Secrets, Secrets

[bloodseal_soul]

Characters: Bran Cornick [the_marrok], Alphonse Elric [bloodseal_soul]
When: Sunday Night (August 16th, 2009)
Where: The Riverbank
Rating: R (Violence, blood and gore. And blood.)
Summary: Al gets a bit careless around the edge of the fences.

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[the_marrok]

Bran had spent two nights as a wolf, in his first week in this strange world. With his mental stability in question with the loss of the pack bonds--and the loss of all sense of his sons and mate--he had been careful to stay human. For the most part. And since the full moon had passed, it hadn't been so hard to do

[bloodseal_soul]

Alphonse had been utterly sure he was done for this time. Stupid, so stupid, letting himself be taken by surprise, and not have the presence of mind to react properly. He'd gotten slow in the months of peace, and if he had lost his edge, he'd be a liability in rescuing Kakashi... or what was left of him.

The crushed bones of his left arm sent spasms of pain through his body, and blurred his vision. Nerve damage, if he wasn't lucky. But he could live without an arm. It was important that he live. Unable to find a point to hit and with the thing dangling him out of range of its face for the time being, Alphonse curled, reaching for the knife in his boot. Before he got to it, the claw holding him wrenched to the side, and Alphonse felt a hot rush of fur, something like a whipcrack across his mind of mingled pain and shock. Blood ran down his arm as the skin around the wound ripped open, and suddenly he was falling through space

[the_marrok]

Well, looked like Al survived.

Bran thought in mild amusement that he knew better than to corner a wounded creature. The blade sunk into his skin, and only lightning reflexes and agility greater than any real wolf, saved him from a tracheotomy. It still hurt, but it wasn't lethal.

Bran's next move was to whip his head around and grab the arm with the knife between his jaws, swinging his body around so his shoulders thumped Al in the chest a little forcefully.

Bran growled, careful not to break skin as he squeezed Al's arm in his teeth, but not really interested in any more of the boy's nonsense, not when he could smell al's blood around them, too pungent and too much of it.

[bloodseal_soul]

Al had seen only chimeras move that fast before, and when the teeth closed on his arm, he was ready for another broken one. He didn't bother dropping the knife, it was useless at this angle, and the wolf would make him drop it soon enough, when those razor-sharp teeth sank into skin and tore him open.

Without wasting a second, knowing full well the animal could tear his arm off with a jerk of its neck, Al mustered what strength he had left and slammed the fist of his broken arm as hard as he could into the wolf's throat, directly over the wound. In his experience when you collapsed something's windpipe, it tended to let go very quickly.

He felt the bones in his arm crunch and give more, but the adrenaline prevented the pain from crippling him, or pulling back on the blow, though it did make his vision swim around the edges, and his breath wheezed out in a dry sob.

[the_marrok]

Crushing damage was actually more painful than stabs or cuts, and more lasting. But Bran wheezed, instead of collasping, and he coughed around Al's arm as he tried to make sure his windpipe was still working--it was, and already healing, like the rest of him. But by god he hurt. And this was damaging the boy even more than it was hurting him.

Enough! Bran spoke sharply, projecting his thoughts into Al's mind. It was not something he usually used with outsiders, it didn't pay to let one's secrets out... But the kid was going to fight himself into the grave, at this rate. Stop this at once, boy. You're only injuring yourself further.

Accompanying his words he growled again, still keeping a firm but undamaging (beyond a few bruises) grip on Al's arm in his jaws.

[bloodseal_soul]

The voice lashed through his mind like a flame-covered whip, startling Al back to lucidity with an abruptness that was almost as painful as his arm. His death grip on his knife didn't loosen, and his frantic breathing didn't slow, but he stilled so suddenly and completely, it was eerie.

He recognized the voice, but through the fog of pain, he couldn't place it. He didn't know who it was, didn't understand. The growl didn't make him shiver, but he stopped struggling, answering to the authority in the voice and going limp in the wolf's grasp.

Alphonse swallowed hard, trying not to be sick as the pain rolled over him, and his knife hand twitched with it. He made himself let go, and the knife dropped into the sand.

There were no questions, but he didn't take his eyes from the wolf's.

[the_marrok]

When Al stilled Bran kept his eyes on him. When it seemed the boy wasn't going to struggle further, he let go of Al's arm slowly, but did not back up. As much as he was in control, Bran could not tell the wolf to move away as long as Al met his eyes. Dominance instincts warred with his protective streak, and he spoke again, a bit more gently, but still firm and commanding, in Al's mind.

Lower your eyes, child. And for that matter, this whole situation would be easier if he were human. Al didn't look like he'd get very far on his own, and with all his supernatural strength, carrying Al in wolf form would just be awkward.

And don't watch, this won't be pretty.

[bloodseal_soul]

Making eye contact was something Al never had trouble doing, but something in those eyes made him want to squirm and back up, to look away. Quite suddenly, he recognized the voice when it turned gentle. Bran.

So this was what the man hadn't been telling him. Hadn't been telling anyone. He was... something. Al's mind wasn't working properly, it was still pressed through with shock, pain, and the kind of lingering fear that means nothing functions correctly.

Normally, Alphonse would have argued the point, but he didn't need any more horrors tonight. He lowered his eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had called him "child", but Bran had just saved his life. He wasn't about to go against that.

[the_marrok]

When Al lowered his eyes Bran's wolf side was satisfied. Bran knew such a gesture was not meant to challenge him, and his wolf grudgingly accepted that. Sitting back on his haunches the werewolf made a grimacing expression, then grunted as he began to change

[bloodseal_soul]

Just listening to it was bad enough. The crack and slide of bones reminded him of things best forgotten, but thankfully the pain was consuming enough that Alphonse wasn't tempted to think too thoroughly on what was happening. Instead he cradled his arm close to his chest, wincing when the felt the hot blood spread almost instantly through his shirt to the skin

[the_marrok]

Even in human form the smell of blood and fear and pain was strong. Bran gently, oh so gently, pressed Al's arm against the boy's chest. He knew it hurt, and Al's soticism was impressive, but then he'd been impressed by Al before, as such things went. He felt compassion for the kid, in such pain and agony and with a virtual stranger to boot. He found he was glad Al hadn't died, and angry at the thought the boy had nearly perished. Al was not close to him, but...

Not a good night, for Al. Of the two Al looked more like the one who'd ripped a monster to shreds with his teeth.

Gently and with incredible strength Bran knelt and gathered Al in his arms, lifting him as if he literally weighed no more than a down pillow. He held him with ease in a bridal carry, one arm under Al's shoulder, the other under the alchemist's knees.

"I know the way." His voice was gentle but there was something fierce in his manner. His contained anger was not visible in his face, but there was a bit of something there that gave it away, all the same.

[bloodseal_soul]

Al had to appreciate that gentleness, almost the pain raging through his head made him actually feel ill. He'd had bone broken before, but never quite this badly, and blood loss was also a new feeling. All in all, he was starting to prefer bullets. More fire, less ripping, grinding ache.

Alphonse let up on being macho enough to wince when Bran gathered him up, and he cradled his arm close to his chest, hoping that wouldn't jar it worse as they walked. He was still trembling uncontrollably, he couldn't stop himself from it, and after a few moments of breathing deeply, he slumped against Bran's shoulder, his eyes half-open. He'd trust him. He had to trust him. Bran had just saved his life.

"I'm sorry I almost cut your throat open," Al whispered, the tiniest edge of a chuckle in his voice.

[the_marrok]

Bran walked forward on bare feet, stride steady and careful as possible not to jar the boy his his arms. For some reason this reminded him of the time Mercy crashed the car... He'd been so scared she'd die. This wasn't so bad, the boy was badly hurt, but the tone of almost amusement was relieving, a bit, it meant Al had enough wits left to form some humor at the situation.

"It's alright." Bran's voice was deep and calm. "I'm hard to kill." There was some amusement in his own voice, but also that edge of intensity.

He was silent again, striding forward in the moonlit darkness with unerring step.

[bloodseal_soul]

Alphonse studied the mark across Bran's neck as best he could in the dim light, with his slightly blurred vision. He didn't want to pass out, so he couldn't relax too much. Had to keep talking. The very warmth of the blood drying in his shirt, thick and greasy, was enough to help keep him there and whole.

"I noticed," Al whispered, and tried to move his fingers, checking for nerve damage. He could, but instantly regretted it. His arms hurt, badly, and he was sure he'd wrenched something in his back in the fall.

"What are you?" he whispered, and it wasn't fear in his voice.

[the_marrok]

Bran didn't look down but he shifted a little, let Al get a better view of the ugly gash where Al's knife had tried to kill him. It was not from boastfulness or resentment, just that he could feel Al's eyes on him, and he had no reason to keep Al from seeing what he wanted, in this case.

And it was one of those tricks he liked, to keep people thinking he was a mind reader or omniscient--he responded to the unvoiced subtle things that most missed--and it was through his ability to catch people off guard by responding to their unspoken thoughts that his position as Alpha had gone from impressive to legendary, in all the years he'd been the Marrok.

"Try not to squirm around so much. I'll talk to you if you need something to focus on. I am a werewolf." He'd expected the question, though the lack of fear was pleasing. Either Al had no idea of the reputation of werewolves, or... there could be any number of explanations. Perhaps Al was just, as Bran had surmised earlier, someone who'd been through too much to find much to fear in

[bloodseal_soul]

Had Al been more well in body and mind, he might have raised a hand as though to touch it. It was healing fast, but he'd seen faster. Much, much faster, and it didn't phase him much. After having his arm crushed, he really wasn't into being surprised by things like rapid healing, or the existence of werewolves