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bakerstreet2017-07-30 04:04 pm
knockyoursocksoff) wrote in bakerstreet2017-07-30 04:04 pm
Entry tags:
i put a spell on you
The Witch's Curse
A fantasy AU meme where witches are real, and they are vengeful. Specify your character's role: the witch (or sorcerer), the subject of the curse, or the curse breaker. Tag around and pick or RNG a curse.
A fantasy AU meme where witches are real, and they are vengeful. Specify your character's role: the witch (or sorcerer), the subject of the curse, or the curse breaker. Tag around and pick or RNG a curse.
1: Change of Form: human turned animal, mythical beast turned human, human turned inanimate object, human made older/younger, the possibilities are endless
2: Obeisance: you are now cursed to follow the witch's every command and it's useless to resist, or perhaps you simply have to obey every command given you no matter who gives it
3: Curse of Sleep: like princesses before you, you are cursed to sleep for all eternity, or at least until your one true love finds you
4: Possession: be it a demon or any other kind of spirit, your body is no longer your own
5: Isolation: some witches use towers, others use forests of thorns, but either way the message is clear-- you are never seeing the outside world again
6: Resurrection: even death is not an escape from the witch's power, for some can raise the dead
7: Bad Luck: some curses are more minor, only causing you to stub your toe or drop your books, but they're still annoying
8: Defects: you weren't turned to an inhuman shape, but were somehow made hideous, clumsy, or repellent in some way-- maybe you smell terrible, or maybe people who get near you just feel uneasy and want to leave
9: Wounds: you have a wound that simply won't heal-- maybe it's slowly killing you, maybe it's just annoying, but it's not going away
10: Monster Magnet: wherever you go you're always being attacked by creatures, demons or monsters or ghosts, etc, that want to kill you
11: Never to Meet: you become an animal during the day while your true love is human, then you switch forms at night, so you can never both be human at the same time again
12: Death: your death is approaching and you need to find a way to avert it or remove the curse entirely
13: Objectification: you didn't avoid the death curse, and now your soul is bound to an inanimate object, perhaps to provide more power for the witch, to bind a spell to the object and give it power, or maybe just so you can't move on to your next life
14: Cursed Object: maybe it wasn't the witch themselves, but something that used to belong to a witch that put the curse on you, and now you must find a witch who can remove the curse
15: Cursed Ground: your house is built somewhere it really should not have been, and now you have to deal with ghosts or demons or the undead, which will really ruin your property value
16: Wildcard: choose your own adventure!
[adapted from original found here]
2: Obeisance: you are now cursed to follow the witch's every command and it's useless to resist, or perhaps you simply have to obey every command given you no matter who gives it
3: Curse of Sleep: like princesses before you, you are cursed to sleep for all eternity, or at least until your one true love finds you
4: Possession: be it a demon or any other kind of spirit, your body is no longer your own
5: Isolation: some witches use towers, others use forests of thorns, but either way the message is clear-- you are never seeing the outside world again
6: Resurrection: even death is not an escape from the witch's power, for some can raise the dead
7: Bad Luck: some curses are more minor, only causing you to stub your toe or drop your books, but they're still annoying
8: Defects: you weren't turned to an inhuman shape, but were somehow made hideous, clumsy, or repellent in some way-- maybe you smell terrible, or maybe people who get near you just feel uneasy and want to leave
9: Wounds: you have a wound that simply won't heal-- maybe it's slowly killing you, maybe it's just annoying, but it's not going away
10: Monster Magnet: wherever you go you're always being attacked by creatures, demons or monsters or ghosts, etc, that want to kill you
11: Never to Meet: you become an animal during the day while your true love is human, then you switch forms at night, so you can never both be human at the same time again
12: Death: your death is approaching and you need to find a way to avert it or remove the curse entirely
13: Objectification: you didn't avoid the death curse, and now your soul is bound to an inanimate object, perhaps to provide more power for the witch, to bind a spell to the object and give it power, or maybe just so you can't move on to your next life
14: Cursed Object: maybe it wasn't the witch themselves, but something that used to belong to a witch that put the curse on you, and now you must find a witch who can remove the curse
15: Cursed Ground: your house is built somewhere it really should not have been, and now you have to deal with ghosts or demons or the undead, which will really ruin your property value
16: Wildcard: choose your own adventure!
[adapted from original found here]
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But then the Lycan, with its human eyes and human flinch away from him, nods.
That's unmistakably what that was. Wasn't it? Will's mouth is open, even though he doesn't say anything for several moments. He feels unbalanced. His breath is still coming too fast, he can feel where the night shirt is stuck to his lower back with sweat, and his hands on the gun are hard to keep steady.
But Will lowers the gun further. He holds it in just one hand, slowly straightens up out of the crouch he'd been in to aim. "Okay." He says, half to himself. What's the protocol here? He could still get bitten. Even injured, Will knows the gun is essentially his only defense against an animal that size with sharp teeth and claws.
Will looks at the blood on the leaves between them. He swallows. "Where are you hurt? Your-- fur's so dark. I can't tell."
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The gun coming down tells him he's safe from that at least for a moment, so in return he does the only thing he can do to convey a similar message. Giving in to the urge to lay down, he does so somewhat clumsily with a whimper, his left back leg held in an odd way. He'd been shot in the thigh just before he'd turned; a nasty wound, one that could be fatal, but if he hadn't resisted he would have been dead long before now regardless. Motioning to the wound itself with his nose, he turns his attention back to Will, eyes bright and ears still drawn back.
The most frustrating thing has to be not being able to talk, not being able to answer the questions swarming the air between them. He wants to be able to say what's going through his head now - I'm more worried about you right now. I don't even kill house spiders, whatever you do you'll walk away from this okay. - wants to be able to ask for help properly instead of having to reassure the human that he's safe first.
It's not that he doesn't understand why Will's afraid, of course he does. He just wants to be able to tell him that he is too.
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How many strays has he helped through minor injuries?
But this isn't a dog. This is a-- Well. It's a person.
There's still that instinctive caution, around something this size and this strong. But the media threats and stories and alarm-blaring no longer touch Will's concerns - they're wrong. He's never heard that Lycans can understand speech when they're turned, just that they can't talk.
He gets the impression that if this one has vocal cords, it could.
"Can I-- check it?" He doesn't have anything on him beyond what he's wearing and the gun he's carrying, but it feels like the only possible next step. See what the Lycan is dealing with - see what he's dealing with, because Will doesn't think he's walking away from this anytime soon.
Will takes one small, infinitely slow step forward. This still has the hairs raised on the back of Will's neck. His heart never stopped racing, but...
He has to try to help. "I'm not going to hurt you."
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He watches as Will takes a tentative step forward, his own heart pounding as he instinctively cringes back a little, giving his reply in the form of a quick, sharp growl and a pointed nod towards the gun, before he glances back up to the man holding it. It's not an aggressive sound, but certainly one that says he doesn't want him close while he's still holding it.
Lowered as it may be, it's the weapon which has him so hesitant to let Will help him. Come on man, put it down. If I was going to rip your head off I would have by now.
While he waits for Will to make a choice or do something else, Gabriel lets himself rest his head down for a moment but keeps his eyes trained on Will. There's no point in spending energy making himself look anymore dangerous than he already might seem, and he's in too much pain to really turn down help if that's really what Will might be offering him. Either way, he's a little more at ease now that he won't have another bullet put through him in the next five seconds. Only a little, but it's enough.
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Pointing at his gun, Will thinks. He glances down at it, then back up at the huge wolf laid out on the ground. He stands still, long enough that it's probably growing awkward. He just...needs to sift through all the misgivings in his head.
If it wanted to kill him, it probably could have already. But it's also possible it was holding back because Will has a long distance weapon.
But the instinct to help this person stop suffering is stronger than Will's fear. He slowly crouches down, until he can gently place his gun on the rocky ground. Will stands back up, feeling naked without the gun, but it's - it's only fair. He wouldn't be keeping his gun out if he'd just found a regular human in the woods, after all.
That realization is enough to take him forward one, two steps. Will approaches slowly, hands at his waist with palms just barely turned up. His breath is still a bit ragged, his attention still a little too wired, but he's coming closer despite the lingering fear. "I want to help you." He says, because it's true. Just saying it loosens up his ribs a bit, makes it easier to breathe.
"I'm not-- a doctor, though."
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As soon as the gun's out of Will's hands, the tension visibly begins to lift from him. At last the ears that have practically been drawn back flat gingerly come forward as Will does, and while he doesn't take his eyes off of him, Gabriel does put his head down again, this time with a heavy sigh. In resignation, almost. Surrender. He's still nervous about letting Will close enough to touch, but he doesn't really have a choice here.
There's nothing Will can do to hurt him now; now it's only a matter of reminding himself of that the closer he gets.
He wonders what Will's going to do or how he's going to help if he's not a doctor, or if he knows how to treat silver exposure. Likely he won't, but that's hardly something Gabriel can hold against him. Most humans assume they'll never need to know. They're warned constantly against helping a Lycan in apparent need, especially when they're turned. 'They can heal quickly, they'll be fine. But you won't be if you interfere with them.'
Gabriel already knows that no hospital will take him in once morning comes, not while they're still in the hours following a full moon. Usually he just treats himself back in his apartment and lets his healing do the rest, but he's never been shot before. Or more specifically, he's never been shot with a silver bullet. Not the instant-kill the movies always show, but definitely more pain and more trouble for him until he can get home.
That's all he needs to do. Just get home. Maybe Will can give him a ride when morning comes, if he hangs around that long.
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Ears no longer being flat is such a good, recognizable sign that Will's careful steps come just a little quicker. Will's about as skilled at reading dogs as he is with people - it's odd knowing there's such a crossover, right here and now, but at least it's useful.
"I'd...ask what your name is, but I guess you can't tell me right now." Will glances up at the sky, even as he's nearly come up to the wolf's side. There's the barest fingers of grey reaching above the clouds, if he squints through the leaves above them. Dawn will come eventually, but not yet.
"Mine's Will." The ground's cold under his knees, and rocky, but Will is more intent on the leg in front of him.
This person - whatever their name is - is a lot larger than any dog Will's ever checked over for scrapes. And he doesn't have to do much searching to find the wound.
"That's what the gunshot earlier was." He says, dull realization in his voice. He doesn't really need to ask if this Lycan was attacking the humans who shot him, does he? Will has a gut-deep feeling that the answer would be no, that he was just trying to exist and someone else decided that was one step too far.
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He wonders how long Will plans on staying out here with him; he runs warm and doesn't need to worry much about the cold, but for someone just in their pyjamas it's a slightly different story. He wouldn't blame him if he left him here.
That leads him back to another trail of thought. Gabriel does hope that he can somehow make Will leave long enough to let him turn back. Knowing his luck probably not, but hope's all he has right now. Most humans have never seen the turn, and for good reason. Lycans tend to be private about it simply because it's an ugly process. Fairly quick, but ugly nonetheless, frightening to those who don't know what to expect.
It's fine. Still got a little time yet. Focus on this for now.
As gentle and careful as Will's being, when he touches a particularly tender spot Gabriel can't keep himself from flinching back, head turning toward Will again when he mentions the gunshot. Hopefully he's not thinking that it was self defence on the shooter's part; it's not too late for him to change his mind about helping Gabriel with an easy theory like that.
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"Shh, it's okay." Is such a reflex that Will almost doesn't realize he says it, in response to the short whines. A moment later, of course, he winces with embarrassment - this is a person, not an actual dog. Shushing it isn't...that can't be appropriate.
He's parting thick fur, matted with half-congealed blood, and underneath he finds the irritated bullet wound. It's round and deep and Will can, just barely, see the bullet still inside. General protocol from being a cop was to leave foreign bodies in deep wounds until paramedics take over, because of the risk of bleeding getting worse if you just pry at things without having sutures on standby. But it's hard to stare at the dull, black shine of blood on pale metal and not just reach in and pull it out.
Pale metal. But not gold.
Will's distraction from his lingering misgivings is full and complete and very, very cold. "Is that... Is this bullet silver?"
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Here and now, being shushed doesn't annoy him. It's an understandable reaction; he sounds like a hurt animal, it's human nature to want to be comforting. Perhaps Will has a dog back at home, that might explain his willingness to help Gabriel now - it explains that reaction at any rate. He'd probably do the same thing were their roles reversed.
He senses Will's hesitation, notes the change in his tone as he asks the question Lycans tended not to bother asking anymore, offering another nod as his reply. Silver bullets had gradually become the go-to nowadays, and if a Lycan was unfortunate enough to be held at gun point, it was a pretty fair bet what the chamber contained.
He wants to ask if Will knows anyone who might be able help him, someone with medical experience preferably, or if he'd even be willing to lend him the tools he'd need to get it out himself once he's turned back. That'd be less than ideal and risky, but the longer he has silver in his blood the more unpleasant things will get for him.
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"So it's not really justice they're after. It's sport." Torment. "I guess that was already obvious though."
Okay, so...getting the bullet out is probably now a priority. But Will has no tools hidden in his pajamas.
His campsite has a first aid kit. And pliers, although not the medical kind. And, possibly most importantly, a car to get to somewhere better-stocked.
But this Lycan is injured. He probably isn't going to get much further under his own power - hell, he'd basically stopped to just confront whatever was coming up behind him by the time Will caught up. Will doesn't think he can walk. So...
"Can I, uh." Will has pulled away from the injury, giving this person as much space as he can. "I've got a campsite. Nearby. I could...probably carry you." He's probably, what...a hundred pounds? One fifty? Will thinks he could manage a slow fireman's carry for at least a couple hundred yards, if he puts him over his good shoulder.
"If that's okay."
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To answer Will's question, Gabriel gives a heavy sigh and forces himself clumsily to his feet. His legs are shaky and he feels a little light headed, but he can move. He doesn't want to walk and he knows he probably shouldn't, but he also really doesn't want to be carried either. As much as he wants to deny to himself that it's because he's too proud to accept the offer, that's what it boils down to.
No, the campsite's nearby. He can suck it up until they get there. Taking a few steps forward, he looks back at Will as if to say 'Which way is it?'
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dogwolf leverage itself painfully up. He has a feeling the entire walk back is going to be a little hard to watch, knowing he could probably, theoretically, help.But the last thing he wants to do with someone already feeling vulnerable is pressure them into giving up what last shreds of agency they've got. "Okay. That's fine." His knees give two small groans of protest as he leverages back up off the ground too. And - Will winces apologetically while he goes back over to it, but he can't just leave his gun in the woods. He clicks the safety on, if that's a recognizable movement, and then sticks it down the back of his pants - not because that's comfortable (it's also too cold, aside from being hard metal) but because then it's not in his hands, and maybe that will be easier.
Will retraces his steps - and coincidentally, the blood trail - for about two yards before he starts realizing that he isn't, in fact, entirely sure which way it was.
"I was...a lot more interested in finding what that gunshot was all about than I was in leaving a trail back." Gabriel might need to be patient with Will while he...assesses the terrain.
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Gabriel knows enough about guns to notice the click the safety going on, and while he can't show that he appreciates it, he does.
It's only when he hears Will come to a stop that he does as well, every inch of him hoping that this time he'll lie down again and stay there until morning. All he wants to do is sleep, not that the circumstances really make that a wise choice.
Instead, with a weary sigh he does his best to steer his focus off of the pain in his leg and the nausea creeping through him, and onto the task at hand. For the most part it's the forest he can smell, now mixed with his own blood slowly drying onto leaves and rocks.
But pushing those aside, the scent of human is pretty hard to miss. Having Will there with him certainly helps.
Pausing for a few moments to determine which direction the camp seems to be in, he nods for Will to follow him. To Will's credit, they weren't that far off. It takes a little longer to get there given how slow their pace is, but eventually the campsite comes into view.
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"Thanks." He'd been hoping for some help in that department, and he's pretty glad he didn't need to ask if the Lycan was going to need a...sniff of him, or something, before tracking them back to his campsite.
Will's car - a secondhand Volvo that looks like it maybe doesn't deserve to have been dragged this far into the woods - is about ten yards from a one-man tent. Now that they're in a brief clearing, Will can see that the sky is scraped across with pale gray - enough light to see by, not enough light to be certain if anyone's going to turn back soon or not. Will can't help but stare up at it, fading stars and all, as he heads for the tent.
To get keys for his car. He's dragging open the back of the car immediately, going for a first-aid kit. "Do you...need that bullet out?" 'Is it hurting you?' is what he means. Will swallows back some discomfort. He knows he's not the best person for this job, but he also knows that hospitals would absolutely turn them away.
Doctor Lecter is an option, but he's also a three-hour drive away in Maryland. Out this far in the woods, Will's even further from him than usual.
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He waits before answering Will's question; he does need it out, urgently. But what is giving him pause is the how badly it'll hurt. While he's been on the receiving end of more than a few physical punishments and beatings, he knows this'll be different. First aid kits didn't tend to come equipped with anaesthetic, and Will's already disclosed his lack of medical knowledge. That along makes Gabriel incredibly nervous. If he starts to lose blood again or if something goes wrong...
No, that doesn't matter. If he turns back with the bullet still lodged in his leg, the damage will be ten times worse. He needs to just suck it up, get it over with. Whatever happens, happens. And if he makes it til morning, he'll need to remember to thank Will repeatedly. Christ, the guy only wanted to go camping; now he's having to play field surgeon.
After a long few moments, he glances from his wounded leg back to Will, and gives a hesitant, solemn nod.
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The only thing on Will's side right now, aside from first aid certification and a well-stocked kit, is the fact that he keeps gloves in his car. It's a habit from being an active police officer, one he collapsed back into once he'd been asked to consult for Jack again in the field.
They're blue and vinyl, and Will drags them on with familiarity that might seem odd considering his protests that he's no nurse. Unfortunately, forensic science doesn't mean he's had a lot of training in treating living people.
"D'you want to-- lay down in the back seat?" Will's opening the door, stepping aside to leave room. "Just-- if any other hunters come across us, it'll buy us time if no one can see you." And then there's not blood spilled all over the campsite grass, which is ominous even without it being a full moon. No one would benefit from that potential panic spreading around. "I've got a blanket in the trunk, I can lay it over the seat."
Will's holding the first aid kit with one hand and brushing through its contents with the other, checking for anything appropriate for fishing out a bullet--
--Damn. Okay, he's got an idea now.
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His movements getting into the car are less than graceful, but at least Will doesn't own a much larger vehicle, one that he'd need to jump into. It's a relief laying down on something soft and somewhere vaguely warm. He knows he won't be comfortable for very long, but he intends to enjoy it while he can.
He doesn't watch Will as he opens the kit, his heart's already pounding with nerves as it is. Instead he looks around the car itself, quietly distracting himself, trying identifying all the scents clinging to the interior and taking a tiny victory in being right before.
Definitely a dog owner. Definitely has more than one.
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The Lycan goes ahead and gets in his car, and Will breathes a sigh of relief. "I usually try to get to know people's names before I start poking around inside them," Will says with a weak attempt at chuckling, and in that moment he's thinking about dead bodies and not, in fact, anything sexual. "So, uh-- sorry."
And-- oh, right. "I'll be right back." Will strides off, and when he returns, it's with his tackle box.
He places the first aid kit on the car floor, after removing some antiseptic wipes. "I, uh." The next few words are bit out, staccato, apologetic. "I figure the easiest way to scoop out the bullet is going to be with something a lot more delicate than my finger." Will is using the antiseptic wipe to clean off something small and shiny that he's taken out of that tackle box.
As it hits the light, it's clearly a fishing hook. Which means it'll be sharp. Will's just thinking that that's going to end up less painful than him flailing a thick finger in there and risking shoving it in further. At least the fish hook could...well...hook around the bullet? Potentially?
"If it's-- too much, just. Nip at me or something. I'll let you take a break."
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He hears Will leaving, but doesn't make an effort to look round until he's returned, curious as to what he went to get. At first he's not quite sure what it is Will's cleaning off, but then it glints in the light and he quickly looks away again. It makes sense, and maybe it'll work. Maybe this'll all be over before he knows it.
And as much as possible, he's going to try and just let Will do what he needs to - Gabriel can't see himself wanting to take a break if it means prolonging things. That, and he'd be concerned about accidentally catching Will's arm if he nipped at him. That was the last thing either of them needed; one Lycan wounded and another freshly turned.
Once Will gets to work, despite the new waves of pain shooting through him Gabriel can just about hold himself still well enough. Staying quiet is another hurdle entirely. While he didn't pick up the scents of other humans or Lycans before, the scents of the car and now fresh blood are masking any possible third parties and he can't be sure how alone they are.
It's not long before he's unable to keep it down, the whines forced out him not sounds he's used to hearing from himself. But asides from how tensely he's holding himself, he doesn't move. Just tries to remind himself to breathe and not look.
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It's easier, after the hook is inside the wound, to carefully press into flesh and around metal. Will's movements get a little more sure, even if his hands are shaking. Even if he's forgetting to breathe. It's so, so hard to see someone else in pain, it's like digging into a gash in his own leg, but Will's able to keep it together--
Until the whimpering starts. Will hisses through his teeth as if he'd missed and hit his own hand, but of course the sharp metal is still about an inch inside his 'patient' and that's not possible.
"Sorry." Sorry, god he's so fucking sorry. Will has to gnaw on his tongue to keep from babbling, to keep from making small pained noises himself.
It's another two, three heartbeats of shared agony before -- "Shit, thank god." The bullet drags at the wound's mouth and then drops out, wetly rolling once it hits the blanket.
Will hesitates, then presses a gloved hand over the wound, which is bleeding once again after the irritation. "Just let me wrap it." Gauze wrapped around the leg is better than a bandage with sticky ends on fur, surely.
"You did really well," he says, again an inappropriate instinct. He closes his eyes against the embarrassed memory, too late, that this isn't actually a dog.
He's just...going to grab that roll of gauze, now.
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No, this had been the best option. And now it was over. And Will's not reacting badly to the wound bleeding heavily again. All things considered, that could have gone much worse.
He wants to tell Will that he needn't apologise. He was saving Gabriel a lot of pain in the near future by doing this for him when he didn't have to. Will could easily have walked away when they first came across one another, anyone else would have. Even the reassurance this time doesn't register as condescending. Christ, he's glad that's over.
Letting Will wrap the wound in gauze, he finally turns his great head round, ears coming forward as he nudges Will's shoulder once. It's all he can do to say 'thank you' or 'You didn't do too bad yourself.' Whatever Will's drink of choice is - if he drinks at all - he'll be getting a bottle of it. An expensive one. Fuck it, he doesn't use his money for much else, this is more than worth it.
Some time passes before Gabriel eventually lets himself fall asleep. It happens almost accidentally, as though he hadn't realised just how exhausted he was. But like most things, it doesn't last long. Dawn arrives only a short few hours later, and Gabriel's awaking suddenly to the tell-tale pains in his joints. Groggy from sleep, it takes another familiar twinge at the base of his spine to tell him he needs to move.
Thankfully Will left one of the back doors ajar, so Gabriel's clumsily heaves himself to his feet and all but falls out into the frigid morning air with a poorly concealed whimper. Maybe it was enough to wake up Will, hopefully it wasn't. Regardless, he was likely going to wake up in the next ten minutes or so.
This was the second part that he had been dreading, but at least Gabriel knows how long this will last. With the blanket between his teeth, he heads back into the forest, limping as quickly as he can until he has to stop and let the turn occur.
As expected, the bullet wound reopens in splendid fashion, but at least he knows he won't bleed out from it. Wrapping himself hurriedly in the blanket, Gabriel sits back against the nearest tree, head against the bark and his words forced through gritted teeth.
"Jesus fucking Christ..."
sorry, gabe
Will isn't surprised when he wakes with a start. He is surprised when he realizes that the soft sounds of an animal running don't stop after he wakes up.
Will jerks for the door handle, has it open and is reaching for a gun he doesn't have on him (it's dropped in the front seat of his car, he'd been too paranoid about whoever had shot the werewolf to just put it away in its case). That's about how long it takes him to remember what happened last night. ...This morning.
He rubs his eyes with a sigh, checking over the back of his car. Empty. And...specifically lacking the blanket, oddly enough. Okay.
There's some measure of panic to realizing that the Lycan's gone, especially knowing how tedious it would be for him to have walked away, but Will also knows he would have woken up if someone had forcibly taken him from the back of his car. So, where...
Wait - he can see. The pale off-white scrapings of dawn have stretched further and grown more yellow, and Will realizes with a start what must be happening. It's morning.
He sets off at a cautious walk, not a jog, nerves twisting. He's just heard a voice and, while Will feels the emptiness of not having any weapons on him right now, and while he can't possibly recognize a voice he's never heard, he has a feeling that who he's hearing right now is...
"Are you the--" Will stops. Stops and stares at the person collapsed up against the tree just inside the rim of forest around Will's clearing. "You're naked." He says instead, uselessly.
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But an inspection of the bullet wound, breath drawn in through his teeth as it protests his prodding, tells him food and coffee won't be happening for a while yet. He needs his bag, needs his own first-aid kit he keeps well stocked. Modern medicine can do a great many things, but nothing gets silver out of the blood and out of your system faster than rosemary, which he keeps in good supply, and while he won't have any trouble finding where he left his belongings, it's just finding the motivation to move that's tricky.
That thought's interrupted when Gabriel hears the car door close behind him in the clearing, hears Will gradually draw closer. With a quick double check that he's wrapped up enough to cover himself, Gabriel waits for Will spot him.
The observation - obvious as it may be - still manages to make him laugh a little, just under his breath.
"Yeah, ah...we haven't quite gotten the hang of turning without tearing our clothes to shreds.."
A pause.
"...Sorry about taking this." With a small gesture to the blanket itself, "I usually like to buy people a drink before sitting completely nude in their campsite."
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There's just his usual baseline awkwardness left, which is better than what he's felt like for the past few hours. His laughter is a scraping, dry thing, especially this early in the morning, but it's not nothing. "I guess spandex would ruin your fur." And clearly not actually fit. It's also weird imagery that Will regrets almost as soon as he's said it, a foot-in-mouth habit he's apparently not going to give up anytime soon.
Will looks back up when the other man apologizes for - something. His blanket? "What? No, it's-- that's fine--" This time, Will's laughter is an unprepared snort, nasal and soft. Sounds like someone's just gotten him back for the comment about shoving his hands inside unnamed strangers.
"I actually brought whiskey with me." He says, shrugging, hands still fidgeting in his pockets. "Just figured it might be hard to share it while you didn't have thumbs."
Will pauses after that, just-- watching the other. He radiates pain even more clearly than before, now that he's shaped like a human again. Will blinks away. "Did you, uh-- have clothes somewhere?"
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