A little sensitive with the light, and double vision of a decently bad degree, if they weren’t just kidding around. Which they wouldn’t be. No hunter worth their salt - and salt was worth a hell of a lot, to their kind - would mess about at a time like this, and Kel had always been worth more than any up-and-comers Cam could recall. He nodded along, tucking that flashlight away to bring out a few more things. They weren’t that far out of it; Kel’s self-assessment could be trusted. Be unwise, and wasteful, to insult them by double-checking. 

Anyhow. He’d got the distinct impression he’d insulted Kel enough, just by being here. By leaving. And they’d have to stay that way. For now, anyhow. For a while, maybe. Wasn’t like there’d ever be a good day for a hunter to hear the circumstances around their almost-Orator’s exit. 

Back to his part of the reporting. The kid. Cam snorted, dryly, shrugging out of his coat. “That’d be Elias. He’s Aware, but not by much. Never met a wasp’s nest he didn’t wanna kick or a sleeping dog he’d let lie. Making himself medically useful, though…” Draping that coat around Kel’s shoulders - for the shock-cold, for the comforting weight of thick denim and a little sheepskin - Cam rattled some Tylenol out of his kit and held a couple over, with a bottle of water. “Take those, for starters. We could try and craft you something, too. Before the patch job.” Those scratches would need some patching, alright; even in the low glow of the desk-light Cam could clock the dark, seeped-through stains in Kel’s clothes. Lucky; a werewolf’s claws could’ve done a hell of a lot worse. “What d’you think, huh?” He’d left that loop of red thread around his wrist, genuinely waiting on an answer. A bit of crafting would help, but… Kel knew, well as he did - or, well as Cam had taught them, anyway - that when you were working on somebody else who had that will, working with was the wiser thing. Or it could just turn into a fight, and, Christ - neither of them needed that, tonight. Even if he might owe Kel some kinda scrap. After everything. 

“Sounds familiar,” they said wryly and let their eyes fall shut. “Nurse or doctor? Guess it doesn’t matter, clinic could use his hands. Doc never has enough hours in a day.” The shift of fabric had their eye cracking open, just before the warmth settled over them. And just like that they were twelve and looking up at the ‘greatest hunter of a generation’ as he explained he was going to teach them to be good too. The weight sat like a hug, something more rare than he’d like to admit - though they’d also never admit they wanted more.

They swallowed the pills dry and took the bottle with their good hand. “Long as you think it’ll help, I don’t have a problem with it.” They hadn’t expected the words to feel true. It was hard to hold the anger of a few hours ago after a fight. Hard to hold any emotion really. Much easier to just start pulling the edges of the torn fabric away from the wound. “I’m decent with needles now, but it’d be hard to get my arm with his hand. Thanks... for helping.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I didn’t mean to kick your ass,” Connor protests, taking a deep breath. The pain is biting in a way that makes it hard to focus, his vision blurring in and out as he desperately attempts to focus on anything so the spinning won’t make him so ill that his next task is vomiting on Kel instead of just trying to kill them. Or maybe that would be a better development than this.

Still, he follows the commands, taking in deep and slow breaths as best as he can. He can smell his own blood in the air, Kel’s too, but all the blood in the world couldn’t get him to ignore what it all really was. The dead familiar scent of Undead blood - the kind that belonged to Lilith.

“My leg?” Right. Right yeah that is where that excruciating pain was coming from. That makes sense. “Yeah. Right leg. Femur. Ugh…honestly I’d need someone to reset it before it heals bad and it needs to be broken back into place. But resetting a bone isn’t…it’s not the best.”

Fuck. He thinks. Fuck the pain and that means Esme is probably in pain. He fumbles for his pants pocket and there it is, tucked away, his phone. He quickly writes something out to Esme but what it actually says is anyone’s guess.

“You could at least pretend it was difficult rather than an accident,” they sigh. A couple breaths in time with each other settles his mind more than he’d like to admit. “Strongest bone in the body, woohoo.” The shine of Connor’s phone in the dark is searing and it takes every ounce of self control to not whimper as their eyes screw shut. Just a couple more breaths. Fuck, I probably need to reply to someone about.... something?

The thought is floaty, ethereal as they squirm to reach one of the billion pockets they’ve added to their gear. This light isn’t as bad - thank the gods for blue light filters. “Well cavalry’s on it’s way, not just the lumps I got here with. Your- Cam’s gonna be here soon.” There’s a long pause as they type out several replies. “Yeah, okay, you’re stuck with me now. So! What needs to be dealt with first? You want something to bite down on when I set that leg?”

Submitted to: Mortalis and Orator’s Office Injuries: severe contusions and abrasions, minor knee sprain, concussion Requisitions: none

Contacted to assist in ongoing incident near Luna Books. Upon arrival with squad, observed non-human individual departing the scene with high level of emotion. Abduction which led to call was not prevented, and no suspects were on site. Contact with individual away from main thoroughfare resulted in physical altercation. Situation resolved non-lethally and medical attention provided to both parties by Interim Orator and assisting medical professional.

Reporting to medical tomorrow for clearance to active patrols.

JOURNAL

I can’t believe he’s back. Actually I can, and I can believe that he didn’t tell me he was back, and I can believe that he got the Orator position. I can’t believe he thought he was doing the right thing by not saying anything. He looks tired. Don’t know why, don’t know where he’s been, what he’s been doing! It’s fine, I don’t really care.

That was a lie, I feel like my head and my heart are going to explode with all my questions. Fourteen years and not a single word before or after. Connor said someone died and he lost Cam too. Fucking hell my head hurts.

Connor should be okay. I think. Never seen a shift that close before, and I can’t say I’m surprised he wiped the fucking floor with me with my lack of practice. Had a weird moment after he shifted back, wasn’t expecting it. I’m glad it was me Evie called. Someone else would’ve put him down for losing control like that. I don’t know why I didn’t...

Submitted to: Mortalis and Orator's Office Injuries: none Requisitions: none

Called to action due to incident at MU wedding in Unaware territory. Hunters called upon en masse to protect all citizens from apparent threat as determined by abductions and death rattles.

Debrief regarding protocol and checkpoint assignments. Diner shifts to be reduced to allow for patrols.

Watch shift uneventful. Confusion among residents about procedure, but all have appropriate identification. Lower level individuals reminded of curfew and restrictions on travel. Many preparing to lock down, preparations obviously in progress throughout shift as some people crossed multiple times.

JOURNAL

hunttokel​:

Starter for @connortalbot​ Location: Isolated Alley Time: Shortly after Lilith Gaumond’s capture

It’s weird to see Connor again after so many years. Weirder to see him so upset - Clifford was always the more volatile one in his memory. It’s instinct that draws him after the retreating figure, leaving his fellow hunters to deal with the mess they arrived to. The few minutes after they call Connor’s name are a blur, and then there’s no time to think.

In combat, some people imagine that they would be able to fight like the movies and TV shows picture. Kel knows it’s nothing more than action, reaction, repeat. Muscle memory is the only thing keeping them going in the face of powerful blows and the sting of air on open wounds. The need to keep pulling out and activating the muffling charms is highly detrimental - he keeps losing the rhythm of his movement to do it. The blood helps of course, flowing down his arm to hit the things in his palm as he draws them out of pockets that grow worryingly light. With any luck, the Unaware will think there’s a pair of alley cats fighting and shrieking.

It’s just when he wonders if the beast will kill him - and they think beast because this is not a werewolf in their right mind, Kel’s seen feral before, that Connor falters. The large form shudders a bit, then tilts in a very alarming manner. It’s instinct again that has Kel moving to support the creature that was practically wiping the ground with their face, but they can’t find it in themselves to regret it even as the weight pushes them over.

There’s an awful cracking sound, then dozens of them overlapping as the shift happens again in reverse. Kel’s never been this close, never been able to feel the muscle and flesh shifting under skin and fur, snapping back into place. It almost makes them nauseous, but they’re mostly just glad the fighting is over for now. Once the form in their arms is fully human, heaving deep rasping sobs, they’re a bit stumped. Well what now?

Hesitantly, they pat at his head, shoulders, and arms - a comfort and a check to make sure none of the blows they landed did any real damage. “H-Hey buddy, it’s gonna be okay. I got you,” the whispered nothings begin and don’t really stop as Kel takes inventory of themself - not good, and the man on the ground - more broken than they thought. The leg definitely wasn’t one of theirs, and a flash of bile rises at the reminder of the transformation’s process. “Connor, hey, can you hear me?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s hard to remember exactly what happens during shifts like these: forced ones that are just so much stronger and so much meaner than the ones from the moon. He’s forgotten, already, in just one month what it’s like to have that light come down and kiss him. That’s a part of himself he’ll never have again though. He’ll never be able to taste that feeling again and it has him howling before he even really managed to register much else.

The next thing that comes to his mind after the turn back is how badly his leg fucking hurts. Bones are meant to be broken, he was born to literally have his bones snap each month, but without guidance from the moon it hurts in ways he can’t even begin to explain. The fact that they didn’t snap back into place is expected, the fact that it was his femur is worse.

Someone is going to have to do it for him, because as strong as he is, Connor is not strong enough to do that given the placement of it. It’s going to start fusing fucked up beyond belief. After the adrenaline leaves and the wolf’s run it’s course in his veins, he’ll still have his super human healing, but it won’t be the instant fine it is after a shift.

His femur is going to be broken for four fucking days no doubt. But Connor can’t even begin to register how awful that is at the moment before he’s too busy sobbing as he clings to a necklace that Lilith dropped. Everything hurts. Everything hurts so goddamn much and it’s not even his fucking shifted body that hurts the most it’s his head and his heart and his lungs from the panic attack he’s currently having.

There’s a hand on his head now and it helps for who fucking knows why. It’s a familiar hand, but it’s not Cam’s or Chloe’s or Esme’s or Lilith’s and so he’s not entirely sure who it is until he hears the voice.

Right. He almost killed Kel. That’ll be fun to talk about.

“I’m sorry,” Connor manages to rasp out after a minute of pulling himself together as best as he can. “I think I fucked up your face. Did anything break? Did…did I bite you?”

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Kel mutters. “Liked you better as a dog, at least you didn’t rub the ass-kicking in my face.” There’s a hiss of pain sucked through teeth coated in blood from a split lip as they shift under his weight. The questions are ignored - what more could they be than courtesy. If Kel had been bit, it’d be his own damn fault for not killing Connor for shifting in the middle of the goddamn street.

It’d be even worse if anyone who knew Kel found out he hadn’t taken the chance, but the face of a child hovers over the grown man he’s looking down at. Connor’s face, from so many years ago. Clifford’s face, even younger. Cam, younger than they remember but more beaten down by the world than he had been those last times Kel had seen him with the family he chose. There wasn’t a world where he’d be able to kill the oldest Talbot son, no matter how he’d wanted to want it over the years.

That got a dry, short sort of laugh, a tip of Cam’s head, from where he’d held the door open. “You could. Can’t say I’d recommend it. Medically speaking.” Not after brawling with a werewolf. Even a little. The way they hit, even before the claws came out… 

Kel was coming along, though. (Gait was off. Just a bit.) So. Cam let the door clank shut, behind them, and circled the backroom, pulling a couple chairs together, turning the desk lamp on and giving it a useful tilt. “Didn’t take anything any kind of way. You had eyes on the situation, trusted your judgement. Turned out fine.” They’d listened to enough, at least, and made their choice, informed as they could be. Cam couldn’t, wouldn’t fault them for that. 

(Not when he was already clinging to every last shred of patience and understanding he had, and most of that was being burnt up, it seemed, on efforts to convince people a hell of a lot less prepared than Kel to just - just stop looking for opportunities to put themselves in harm’s way. Jesus.) 

Just as he wouldn’t fault Connor for this mess he was about to clean up. Not the first. Wouldn’t be the last. Cam sat himself down, digging into the duffle bag he’d hauled out of his truck - the house kit, from back on the lot. Too bad he’d given so much away to Dr. Jones, after all. Flipping a flashlight in his hand, Cam clicked it on, low, and slid the beam inwards, across Kel’s sight. Watching those pupils, talking softly in the bookstore’s closed-up quiet. “Seeing double, at all? Any burning, tingling, weakness, in your arms, legs? You know the drill.” Kel did. And Cam knew why. Knew how they’d learned. Having been there, and all…   

Well that was a good sign that Kel wasn’t visually super fucked up, if Cam could laugh - could make almost-jokes. They just had to hold it in long enough to pass muster, get everyone on their way home and nurse their own wounds. They settled as evenly as they could into the chair closer to the light, arms falling easily to their lap.

The light was blinding as it crossed their face, eyes screwing shut with a hiss. The starbursts of color remained, both behind and without the expected darkness behind their eyelids. “Careful with that one...” They opened back up, tears forming reflexively as he did his best to look into the beam. Report time - a drill indeed. “Two and three of the kid you brought when I turned my head.” Their voice had gone mellow, soft and toneless. “No bites. Ribs bruised, not broken. Nothing torn, nothing sprained. Scratches on arm and thigh. Cold, but no hypothermia.”

It was the usual run through - wounds relevant to the opponent first, then the deep tissue and work your way out. But there was also a wall in it that Kel could tuck around himself, tune out their emotions and sit still in front of someone who usually made them feel so much even without being there. The person taking a report didn’t care about your feelings, they needed facts, needed them plain and fast.

It was a familiar state, this; one he’d been raised to run in, without fail or falter. Solve a problem, solve the next one. Set the bone. Ease the wolf it was attached to. Give Elias room to do that splinting. See to Kel, now that they weren’t at immediate risk of being ripped apart by a mis-shifted werewolf. Still, Christ - he’d hated to make them wait. To need them to help, in the state they were in. They’d been ready, though, jaw set, eyes on the work, hands sure of the task. Like Kel was trained to be. 

Some things never changed. But only some, and for all he could count on, here… God, there was so much he didn’t know. Hadn’t been here for.   

Kel had listened, though. They’d fought, but listened, when it counted. And they were alive, and so was Connor. Elias was well underway, now - it’d seemed right, once he got there, to leave Connor in his hands. So frantic to help. So ready to. 

(When are you going to let me do something real? Asshole. Let me help, I’m ready! Not something Eli’d said, or Connor, when he’d gone as far as he did, or Kel, even when the two of them had been at their worst, if this wasn’t that. Though they’d all come close, somebody else had said it first. Let me fucking try! Christ. Another of the too many trip and stumbles he’d taken down the long lane of memory, tonight, this one leading all the way back to Mal.) 

Cam had stepped back, heavily, suit pants laced into boots he’d kept in the truck. Connor’d be fine. Elias, too. The craft would hold, the splint would stay. There were more problems to solve. He shoved himself to Kel’s side, lurching into motion again. “Hell of a reunion,” he started, voice low, rasping, exhausted. But soft, like the hesitant half-smile he’d dredged up. “You gonna let me check you over?” Cam had taken a lean on the bookstore’s backdoor, creaking it open. Insisting, as gently as he could. Kel hadn’t been a good hunter; they’d been great. All had their limits, though. And Kel, bloodied and battered, looked about to hit them. 

@hunttokel​

It was habit to sit quietly after a fight, to let those with the capacity to help do their thing. Didn’t hurt that even keeping his eyes open brought a pain Kel hadn’t felt for a few years. The last concussion had been during a spar with some asshole from another hunting family in their safehouse’s area. This one was worse. And probably not even the worst of the injuries they’d gotten tonight. But they’d live, and that was the important part

But it was easy to fade into the background, nurse the physical hurts with the mental. Because wasn’t that the fucking kicker - Connor getting the attention first and most again. It was a fucked up thing to think, to feel hurt over, and he knew that in the logical part of his brain observing every thing. The asshole’s femur had shifted back wrong. The crunch of it under their hands still ached and it wasn’t even Kel’s leg! Of course that needed more urgent attention!

But things had always been that way. Wolves could get themselves into and out of so much more than a human, even with Hunter training and work. They were more careless because of it - and things like that had consequences that usually meant they needed more help when the time came. So when the one Kel hadn’t met yet, a human with some kind of medical experience, was doing his thing and Connor was on the mend, it was time for Kel. But not before then.

It’s weird to see Connor again after so many years. Weirder to see him so upset - Clifford was always the more volatile one in his memory. It’s instinct that draws him after the retreating figure, leaving his fellow hunters to deal with the mess they arrived to. The few minutes after they call Connor’s name are a blur, and then there’s no time to think.

In combat, some people imagine that they would be able to fight like the movies and TV shows picture. Kel knows it's nothing more than action, reaction, repeat. Muscle memory is the only thing keeping them going in the face of powerful blows and the sting of air on open wounds. The need to keep pulling out and activating the muffling charms is highly detrimental - he keeps losing the rhythm of his movement to do it. The blood helps of course, flowing down his arm to hit the things in his palm as he draws them out of pockets that grow worryingly light. With any luck, the Unaware will think there’s a pair of alley cats fighting and shrieking.

It’s just when he wonders if the beast will kill him - and they think beast because this is not a werewolf in their right mind, Kel’s seen feral before, that Connor falters. The large form shudders a bit, then tilts in a very alarming manner. It’s instinct again that has Kel moving to support the creature that was practically wiping the ground with their face, but they can’t find it in themselves to regret it even as the weight pushes them over.

There’s an awful cracking sound, then dozens of them overlapping as the shift happens again in reverse. Kel’s never been this close, never been able to feel the muscle and flesh shifting under skin and fur, snapping back into place. It almost makes them nauseous, but they’re mostly just glad the fighting is over for now. Once the form in their arms is fully human, heaving deep rasping sobs, they’re a bit stumped. Well what now?