Who: Kieran & Dante What: It's not the full moon, but there's a werewolf. When: 9 August 2019 | Midday Where: Brightstar Grounds Warnings: DANGER! SWEARING! PLOT!
There was absolutely no reason to believe that today was going to be any different than any other day he'd had lately. He had gone through his usual routine - wake up, go on a run, come home, shower, then go to work. He'd checked on the dragons - the hatchlings were growing like crazy, and it looked like one of the females had laid another small clutch of eggs.
As usual, Kieran's lunch was something he could easily eat on the go. Today, it was a peach, and a small pack of almonds. It was never a huge meal for him, and he forgot to even eat more often than not. Today, though, he found himself wandering away from the dragons, in search of a quiet place to sit down for a while.
It was strange. He'd spent a couple of years down at the Yucatan reserve, but he felt more at home here, after only a couple of months, than he ever had down there. Leaning up against a tree, Kieran closed his eyes for a moment. He felt a little… off, but chalked it up to not having eaten yet.
Being a groundskeeper meant that Dante had covered every inch of non-restricted area in his brief tenure at the Reserve. He'd also covered quite a bit of restricted ones as well, but hardly ever in an official capacity. His breaks had a sort of fluid quality, in that he generally got to take them just about whenever he wanted so long as whatever project he'd been given was done by whatever deadline had been set. It was definitely a lot less structure than he was used to. Even during long missions, he still had parameters and actionable objectives. There were still elements of that here, but for the most part he'd been left to his own devices far too much.
It left him feeling bored and restless, despite being able to pass many of his evenings in pleasant company. This is why he was out ranging a bit, soaking up the sun's heat and generally trying to disconnect his brain for a bit. No one was around, so he took out his wand and conjured a tiny jet of flame. A little at a time, Dante let it grown, until he willed it to shrink again. It was still connected to his wand, however, so he'd be able to say it was standard magic if someone happened to be around.
And someone was. A guy from the Team Dragon. Dante came across him as he rounded a copse of trees. He quickly guttered the fire and nodded at the man. "Hey."
From his spot on the ground, Kieran looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. He recognized the man, vaguely, from seeing him around the grounds (though to be fair, he recognized most people on the reserve only vaguely). He had heard, however, that this particular individual had a knack for calming down enraged dragons.
"Hey," he replied, returning the nod. "Don't think I've seen you out this way." That feeling of offness didn't seem to go away. As a matter of fact, it seemed to get worse. It was turning into a deep ache in his bones - one that he was intimately familiar with. Of course, that was probably just him jumping to conclusions. There was still time before the next moon.
A pained look crossed his face, as he felt the familiar pull in his stomach. This wasn't right. This shouldn't be happening.
With a wry smile, Dante shrugged. "I meander," he offered by way of an explanation, which he realized was probably infuriatingly vague. He started to open his mouth to attempt further small talk when Kieran's expression stopped him dead. He knew that look. He couldn't say how he knew that look, but it was definitely from firsthand experience—although definitely not with Kieran. Dante's fingers tightened imperceptibly around his wand, and he stayed right where he was. "You all right, man?"
He probably would’ve had a comment to make at Dante’s vague explanation, but he was a little too preoccupied with whatever the hell his body was doing. He couldn’t deny it much longer, not after he could feel his joints starting to pop. He was turning in the middle of the day.
“You need to get out of here. Now.” Kieran grunted in pain as the bones continued to pop and contort. “Get as many people away from here as you can.” He didn’t think there were many this far out on the reserve, but he couldn’t be sure. If this was really happening - and it sure as fuck seemed like it was - he didn’t want anyone anywhere near him. This wasn’t like when he transformed during the full moon - there was no wolfsbane potion in his system to let him keep his own mind. When the transformation was finished, there would be nothing but animal until it wore off.
Well, fuck. Sure, Dante knew the signs, but seeing them out here in the open, in the light of day? His mind raced. There was no time to apparate him somewhere safer, not with how fast Kieran was changing. He thumbed an alert haphazardly into his phone, basically alerting security to containment breech. The man was right. There could be people around, and Dante would not be the one that didn't do everything he could to keep those potential innocents safe. Really, that just meant one thing: he had to ignore Kieran's order and stick around and use himself as a distraction.
He wasn’t leaving. Why wasn’t he leaving? Clearly the man had a death wish, or something. Who in their right mind would willingly stand up against a werewolf? Oh, right. He had done that very thing, hadn’t he? He didn’t have much time to put any further thought to it, as the blinding pain from the transformation finally peaked. His vision went white, and then black. He could still hear his bones popping - feel them shifting and reforming into his new shape. Even as they finished, the pain persisted, though it was fading fast. It always did, until it was time to do it all over again, but in reverse. By the time the pain had faded, and his vision had cleared, there was no more Kieran; there was only the monster.
A low growl gumbled from his chest as his gaze finally settled on Dante. He could hear the man’s heart beating rapidly in his chest - thumping out the most delicious sounding beat he’d ever heard. He shifted back and forth on his feet, his body taking one final moment to settle into its new form. There was only one thought on the creature’s mind as it stared Dante down; kill.
That initial crack of fear that tried to freeze Dante's brain and muscles was instantly thawed by the shot of adrenaline that flooded his system. Magic crackled from his wand tip, sparks of light spitting toward the ground. He stayed his ground, even if every instinct was screaming flight! "C'mon, big guy. Let's da—"
That was when he heard it: people talking.
Shit.
A tour group was approaching, and Dante cursed himself for not paying more attention to that day's schedule.
The sound of the approaching group was enough to pull his attention away from Dante for a moment. He was assessing the threat level, deciding that Dante was currently a bigger problem than the approaching group. One on one would be easier to deal with. Yellow eyes narrowed at the man with his wand, and the creature took a step back.
His back foot dug into the ground as he shifted his weight on his feet for a second before lunging towards the wizard.
Never had Dante been more grateful to have a werewolf attack him than in his moment. This abrupt thought was so absurd that it very nearly got him killed. He was nearly a half-second too late as he met the impossibly wolfed-out Kieran head on. It was a solid tackle, one that rattled his bones, but he only gave a couple of inches as he threw his arms around the wolf's waist in a grapple and kept his body low. He could do nothing about those claws, but at least he could get the hell out of the way of that snapping jaw. Wand still gripped tight, he gritted out a series of spells in quick succession, "Protego Maxima. Fianto Duri. Repello Inimicum."
Golden blue light erupted from his wand tip and flowed around them. This plan was insane, but that was kind how he worked anyway. And anyway, better to trap the wolf in with him than let him rampage around the grounds.
The wolf had not expected to be met with such resistance, and it pissed him off. Claws dug into the man’s back as he realized there was no way to make purchase with his teeth. Seeing the wards going up around them from the corner of his eye was triggering his flight instinct. He didn’t want to get caught in here. He needed to get out. Backing away from Dante, it only took a second for him to realize he was already stuck. He didn’t realize what was going on fast enough.
Now he was trapped, and his attention was fully on Dante again.
Pain flared in white hot shards across his back and splintered against his nerve endings. His vision went dark for a second before a spark scattered it, and Kieran and his own dire circumstances snapped back into focus. This wasn't Kieran's fault—how could it be—but Dante knew he really needed to do something. And fast. Beyond the magical barrier, he could just make out wavering shapes quickly approaching. There were shouts, but they were distorted.
Heat licked at the gashes where the wolf's claws had gone deep, burning hot enough to cauterize. And then that same heat just kept expanding. A haze rose from the ground, the grass browning in an instant. For a second or two, Dante stared down wolf-Kieran, and then suddenly the very air was on fire.
It was getting very, very hot within their little bubble. The wolf growled deeply, but the hotter it got, the harder it was to focus. He couldn't breathe, and the world was beginning to go very out of focus. Letting out a howl, he stumbled forward, taking another swipe at Dante even as he started to fall. Panic and fear rose up within the wolf as the darkness started to take over.
Flames licked across Dante's skin, burning most of his clothes to ash within seconds. He easily caught the furry wrist that came at him, and pulled the nearly unconscious werewolf to him. These were probably the actions of a madman, but this was nothing new. "Naptime, Mr. Wolf-Man," he said low, a whisper in the inferno that surrounded them. "We'll get this figured out."
Beyond the dome of magic, he could just make out a small cadre of security assembled around it. There would be a lot of explaining to do—and Dante feared he might be fresh out of convenient misdirections to give. He glanced down at Kieran and secured an arm around him. "I got you, man."
Kieran would've called him insane for what he did, but he was Kieran's brand of crazy. He would be infinitely grateful to the man for keeping him contained, and away from any innocent bystanders.
A warded room in medical was waiting for him, and a heavy sedative had his name written all over it when he was delivered by security.