….And yet it didn’t. No matter how many times the moon grew bright and full, it was always the same. A fresh new hell to endure time after time. Yet she questioned her ability to freely change from woman to wolf any other time how that could be so simple and so… seamless? Yet those dreadful full-moon nights came and it felt as though she was being torn into ribbons aplenty. The unbridled fury and untamable rage sent her on a slaughtering rampage only to come to so quickly as if nothing ever happened. Still, the evidence was there of fallen game strewn about, caught in the wake of savagery. Rain poured aggressively from billowing dark clouds overhead. Thunder growled viciously and lightning cracked through blackened skies. Furs long since shed, while muscle and joint twisted, broke and reshaped to return to their original state. Sweat beaded down sun-kissed skin while breath labored as if she’d been running for weeks. Usual bright glacial eyes were dull and bordering lifeless while one hand sought the support of the nearest tree. The other dragging whatever she could take with her. It wasn’t like she could just leave potentially good game to waste when it could be sold or even shared among those who needed it. It still hurts. Came the dulled thoughts, words in the given moment, unable to shape or form. Cerulean gaze remained low, settling on the loamy, wet soils. Her clothes were absent – long ruined and abandoned from the forced transition. Drenched, her hair clung to her skin, any new scars were washed from the rain. Mud coating her feet to her calves. No one needed to see this side of her. Not even Kongen – wherever he was now. Grip slightly tightening around the hoof of the stag she struggled to carry. Briefly, Tethys stopped. Her weight pressed into the nearest tree. A large Aspen supporting her. She knew the pain, in time would go away, eventually. But in the moment, it felt as if her body were set aflame all the while knives driving into flesh in every possible angle. But it was supposed to get easier over time, right? That the pain was supposed to go away, or become more manageable…

Jahi

What a miserable night. Roach had anticipated the storm, what with the darkened skies and the air thick with the smell of coming rain, but he’d thought that he would make it back home well before it started. Alas, it had caught him in the middle of foraging, and he’d had to stop early, stuffing his pockets with useful plants he’d found before taking his leave. Now he sprinted through the woods, trying and failing not to flinch every time the thunder boomed in his ears, the rain having long since soaked him down to the bone. He regretted having ever set foot outside his house—it sure as hell hadn’t been worth a handful of herbs, mushrooms, and a couple of tree nuts.

As desperate as he was to get back, however, he came to a clumsy stop when a faint yet familiar scent reached his nose. It was blood—the rain couldn’t hide it completely from him, nor could it deafen the strange sound that seemed to accompany it. And there was another scent, one that he didn’t recognize, that unsettled him far more than the blood did. What sort of creature was shuffling about in such awful weather, other than himself, and what possibly could have happened to it...?

With some reluctance, Roach set out to find its source. Assuming that it was something dangerous, he would want to avoid accidentally crossing paths with it. So he kept his head low, and was somewhat thankful for the way that the mud muffled the sounds of his footsteps, even if he hated the feel of it in his shoes. When he finally found what he’d been after, the sheer strangeness of the sight made him blink, just to be sure that he wasn’t seeing things. The “creature” was actually a woman—a naked one at that, and Roach nearly yelled in alarm as soon as he realized it, throwing his hands up in front of him as if to shield his eyes (or preserve even a shred of her dignity).

Once the initial shock wore off, he glanced back at her, allowing himself to properly take in the scene before him. The woman was dragging a dead stag behind her but, judging by her body language, struggled quite a bit with it, seeming tired and weak. After a moment, she stopped to lean against a tree, and Roach considered approaching her but was hesitant to so much as make his presence known. He didn’t know this woman, and she was clearly busy with something; rather than bother her, he could simply turn right around and head home, where some leftover stew and a nice, warm bed awaited him. She would never even know that he’d seen her.

But what if something was wrong? He was cold and wet, yes, and wanted nothing more than to be out of the rain, but that was no excuse to be heartless. At the very least, he could speak up.

“Um… ex... e-excuse me? Ma’am?” Roach called out to her, straining to raise his voice above the rain, and keeping his hands in front of his face. He refused to look fully at her. “I-is everything alright? Do… do you n-need any help?”

words thoughts

art by venusmages

The rain felt like droplets of ice chilling the burning heat of her body with some wishful hopes it would help stave off the searing aches as the huntress sought to collect her bearings. It was questioned plenty of times in her youth though once convinced that all she needed was to give it time. What a cruel excuse. she chuffed in the streaming pellets of water that fell rampantly from the dark clouds. Weight turning so her bare back pressed against the wall of the tree so that a freed hand could rake through the mess of damp dark chocolate hair that clung relentless to sun-kissed skin. Glacial sights quietly looked to the large stag that lay lifeless at her heels. Its antlers were impressive. Proving its weight as the wound that slaked across her hip indicated though already on the mend. Um.. ex…excuse me? Ma’am? Her eyes would blink again at the beckoning sound of a strangers voice. Her head would tilt then, following the vibrations of the voice underneath the pitter-patter of the rain. I-is everything alright? Do… do you n-need any help? She found the younger male shielding his eyes. Tethys expression drew blank. Oblivious of her own indecency. Her nudity never bothering her nor did it seem to bother her as she turned fully. Steps were taken but not without the occasional falter from muscle strain and spasms. An uncomfortable groan escaped her before she could find her words. “Yeah,” she admitted bitterly. “Got anywhere I can prepare this?” she pulled the hoof of the stag, bringing its carcass forward. “Too far from the shop tonight I guess.” She sounded disappointed. “Be a shame t’let it go to waste.”

Jahi

The woman seemed unfazed by her own nakedness, and when she made her approach, Roach tried not to flinch away from her. He was used to seeing people out in the wilderness, whether they had gotten lost or were passing through on their travels, but they were usually clothed. True, it was the summer months, so it was warm out, but not so warm that it would warrant completely shedding one’s outer layers; not to mention, what with how hard it was raining, this woman risked getting sick.

Either that hadn’t occurred to her or she simply didn’t care.

She said that she needed help, and with the stag that she’d supposedly killed, pulling its carcass into view. She wanted somewhere to prepare it, and mention was made of a shop, leaving Roach to wonder what exactly it was that she did for a living. Was she a hunter or something? That would certainly explain her kill, though a glance at it did little to enlighten him as to how she had felled such a large creature. As far as he could tell, she was alone and without any weapons, unless she’d lost them along with her clothing. Just dragging the stag through the mud would’ve taken a tremendous amount of strength.

Oh well. It didn’t matter all that much, did it? Roach wasn’t far from home; he could help her bring the stag back there and “prepare” it. They could even use some of the old tools that he still had stored away; hunters had left them behind, and he hadn’t wanted to get rid of them, just in case they wound up being useful in the future. He much preferred that to leaving the woman to her own devices, and she had admitted to needing his help, so he couldn’t rightly rescind his offer, now.

“I don’t live very far from here,” Roach said, forcing himself to lower his hands and meet the woman’s eyes. “We could take it there, but… a-are you hurt…?” He had seen the unevenness of her gait, and had smelled the strangeness of her scent. Were he to dare to take a closer look at her, he would probably find that she was wounded, in some way; her prey was far too large to not have fought back.

“W-why…” he ventured, then, because he couldn’t continue to pretend to ignore it, and getting answers now would make the walk back home that much less awkward, “why are you, uh… n-naked?”

words thoughts

art by venusmages

Hunting excursions has been far and few as of late. She knew why of course, but couldn’t bring herself to become too involved with the headaches of politics. However, Tethys knew it would eventually affect her shop. The stag in hand, would be something for the time being at least. Perhaps the pains behind having to shift either by the force of the moon or by choice would be worth it as long as it meant keeping the shop open. People needed to eat, didn’t they? The wealthy could starve, though came the dark thought knowing her father would’ve chastised her bitter resentment. I don’t live very far from here, the strangers voice came, drawing the huntress’ attention back. Bright glacial sights settling on his own drenched garments and paler visage. We could take it there, but.. a-are you hurt..? The uncertainty in his tone was a thick layer of bitter tannis and lime which immediately forced her shoulders to draw back in a laxing state. Tethys glanced down to see the mud that had since crawled up to her calves, perhaps from the running endeavors of chase between beast and feast. “Probably.” She laughed bleakly. “Sore, if anything.” she admitted then, “N’matter how long I’ve been a were, it’s still a bitch to shift.” she dismissed with a wave of a freed hand but not without a winded huff to follow. “Whatevers’ bleeding will probably stop within a few hours anyway.” She murmured more to herself than she did the stranger even if it were audible while she did a once over with herself. Body contorting as she did so. The rain made it difficult to see anything clearly. W-why… Tethys blinked, …Why are you, uh… n-naked? She looked at him once more, her expression drawn blank. “My clothes ripped.” She stated plainly as if such an occurrence was supposed to be normal. She then pulled the hoof of the stag up again as a quick reminder. “I’ll give you a portion of this as payment, hows’ that?”

Jahi

The woman looked herself over, sparing Roach from the embarrassment of doing it, himself. “Probably,” she then laughed, seeming to find nothing, though it wasn’t very funny to him, and he felt his frown deepen; her complete lack of concern only made him more worried than he already was.

She admitted that she was sore, and that brought more questions to mind, but he couldn’t even begin to ask any of them, her next words robbing him of his thoughts. “N’matter how long I’ve been a were, it’s still a bitch to shift.” Despite himself, Roach stiffened, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Her strange scent… he had thought it familiar, and now he supposed that he knew why—she was one of those accursed moon-bound beasts.

Suddenly, the state that he had found her in made sense. Of course she had lost her clothes; they had probably been torn to shreds. Although he didn’t like thinking back on it, he could remember how he felt after shifting for the first (and last) time. It’d been a truly terrible night; every bone in his body had ached, and each labored breath he’d taken had sent fresh waves of pain through him, to a point where he’d been unable to move for a long, long time without immediately wishing that he was dead. No wonder this woman had been stumbling and grimacing.

Roach rarely met other werewolves out here, so far from civilization. Even now, he wasn’t sure if he felt fully comfortable around them. That this woman seemed to have her wits about her didn’t make her any less of a potential threat; there was no telling how quickly her mood might change if something were to set her off. He didn’t want to end up like that stag, or worse, but he wasn’t so uncomfortable that he would go back on his word. And she would ultimately benefit from her were-blood; her wounds would heal quickly. It was something that he had discovered some years ago, after taking a particularly nasty fall and breaking his ankle; within a couple of days, he’d been able to walk again, as though he’d never gotten hurt to begin with.

She answered him plainly; her clothes had ripped. “I’ll give you a portion of this as payment, hows’ that?” she then said, offering him some of her kill, and he started to shake his head. “Oh n-no, no th-that’s alright,” he said. “I don’t need any payment. I mean, I’ll take some i-if you really want me to, but… don’t feel like you have to share or anything.” Loathe as he was to turn down free food, he’d feel bad about taking hers from her, even if it was being given freely. And because he was getting tired of standing around in the rain, he went to grab one of the stag’s other hooves and start dragging it back the way he’d come, assuming that the woman would follow him. It was heavy, but if they worked together, they would manage it just fine.

“I’m Roach, by the way. Should have... ngh, said so sooner,” he introduced himself, grunting a little with effort. “You said you had a shop…? What kind?”

words thoughts

art by venusmages

She had no qualms to share what she could of her recent hunts. There was still a badger, a few rodents and fowl she had within her grasps. Though nothing a firm rope tying couldn’t go wrong when she’d bound them all together.  Plenty of skins to craft with and any meat to salvage to sell would hopefully be enough for the storefront. Oh n-no, no th-that’s alright, Dark chocolate brows lifted, searching the strangers features. he seemed uncomfortable though she couldn’t exactly grasp as to why though. Normal social cues were not her strong suit. I don’t need any payment. I mean, I’ll take some i-if you really want me to, but… don’t feel like you have to share or anything. “Well,” she sounded as if she were to relent to his consensus as she combed her tangle of muddy locks back with a freed hand, “You look like you could use something to eat so,” another casual shrug came as if that alone had finished her reasoning behind the offer. She’d at least leave him something and couldn’t bring herself to just simply take advantage of the opportunity presented and leave without a sign of thanks? No, her father raised her better than that.  An amicable simper tugged the corners of her lips as she watched him take purchase of another hoove and no sooner did she begin to follow his lead. I’m Roach, by the way. Should have… said so sooner, she tugged the bucks limb with a heafty grunt herself as  it was dragged along the mud. “Roach? Sounds more like an insult than a name if you ask me.” she chuffed rather bluntly. “To each their own I guess,” she wouldn’t argue. You said you had a shop…? What kind? “Butcher shop.” She answered following another groan. “Name’s Tethys by the way. But yeah, I run a small butcher shop in Kaisermont. I live out here in the wilds, up on a hill near the sea.”  She sighed, feeling the strain of carrying all that she’d hunted throughout the day. “It was my dad’s shop before he ‘n my brother died.” She did well to hide the emotion that threatened to strain her voice but—she knew it was not the time for the whole of the specifics and well, she didn’t want to sour an already awkward mood. “Is that your place up ahead?”

Jahi

“Well, you look like you could use something to eat, so,” the woman said with a shrug, and Roach let out an awkward little chuckle, not knowing how else to react. She wasn’t wrong; he had always been a little underweight, and although he liked to think that he ate well enough, now, there were certainly days when his mood ruined his appetite and he skipped meals. It would probably do him good to add some heartier foods to his diet.

If the woman insisted, then he would graciously accept her offer of food. For the time being, however, he focused on helping her get the stag back to his home. His name sounded more like an insult to her, she commented, and he was inclined to agree, though he’d long since reclaimed it. Only his parents had ever called him by another name; he’d refused to let it die with them, but it felt far less fitting for him, now, so he defaulted to what others had come to know him as. “It’s a nickname,” he said, and left it at that, feeling a bit reluctant to explain any further.

The woman went on to say that her name was Tethys, and that she ran a small butcher shop in Kaisermont. That made sense; so she had meant to kill the stag and bring it back with her, to prep and sell. “I live out here in the wilds, up on a hill near the sea. It was my dad’s shop before he ‘n my brother died,” she continued, and Roach frowned. “Oh,” he said, falling silent for a beat before adding, “I’m sorry.” Perhaps it was a bit pointless to apologize, when he hardly knew this woman, but some people seemed to appreciate such sympathies. If nothing else, it was certainly better than ignoring her loss.

“Is that your place up ahead?” she asked next, and Roach followed her gaze. Sure enough, he could see it—or rather, make out its shape, silhouetted as it was in the darkness. “Yeah,” he said, helping her drag the stag the rest of the way. It was an old wooden hunting shed, nestled in a clearing that was dotted with graves and surrounded by firs so tall, they blotted out the sky. Roach mulled over building a fence, of some sort, but only briefly as they brought the stag onto his porch, then through his door.

Inside, there seemed to be just enough space for all three of them, along with what few pieces of furniture he had. “Here,” he ground out through gritted teeth, kicking a couple of chairs out of the way before grabbing the stag by its antlers to haul it up onto a small but sturdy table. No matter how much stronger he was now, thanks to the curse, a stag was still much heavier than he was, and all that lifting and pulling had tired him out. He took a moment to catch his breath, bending over to rest his hands on his knees, his soaked clothes dripping onto the floor.

“Y-you can… use some of those, if you want,” he half-wheezed, motioning toward some of the old tools that hung from his wall. He kept the blades sharp, but the rest he had been content to let rust. “I just… n-need a minute…”

words thoughts

art by venusmages

It would be a lie to say Tethys would not have wanted to ask why anyone would want to be nicknamed after a nuisance of an insect. Roaches were looked down upon, considered dirty and easy to stir infestation. While she only knew the man for hardly an hour, he did not give any inclination that he was either of those traits that came with the six-legged critter. She dismissed it though with a simple hum of acknowledgement. It would be wrong to judge him and her father would have easily taken a rolled newsletter up the side of her head if she even considered the action. She spoke idly of him and her late brother and the shop of course. It felt odd, to say in the least while doing well to press the threat of emotion back. Hardly ever did she speak of it though in hindsight no one truly bothered or pressed on the matter any further. The most ever gotten out of the conversation was simply just that. It was once her fathers, meant to be her brothers and now it was hers. I’m sorry. She cast Roach an amicable lazy grin, sparing the gruesome details of just how her father passed. “I’m alright, but thanks.” A bold lie if anyone knew her better – though she did wonders saving face and was quick to steer the conversation quickly once his shelter came into view. “Looks cozy.” she mused, the rain felt lighter compared to moments ago, a gentler pitter-pratter than the angry downpour during her hunt. Ocean gaze would shift slightly, catching the impressions of disturbed soil, compared to the untouched grass. Her neck nearly craning as she looked up to see the never ending stretch of fir trees painting the eerie setting but otherwise seeming unbothered. To each their own. Old wooden boards groaned at the stag’s weight as they came upon his porch. The door mocking the sound, though crying for nothing more than a simple oiling. Tethys would assist in a team lift to hoist the game upon the makeshift table before coming to a pause. “Oh, wouldn’t it be best for me to clean this outside?” A dark chocolate brow lifted as her head tilted towards him. “Hate to dirty the place. This ain’t the cleanest tasks—kinda smelly too.” she offered an apologetic chuckle.

Jahi