#feveredbcnes

          The howl pierces the night, almost like a siren for the hunters to hone in on. Trails of soft white smoke pouring out of their mouths with every exhale, huffed constantly through their light jog towards their destination. Expertly dodging anything in their path with the help of the light of the full moon, they hiked through the forest and up various inclines until they came upon him - The werewolf. Bigger in size than the Welsh man usually was, a hulking figure against the powerful light that made him this way. Full moons were when many creatures of the night were the strongest, but werewolves were the ones that could control themselves the least under the influence - or so it seemed from the hunters’ observations. They had to transform; they had to feed the beast in any way they could, or at least exhaust it into slumber once more.

          It was when he needed the most help. A shrill whistle from between his teeth signaled his boy to turn and look at him, the hunter getting a good look now at the bandana that was stuck through one of his front claws. It was supposed to go loosely around his wrist…Guess that hadn’t worked out, though Thomas only gave it to him as he was rushing out the door, with the instructions of “Put it on just in case.” barely out of his mouth before Rey was gone. The woods were his safe space during these times, after all, and he probably felt such an urgency to get here to just be on the safe side of things. He never wanted anyone to get hurt anytime he transformed, and especially if it was a particularly strong draw towards hunger and bloodlust, and of course he'd be back by the morning…

          …But of course Thomas worried for him. Now more than ever - even if all the hunters in the area knew Reynardine and his relationship to the Marchands, and even though he knew Rey could handle himself and had grown so much since they first met, after seeing him like he had…Thomas couldn’t take a chance. It was panicked thinking that made Thomas shove a bandana in Rey’s hands once he realized what day it was, as if that was a protective spell to help him avoid getting shot by a friend. Then calls to Matt and the butchers around town for help and backup plans, even the calmest voice he could muster shaking slightly. Then it’s off to the woods in his old truck, crossing trails and unmarked territory alike while carrying all their gear, along with cheap duffle bags weighing them down more. By the time they get to Rey, they’re both panting up a storm, but Thomas can’t help but smirk upon seeing the werewolf he knew and loved. 

          “You doin’ okay?” He shouts it against a chilly gust of air, putting his bag down next to a nearby tree and then walking a good distance away from it, adjusting his gear - classic shotgun now swapped with the biggest tranquilizer gun he ever did see. He was surprised Matt had actually bought it “in case of emergencies” back when Rey first became a friend, but as a mortuary in a town crossing paths with the supernatural, it was always good to have anything at hand. 

          “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” His friend hollers as he places his bag right next to his own. “Oh, wait, of course you’re not asking about me.” Annoyed tone filled with love. Thomas can’t help but chuckle at the comment, yet his eyes stay on Rey the whole time. Matt can only sigh when that’s his only response, slapping Thomas’ shoulder, “You’re so very lucky that I was feeling very generous tonight, or else I would’ve let you do all this stupid shit on your own.”

          “You could’ve.” Thomas simply states back, finally giving Matt a glance, smirk gleaming against the moon.

          Matt just groans, “This old man paid a month’s worth of rent on you just in case you needed it, kid.” shouted over the downwind, though he’s hidden fairly well behind Thomas for safety. “And he has clothes for you in the truck, for whenever you get tuckered out and de-transformed and…Stuff.” He waves his hand around, as if that helps wrap up his sentence neatly enough. 

SEND ME   ♡  FOR A MOODBOARD FOR OUR SHIP // MUSES !!

   @feveredbcnes​​​: ❛❛♡ ( our boys !! )❜❜

feveredbcnes asked: "Who did this to you?"

Things for Richard: ALWAYS ACCEPTING

II @feveredbcnes​ 

Trevor shook his head feeling stupid, and slightly embarrassed as the other came back out. Despite this minor screw-up, Trevor was usually great with cars, which intensified his feeling like a dumbass.  Rolling his eyes at his friend's comments, he glanced into the car again. “I was just coming to get some smokes once I realized I was out. I swore they were in my jacket pocket.” His voice is slightly defeated. He could shimmy the door open with a wire hanger, but he doesn't have one of those right now!

Watching as Rey wanders over to the car his friend decides to bring up the weather.  “Ya I guess there's that.” He replies, knowing Rey is just trying to see the positives in this and try to cheer him up. “I know, it was just a stupid oversight.” Trevor sighs as he takes the pretzels and gives them a look, because really? Bangin? Every time he bought a bag of pretzels from a convenience store they were stale. Opening the bag he decides to try one.

He watches as Rey does exactly what he was doing not a few minutes before. It's almost funny because the simple action does nothing but make them look sketchy to anyone passing by. Like maybe they're going to try to break into the car, which technically they are. Hopefully, this doesn't get them arrested.

As he mindlessly eats another pretzel Trevor flips Bey off for his latest in a string of remarks about his screw-ups. “You got a lot of lip on you for a guy no bigger than a sixth-grader.“ The comment is made with a smirk that signifies his teasing, as he watches his friend shadily unlock his car door.

...secrets like this one. There were enough well-known stories about animal transformations that werewolves couldn’t exactly be considered a new discovery, but as far as Poole knew, the creatures’ existence wasn’t widely acknowledged. Lawrence had mentioned their interest in such “magical” beings to a few of their colleagues, but they hadn’t gotten much support. It was difficult to find research assistants when you already had a reputation for chasing wild theories, but they had expected at least something from their current employer; the Vitality Initiative was built on ideas that the larger follower community deemed impossible, and if anyone should have been willing to back Lawrence’s studies, it was a VI doctor.

They had been forced to do it alone, but they had done it. The creature in front of them-- the man-- was precisely what they had been looking for. Not only did they have definitive proof that they weren’t crazy or misguided as so many people seemed to think, but they had also taken the very first step toward fixing the siphons. Months of work with the vats and the First Artifact itself had produced pitiful results, and it was time to look into how the unenlightened extended their lives. After all, if the First Artifact failed completely, none of the Academy’s previous research would be of use. Let the founders all bury their heads in the sand; Lawrence was going to take action to keep the society from falling to pieces.

Chewing roughly at their lower lip, Poole approached the figure with a slow, unsilent shuffle. Best to make it immediately clear that they were not here to hunt the man or catch him by surprise. Their white-knuckled grip on their notebook didn’t loosen as they cleared their throat and called out-- although they were convinced that they could learn much from this werewolf, they had witnessed the tail-end of the being’s hunt and had no doubt that the man could leave them a bloodied corpse if he so chose.

“Sir, I-- sorry t-to--” Lawrence had always been better at communicating through their papers and written reports, and the element of danger in this situation was both foreign and distracting. Despite constantly working with dead and dying bodies, they had never before been quite so aware of their own mortality. VI would undoubtedly investigate their disappearance, but despite pouring so much of their time and energy into the company, Poole doubted they were a valuable enough employee to be resurrected.

“May I sort of-- speak with you for a moment? I’m not here to try to hurt you or turn you in or anything, I’m just... a researcher.” A tired, aging researcher whose clothing and face were wrinkled and pale. They must have made quite an odd and pathetic sight, all alone with only a journal and bag clutched to their chest to protect them from the beast before them. Perhaps this was not such a good idea after all.

“My name is Lawrence Poole. It’s been very difficult to locate you, but I’m just fascinated by your... condition. I work with people in similar situations-- in the sense that they’re not like normal humans-- and I think we’d-- we have a lot to discuss.”

As the other’s arms encircle him, he sort of settles against Rey and lets out the sort of huffed breath that dogs do when they’ve gotten settled in a comfy spot. He liked Rey, Rey was probably one of his best friends, and due to Micah’s anxiety with people in general, he didn’t have many friends, even if he really did want to have friends. As for the being out? Well recently Micah had decided he wanted to try and be more outgoing. It had been years since his escape and there had been no signs of those people having come close to finding him, if they were even still looking at all.

At the question posed, blue and gold eyes look up at his friend. His expression is neutral at first, then it shifts and he gives facial expression and a sort of bodily gesture that speaks the words ‘everything is fine’. Though as an added measure, he pulls out his phone, types something up and shows it to Rey.