or another, right? His furry body was covered in a pair of baggy, ripped jeans and a dark green T-shirt, he rolling his shoulders and dragging his big feet as he climbed into the jet.
He was tired, and looked tired, which in and of itself was rare. He was always full of energy, always grinning and sarcastic commentary. He flopped himself down onto a chair and pulled his feet up onto the seat, giving a slow, heavy huff. He had slept something near ten hours and still felt drained. He was telling himself he was just nervous about the tournament, this would be his first one since his fight with Ribbon. That was reason enough to be worried, right? He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to shrug the feelings away and raked a big hand through his hair.
"M' uniform's been packed, right?" He asked Jason as he crouched with his eyes closed. He did not want to have to fight in his jeans, and the uniform did make him feel more like a WildHeart rather than a Wild Child. He stretched one leg out with a small groan and stretched all the way down to his clawed toes, then coiled the leg back onto the seat before him, then repeated the process with the other leg. Why did he feel so cramped and strange? Grrr, it was getting under his skin.
--
"Yes..." The old man's voice was hesitant. The look on Kyle's face said that something was going on, but what that might be, he had zero idea. "I've everything packed and ready for us to leave." Since when did the boy worry about his attire for a fight? Since when did he pause to think before they left for the pits, other than his battle strategy and enough food for the journey? He stepped back, carefully tying his long formal tie into the proper form and buttoning his jacket while watcing the whelp stretch in his bedroom. Something wasn't right, and the tension it was creating made the old man even more nervous than he had been before hand. "....My- Kyle...Why do you look...tired?" Even after the last time he had been broken to pieces, the boy hadn't looked as flat out exhausted as he did now. "Have you been up all night worrying? Are you nervous?" It was a logical question, all things considered. The boy had been known to over exert himself before a match, and after being forced to take a nap, he always felt a world of difference. Maybe this was simply another one of those times?
Jason had been ready for this match. He had gone out the night previously, not on island and not in the house while Kyle was training, and had done a few things to get his mind off of it. He had taken the time to rid himself of the nerves, assuring himself that his friend would be okay, and had even purchased a bottle of apple brandy to steel his nerves that night and into today. It was packed away and he would likely sip at it while Kyle was fighting in the beginning matches. Commonly called liquid courage, a little of it would stop the jitters that he should be more than used to by now, but some old dogs still couldn't learn jack crap if their lovers were in the line of fire.
He started to smile as he thought that very statement through; his lover. The boy wouldn't exactly agree to it, but that only made the moment they had shared all the sweeter. His lover. He started to all but grin as he turned from the mirror before him, the tie having been pulled off his neck and tossed aside, the useless piece of fabric and too likey to kill over look any damn good. His amusement was stopped short as he looked at his friends face, a new increasing worry took hold of him instead, replacing the usual nervousness that would be shaking his old form as soon as they touched down on the isle of the damned.
--
Kyle nodded, still staring off at nothing as he digested the news that everything was ready. Of course everything was ready, Jason was downright obsessive when it came to the details. You'd never know it looking at his bumbling, happy, drunken old man face, but he really was obsessive. It was all, at long freaking last, staring to make sense to Gibney, the way the man had obsessed over him and why had suddenly become obvious last week. He was not necessarily the brightest bulb in the box, but he got there. Jason had the details covered, everything was ready, so why was he feeling... like this? He rolled his shoulders and shook his head, stretching both arms and again shifted himself in his seat, still staring off at nothing. Aarg.
"I unno... been restelss lately... think I jus' need a good fight t' get it outta me." He paused, trying to decide if he should say more, bushy brows knitting up a moment. Should he tell Jason? Tell him how he felt like he was under some kind of shadow? Like he was being stalked by something, like something was always looking over his shoulder, eyeing him with thoughtful, hungry eyes? He flicked his gaze quickly toward Jason, nervous not from memories, but from his own inward turmoil which he did not expect anyone else to understand. Jason's energy was nervous enough already, he always was nervous and worked up before a fight, but he somehow seemed even moreso today. Why? Kyle was not entirely sure...
He shook his head then, quickly deciding that Jason did not need to know. The old man was worked up enough without his crazy instincts flaring up. "Yeah... I jus' need t' work it outta m' system, 'at's all." He assured the other again, sloooooowly stretching his legs out again and again rolling his shoulders. A good long fight, maybe he'd be matched with another feral and they could go at it for the full hour? Oh that would be awesome! He just hoped that this feeling was not a warning about how the tournament would go... that would suck.
--
It was obvious to the elder that Kyle was lying, though what about Jason wasn't exactly sure. Kyle had been a bad liar at least as long as he had known him. Nimble fingers undid the top button of his shirt, letting it hang open just a bit as he looked on, cautious as ever. Something still wasn't right, and the boy's face betrayed his instincts to honesty. "What's going on, pup?" It was gently spoken, though his words were specific and measured. He wasn't going to force the issue, but something was prickling the boy's skin in all the wrong places. His mind churned, thinking in detail. Nothing that he knew of was going on out of the ordinary at Revolve. Nothing specific was planned or occuring during the evening. It was all things they had done before. Registration, papers, organize, line up, pit, win, relocate, pit, win, relocate, pit, win, and so on until the boy finally lost. Nothing was a shock or a surprise as far as the details went. What was Kyle so agitated about?
"...I see." It was the best he could do to accept the answer that Kyle had given him so far. His face was a mask of skepticism, one eyebrow raised in a silent question to the words spoken to him, of which he didn't believe for a moment, but he didn't have much time to reflect upon it. One of the staff walked in through the door, knocking lightly to alert them that the jet was packed, prepped and awaiting them both. Jason replied with a few words and let the staff boy wander along before turning his attentions back on the whelp before him. "I'm ready to go, my dear." The last two words were said softly, his eyes taking on a look of love for a moment before he shifted his weight and crossed the room to stand closer. "Shall we?" There was a suggestion and yet a hesitation in that phrase, the tone pulling back while the movement required after it pushed them both towards their destination. Jason really would have liked nothing better than to unpack the jet and simply avoid the fight completely. He didn't want to get wrapped up in the fights once more. It had been much easier on the curly haired gentleman to forget that Kyle had ever been in the pits so that his nervous and cardiac systems didn't give up on supporting his existence because of the stress involved. He despised these things, but still found it somewhat necessary. They had a cause and he simply had to remember that cause.
--
A short nod signified that Kyle had heard the question, even if his eyes were distant and lacked that glimmer he usually wore before the fights. "'M always ready," he muttered. He did not proudly announce it, he did not toss his head with a confidant grin, he was a very different mutt today. He was already seated and strapped in, so he had no need to move or relocate, he was simply eager to get this thing over with. One long fight and he'd get rid of this strange feeling that haunted him, he was sure of it.
A quick snarl left him as he grabbed his elbow, pain shooting through it and pulling his lips into a twisted sneer. These things seemed to be happening more and more often, and Kyle was getting annoyed by it. First his left leg, which had made sense considering how badly it had been broken, then his right, now his arms, too? For an instant, Gibney considered throwing himself out of the plane mid-flight to stop these short and sudden bursts of pain, but really, what would that accomplish? Knowing his luck he'd live through the damn fall and end up with more pain like what Ribbon put him through. He sighed and the flare up ended as suddenly as it had begun, clawed fingers rubbing the fur at his elbow with another grumble.
--
Jason moved as well, settling into his seat and having bent to kiss those curiously settled lips, he stopped when the boy snarled once more. Shifting towards his own seat, choosing one closer to the whelp, he sat with grace, watching the goings on in the pup's arm with worry. "Has that been happening a lot recently?" The usual brilliance to the boy's demeanor was missing, the willingness to perform for a cause was gone, and the defeated and tired mutt that remained in it's place was not the kind of fighter he would have wanted to put in a pit for any amount of money. A tired worker only becomes an injured worker. There was no reason for all of this.
Lips paused before speaking once more, an option always left open to them. "We don't have to go, you know. We can skip it." His tone was gentle, attempting to sound nonchalant about the idea. They could play hookie and run off to some foreign country and enjoy the wealth of forest in a warmer climate, or seek out a herd of wild deer for Kyle to chase and scare witless. There was no end of activity to the rich old man, and he could likely come up with something to satisfy the blond's curiosity for one day if these aches and pains were going to get him harmed on that damn island.
--
He shrugged, avoiding Jason's eyes and grumbling a small bit again as he bent and straightened his elbow in an attempt to shake the kinks out of it. "Jus' a lil. 'S like... cramps.. charlie horses," he explained, grunting again, managing to crack a small, half hearted grin. "Mebe I'm growin', mebe I won' be such a short shit 'nymore." Oh he liked that idea, not that he wanted to be as ridiculously tall as Jason, but a few more inches would be nice. He could dream.
"'M fine." He spoke rather harshly sending Jason a half glare as he squared his shoulders. One could not help but get the feeling he was attempting to assure himself more than the taller. "I jus' need t' burn some energy, it'll 'elp shake all this outta me." He carefully flexed his claws, studying them with hopeful eyes. He hoped that burning energy would shake this out of him, he hoped that this was all just temporary. He really did not want to think about what it would be like to constantly live with this feeling.
--
All Jason saw were early signs of a muscular degerative disease and a part of him grew very still. There was no way a boy his age could get MS this early on, was there? He had heard about it, and seen it's effects in a friend of his once, but they had parted ways before it had gotten truly bad. This was the way it all started out. Was it happening again? Was it really going to be like that for the boy all his life? No. Jason scolded himself. He was just being paranoid and jumping to conclusions. With Kyle's insane healing factor that was impossible, right?
"You would know your body best..." Jason nodded, agreeing, but at the same time, still not believing it for a second.
--
A short snort and Gibney nodded. He was fine, he was a fighter, he pushed his body all the time and Ribbon had fucked him up worse than he had ever been in his life, it only made sense that he would be a little achy from it all, right? He nodded though, glad he was not going to be argued with, he did not think he had the convictions to really argue the point. Another sigh and he nodded, tossing his hair slightly. "So, let's go." It was rough and more than a bit gruff, he again rolling his shoulders to 'shrug' it off yet again. He wanted to go, fight and get the fucker over with, it was al his mind was currently focusing on.
--
The plane took off on schedule, with both males inside, though Jason took time to make sure he was in a place to watch the whelp, just in case something happened. It was too bad that Heather had gone off to school. He could use her talents in the medical field now, but such was life, and all he had to depend upon was himself. That was a mildly scary thought.
Attempting to distract himself, Jason decided to fiddle with their schedule and look at the first few fights. It wouldn't hurt to open the pamphlet that he had and observe the day's activity. His eyes scanned the pages, looking over the plans and he let the upper fighting levels leak through his mind. Kyle was signed up for a laundry list of fights, assuming that the boy would make it through the ranks as per usual. "Do you want to know what your first few fights look like?"
--
Kyle wanted desperately to pace, well 'pace' was a loose term for what he wanted. He wanted to stalk, to shift broodingly through open space with all senses on high alert and claws biting into the ground below him. He wanted to track down this thing that was constantly watching him. He knew that thing was all in his head, but that was what made it so entirely real. It was constantly there, it was not like he could out run, hide from or rip it apart, it was just there, always there.
He gave a rough huff and nodded at the question, shifting his weight in his seat. "Yeah... tell me." He urged roughly, rather eagerly. It would help distract him, help him to focus on the fight, help get him ready. He needed to focus. He again shifted his weight and flexed his big hands thoughtfully as he tried to remember some of his newer moves. Sean knew some neat take downs he had taught the feral, strikes with the blade and palm of the hand which Gibs had not know before, and was now quite excited to use. The tournament might present him with an opportunity or two.
He was about to say something again when all at once, blue eyes snapped wide open, a snarl of pain leaping from his throat. "FUCK!" The word was choked, more than half growl as his chest thrust forward and both hands trust back. His fingers curled, hands looking more like talons suddenly as his lips peeled back, showing fangs which were oddly longer and sharper than before. The sound of ripping fabric mixed with the snarling, pained sounds leaving his throat as his feet and legs lengthened, muscle and bone changing, rearranging themselves in a painful and sudden growth. His hands thickened, his nose and jaw lengthening into a half snout, thick patches of fur breaking through his skin, his blue eyes washing gold in the pain.