#moongifted

   He’s not entirely sure how he found this area. It wasn’t familiar to him, and the wolf in him told Jon to flee. One moment, he had been by McKinley’s side - he had been inches away from pouncing, eyes bright gold in the dark night - and then the next, he was emerging from the wood into a strange area, unfamiliar to the half-breed.

The average human. A thing separate from himself. And to think, he had given up all belief in the supernatural--with the special exception of ghosts. Now, he wondered if he had simply chosen the wrong mythical creature to believe in. After all, he still hadn’t seen any ghosts.

He was nearing the city limits, but as he pondered exactly what sorts of places he ought to explore for his best chance at seeing a ghost, a new scent on the breeze caught his attention. It was close. His feet automatically turned him toward it as he pondered: a wolf? No. A dog? Not quite that either. Something about it reminded him of human, in a different way than how pets smelled of their owners. It was something distinct from all three of these things, and as he peered through the brush, he got his answer. In the clearing just beyond was a boy near his own age, shaking off the tail end of a transformation. His hand found his forehead.

Of fucking course. Werewolves were real too.

       hunting down werewolves had to be one        of his LEAST FAVORITE things. the second        was demons, and the third was highway traffic.        werewolves, however, topped the list due to the        fact that they could look like ANYONE. and that’s        what was going to make this job into such a massive        and excruciating headache. but, it had to be done.

          ❝ ----W-wait, wh-what ? I-I was just kidding. Wh-what th-the fuck, Pip, are y-you being ser-serious ? Wh-why does some-someone want y-you dead ? ❞ Questions are being tossed from a feather-light tongue without so much as a breath in-between, a mixture of worry and fear ( emotions that are quite blatantly being fueled from the genuine terror striking the other boy’s features ) now concocting behind wide eyes

“Is that supposed to change my view point?” Arthion countered with his usual sarcastic manner. The human realm had dwindled down his manners and made him slightly bitter. Still, whatever was going on has the Elf slightly annoyed and this MUTT in front of him? Hardly his type. Sorta....Kinda....Okay he wasn’t t h a t bad on the eyes. 

          And god knows how long he’s waited for that.

          A project had been assigned to the duo, the boys promptly partnering up in order to complete the task in a timely manner. Every afternoon was spent cooped up in the confines of Pip’s bedroom, working away. Said assignment, however, was handed in weeks ago, yet their routine has yet to stray. And tonight was no different... That is until Quinton felt the need to nod Pip over with a question coating his tongue.

         He’s talking, words falling from parted lips, though he finds his brows furrowing when he’s greeted with nothing but silence in return. A head cocks to the side, wide eyes attempting to lock with Pip’s, curiosity practically gleaming from sea-foams. He doesn’t get the chance to further question it, however, and is instead met with a hand cupping his cheek, and lips hesitantly pressed against his own. His mind is whirling, unable to form a verbal response, the only thing managing to slip out, instead, being a small, surprised squeak. Yet he forces a hand to be placed atop the one currently held against his face, refusing to allow Pip to slip back.