InsaneJournal

It definitely wasn't an everyday occurrence Lance happened upon Chet in the woods, or the werewolf Chet was these days, but it was always nice when it happened. He tried to make the trips between the Outpost and their new little Sanctuary as quick as possible but when the familiar tall form of Chet emerged out the woods it was reason enough to take a little break on the trek. Especially on a warm afternoon, the sun out, when it was almost enough to pretend like the last decade hadn't gone down the way it had. Almost.

Lance had settled against a tree trunk, his trusty chocobo tied up nearby, and was rummaging through his pack. "Let's see.. whatta we got here…" he mumbled

He pulled out a cooler bag with a triumphant grin. "Oh Chet, my man, you are in luck," he said lightly and started to unwrap the packaged meat he pulled from the bag. "I think this one's got your name on it," he joked and tossed it up for Chet to catch.

Long gone was the strangely ripped old gnome Chetney Pock O’Pea, replaced by a large, roped in muscles and shaggy gray fur, werewolf. Over time he had started to lose control and shifting forms had stopped becoming a choice so much as something forced upon him. So he chose to give in to the call of the wolf and stay forever shifted. That at least meant he retained himself enough in personality and mental faculties, even though he couldn’t be around people because it also meant his feral instincts weren’t below the surface.

Chetney lived in the woods serving as a guardian for the forces of good or whatever they were all calling themselves, providing safe passage and spying on his fellow wolves when he could. It was a lonely life at times, but it was what he had to do in order to play his part and keep everyone as safe as possible.

“You’re a good one, kid,” Chet said, the words coming out gravely, half a growl and half a voice. Even though he didn’t need the food (apex predator, motherfuckers!), he knew it made Lance feel better–Enid tended to do the same thing, and hell, he was never going to turn them away. It made him feel better too, not only for the connection, but because he was able to make sure they were alright themselves. “How’s the pup, huh? Bet she was real happy to see you.”

"Thanks, I try," he replied with a cheeky grin. Like with the war he'd fought with Voltron all those years ago Lance had settled into people as a coping mechanism. Sure everything sucked a big one, but you had to let these little pockets of good linger, had to attempt to keep joking with your friends. Otherwise what was the point.

Lance pulled out a bag of nuts to snack on and settled more against the tree, stretching his legs out long. "She's good, getting too damn tall though. Who told kids they're allowed to start getting tall?" he answered. He of course didn't really mind. He was just happy Yrsa was managing to thrive and grow despite the everything of the situation. It was just crazy how it felt like just yesterday she'd been a tiny little toddler causing chaos.

"Happy to see me, sad to see me go," he added with a wrinkle of his nose. "I tried to get her to come back with me for a change of scenery but she was planting with Freya and didn't want to abandon her job." Next time though he hoped. She needed kids her age from time to time.

"That's a good thing right there,” Chetney said. He didn’t tear straight into the meat–eating now was much more of a carnal, messy thing, less so since he didn’t actually have to hunt anything here and now, of course, but still. No sense in scaring off the kid, after all. “Means you’re missed, you know? When someone’s feeling something about you.”

He stretched and flexed and immediately, everything popped and snapped and cracked into place. Chet spent so much of his time on all fours when running, but when he was on two legs he was hunched over, as if his spine couldn’t hold the weight of his upper body. “Alright, kid, tell me about your life. How you’re really doing. Don’t bullshit me, cause I can smell it on you.” Whether Chetney himself was bullshitting, well, that part might have been true, but he did suck in a deep breath through his nose and flash his teeth. The difference between teasing and threatening was hard to tell if you didn’t know how to look for the tells.

Truthfully there was a point in Lance's life where Chet as he was now might have been downright terrifying. But some years spent traveling the known universe and then nearly a decade in Vallo had left Lance pretty chill when it came to such things. Plus he was well versed with the tells by now.

So he just sort of shrugged and flashed Chetney an oh really look. But he was mostly convinced there was truth to it.

Lance popped a couple of the nuts and chewed for a moment as he thought over the question. "I dunno, man," and yes, he was aware of the irony of calling Chet man when he looked like he did, and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck as he shrugged again. "I'm just… tired? Keep trying to think it's gotta get better one of these days but one of these days never comes and my kid keeps getting bigger and bigger and all she knows is the world being a shit show and it sucks?"

A pause. "Wow, that was depressing, sorry."

“Hey,” Chet growled, literally growled, a razor sharp claw poking in Lance’s chest. “You don’t ever gotta apologize for how you feel. This shit does fucking suck, and it ain’t doing you any good to bury it. The people around you wanna be strong for you, just like you’re strong for them. So that’s the first thing you gotta think about.”

The philosophical musings may have sounded odd coming from a voice that was mostly a snarl from a chest not entirely used to speaking in words. But Chetney had always found the contradictions hilarious. The Bells Hells, a decade and change ago, had first thought of him as an old gnomish woodworker who sneaked around in the shadows. And he was! But then he literally ripped off his skin and doubled his size and howled at the sky and he was an old werewolf who could tear off faces. More importantly though, he had always had a soft spot for Lance, the kid’s easy, charming grin often hid more than he let on, and that was especially true now when he was taking on so much but still trying to put up a front.

“Second thing, you’re young, kid. Don’t sass me now, I’ve been around for damn over four hundred years and I ain’t going nowhere anytime soon. Respect your fucking elders, son,” he huffed, but if a werewolf could grin, he would, all dagger sharp teeth gleaming in the sun. “That means I’ve seen some shit. But I’ve also seen some shit pass too. The moon goes in phases, you hear me? Only see a piece of it, then you see more, then it’s shining its face down at you, then it goes away again. Doesn’t make any of the hurt go away, but it does mean that this shit shall pass.”

Lance couldn't help but laugh a little at respect your fucking elders and gave Chet a mock salute with a quick "yes, sir".

It had been ten years since Lance had briefly had his mom in Vallo, longer than that since he'd seen his dad. Missing his family was a hole Lance had never really gotten used to, even after the years with Voltron and the years here, it was just always there. But he'd long since learned to appreciate what he'd found to fill it in a little. And while no one would ever replace his parents, talking with Chet gave Lance that same warm feeling they did. A sounding board when the world was starting to feel a little too much.

He took a moment to just let Chet's words settle, mull them over. "Okay but, it'd be nice if it'd pass tomorrow," he started, never one to pass up a chance to be cheeky about shit. A brief pause as his expression shifted into something a little more serious. "Thanks though, I think I need that reminder from time to time? When I get into that whole can't see the forest through the trees mindset."

“You’re a good kid. Always been a good one. Always will be a good one.” Chet resisted the urge to ruffle Lance’s hair. Years ago he would have had to have Lance duck down in order to make it happen, the perks of being 3 feet tall and all. Now, he could do it, but the results would be less wholesome. “And I’m real proud of you.” If the gesture couldn’t be wholesome, at least his words could be. Lance was a grown ass man who had a kid and was helping a revolution, yes, but when you were as old as Chetney was, it was hard not to see everyone as a kid with so much potential. That those kids were faced with all this adversity and sorrow struck him right in the soul. He didn’t have a pack in the traditional sense, but he’d always feel protective over those he called his own.

“You tell anyone I went soft, I’ll rip your throat out.”

And that too.

Standing up on his hind legs, Chetney stretched again, somehow the muscles and ligaments and tendons growing larger and longer with each movement. These days, he couldn't be large enough, fierce enough. It was, admittedly, getting harder and harder to keep a grasp on Chetney the man. But these sorts of things helped him focus on his humanity. “C’mon. I’ll take you back so shit don’t fuck with you.”