Fenrir (thebig_bad) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-08-08 01:14:00 |
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Who: Fenrir, Gwyn. Narrative (cleaned-up AIM chatlog)
When: Backdated to Wednesday
Where: The woods outside Merlin's house
What: Awkward dogs in love are awkward.
Warnings: Some violence
Fenrir lay curled up in the loft of the barn, napping in a particularly bright beam of sunshine. He wouldn't have admitted it to Gwyn, but he'd actually enjoyed the party more than he was expecting. Granted, he had expected to hate every minute of it, but still. His stomach was full of food, he could smell the woods outside, and he felt remarkably peaceful.
Naturally, Gwyn chose that moment to poke her head into the loft, her voice echoing oddly as she said, "Fenrir. Wolf. Wake up."
Fenrir rolled over and did his best to ignore her. "No. Napping. Still digesting my food."
"No." She poked him with her foot, persistent as always, and added, "There is a surprise."
Fenrir turned to blink up at her. "Is it more food?"
Gwyn smirked, pleased that he was finally completely awake, and said, "No. Come." Then she turned and descended down the ladder out of the loft, not bothering to see if he was following. With a sigh and several irritated grumblings, Fenrir rolled to his feet and climbed down the ladder after her.
Sitting on the floor of the barn was a large, brown box, marked UPS and looking slightly battered. Fenrir stared at it. It was safe to assume this was the surprise. "What is in it?"
Gwyn smiled, a dangerous, slightly unsettling sight, and whipped out one of the many, many knives she always had on her. She slit the box open easily and dumped the contents on the floor, the metal making a loud clattering noise in the empty barn. Packing peanuts scattered across the floor like snow. Gwyn kneeled and picked up one of the knives from the box, smiling wider. "Tooth and claw."
"...what are these?" Fenrir knelt to look at the weapons a little closer. Several of them looked uncannily like claws, and were clearly designed to be used like claws as well.
"You have no weapons," Gwyn said, handing him the larger set of claws. She slipped the smaller set over her own hands. "This is mine, but the other is yours. Claw-weapons for hunting."
Fenrir took the metal claws curiously, testing the weight. He sniffed at it instinctively, even though there wasn't much information his nose was going to gain. "How do you use them?"
"Here." Gwyn, who was really being remarkably patient with the wolf, reached over and slipped the metal claws onto his fingers. His hands were always warm, she'd noticed. "Now. Make a fist."
He slowly curled his hand into a fist, noting the way the claws flexed and shifted with the movements of his hand. Fenrir had been learning human body language slowly, very little of it instinctive. It was one thing to see it from afar with wolf's eyes; quite another to actually be human. But he'd seen enough to know a clenched fist was a sign of agression. And with these claws attached to his hand...he punched forward quickly, almost surprised to actually hit Gwyn.
She leapt backward with a canine yelp, looking irritated. "Careful! These bodies break."
"Sorry," Fenrir said, still looking at the metal on his hands. They were nowhere near as powerful as his original claws. Nothing ever had been. Those had been fit to rend the gods themselves, to tear immortal flesh off in ribbons and paint the earth red. But the claws on his hands now were sharp, and interesting, and he couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, hound."
Gwyn's instinctive anger thawed at the sight of his smile, and she relaxed. It was odd, that he was so old and yet so new to this. She stepped forward and took his hand again. "You are welcome. We should practice, you have much to learn." Still holding onto his hand, she led him out of the barn and towards the woods.
"All right," Fenrir agreed amiably, waving one set of claws through the air with quick, sharp movements. "How did you learn about these?"
" First time in New World," Gwyn explained, both of them blinking as they stepped into the bright sun from the shade of the barn. "There was a city with rival packs. Blood in the streets. A woman called hell-cat wore brass claws and taught me."
"Hmm." Fenrir's expression was inscrutable as he flexed his hands. "Humans are strange. Say they aren't animals but act just like them."
"Animals with morals," Gwyn said. "All words are lies in the end." Her expression always darkened when she talked that way, and she didn't like it. It sounded uncomfortably Christian. She shook her head and walked faster, breaking into something that was close to a run and slipping through the treeline and into the woods with the grace of a creature that belonged there.
Fenrir smiled and followed her. It was strange, to run through the trees with two legs instead of four, but he was managing, hot on her heels. She was agile, almost as much as she would have as a dog, ducking and weaving through the trees and underbrush easily. When he was just on the verge of catching her, she whirled suddenly and struck out, slamming the claws into his shoulder.
Gwyn smiled at Fenrir's shocked expression and startled yelp. The lesson started now.
Fenrir's lips were drawn back, baring his teeth in an instinctive snarl. They circled each other, fists and claws upraised. both looking for an obvious opening and finding none. Fenrir struck out, testing her. She blocked him easily.
"Control movements!" she hissed. He was too cautious, too unsure. It was clear to Gwyn that he was used to fighting the ways wolves did; all shows of dominance and posturing, very little actual injury. It was a good strategy in the wild, but he'd be killed in a fight with humans. He needed to be more physical, to get used to wrestling and clawing. She tried to grab him and pull him closer. "Humans fight like wolf hunts."
Fenrir growled and shoved her back, then lunged forward as she was off-balance, teeth snapping. He was taller than her, and heavier as well. It gave him an advantage. Gwyn was far more experienced with a human body, though, and she managed to roll them, trying to pin him. It was a struggle, and she was already sweating through the fabric of her thin dress. She lashed out with the claws, raking them across his shoulder.
He snarled and bucked upwards, body thrashing as he tried to dislodge her. With a furious growl, he punched forward, leaving deep red lines across her shoulder. The claws extended his reach and made his blows that much more painful. It was safe to say that he getting fond of them quickly. Fenrir hit her again, knocking her off-balance. She hissed and tightened her legs around his hips, trying to hold on. With another hard shove, he managed to flip them. He wasn't quite on top of her, but he could use his weight to his advantage. Gwyn was apparently not that impressed, as she quickly elbowed him in the jaw. Fenrir growled, teeth bared, the message unmistakeable to anything canine: Back down.
Gwyn froze, body relaxing a little. A defeated look passed over her face, and the message was equally clear: I surrender.
Fenrir lowered the claws. Gwyn smiled suddenly, and Fenrir had time to think, Oops, before she lunged forward. One hand locked around his wrist and the other clawed at his throat, momentum driving Fenrir off Gwyn and onto the forest floor. She was on top of him instantly, claws scraping across his skin. He yelped in pain and was deeply, deeply irritated that he no longer had a thick ruff of fur to protect his throat. Humans not been put together by someone who wanted them to survive, clearly. In short order, his wrists were pinned and she was on top of him again. He could have kept fighting and very possibly tossed her off again; she was considerably smaller, and her perch on him was precarious. But Fenrir knew he'd lost this fight.
Gwyn knew it too, and her eyes had a distinctly reddish tint as she leaned in close to him and said, "Remember: humans never submit."
"Humans are tricky, devious, honorless animals," Fenrir hissed, panting harshly for a moment. Under his breath, he add, "No wonder my father always looked like one."
Gwyn smiled and relaxed her grip on him slightly. "They are. You must learn to fight like one. Find every weakness, every off-guard moment, and strike."
It was good advice, but Fenrir felt tired and more than a little frustrated. He let his head thunk back against the ground and grumbled, "I miss being a wolf. Miss it like I used to miss the sun, sometimes."
Gwyn unfurled slightly over him, her hands slipping off his wrists as she looked at him quizzically. She slid the claws from her hands and braced them on either side of his head, staring at him the whole time. He was a strange creature. She kept expecting him to seize the opportunities she gave him, to snarl and attack, but he always defended instead. She wondered if she wasn't really more monster than he, with his tanned skin and all-too-human eyes.
"You won't win the next one as easy," Fenrir said, feeling calmer as the adrenaline left his system. It was only one fight lost. He'd lost fights before.
"Good," Gwyn said, dropping her weight onto her elbows. They had never been quite this close together. She looked calm and cruel as ever, but her eyes were smiling. "I want you to win."
Gwyn's closeness made Fenrir feel...he wasn't sure, exactly. Everything about his human body was new and strange, and even the things that felt familiar were suspect. But he didn't mind Gwyn resting atop him. "What do I get if I win?"
She shifted so that she was straddling him a little more securely, bringing them closer together, and said, "My submission." The word 'temporary' was unspoken, but obvious.
"All right," Fenrir said, something like a smirk curled across his mouth. Temporary or not, the offer is appealing. But a thought occured to him, and he furrowed his brow. He might not win next time, and his sense of fairness, bruised though it was, knew that victory should bring some reward. "What do you get if you win?"
One corner of her mouth quirked up, and her hand moved (without thought, really) to his hair, fingers weaving through and gripping halfway between a gentle touch and an aggressive pull. "Yours."
The word made him tense up a little, despite himself. In the past submitting to anything has only brought him pain, fear, and darkness. His instincts, honed by centuries spent bound and buried deep in the earth, howled in terror and demanded he fight. But. But. She hadn't hurt him. She hadn't been waiting with a sword or rope or muzzle to bind him once he lay beaten on the ground. With a small nod, he repeated, "All right."
He tensed, Gwyn observed. She didn't like that. Normally, all she wanted was the fear of others, to portend doom and bring terror. But this felt different. Maybe it was her latent protector urges; they had recently been in Connecticut, where she was, oddly enough, considered a protector of children. But for whatever reason, she loosened her grip on his hair and stroked a thumb through it gently, as if to pet the abused area. "You have nothing to fear in me, wolf. You are not human."
"I know," he said, smiling a little. It was strange, to see the hound looking even a little concerned. But he'd always enjoyed being petted. "It's not...I spent a long time trying to stay away from everyone. Didn't want to be caged. That's what I worry about. It's not you."
"No cages," Gwyn said, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to figure him out. Trying to figure out any of it. It had been a long time since Gwyn felt propelled only by instinct in a human body. "Last time I was caged, I killed my way out."
"I couldn't," Fenrir said, and bitterness edged his voice even now. "They had rope. It was unbreakable, even for me. They tied me up and buried me in the earth, and put a sword between my jaws so I couldn't bite. " It was the short version, the very short version. It left out Tyr and his siblings and his father, but Fenrir didn't want to bring them up right now. His expression was rueful as he added, "I'm only supposed to be free when the world is ending. And then I die."
Gwyn tilted her head, face inscrutable. It was too strange, hearing him talk and not just delighting in his tragedy. Some part of her did, yes, but she found herself unsure in what to do. He wss still the wolf-god, the strong creature she remembered from old days. Finally, she said, "But you are free now, and nobody could cage you. Here, we are free."
"Yes," Fenrir said. Unsure why he did it, he reached out and brushed one of the messy locks of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Here, we're free. Don't know how, or why, but...it makes me happy."
His touch made her stop and she didn't know why. She kept moving, yes, still in the moment. But time seemed to slow, her heart beat too hard, and all her finely-attuned senses melted as her vision tunneled to Fenrir. His hand was warm. "Knowing isn't important."
Gwyn could think of nothing to say. So she leaned down and kissed him softly and inexpertly. It was all instinct. Fenrir kissed her back without hesitation. He was very unsure and not entirely certain what he was even doing, because humans were bizarre and this was bizarre. When they broke apart slightly, he blinked up at her, licking his lips. "That was strange. Not bad, but strange."
"Yes." She blinked a few times herself, eyes wide in a classic frozen-animal stare. She was extremely conscious of every point of their bodies that were touching, of her arms braced on him, and his hand at her hair. She didn't really want to move. "It... seemed like a good idea."
"It was," he said quickly. "A good idea. We could--" He swallowed, expression determined, and leaned up to kiss her again. Gwyn had just started to open her mouth to answer when he surprised her, but after a moment she kissed him back. She hooked her arms behind Fenrir to fist her hands in his hair and grip him tighter. It suddenly didn't matter too much that she had never done this before and has no real idea how it worked. What mattered was his mouth hot on hers and strong arms gripping her, the slip-slide of inexpert, hungry lips and acting without thinking, because he was here and he was under her and it felt fucking right.
Then he gripped her hard, pulling closer, and the moment was broken suddenly, something snapping in Gwyn's mind. She broke the kiss and stared down at him, still breathing hard, still in his arms and close enough to count his freckles. What the hell were they actually doing? A thousand memories flitted in and out, of wild encounters and violent stray dogs. Wasn't this the part where the female growls and snaps at the male? (Never mind that she kissed him first.) Her face was tense and forbidding, as usual, as though he'd personally done something wrong. But her widened eyes and slight flush still betrayed her.
Fenrir, for his part, sensed the change in her mood. He looked up at her, trying to gauge her mood, and said, "Humans are very strange. How they show affection, I mean."
"It's a human thing," Gwyn said. As with all things she didn't understand but couldn't ignore, she intensely disliked it. Being confused, being uncertain, feeling small and female next to him, it was all frustrating and strange. His breath on her face and his blue eyes made her want to run far away. "It's stranger that I did...that at all."
"But it wasn't unpleasant?" Fenrir asked. Because he'd enjoyed it, strange though it was. He'd enjoyed it quite a bit. "I didn't think it was unpleasant."
"It wasn't bad." Gwyn found Fenrir extremely distracting even through her annoyance. She leaned down to give him a light kiss. It was close enough to nuzzling for her brain to accept. She added, "I have never d-- never wanted to do this before."
"Well, I haven't done it before," Fenrir said. He smiled, a little hopefully. "We could do more of it? Or do it later? Either way."
Gwyn said nothing for a moment, but then nodded sharply. They kissed one final time before getting up and walking from the forest, carefully not looking at each other the entire time.