Walter had been sleeping curled up next to Victor. Of course he had, concern and habit wouldn't have kept him away from his boyfriend's side after his little trick of passing out last night.
His last thought of the night had been about twisting Victor's arm until the stubborn mutant went to the clinic.
His first thought of the morning was, "Oh fuck!" Which came borne on a half-dream, half-just-woke-up reality of vampires and battle and failing completely and pain and that he was going to die and become a ghoul.
He wanted to fight. He wanted to take his attacker down with him. When he snapped his eyes open to find the source of the attack, the only thing he saw was... Victor?
He stayed his hand and opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but then Victor was gone.
Where had the blood on Victor come from?
Which leads to one of those cruel tricks of shock - once one realizes that there is blood, one feels the pain.
Walter gasped and pushed down the flash of panic that came with the realization that at least some (a lot) of the blood was his own.
"Victor!" He scrambled out of their side of the tent and looked around for his boyfriend, shouting his name.
Victor heard the call, but it seemed faint, like on the edge of his counciousness. He kept running, not caring where he went, not caring about the bushes that raked his legs or the rocks that cut at the sheath of dead skin on his feet. However, sometimes a mad dash has it's consequences, as he quickly discovered when he tripped over a root and fell to the earth.
Quivering, he rolled over to his side and curled into a fetal position. A rushing sound filled his ears, and he held his bloddy hands over them to block the sound. It seemed like an hour before he realized that it was just the sound of the ocean.
What was going on? What was happening to him? Did he even look human anymore? Would people run away in fear from the lizard boy? What about Walter? He shook his head and moaned. He didn't know the answers. He didn't know what the fuck was going on. He could feel himself shifting and shifting and wondered if he could shift enough to be invisible forever.
It was a while before Victor finally stopped shaking. He sniffed and sat up to look at the ocean and try to figure the situation out. He was sitting barefoot near the edge of a cliff. His clothes were mostly shredded, and beneath them he still had a thick layer of dead skin on. His claws gleamed with blood, and though they didn't hurt that much anymore, they were still frightening. There didn't seem to be any other changes, but then agian, he hadn't looked at his face yet. He lightly touched it, feeling the shape and praying that it was the same as before. To his relief, the only differences he could feel were some scratches and dried blood.
He was still shifting, he saw, and couldn't control it. His skin turned just about every color and texture he'd ever seen before, and while the effect was unsettling, it was good to realize that not everything had changed. All he hadto do was calm down. Take a deep breath and just calm.
But how could he do that, really? He was covered in skin and blood, and from looking at his wounds he could tell that not all of the blood was his. But whose was it?
Oh, no.
He had a sense of falling, and lay back down while his vision swam. Who else would have been beside him in a bed?
She leaned over to Pip. "Did you see anything out of place when you went on your run? I think Walter may be hurt kind of bad. I want to find Victor too but if he goes down I think we should all go back to camp together." She added in a whisper.
"If he goes down, you take him back, wake up Alphonse, and take him to the Clinic. I'll stay and search for Victor," Pip whispered. Louder, he said, "I'm not sure. I think I saw a weird shadow or something rush past me, but I chalked it up to gremlins or a bird or something."
Walter was oblivious to the plotting or he would have been quite annoyed. Nevermind that he would have done exactly the same plotting himself for a hurt friend.
"I can't tell. Do you think Old Man knows where he's going?"
"Well, he's not a hound dog," Pippi, who would have been fine with Walter being annoyed as long as he was alive enough to express it.
"But he is observent. I don't know that he can do more then just show us which direction he saw Victor go... We haven't covered horse in class yet, but we could try to ask him questions and see if we can understand his answers."
His last thought of the night had been about twisting Victor's arm until the stubborn mutant went to the clinic.
His first thought of the morning was, "Oh fuck!" Which came borne on a half-dream, half-just-woke-up reality of vampires and battle and failing completely and pain and that he was going to die and become a ghoul.
He wanted to fight. He wanted to take his attacker down with him. When he snapped his eyes open to find the source of the attack, the only thing he saw was... Victor?
He stayed his hand and opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but then Victor was gone.
Where had the blood on Victor come from?
Which leads to one of those cruel tricks of shock - once one realizes that there is blood, one feels the pain.
Walter gasped and pushed down the flash of panic that came with the realization that at least some (a lot) of the blood was his own.
"Victor!" He scrambled out of their side of the tent and looked around for his boyfriend, shouting his name.
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Quivering, he rolled over to his side and curled into a fetal position. A rushing sound filled his ears, and he held his bloddy hands over them to block the sound. It seemed like an hour before he realized that it was just the sound of the ocean.
What was going on? What was happening to him? Did he even look human anymore? Would people run away in fear from the lizard boy? What about Walter? He shook his head and moaned. He didn't know the answers. He didn't know what the fuck was going on. He could feel himself shifting and shifting and wondered if he could shift enough to be invisible forever.
"Fuck," he sobbed.
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He hadn't take the time to assess his own condition yet. He was standing, and they were under attack or something like it.
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"Are you okay?"
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But Victor. The glimpse he'd caught of Victor before he'd run had him more worried for his boyfriend.
"I'm okay. Let's find Victor."
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"Hey Old Man, did you see what happened? Where's Victor?"
Old Man was rather less alarmed then the three humans, he left off munching on foliage and sauntered off in the direction he saw the draconic kid go.
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It was possible to have a night out without something going awry. He knew it. Too bad that didn't happen very often.
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He pulled out a pen, scribbled a note, and left it under a rock before turning to follow the horse.
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He was still shifting, he saw, and couldn't control it. His skin turned just about every color and texture he'd ever seen before, and while the effect was unsettling, it was good to realize that not everything had changed. All he hadto do was calm down. Take a deep breath and just calm.
But how could he do that, really? He was covered in skin and blood, and from looking at his wounds he could tell that not all of the blood was his. But whose was it?
Oh, no.
He had a sense of falling, and lay back down while his vision swam. Who else would have been beside him in a bed?
"Walter..."
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She leaned over to Pip. "Did you see anything out of place when you went on your run? I think Walter may be hurt kind of bad. I want to find Victor too but if he goes down I think we should all go back to camp together." She added in a whisper.
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"Was it going this way?"
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"I can't tell. Do you think Old Man knows where he's going?"
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"But he is observent. I don't know that he can do more then just show us which direction he saw Victor go... We haven't covered horse in class yet, but we could try to ask him questions and see if we can understand his answers."
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That was a lot easier when he wasn't worried about someone he loved. Maybe Alucard had a point about sentimentality being a weakness.
"He can probably smell blood better than we can, even if he isn't a hound." Damn, I should have brought Pup.
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