[silas & jack]: i found you a girlfriend
Who: Silas & Giacomo
When: Before someone was a dick and stabbed Silas in the head
Where: The fletcher's!
Ratings & Warnings: Stupid dogs.
It had taken no small amount of effort on the hellhound's part to track down Giacomo.
There were few men that moved through the city with the same mix of scents that he had, the ones that marked him as a man of the wild, as a wolf. It was sheer luck that Silas stumbled across him one day, a brief encounter in the crowds of the city; it was even harder to follow him unseen back to fletcher's. The dog-man paced outside of the door for a while, wondering how best to tackle the problem that lay before him. Ah! Reilanin had better appreciate this.
It was the better part of an hour before Silas opened the door, stepping inside and scanning the area. Wolf-man, wolf-man. Where did you go?
Giacomo was perched on a stool behind the counter, hunched over while he worked at a piece of wood. Slowly, it was becoming an arrow shaft. His curls hung limly over his face and his gloved fingers moved awkwardly over the wood as he scraped at it with a blade, but somehow it worked. The process had taken years for him to refine, and he still sometimes let the blade slip too far and felt a bite of metal on his thumb or wood dust in his eye.
He looked up at the sound of the door being opened and closed, annoyance at being interrupted flitting across his features. He didn't like to pause once he'd started an arrow. It was hard to go back to them midway. "Hullo. Can I help you?" he asked, tossing his hair back from his face and hoping the answer was 'no'.
Giacomo was perched on a stool behind the counter, hunched over while he worked at a piece of wood. Slowly, it was becoming an arrow shaft. His curls hung limly over his face and his gloved fingers moved awkwardly over the wood as he scraped at it with a blade, but somehow it worked. The process had taken years for him to refine, and he still sometimes let the blade slip too far and felt a bite of metal on his thumb or wood dust in his eye.
He looked up at the sound of the door being opened and closed, annoyance at being interrupted flitting across his features. He didn't like to pause once he'd started an arrow. It was hard to go back to them midway. "Hullo. Can I help you?" he asked, tossing his hair back from his face and hoping the answer was 'no'.
He leaned back when Silas leaned forward, surprised at the sudden invasion of space and privacy. The stool rocked and tilted dangerously with the movement. When he had peeled himself from the floor, Jack pulled himself up to his feet again and stared at the man on the other side of the counter, bewildered.
"Wolf-" His mouth clamped shut in a frown. How did he know? His nose worked, sniffing the air in front of him experimentally. There was a familiar scent there under the man, one of dog and ash and fire. "You're the-" No, no, it was better if he didn't say it. "From the garden?"
He nodded vigorously; with enough of a mental stretch, one could even imagine the tail wagging. "Yes, that is me! And I have very good news," he added, cocking his head with a sly look at werewolf.
Quickly, he glanced about, but they were still alone-- no one had followed him into the fletcher's shop, and for that Silas was grateful. He turned his attention back towards Jack, the very picture of smug. "You have to ask what it is," he reminded gently, just in case the other man didn't get it. Poor thing had been so terribly confused last time, after all!
Jack didn't have the mental capacity to stretch that much. Instead he only stared blankly at the man before him, mouth open as he listened to him speak. This is what the hellhound had really looked like? But it was so old! No wonder he spend most of his time shifted, Jack thought. He would, too.
"Um?" He blinked, then shook his head to try and gather his thoughts. He hadn't been paying the greatest of attention. "What- What is it?"
Took him long enough to respond! Silas frowned only briefly, before resuming his eager-yet-sly state. "I met someone, a girl, who wants to meet you."
He let the words settle for a long while before he said the next part-- the important one. "She is also a wolf-person, like you. Librarian." And now Silas was enormously pleased with himself, and settled back to watch for Giacomo's reaction. Triumph.
"What."
Jack flushed at the prospect of a girl wanting to meet him. Girls often thought he was cute, but turned tail once they realised he had no idea how to speak to other human beings. His eyes were wide as he scratched at the back of his head, turning over in his mind what a librarian was. Wait, he wasn't a librarian- "I'm not a librarian," he said, tone apologetic. "I just-" He paused and scanned his gaze over the room, then leaned in to speak quietly to Silas. "I just turn into a wolf."
He leaned back just as quickly, eyes shifting from side to side as if he'd expected someone to hear. "Does she do that too?"
Silas squinted. "Yes, she does, that is what I said." His voice rumbled slightly with his rising irritation. He knew he shouldn't be upset with Jack for being so simple, but still, the hound had hoped they would've been on the same page by now.
He stifled a sigh, glaring up at the ceiling. "Her name is Reilanin, and she said she would want to meet the others who were wolves like her." Silas turned his gaze back towards Jack, shrugging slightly. "So I found you."
He nodded with all of Silas' points, brow crinkled with great interest and an attempt to fully process what was being told to him. The Golden hour had a werewolf. A girl. That wanted to meet him. Just the thought made him shift nervously. It was also exciting. Godric said the Golden Hour only had one werewolf - was she it?! He'd never met someone like him before. Cristofolo didn't count, technically- he'd made him himself.
"Allright," he nodded with a shrug. "I'll meet her."
Was it really that simple...?
As far as Silas was concerned, it was. He rocked back on his heels, rubbing his hands together. He felt as though he'd just won a prize-- and in a way, he had, actually fulfilling one of the requests put upon him instead of doddering around and chasing shoes. "You should go see her. Usually, she is in the book room." A pause. "Behind the desk." Another, longer pause. "But you will have to go there yourself. I am not allowed in. Because of the fire, mostly," he added sheepishly.
He clapped his hands, and though there was the customary puff of ash, the smoke revealed that he was still a man afterward. "I am going to go now! Good-bye, wolf-man." He neatly pivoted, only overshooting his target slightly-- shoes, agh-- and strode to the door without a backwards glance.
.... Well, with one backwards glance, as he side-eyed the werewolf over his shoulder with the barest hint of a frown. "You should write her first, I think, so she knows you are coming." Maybe he should tell her as well, so she could pretty herself up for... oh, Silas frowned more. What if they didn't work out? Reilanin would be so upset, wouldn't she?
These things and other dark thoughts clouded his mind as he left the fletcher's, without even waiting to hear what Jack thought.
When: Before someone was a dick and stabbed Silas in the head
Where: The fletcher's!
Ratings & Warnings: Stupid dogs.
It had taken no small amount of effort on the hellhound's part to track down Giacomo.
There were few men that moved through the city with the same mix of scents that he had, the ones that marked him as a man of the wild, as a wolf. It was sheer luck that Silas stumbled across him one day, a brief encounter in the crowds of the city; it was even harder to follow him unseen back to fletcher's. The dog-man paced outside of the door for a while, wondering how best to tackle the problem that lay before him. Ah! Reilanin had better appreciate this.
It was the better part of an hour before Silas opened the door, stepping inside and scanning the area. Wolf-man, wolf-man. Where did you go?
Giacomo was perched on a stool behind the counter, hunched over while he worked at a piece of wood. Slowly, it was becoming an arrow shaft. His curls hung limly over his face and his gloved fingers moved awkwardly over the wood as he scraped at it with a blade, but somehow it worked. The process had taken years for him to refine, and he still sometimes let the blade slip too far and felt a bite of metal on his thumb or wood dust in his eye.
He looked up at the sound of the door being opened and closed, annoyance at being interrupted flitting across his features. He didn't like to pause once he'd started an arrow. It was hard to go back to them midway. "Hullo. Can I help you?" he asked, tossing his hair back from his face and hoping the answer was 'no'.
Giacomo was perched on a stool behind the counter, hunched over while he worked at a piece of wood. Slowly, it was becoming an arrow shaft. His curls hung limly over his face and his gloved fingers moved awkwardly over the wood as he scraped at it with a blade, but somehow it worked. The process had taken years for him to refine, and he still sometimes let the blade slip too far and felt a bite of metal on his thumb or wood dust in his eye.
He looked up at the sound of the door being opened and closed, annoyance at being interrupted flitting across his features. He didn't like to pause once he'd started an arrow. It was hard to go back to them midway. "Hullo. Can I help you?" he asked, tossing his hair back from his face and hoping the answer was 'no'.
He leaned back when Silas leaned forward, surprised at the sudden invasion of space and privacy. The stool rocked and tilted dangerously with the movement. When he had peeled himself from the floor, Jack pulled himself up to his feet again and stared at the man on the other side of the counter, bewildered.
"Wolf-" His mouth clamped shut in a frown. How did he know? His nose worked, sniffing the air in front of him experimentally. There was a familiar scent there under the man, one of dog and ash and fire. "You're the-" No, no, it was better if he didn't say it. "From the garden?"
He nodded vigorously; with enough of a mental stretch, one could even imagine the tail wagging. "Yes, that is me! And I have very good news," he added, cocking his head with a sly look at werewolf.
Quickly, he glanced about, but they were still alone-- no one had followed him into the fletcher's shop, and for that Silas was grateful. He turned his attention back towards Jack, the very picture of smug. "You have to ask what it is," he reminded gently, just in case the other man didn't get it. Poor thing had been so terribly confused last time, after all!
Jack didn't have the mental capacity to stretch that much. Instead he only stared blankly at the man before him, mouth open as he listened to him speak. This is what the hellhound had really looked like? But it was so old! No wonder he spend most of his time shifted, Jack thought. He would, too.
"Um?" He blinked, then shook his head to try and gather his thoughts. He hadn't been paying the greatest of attention. "What- What is it?"
Took him long enough to respond! Silas frowned only briefly, before resuming his eager-yet-sly state. "I met someone, a girl, who wants to meet you."
He let the words settle for a long while before he said the next part-- the important one. "She is also a wolf-person, like you. Librarian." And now Silas was enormously pleased with himself, and settled back to watch for Giacomo's reaction. Triumph.
"What."
Jack flushed at the prospect of a girl wanting to meet him. Girls often thought he was cute, but turned tail once they realised he had no idea how to speak to other human beings. His eyes were wide as he scratched at the back of his head, turning over in his mind what a librarian was. Wait, he wasn't a librarian- "I'm not a librarian," he said, tone apologetic. "I just-" He paused and scanned his gaze over the room, then leaned in to speak quietly to Silas. "I just turn into a wolf."
He leaned back just as quickly, eyes shifting from side to side as if he'd expected someone to hear. "Does she do that too?"
Silas squinted. "Yes, she does, that is what I said." His voice rumbled slightly with his rising irritation. He knew he shouldn't be upset with Jack for being so simple, but still, the hound had hoped they would've been on the same page by now.
He stifled a sigh, glaring up at the ceiling. "Her name is Reilanin, and she said she would want to meet the others who were wolves like her." Silas turned his gaze back towards Jack, shrugging slightly. "So I found you."
He nodded with all of Silas' points, brow crinkled with great interest and an attempt to fully process what was being told to him. The Golden hour had a werewolf. A girl. That wanted to meet him. Just the thought made him shift nervously. It was also exciting. Godric said the Golden Hour only had one werewolf - was she it?! He'd never met someone like him before. Cristofolo didn't count, technically- he'd made him himself.
"Allright," he nodded with a shrug. "I'll meet her."
Was it really that simple...?
As far as Silas was concerned, it was. He rocked back on his heels, rubbing his hands together. He felt as though he'd just won a prize-- and in a way, he had, actually fulfilling one of the requests put upon him instead of doddering around and chasing shoes. "You should go see her. Usually, she is in the book room." A pause. "Behind the desk." Another, longer pause. "But you will have to go there yourself. I am not allowed in. Because of the fire, mostly," he added sheepishly.
He clapped his hands, and though there was the customary puff of ash, the smoke revealed that he was still a man afterward. "I am going to go now! Good-bye, wolf-man." He neatly pivoted, only overshooting his target slightly-- shoes, agh-- and strode to the door without a backwards glance.
.... Well, with one backwards glance, as he side-eyed the werewolf over his shoulder with the barest hint of a frown. "You should write her first, I think, so she knows you are coming." Maybe he should tell her as well, so she could pretty herself up for... oh, Silas frowned more. What if they didn't work out? Reilanin would be so upset, wouldn't she?
These things and other dark thoughts clouded his mind as he left the fletcher's, without even waiting to hear what Jack thought.