talesgolden

[talesgolden]

  His nonchalance elicits a nervous sound from Simon, more sigh than laugh but still a bit of both.

  “That is why it is not simple. I do not know if she will.”

  Trust what the wolf trusts. But does the wolf trust anything? All Simon has ever known her to do is tear apart anything and everything she left within reach of tooth and claw. .. No, that is not true. She knows the wolf trusts the dirt, and the rain, and her nose. But that is not a lot to know about something - someone who made sport of hunting. Who could tear apart more than just shoulder bags and journals.

  She expects she's not much of a threat to him in particular (she's not certain she's ever seen a larger person in her life, actually) but the principle of the matter alone is enough to leave a bitter fear fermenting in the depths of her heart, where it mingles with the aching unrest deep-seeded by the approaching moonrise. Time grows thin. Still, she wavers at this crossroad, have turned like she intends to walk away but holding fast. Missing her cousin terribly.

  Mm. Lycanthropy the curse. The given. The forced. Part of him pitties that level of disconnect. To be without and then with, not growing together and learning from one's familial pack. She didn't choose it, of that he's fairly certain. Not with the way she hedges around her wolf.

  "I don't get the opportunity to run with much of anyone, these days." It's the sad truth of military bases and deployments, and the second-class-citizen nature of some installations. He gets the rare chase, mostly with his team, either of muted lineages themselves or trusting enough of him to know he wouldn't do harm.

  Richie lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Sure." He hasn't had as much exposure to turned wolves, just as a matter of circumstance. But he has no prejudice for them. He wouldn't chase her away. "But you bite me, I bite you." It's as much deadpan teasing as it is a true fair warning.

[talesgolden]

  Ah. Trust the wolf and what it trusts. Eleanor always told Simon much the same. Such a curious sort, those born to curse. When she wasn't busy seeking ways to undo what was done, Simon wondered if the magic influenced more than these families' interaction with the cycle of the moon. Certainly the magic had been shifted, judging by the way control seemed to be the average. So was it all in equal measure? Or simple dilution?

  In any regard, he certainly did look wolfish without any aid of such big eyes or ears or teeth. Then, did she only think so because she already knew? She shook her head, moving back a step.

  “Then you know more of her than I do.” All these years tied together and the wolf still feels to Simon like someone else. Something living, in some arcane way, which she did not truly wish to harm, but still separate. And unknowable. “Would you run-” running! the idea, running, soil under feet and the thrill of- Simon has to recenter. “With. . -with a wolf that was never a pup? That will not remember it, come the sun?”

Not an unfair question, he'll give her that. In any other circumstances, about anything else, Richie would be inclined go agree with her. Hell, once burned by once-pack already, by rights he should be right there with her. And yet. Here he is, years out from that pack, and forming a new one, albeit more human in nature. He can go without, but it's not the wolf's preference, so it isn't his preference either.

"We're not so different," he says with certainty. "That other part of us, it's different from rank or creed or jobs or hobbies. We can look our own in the eye and root out intent far better than any of that shite."

He exhales a steady breath through his nose, musing on words before he locks eyes with her once more. "I may not know you," he begins by way of explanation, "but I don't need to to know you like this." Wolf to wolf. He doesn't trust her enough to show his belly, but he trusts that he could put his back to her and not find a knife in it. There's something, he believes, that runs beneath their humanity. Wolven morality that is easier to ascertain, maybe.

[talesgolden]

[talesgolden]

  It's a strange sensation. One she's never quite sure how to articulate in any language — the raising of hackles that are not, really there, so like and unlike what used to be hair-on-the-back-of-her-neck. It's not the same. Similar, but different. Louder. A ripple from under the water. A root pushing up against the soil. Simon's not sure who she's more uneased of, the wolf at the table or the one pushing against the insides of her ribs. She twists her hands around the cross-body strap of her foraging bag.

  “Maybe... some things are better left unsniffed.” It's hard to tell, but that may not be the finest continuation of a thing. Simon sighs, trying to settle the itchy feeling crawling all over. “I mean that... how can you welcome what you do not know?”

❛ it's not that simple. ❜ ( what if simon for woof!richie owo - @talesgolden)

  “Isn't it?” He rests his chin on his folded hands, almost boyish in a way he so rarely is. It's easier to be like this away from the duties and responsibilities of his work. A little lighter. More guided by his wolf. He's more comfortable, more willing, to make small-talk with this wolf. A stranger in all but this one commonality. He can think of little more binding.

  “The nose does most of the work, finding others.” More like them. “Plenty are welcome to others.” They're social creatures, after all. She doesn't have to go it alone.

[talesgolden]

  Oh, love. Love, love. Simon returns the gesture so their hands alternate, his-hers-his-hers, all pressed together and holding on.

  Not for the first time even just this week, Simon wishes he had more answers. More places to turn. The lifetime in which they had support to learn about their magic, the power in their blood, seems so long ago now, nearly something that belonged to someone else. Still, it had been such a steady thing. Sharing and growing, permitted to ask questions and learn and make mistakes. The only education Monty ever gained from his family in regard to his power was how to fear. Simon squeezes his fingers.

  “Vida meva,” life of mine, “I am sure we were late before I found my shoes.”

Monty grimaced. "The same, I think?" Such a great psychic, he was. Couldn't even recall his own visions well enough to compare them. His parents would be so proud.

With a heavy sigh, Monty dropped his head to hide his forehead on Simon's shoulder. "I don't know," he huffed a little petulantly, exasperated and tired and really just. So done with this shit. Weedkiller, asking runes, or sitting with a deck, maybe it would do something, or maybe he'd just be inviting more. It would be just his luck.

"I just-" He wished he'd had a different relationship with his family. He wished he could just, sit down with someone more experienced in psychic shit, and ask for help, and not get bogged down with personal dramas. "This just sucks."

He took one of their hands in both of his, with no motive other than to hold it.

"I think I just made us late." Sorry, but in more words.

[talesgolden]

thoughts just appear in my head sometimes but. the topic of travel already being in play and vi going "i want to visit germany" and sb goes "oh? why?" and it's because she knows for a fact there's some kind of family tie and even though she doesn't care about her dad (he sucks) and she's never met anyone else and doesn't have any reason to think extended family exists so it's not about family exactly but also it is and she wants to explore and see what it's like there and if there's anything to find but she's vi and all of this is top secret critical information and she'd have to kill you if she told you so without hesitation she goes "for the bread." and then refuses to elaborate

[talesgolden]

horrible little demon voices in my brain out of nowhere: (whispering) simon solo blog

[talesgolden]

HOOK (1991) dir. steven spielberg

[talesgolden]

once again thinking about maddy and drew and there is nothing actionable for it i just love them so much, is all

[talesgolden]

source

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[talesgolden]

i'm thinkin about. these are very old edits but i'm thinkin about them

[talesgolden]

—cozy things tag game   -> Vi Edition

comfort food(s): hush puppies, caramel cake

comfort drink(s): friendship tea (drink mix made from powdered tea, tang, powdered lemonade, and spices (like clove), served warm. spiced-tea adjacent. but she doesn't want actual fancy tea-bags spice tea she wants this, specifically.)

comfort clothing: hmmmm context is important here. she uses clothes as armor in general, so different clothes are comforting in different situations. broadly speaking, she loves a good set of fishnet stockings, they're just... reliably the thing she's going for. safe-enough-to-be-vulnerable comfort clothes is 100% sweatpants paired with a tank top though (+blanket cape.) she also likes zippered hoodies.

comfort show(s): this is not really a show per se but i think. those old(? old? do people still do this?) tv blocks where the whole program is just like, listings of things. sometimes antiques sometimes it's more like a Home Show but on tv- the very consistent and pleasant vibes of those are weirdly comforting and great for low volume background noise (especially in unfamiliar places.)

comfort movie(s): you will never know this. it's dumbo (the 1941 version) which also leads to...

comfort song(s): ...baby mine. but i cannot stress enough how much a person will never, ever know this. if you ever bring it up without us have explicitly written them talking about it, you will be Wrong.

comfort book(s): n/a. not so big on reading.

comfort game(s): i don't have a specific one in mind but i'm very sure she's got some kind of time-waster puzzle game on her phone that she's more into for it's power of zenning her out than any other conceivable reason

[talesgolden]

*slurping noises*

[talesgolden]

daemon au but erago.n's soul bond is still to saphira (a dragon)

[talesgolden]

the truth of vi is buried somewhere in whatever it is that these three have in common