sixthiterationlogs | howling in the hills

WHO: Vasquez
WHERE: The Woods
WHEN: November 27 - December 2
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Animal Transformation

What Great Fur You Have

After he'd healed from his illness, Vasquez probably should have been more thankful for his good health.

Instead, he's quickly remembered all the secrets about himself that he had given up. He remembered confessing about his fears, showing his weakness, and worse, he thinks he remembers telling Faraday things that he'd vowed to keep inside. For sure, he shouldn't have told him how Rose Creek had ended, because thinking about that gory conclusion wasn't good for anyone. When he'd healed, he'd marched himself down to that bunker where it had a machine for powers and he did what any cowardly man who never took responsibility for anything or anyone would do.

He turned himself into a wolf and went out into the wilderness, knowing that so long as he was an animal, he wouldn't have to talk about any feelings.

Unfortunately, it also means that you don't get to eat so easy and raw venison is not something Vasquez likes, which is why there's a wolf sitting outside of a house, making whining sounds and pawing at the window, pleading for whatever food is inside. He's not eating raw meat, not unless he absolutely has to, and he didn't even do that when he'd been half-starving in a dead man's cabin.

Human Skin

Eventually, he knows that this transformation won't last forever. When he'd gone to the machine, it had said a week, and counting the days, Vasquez knows that his time is quickly coming up. Of course, he didn't exactly plan it completely, because when the week is up, he's nowhere near the clothes he'd hidden, which leaves him standing near the outskirts of the south village (more in it than out), hands over his personal area, cheeks flush with red.

This is definitely not how he had intended to end this, and he knows that getting all the way back to the house isn't an option. Even stealing something isn't such a good idea, because he doesn't want to burst into anyone's house like this.

They might get the wrong idea.

So, it looks like a kind gesture is all that's going to save Vasquez, and a little humiliation until then. "Morning," he greets the nearest person with a smile, fucking freezing. "Maybe, I don't know, you have a jacket you can give me? I think it would be best for everyone if I could get some clothes."

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"I live in the North Village, this is nothing," Vasquez says dismissively, because honestly, the only reason he'd wandered down is because the North Village had Faraday and that was much too dangerous to think about when he's trying to keep away from the man.

He snorts and reaches for the bowl, shaking his head. "I've eaten much worse," he guarantees, gesturing for it so he can dig in. "You're not going to make me eat alone, though, are you?" he asks, giving her a look like this is a step too far, manners-wise.

"What's it like up there?" she asks curiously. She knows Bobo lives up that way, but she hasn't met anyone else specifically. Seems like most folks have tended to stick to the South Village, but that could have as much to do with not wanting to move too far from their entry point into the village, or the fact that two thirds of the population seems to be from her world, as anything else to do with the village specifically.

His look and the words make her smile, and she shakes her head, passing the bowl over, along with a spoon from the drawer to her left. "Lo siento, I already had lunch. But I'll have a cup of tea with you, if that'll make you feel better about eating alone."

"Quiet," he says, with the praiseful voice of a man who enjoys that quiet. "Not isolated, though. I live with two others," he says, which keeps him from going too crazy from a lack of interaction. Besides, between Bobo and Faraday, when he wants more sane company, he just comes back down this way.

Giving her an impressed look, he appreciates the Spanish. "That'd be good," he says. "I'll still feel like I'm eating too much, but at least I won't do it completely alone."

"Quiet is good," she says approvingly, though there's a rueful twist of her lips at the rest. "I'm not sure I could live with other people, though. I like my space." Though obviously she'll share it occasionally. Visitors are nice, constant company isn't really her style.

Moving to the stove, she fills the kettle with water from the tap and opens the front of the cast iron appliance, poking the embers within back into a flame hot enough to start warming the water. The tea is herbal, made from local plants, and she does miss coffee, but it's good enough for now. "You're welcome to stay a little while, and I don't mind sharing what I have," she tells him. "Maybe one day you'll do the same for me, though I don't plan on turning up on four legs at anyone's door any time soon."

He used to think that, when he was on the drive, but then he'd learned what it's like to be truly alone and since then, he hasn't wanted to be on his own. "I snore, so it's lucky they put up with me," he jokes, but it's true.

"I feel safer, knowing I have people at my back," he keeps going, which isn't a joke. The first time he'd slept soundly was with the others sleeping near him, guns in hand. "You want to take a walk, you can come up to the north village," he invites her with an easy smile. "Give Bobo and Faraday a scare that I have new friends."

howling in the hills

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