#✶ farkas × miriam — the wolf only needs enough luck to find you once

[wolfclad]

✶ a small starter for @sunmad

Dawn was an implacable thing. It did not linger nor wait for him. Already the sky was burning – fingers of gold crept over the edge of the earth, spooking the shadows. Farkas stood at the water’s edge, the salt and spray of the sea clinging to his skin like the weight of memories he could not shake. His beast-formed self had fallen away with the darkness, but still he felt the red-tongued wildness in him, thick and tangled like thorns. Miriam, the sun-born girl with eyes that gleamed as though they had once reflected the fires of heaven, stood in front of him, facing the breaking dawn.

“Another day,” he murmured, his voice gravel-pitted, the words a shackle he could not break. Calloused fingers worked their urgent way into her small, soft hand. Their time together was fleeting, nothing but a slumberous sigh among godlings. Already his departure was imminent. It was as inevitable as the rising eye of the sun, as endless as the sky that bound them to each other – and cursed them in the same breath.

[decidentia]

◈   @shellcrack  //  starter

Cutting through the resinous scent of pine needles, through the earthy notes of rotting mulch and fungus, came the reek of blood. Its coppery, metallic tang filled Farkas’ nose, strong enough to coat the back of his throat, to lie thick on his tongue. A red ribbon was what pulled him through the fringes of woodland, deeper into the forest’s feathered heart.

Mankind could not help but leave a mark. A desolation of tree stumps, like coarse stubble, greeted him as he approached the isolated homestead. Pens that had once housed livestock now guarded their remains. Putrid and bloated, the stiff-legged, round-bellied creatures lay in their own filth, oozing from every orifice. The cool light of Farkas’ pewter gaze traced the rims of crow-picked eye sockets, quick to focus on the door which hung open in dark promise. Blood formed a lacquer – so dark it was almost black – that drip-dried down the front steps, staining the grain and soaking into the pores of the wood.

This scene of humble domesticity had been the site of a slaughter. Farkas was no stranger to horror, but still he felt a kernel of dread sprout in his chest. Boots creaked and dove-tail joists whined as he mounted the steps, congealed pools crackling beneath his heavy footfall. Being both a monster and a monster of a man, he was too big for homely spaces; he was forced to duck his head to enter the cabin, the ruin inside reflected dully in his steel breastplate. Sparse furniture had been reduced to splintered kindling, and all was dusted by the ash and cinders that spewed from the cold fireplace. Shutters were closed, the only light that entered the space pushed in behind him, casting his shadow tall and broad.

A massacre. Bodies pulled apart. Two – Farkas counted – identifying them by the ribcages that yawned open like bear traps, vomiting their innards. Maggots writhed ecstatic in gnawed flesh while their blue-sheen parents buzzed black and fat, rubbing their hands together in filthy glee, feasting on the splatters of gore that painted the vaulted ceiling. At the stink, he closed a hand over his nose and mouth, that cloying decay softened by the leather that covered his palm. No lives to save here, no murderer to apprehend, not even an unspoiled larder to raid. He turned as if to leave.

And then he heard it. The softest of whimpers, the rapid tick of a frantic heartbeat. Heaped in a corner, gore-flecked sheets heaved and mewled. Farkas thought of a she-cat’s nest, of the helplessness of newborn kittens, all milky breath and dandelion-fluff fur. Through the tangle of torn linen, he glimpsed birch-pale limbs and wild brown hair. The shroud slipped lower, revealing impossibly wide and round blue eyes, glassy in terror, red-rimmed from long-spent tears. A girl.

Farkas approached, looming over her before he thought to make himself small, to settle onto one knee. He reached out a gauntleted hand, proffering it to her as though she were a kicked stray, a hag-ridden mare.

“Easy, child.”

[austerulous]

◈ @destineden clicked the ♡ to get a web weaving

1. D20: Neverafter. 2. Art by Evangeline Gallagher. 3. Hélène Cixous, Stigmata: Escaping Texts; from ‘Love of the Wolf’. 4. Wolf Children (2012). 5. Crush by Richard Siken. 6. Become the Beast by Karliene. 7. ? 8. Richard Siken.

[wolfclad]

✶ @handtame // cont.

A pale shadow swamped by the heavy surge of his cloak, haunted eyes fixed on nothing, her voice ringing hollow. Farkas could see the girl in his mind’s eye, even with his back turned. The silver of his gaze was fixed on some unimportant patch of earth, in the hope she might be able to cling to a singular, fraying thread of dignity.

Although he kept his attention respectfully averted, his ears caught every gasp, every choked sob. Those brittle, fluttering cries settled thickly between them, as tangible as the days-old blood that festered and darkened. He knew too well that creeping horror which gnawed at the edges – the sort that no stiff-bristled scouring brush, no fervent prayer, could ever purge. The sickly scent of death and panic clung to her, under the layer of old fur, persistent as the curse they shared.

It was the painful shedding of innocence, the forced embrace of monstrous truth. She scrubbed herself raw against the cold water, as if she could claw away the horror stitched into her bones. The first shift was always a fever, violent and unforgiving in the young and inexperienced. Maybe it was a kindness to let her remain in that half-ignorance, to save her from the knowledge scratching at her door of her mind, the beast whining to be let in. Perhaps it was cruel to delay what was surely inevitable. Either way, Farkas did not have it in him to gut her with the truth. Not here, not now.

Her words floated to him, voice frayed but steadying. A fire for them, not for herself, despite her being the one to stand here, bones naked under the bruised sky. Shivering girl, bleeding to death on the inside.

“They’ll have warmth,” he assured her, his voice a low rumble against the unnatural quiet. Even the birdsong had died. “It will burn clean.”

As the girl wrapped herself once more in his cloak, Farkas stared at the bow-backed house, at the corpse of a former life. Now, she would shoulder the same burden of blood and moonlight as he.

In silence, he gathered what little kindling he could find around the home and brought it inside, careful to avoid the sticky, tar-like remnants on the floor. The air was thick with blood and loss, so heavy it clung to his skin even through the coarse fabric of his clothes, the thick plating of his armour. He felt the beast within him stirring, restless at the cloying scent. He pushed it back, forcing his hands to remain steady as he worked.

As he finished, he spotted a dresser, its wooden body split open like a conker shell. From the garments that spilled from its mortal wound, he seized a crumpled shift dress. Close to the door, he grabbed a pair of scuffed, mismatched boots from the chaos of the overturned shoe rack. Outside, these offerings were dropped at the girl’s feet with all the ceremony of a dog retrieving a black-eyed waterfowl.

Farkas moved immediately to his next task. Striking a flint he fed thatch to the sparks, his breath low as the first flame caught and curled upward, licking along the roof, feasting on the dry wood. Then he did the same again, and again, setting several points of ignition. Hungry, the fire swept over the straw, flaming stalks falling, the porch slowly catching.

Only then did he return to the space at the girl’s side. He didn’t look at her, but he could feel the sweet little shivers rippling beneath his cloak. Farkas had to wonder which, if any, parts of her were dying in the bright and furious blaze that would soon swallow everything inside.

[austerulous]

◈   @destineden said:  ❛ 🗑️ a text that wasn’t sent. (Farkas and Miriam, if you like<3) ❜   //  texting starters.

— 🗑️ A TEXT THAT WASN’T SENT.

[ text : babycakes ]   today was the best babe. think are date to the aquerium changed me. im watchin blue planet rn. did u kno there are lakes made of brine on the bottom of the sea. nature reall is lit. next weekend we