Snowfall possesses a certain novelty for the tropical crowd, particularly those like Buffy, who rarely experienced it even back in the "real world", but it's a novelty that wears off sooner rather than later. As it turns out, Buffy would much rather whine about sweating in cute boots rendered useless during the summer than freezing in cute boots that actually serve their purpose during the winter. But if there's anything that Buffy has learned from the island, it's that even non-beggars can't be choosers. Anyway, she's kinda-sorta getting a hang of this steam-punk chic trend, which makes her feel slightly less self-conscious when she braves the cold today in search of wherever the Compound has gone off to
( ... )
At the sound of the girl's voice, Wolf looks up and his eyes widen when he sees the big cat. He doesn't know what that word means, but he knows that it's a very big cat, bigger than any cats he's seen before and while Wolf prefers dogs and cows and sheep, he loves all animals and that big cat is the prettiest cat he's ever seen.
"I'm Wolf," he says with a smile, wiggling his toes again, but he's distracted by the cat now. For this, he'll even put his shoes back on, because he knows he can't walk across the snow in his bare feet, no matter how badly he wants to. "Is it a boy cat or a girl cat?" he asks, stuffing his feet back into the shoes and fumbling with the laces.
As Wolf moves to pull his shoes back on, Buffy realizes that she missed her window for inquiry; moving forward, she can only wonder and guess as to what his reasons might have been for not wearing shoes in the first place. She misses flip-flop weather as much as the next gal, but not nearly enough to endure the anguish of freezing toes. "Hi, Wolf," she says, waving once again. She can't help the dubious squint she affects almost immediately, but as is often the case in these scenarios, a girl named Buffy is in no place to question or judge. Besides, at least Wolf is actually a word. "She's a girl cat," answers Buffy, opting to omit the colorful name history which might instead suggest a gay, boy cat. "I call her India. India, Wolf; Wolf, India. And I'm Buffy."
With the laces finally ties -- and that's his least favourite part of shoes, those stupid laces -- Wolf gets to his feet and grins at Buffy and her big cat. "Hi, Buffy. Hi, India," he greets happily, his shoes almost entirely forgotten at this point. More than almost anything, Wolf loves to meet new people and he loves to meet new animals, too. That's way better than having to worry about stupid shoes.
"Can I pet her?" he asks. "Sometimes cats like to bite Wolfs, I think."
It occurs to Buffy as he speaks that Wolf could very well be a nickname, the man (boy?) certainly large and hairy enough to have garnered it. But the similarities in appearance are trumped by personality, at least the sliver that she's been able to observe to thus far, and she finds herself reminded more of a friendly dog than anything else. Possibly a puppy, but one of those breeds where at two months they're already the size of a small horse. Nothing like the actual wolves that she used to know, but then, she never knew all that many
( ... )
"Hi, cat," Wolf says again, petting India's ears. She feels so different from all the dogs on the island and he grins, practically trembling with excitement. There are so many different animals here, so many kinds he's never even seen before and he's always excited to discover a new one. Sometimes, though, he just wishes they could talk.
"She's nice," he says to Buffy. "Most people here are nice, so I guess most cats and dogs here will be nice, too, 'cause they learn from their people." That's what Wolf thinks, anyway, and he hasn't seen anything to make him think it's not true.
"She is, isn't she?" It may not be the first time that the thought has occurred, or even been acknowledged, but it's a realization that almost catches her by surprise now. India purrs, a low, rhythmic hum that keeps perfect time with the stroke of Wolf's hand across her fur. Her purpose on the island was to make Buffy think, that's never been doubted, but the almighty island gods may have underestimated Buffy's resolve to do anything but think. Not about the serious things, anyway, and India represents a very serious thing indeed: she represents Buffy's slayerhood and all that it entails. All that it means. When they first crossed paths during the spirit quest, the spirit of the first slayer told Buffy that death was her gift, and she feared, as she often had before, that her role in the world was solely that of a killer. That this great, big, feral cat could come off as nice actually manages to silence that fear momentarily, and that means something to Buffy. (She isn't sure what something is just yet, but it exists
( ... )
"Doesn't sound crazy," Wolf says, even as he laughs. The West, that's crazy and scary and he thinks there are much stranger things to be found out there than animals who used to be people. Except, he thinks, there are animals out there who used to be people, but not in the nice way. Not like India.
"In my world, there are men with wings," he tells her, because a lot of people on the island seem to think that's strange. "And Wolfs get big and scary when the moon gets fat," he continues. "But not here. Here I just stay normal size all the time, no matter how fat the moon gets." He misses it, even though he knows he's gained so much by being on the island. His friends are important to him, but there's nothing like running with the moon.
"Men with wings: not all that common where I'm from," responds Buffy with a wry smile. Just birds, where Sunnydale is concerned, and maybe the occasional dragon. (She sincerely hopes the great island PTB can't read minds, lest they consider that some kind of suggestion.) "Werewolves, though, we have those. I had a really good friend who was a - Well, I mean, that's not all he was, it's not like he let it define him. Technically, I think he'd identify as a guitarist. Or just plain Oz. But he was a wolf, too." After taking a breath, she asks, "So, getting to stay normal-sized, that must be a relief, huh?"
Wolf grins widely at that, because he's always happy to hear that someone knows another Wolf, even if they're not here on the island. He doesn't know what a guitarist is, but it's probably something magic, too, just like being a Wolf is magic.
"No," he says, his grin fading a little. "No, Wolf likes being able to go with the moon. Wolfs always been able to go with the moon." He knows that sometimes, in other worlds, people have to get bit first and that's a different kind of magic. "Wolfs aren't the same as werewolves. Sort of, but not the same. We're a people. Born this way."
Even though she can't personally see the appeal of transforming into a giant, hairy beast on command, Buffy can appreciate Wolf's answer. If anyone else from home came to Tabula Rasa, she imagines that they would ask a similar question regarding her slaying. Must be nice, they would assume, not to have to kill anymore. Not to be something of a monster herself. But she misses it as much as she misses anything or anyone else she had in Sunnydale, and when she does, it comes accompanied by guilt. Wolf's smile, even as it fades, makes her feel just a little bit better about it all.
"Born this way," she repeats to herself. "Does that mean you always turned into a wolf, even as a kid?" Even as an infant, she would have preferred to ask, but she couldn't decide whether to go with "baby" or "cub".
"Yeah, me and my litter-brothers and sisters, we always did," he says, rocking back and forth a little, thinking of those things. It was different, there wasn't so much hunting, it was more about learning things, discovering what being a Wolf was all about. "But we also learned right away that we don't hurt the herd."
He looks at Buffy seriously when he says this. "Wolfs never ever hurt the herd. We keep them safe, lock them up and protect them."
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"I'm Wolf," he says with a smile, wiggling his toes again, but he's distracted by the cat now. For this, he'll even put his shoes back on, because he knows he can't walk across the snow in his bare feet, no matter how badly he wants to. "Is it a boy cat or a girl cat?" he asks, stuffing his feet back into the shoes and fumbling with the laces.
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"Can I pet her?" he asks. "Sometimes cats like to bite Wolfs, I think."
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"She's nice," he says to Buffy. "Most people here are nice, so I guess most cats and dogs here will be nice, too, 'cause they learn from their people." That's what Wolf thinks, anyway, and he hasn't seen anything to make him think it's not true.
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"In my world, there are men with wings," he tells her, because a lot of people on the island seem to think that's strange. "And Wolfs get big and scary when the moon gets fat," he continues. "But not here. Here I just stay normal size all the time, no matter how fat the moon gets." He misses it, even though he knows he's gained so much by being on the island. His friends are important to him, but there's nothing like running with the moon.
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"No," he says, his grin fading a little. "No, Wolf likes being able to go with the moon. Wolfs always been able to go with the moon." He knows that sometimes, in other worlds, people have to get bit first and that's a different kind of magic. "Wolfs aren't the same as werewolves. Sort of, but not the same. We're a people. Born this way."
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"Born this way," she repeats to herself. "Does that mean you always turned into a wolf, even as a kid?" Even as an infant, she would have preferred to ask, but she couldn't decide whether to go with "baby" or "cub".
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He looks at Buffy seriously when he says this. "Wolfs never ever hurt the herd. We keep them safe, lock them up and protect them."
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