CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS // REAL PERSON Prompts Post // December 1-15
This post is for ANY AND ALL REAL PERSON PROMPTS. Persons from other fandoms are allowed as long as the main pairing includes one person from the Supernatural cast. Exceptions made for Jared, Jensen, and/or Misha's wives. Reminder: all prompts with people under the age of 18 should be posted to the underage post.
[Reference Material]
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[Reference Material]
FORMATTING
PromptsAll prompts ( Read more... )
This is, at the very least, a lot more interesting than taking a nap under a bush.
He’s heading towards the highway now - by sheer chance, Gen suspects. There’s nothing but a creek and a few miles’ scramble between him and tarmac. He’ll be fine there, vulnerable only to the whims and predations of the kinds of people who pick up hitch-hikers.
And then she hears a cry and splash. A huge, bruising, belly-flop kind of splash. “Oh, God,” he says.
There are times when Gen mightily regrets a wolf’s inability to roll its eyes.
She sits just out of sight and listens as the guy hauls himself out of the water. It’s a whole litany of grunts and whimpers and curses. At first Gen figures something’s happened to his camera, but he only has to take two steps away from the stream for her to hear that he’s limping.
He doesn’t go far, though. He climbs slowly up the bank. he slumps down onto a fallen log hard enough for Gen to hear the thump, and he says forlornly, “God damn it.”
Congratulations, Gen. The guy you accidentally freaked out of his skull is now your problem.
She waits a few minutes, just to be sure, but the guy doesn’t get up again. She hears a few electronic beeps and another muttered curse. “At least Ian Malcolm had a sat phone. I told Collins I’d need a sat phone. ‘Exaggerating’ my ass.”
He’s limping, he’s lost, he’s soaking wet, and it’s forty degrees and dropping fast. Maybe he deserves to freeze to death, but that doesn’t mean Gen can let him.
She circles around him to the edge of the stream so that he’ll be able to see her coming, and then she walks towards him along the bank. She can tell when he spots her by the sharp intake of his breath. He doesn’t move, though. She takes another step forward.
“Great,” he says. “Just great. Now are you going to eat me?”
If Gen ever gets a chance to talk to him face-to-face, boy howdy the lectures she’ll give him. About how most wild animals would rather run from you than eat you, first of all, except for how you running away means you’re acting like prey. About wearing decent gear if you’re going hiking, hiking boots instead of tennish shoes, a real coat in February instead of the flannel overshirt this joker is wearing. About the virtues of pepper spray.
Except Gen won’t ever be giving him those lectures, because she’s going to get him to the highway and then hope he forgets he ever met a weirdly helpful wolf in the woods.
She’s not quite sure how to make that happen, though. How to get the guy who’s been running away from you to follow you?
A few yards down the creek, the banks drop to a nice fording place. Gen looks to make sure she still has the guy’s attention, and then she trots a few steps in that direction. She looks back.
He’s still sitting there, brow now scrunched in puzzlement.
Gen yips and takes a couple more steps away from him.
“Uh, goodbye?”
Dumb as a rock, this one.
What if she were a rescue dog? Not a wolf at all? What would she do? She gives an experimental little whine. It’s not a sound she’s used to making, and it comes out a little garbled.
“You cannot seriously want me to go with you.”
As another experiment, Gen wags her tail.
“Are you, like, a pet wolf?”
Gen just barely keeps from growling. She’d rather he didn’t realize just how much she understands of what he says, and also, scaring him has caused her enough trouble already. Instead she yips again and points her nose determinedly downstream.
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