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Can a big bad wolf still be a good boy? [Action, Open] [Backdated 10/19 through the week]
A. Lycanthropy's a laughing matter [Everglade, evening]
[Ted had slept through the day that fateful Friday night; another graveyard shift pursuing Lord knows what odd jobs for the BBB. The evening brought fresh and alarming changes. For one, the eidetic memory associated with his ever-present void was gone, and with it, all his belongings.
What he'd gained were sharper senses, height and weight, and a lot of fur. As his void no longer existed, it could no longer serve as his portable home, so he's left in the Everglade streets in his tattered, if colorful, pajamas.]
I must find a mirror!
[He had an idea of what was going on: the compulsive Halloween costumes that went too deep for comfort. So what was his? When he finally found a clear reflection, he was astonished for a few seconds. The lumbering, lanky build, the canine eyes, the wagging tail...
It was so ridiculous it floored him with laughter.]
Ah-ha! A ha ha ha! What a farce! Oh, I love dogs, but this is going far too far! "Oh, Ted what big teeth you have!" "All the better to-"
[He couldn't finish, instead ending with another fit of barely conscious hilarity. Even his voice was changed into something more bestial and deep! Oh what fun he imagined he'd have.]
Better avoid any woodcutters! Ahahahehehe!
[As onlookers could attest, he was still very, very blonde. Apparently he'd learned the "roll over" trick in seconds, consumed by comedy.]
B. Hungry Eyes [Genessia City streets, afternoon]
[Once a few hours had passed, the desperation of his circumstance began to dawn on him. His void held all his possessions, and now they were gone. No money, no ID, no way to get to the network, no way to defend himself or others as potently. Worst of all, no food. He'd been so caught up in revelry that he hadn't spared a thought for eating. Worse, his monstrous form had a monstrous appetite, and was very insistent about satisfaction.
Every base impulse was stronger, come to think of it. Ted's always been an ass, but at least he had manners. Now it was all he could do not to be a brute. Aggression was easier, women were more voluptuous to him, mockery seemed the most natural thing in the world. He had to keep his head and his urges down, lest he mire himself in sin.
No business would serve him. "No shirt, no shoes, no service", and his larger lupine feet rent his asunder. He was also penniless. As he strolled thinking about how to reconcile his bad fortune, he happened across the wholly transparent window of a butcher's shop.
Everything looked delicious to the pitch of rapture. The bounty of beasts was spread on displays that made them impossibly appealing. Sucking-pigs, wreathes of sausages, turkey legs and spiced chickens roasting and turning on electric spits! Geese and game and great joints of meat, amassed together into a regal, lovely throne of everything he wanted to eat. And how he'd eat! No napkins, no silverware, no civility, just teeth and flesh and...oh, thank God for grocers!
Instinctively he'd pressed his paws to the window, wagging his tail and lolling his tongue, indulging lurid fantasies of indulged hunger. Would it be so bad if he just...smashed the glass, took what he could, and ran? He felt so much stronger and swifter than everything. Speaking of others, his ears twitched as they picked up a familiar feeling: being watched. And mocked. He turned his head to the sound of jeers and the flash of camera phones.]
"Is that...a werewolf? Aren't they supposed to be in Everglade?"
"Paws off, Fido!"
"Oh Rin Tin Tin Tin Tin Tin Tin..."
"Somewhere out there, a blind person is missing their seeing-eye dog."
"Nah, no owner. See? No collar. Might have to give it the Old Yeller treatment."
"Hope it's been spayed and neutered."
"Oh man, it's drooling."
"Dude, that's people food."
"In the arms of an angel~"
"Ladies, find a man that looks at you like that werewolf looks at meat."
[He'd made a scene; this might've gone unnoticed in Everglade, but in Genessia City, he was an oddity. A comic one, judging by the ridicule. What it lacked in wit it made up for in volume. After that splash of cold water by public fun-making, he looked at the window again, and saw himself. After that, he trudged away with a canine whine.]
[It wasn't the lampoons that hurt; Ted liked to make others laugh, and never imputed a malicious motive to mockery. It was rather his guilt that cut him to the quick. In this new duality between beast and man, the beast had won easily, and entrenched him in low desire and nothing else. The first reflection made him laugh; this one made him want to cry. Tragedy eclipsed comedy, and Ted didn't like what he saw. One comment, however, got his attention. A child pointed to him along his dolorous march to anywhere else.]
"Mommy, can I pet the puppy?"
"No, dear. It might have fleas, or rabies, or AIDS."
[So children liked him? That gave him an idea.]
C. Lone Wolf [K&H Home for Children]
[There's a reason you may catch a werewolf tending the autumn garden of the world's best facsimile of an orphanage: Ted needed room and board, as well as a place to stay where he'd be civilized and useful, rather than feral and in the woods like his blood wanted. And what better way to be mature and decent than to take care of children? Granted, they're fake, and any joyful tenderness Ted might've felt was blunted by the fact. Talking the head caretaker into it wasn't easy.]
"I confess, sir, this is the first I've heard of a werewolf looking to volunteer. No ulterior motive, I hope?"
"Aheh, I'm not trying to gobble up children, if that's what you're asking. I'm familiar with the fairy tales."
"I should hope so; story time is crucial, especially in the evenings. It's just...you look a bit dirty, dear. Like you've come out of a scrap."
"Oh, well, it's funny...this is, er, all rather new to me. I was very were before the wolf caught up to me, and now I look, well, out of sorts."
"I see. Still, it's odd dress for a job interview, even though the position is volunteer. You're hard-up?"
"Very."
"Mm. What's your name? Do you have much experience in this line of work?"
"Of course; I'm Ted. Er, Theodore Satchel, that is."
"Strange. I knew a man by that name who used to visit us often. Did very well with the children; I sometimes fancied it was because he wasn't too far from one himself. Odd choices of reading material, every now and again. The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire may have been too grown-up for their tastes."
"Hah, well, history is a very fascinating subject."
"Well, it did what any bedtime story ought to, and put them to sleep. It's too bad; he hasn't seen us for a long time. Went on to become a famous bounty hunter, or something along those lines."
"Yes, I--don't know about famous, but yes, that's what I've been up to lately."
"You insist on the identity? You don't look or sound anything alike. No, I know. It's because of your new condition, you'll say. So why do this when you could be out there, glamorously catching criminals?"
"There's, heh, only so many to go around, and I've...nowhere else to go."
"Really? No one else will hire you? No friends to help in your time of need?"
"...No, there's no one. As you say, I'm not very presentable."
"I'm sorry to hear that. It seems you understand how hard it is when you've no home to go to and no one to look after you."
"Yes, miss."
"So you understand how important this place is to everyone?"
"Yes."
"Anything else you'd like to say?"
"...I'd like an advance of about fifty red bills, if that's all right."
"You're aware, Theodore, that this is a volunteer position."
"I know! It's just...a lot of other people are in trouble like myself, and I need the money for a replacement phone. Mine got lost in all the chaos, and without access to the network I can't help anyone near as much as I'd like. I'll pay you back with interest as soon as I'm able."
"I see. Well, I've come to my conclusion. It pains me to say this, but...we'll have you."
[The stern and austere countenance she'd been wearing melted away into one jovial and maternal]
"You will!?"
"Of course I will! Good heavens, just look at you! I'd have to go to the shelter to see a creature so pitiful. Judging by all the growling I've heard, you're either very cross or, more likely, haven't had a thing to eat. And, no offense dear, but you do stink just a little. However, I've one condition, in addition to the usual duties."
"Name it!"
"You promise to chaperone them all to go trick-or-treating this year, all right?"
"Done!"
"Good! Oh, I can't wait to see their faces when they see they've an overgrown pup to play with! Now, I'll go fix you something to eat, find or knit you something to wear, and draw a bath to freshen up with. Or would you prefer I get the hose?"
[Ted wished he could accept her generosity as genuine; as coming from one ensouled. A gift from Providence, of course, but certainly nothing personal. What tore him was the thought of A. would he clog the drain by shedding? And B. that it needn't be this way. He had real people who cared for him; who'd gladly open their homes, wallets, and pantries to him for nothing. Even strangers, if pressed. Lord knows Genessia has a glut of altruists.
He'd evade them all. Not because he's proud, but because he's protective. Accepting their help; showing his vulnerability and neediness would establish an intolerable precedent: that Ted was someone who needed saving. An innocent idea, when there's nothing more troublesome than missing a meal or sleeping without a roof for a while. But his future won't stay safe forever; what then? When he's in really dire straits, they might be inclined to help again, when he needs it most and wants it least, because that's the kind of danger that gets people hurt and killed and...
Yes, he thought as he drifted to sleep on the floor next to the bed too small for him. Anything, even loneliness amidst the company of fakes, is better than that all-too-real nightmare.]
D. Everglade Evangelism [10/21, Everglade, morning]
[True to her word, his new boss had provided him with larger, if awkward, clothes. When he awoke the next day to find that they were hung looser than last night, he brimmed with excitement. He was a man again! No more primal urges, no more fear for loss of control. He ran outside to make sure he could be natural again, in the great outdoors. Then the wolf returned.
So much for that. Seems the beast still held power over him and returned when it liked. And it's Sunday, too, which always meant one thing: church. This was a surreal ritual for him, for it was a service done for the salvation of souls for and by those who had none. He was never the only attendant, but given the dearth of believers in Genessia, he was always alone. The rule is that one goes in their Sunday best. He's certainly had better. What church, to say nothing of denomination, would be most appropriate to one so cursed?
Like one sleepwalking, he made his way through the morning fog into the Everglade cathedral. It was gothic and dark, adorned with gargoyles so terrifying they might as well have been demons; as though it had converted even the minions of hell to new purpose.
The congregation shuffled in obediently and mirthlessly. He wasn't greeted as warmly as in other sabbaths past, but he could guess why. The company was morbidly motley. Ted, despite being beastly and covered in odd vestments, looked downright tame compared to some of the ghouls and goblins. A part of the building had been partitioned to allow for shade to cover those averse to sunlight.
The hierophant of this flock was most compelling of all. Pastor Cosmas had a nature not unlike a gargoyle himself: severe, stony, with a countenance ruthlessly efficient and unyielding. From what Ted has heard, he was an exorcist of unparalleled experience. A line of work like that, especially here, would winnow all but the most stalwart away, and Cosmas seemed like one with stories to tell of that spiritual warfare, and no impulse at all to tell stories.
We'll begin with a song. Turn your hymnals to page...
[Well, he was not yet so different that he broke the formula from three songs and a sermon. Still, the music choice was noteworthy. Most begin with something happy and jaunty, full of praise. This one was about the marvels of the Apocalypse and the punishment of the damning. That set the mood. And yet, in spite of that, Ted had enjoyment. His singing had werewolf fierceness to it; he'd even, the cad, howled during a long note.
If the hierophant was annoyed or amused by this, it didn't show. Very little did on his grave face. He began speaking with the solemnity of stone. He seemed, at times, like the Word he spoke; all else might pass away, but he would not.]
I ask you what Christ asked the Pharisees: how will you escape the judgment of Hell?
[He was not theatric. He was not rhetorical. It was not said for effect. He was deadly serious, and Ted shivered. Of course a preacher from the city of fear would use fear as his instrument to chastise evil, and Ted was blessed enough to get both barrels. He especially liked how he introduced the Sacrament.]
Now, drink God's blood and eat God's flesh. That goes double for you vampires! Drink this divine dram and have eternal life; any other will earn you eternal death! If you refuse this flesh, your own flesh will work to damn your immortal soul!
Do the 'dead' among you dare to imagine you are free from this ritual? Do you not know that God will judge the quick and the dead?"
[After an injunction like that, how could Ted refuse? It gave a strange thrill to see all these dark beings grimly respond to severe light. He dutifully ate God and was hungry for the rest. Cosmas continued to shock and terrify with warnings for all who'd defy their Maker.]
Bear fruit, lest Jesus curse you as he cursed the barren fig tree. Be wheat, lest you be tossed in the fire with the rest of the chaff. I end by saying to you what He said to the woman who narrowly avoided stoning, as you now narrowly avoid condemnation: "Go, and sin no more."
[An ending so resolute and final Ted might swear Cosmas had been crucified himself. He left the church feeling better than ever. All that talk of hellfire, by some act of divine alchemy, had stirred a fire in his heart. Yes, he was still a monstrous abomination that probably offended the Lord extremely, but he could still bear fruit! He could do some good in the world, base and bestial though he was. He descended the steps in his canine gait radiating with newfound cheer and resolve.]
Haha! For a sermon from the soulless, that wasn't half bad! Who knew the solution to all this wayward consumption lay right in the heart of the Sacrament? Baptists, eat your heart out!
[Ted had slept through the day that fateful Friday night; another graveyard shift pursuing Lord knows what odd jobs for the BBB. The evening brought fresh and alarming changes. For one, the eidetic memory associated with his ever-present void was gone, and with it, all his belongings.
What he'd gained were sharper senses, height and weight, and a lot of fur. As his void no longer existed, it could no longer serve as his portable home, so he's left in the Everglade streets in his tattered, if colorful, pajamas.]
I must find a mirror!
[He had an idea of what was going on: the compulsive Halloween costumes that went too deep for comfort. So what was his? When he finally found a clear reflection, he was astonished for a few seconds. The lumbering, lanky build, the canine eyes, the wagging tail...
It was so ridiculous it floored him with laughter.]
Ah-ha! A ha ha ha! What a farce! Oh, I love dogs, but this is going far too far! "Oh, Ted what big teeth you have!" "All the better to-"
[He couldn't finish, instead ending with another fit of barely conscious hilarity. Even his voice was changed into something more bestial and deep! Oh what fun he imagined he'd have.]
Better avoid any woodcutters! Ahahahehehe!
[As onlookers could attest, he was still very, very blonde. Apparently he'd learned the "roll over" trick in seconds, consumed by comedy.]
B. Hungry Eyes [Genessia City streets, afternoon]
[Once a few hours had passed, the desperation of his circumstance began to dawn on him. His void held all his possessions, and now they were gone. No money, no ID, no way to get to the network, no way to defend himself or others as potently. Worst of all, no food. He'd been so caught up in revelry that he hadn't spared a thought for eating. Worse, his monstrous form had a monstrous appetite, and was very insistent about satisfaction.
Every base impulse was stronger, come to think of it. Ted's always been an ass, but at least he had manners. Now it was all he could do not to be a brute. Aggression was easier, women were more voluptuous to him, mockery seemed the most natural thing in the world. He had to keep his head and his urges down, lest he mire himself in sin.
No business would serve him. "No shirt, no shoes, no service", and his larger lupine feet rent his asunder. He was also penniless. As he strolled thinking about how to reconcile his bad fortune, he happened across the wholly transparent window of a butcher's shop.
Everything looked delicious to the pitch of rapture. The bounty of beasts was spread on displays that made them impossibly appealing. Sucking-pigs, wreathes of sausages, turkey legs and spiced chickens roasting and turning on electric spits! Geese and game and great joints of meat, amassed together into a regal, lovely throne of everything he wanted to eat. And how he'd eat! No napkins, no silverware, no civility, just teeth and flesh and...oh, thank God for grocers!
Instinctively he'd pressed his paws to the window, wagging his tail and lolling his tongue, indulging lurid fantasies of indulged hunger. Would it be so bad if he just...smashed the glass, took what he could, and ran? He felt so much stronger and swifter than everything. Speaking of others, his ears twitched as they picked up a familiar feeling: being watched. And mocked. He turned his head to the sound of jeers and the flash of camera phones.]
"Is that...a werewolf? Aren't they supposed to be in Everglade?"
"Paws off, Fido!"
"Oh Rin Tin Tin Tin Tin Tin Tin..."
"Somewhere out there, a blind person is missing their seeing-eye dog."
"Nah, no owner. See? No collar. Might have to give it the Old Yeller treatment."
"Hope it's been spayed and neutered."
"Oh man, it's drooling."
"Dude, that's people food."
"In the arms of an angel~"
"Ladies, find a man that looks at you like that werewolf looks at meat."
[He'd made a scene; this might've gone unnoticed in Everglade, but in Genessia City, he was an oddity. A comic one, judging by the ridicule. What it lacked in wit it made up for in volume. After that splash of cold water by public fun-making, he looked at the window again, and saw himself. After that, he trudged away with a canine whine.]
[It wasn't the lampoons that hurt; Ted liked to make others laugh, and never imputed a malicious motive to mockery. It was rather his guilt that cut him to the quick. In this new duality between beast and man, the beast had won easily, and entrenched him in low desire and nothing else. The first reflection made him laugh; this one made him want to cry. Tragedy eclipsed comedy, and Ted didn't like what he saw. One comment, however, got his attention. A child pointed to him along his dolorous march to anywhere else.]
"Mommy, can I pet the puppy?"
"No, dear. It might have fleas, or rabies, or AIDS."
[So children liked him? That gave him an idea.]
C. Lone Wolf [K&H Home for Children]
[There's a reason you may catch a werewolf tending the autumn garden of the world's best facsimile of an orphanage: Ted needed room and board, as well as a place to stay where he'd be civilized and useful, rather than feral and in the woods like his blood wanted. And what better way to be mature and decent than to take care of children? Granted, they're fake, and any joyful tenderness Ted might've felt was blunted by the fact. Talking the head caretaker into it wasn't easy.]
"I confess, sir, this is the first I've heard of a werewolf looking to volunteer. No ulterior motive, I hope?"
"Aheh, I'm not trying to gobble up children, if that's what you're asking. I'm familiar with the fairy tales."
"I should hope so; story time is crucial, especially in the evenings. It's just...you look a bit dirty, dear. Like you've come out of a scrap."
"Oh, well, it's funny...this is, er, all rather new to me. I was very were before the wolf caught up to me, and now I look, well, out of sorts."
"I see. Still, it's odd dress for a job interview, even though the position is volunteer. You're hard-up?"
"Very."
"Mm. What's your name? Do you have much experience in this line of work?"
"Of course; I'm Ted. Er, Theodore Satchel, that is."
"Strange. I knew a man by that name who used to visit us often. Did very well with the children; I sometimes fancied it was because he wasn't too far from one himself. Odd choices of reading material, every now and again. The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire may have been too grown-up for their tastes."
"Hah, well, history is a very fascinating subject."
"Well, it did what any bedtime story ought to, and put them to sleep. It's too bad; he hasn't seen us for a long time. Went on to become a famous bounty hunter, or something along those lines."
"Yes, I--don't know about famous, but yes, that's what I've been up to lately."
"You insist on the identity? You don't look or sound anything alike. No, I know. It's because of your new condition, you'll say. So why do this when you could be out there, glamorously catching criminals?"
"There's, heh, only so many to go around, and I've...nowhere else to go."
"Really? No one else will hire you? No friends to help in your time of need?"
"...No, there's no one. As you say, I'm not very presentable."
"I'm sorry to hear that. It seems you understand how hard it is when you've no home to go to and no one to look after you."
"Yes, miss."
"So you understand how important this place is to everyone?"
"Yes."
"Anything else you'd like to say?"
"...I'd like an advance of about fifty red bills, if that's all right."
"You're aware, Theodore, that this is a volunteer position."
"I know! It's just...a lot of other people are in trouble like myself, and I need the money for a replacement phone. Mine got lost in all the chaos, and without access to the network I can't help anyone near as much as I'd like. I'll pay you back with interest as soon as I'm able."
"I see. Well, I've come to my conclusion. It pains me to say this, but...we'll have you."
[The stern and austere countenance she'd been wearing melted away into one jovial and maternal]
"You will!?"
"Of course I will! Good heavens, just look at you! I'd have to go to the shelter to see a creature so pitiful. Judging by all the growling I've heard, you're either very cross or, more likely, haven't had a thing to eat. And, no offense dear, but you do stink just a little. However, I've one condition, in addition to the usual duties."
"Name it!"
"You promise to chaperone them all to go trick-or-treating this year, all right?"
"Done!"
"Good! Oh, I can't wait to see their faces when they see they've an overgrown pup to play with! Now, I'll go fix you something to eat, find or knit you something to wear, and draw a bath to freshen up with. Or would you prefer I get the hose?"
[Ted wished he could accept her generosity as genuine; as coming from one ensouled. A gift from Providence, of course, but certainly nothing personal. What tore him was the thought of A. would he clog the drain by shedding? And B. that it needn't be this way. He had real people who cared for him; who'd gladly open their homes, wallets, and pantries to him for nothing. Even strangers, if pressed. Lord knows Genessia has a glut of altruists.
He'd evade them all. Not because he's proud, but because he's protective. Accepting their help; showing his vulnerability and neediness would establish an intolerable precedent: that Ted was someone who needed saving. An innocent idea, when there's nothing more troublesome than missing a meal or sleeping without a roof for a while. But his future won't stay safe forever; what then? When he's in really dire straits, they might be inclined to help again, when he needs it most and wants it least, because that's the kind of danger that gets people hurt and killed and...
Yes, he thought as he drifted to sleep on the floor next to the bed too small for him. Anything, even loneliness amidst the company of fakes, is better than that all-too-real nightmare.]
D. Everglade Evangelism [10/21, Everglade, morning]
[True to her word, his new boss had provided him with larger, if awkward, clothes. When he awoke the next day to find that they were hung looser than last night, he brimmed with excitement. He was a man again! No more primal urges, no more fear for loss of control. He ran outside to make sure he could be natural again, in the great outdoors. Then the wolf returned.
So much for that. Seems the beast still held power over him and returned when it liked. And it's Sunday, too, which always meant one thing: church. This was a surreal ritual for him, for it was a service done for the salvation of souls for and by those who had none. He was never the only attendant, but given the dearth of believers in Genessia, he was always alone. The rule is that one goes in their Sunday best. He's certainly had better. What church, to say nothing of denomination, would be most appropriate to one so cursed?
Like one sleepwalking, he made his way through the morning fog into the Everglade cathedral. It was gothic and dark, adorned with gargoyles so terrifying they might as well have been demons; as though it had converted even the minions of hell to new purpose.
The congregation shuffled in obediently and mirthlessly. He wasn't greeted as warmly as in other sabbaths past, but he could guess why. The company was morbidly motley. Ted, despite being beastly and covered in odd vestments, looked downright tame compared to some of the ghouls and goblins. A part of the building had been partitioned to allow for shade to cover those averse to sunlight.
The hierophant of this flock was most compelling of all. Pastor Cosmas had a nature not unlike a gargoyle himself: severe, stony, with a countenance ruthlessly efficient and unyielding. From what Ted has heard, he was an exorcist of unparalleled experience. A line of work like that, especially here, would winnow all but the most stalwart away, and Cosmas seemed like one with stories to tell of that spiritual warfare, and no impulse at all to tell stories.
We'll begin with a song. Turn your hymnals to page...
[Well, he was not yet so different that he broke the formula from three songs and a sermon. Still, the music choice was noteworthy. Most begin with something happy and jaunty, full of praise. This one was about the marvels of the Apocalypse and the punishment of the damning. That set the mood. And yet, in spite of that, Ted had enjoyment. His singing had werewolf fierceness to it; he'd even, the cad, howled during a long note.
If the hierophant was annoyed or amused by this, it didn't show. Very little did on his grave face. He began speaking with the solemnity of stone. He seemed, at times, like the Word he spoke; all else might pass away, but he would not.]
I ask you what Christ asked the Pharisees: how will you escape the judgment of Hell?
[He was not theatric. He was not rhetorical. It was not said for effect. He was deadly serious, and Ted shivered. Of course a preacher from the city of fear would use fear as his instrument to chastise evil, and Ted was blessed enough to get both barrels. He especially liked how he introduced the Sacrament.]
Now, drink God's blood and eat God's flesh. That goes double for you vampires! Drink this divine dram and have eternal life; any other will earn you eternal death! If you refuse this flesh, your own flesh will work to damn your immortal soul!
Do the 'dead' among you dare to imagine you are free from this ritual? Do you not know that God will judge the quick and the dead?"
[After an injunction like that, how could Ted refuse? It gave a strange thrill to see all these dark beings grimly respond to severe light. He dutifully ate God and was hungry for the rest. Cosmas continued to shock and terrify with warnings for all who'd defy their Maker.]
Bear fruit, lest Jesus curse you as he cursed the barren fig tree. Be wheat, lest you be tossed in the fire with the rest of the chaff. I end by saying to you what He said to the woman who narrowly avoided stoning, as you now narrowly avoid condemnation: "Go, and sin no more."
[An ending so resolute and final Ted might swear Cosmas had been crucified himself. He left the church feeling better than ever. All that talk of hellfire, by some act of divine alchemy, had stirred a fire in his heart. Yes, he was still a monstrous abomination that probably offended the Lord extremely, but he could still bear fruit! He could do some good in the world, base and bestial though he was. He descended the steps in his canine gait radiating with newfound cheer and resolve.]
Haha! For a sermon from the soulless, that wasn't half bad! Who knew the solution to all this wayward consumption lay right in the heart of the Sacrament? Baptists, eat your heart out!
action
So fish is bad but hearts is fine, huh? Now I see how it is...
[He does his best to sound offended, but his expression is everything but.]
Who's Baptist? Find yerself a new rival or some shit?
Re: action
Of course fish are bad; you'd know that if you had the displeasure of smelling one. On that note: good morning, Namur! No, Baptist is a denomination. But if they were a new rival, who, pray tell, would be the old one?
[Boy did Ted wish he had that kind of luck. Namur, according to this figurine, is roughly 50% head, so finding a hoodie to cover that and then some is no mean feat. All he could manage was a colorful patchwork shawl and kilt with a hole cut out for his overactive tail.
Before he can continue taunting, a few other believing werewolves--some manly, some more lupine--asked whether he'd like to join their "pack". He'd made all the signs of someone new to that mode of living. He chuckled.]
No, thank you.
[He turned his head back to give the smelly shark a once over.]
I'm so pleased with you: you appear to have finally learned modesty. All you need now is a gag and you'll have covered your every ludicrous part, hahaha.
b.
While roaming the street to pass the time, and maybe get something to eat, Bridget overheard some commotion about a dog from the Everglades. Curious, Bridget peered from the crowd and saw the strange dog, blinked twice, then a small gasp! There was an idea!]
Ah-! Excuse me! Pardon me please.
[He squeezed through the crowd until he was near the dog or wolf... what was fear?
Okay, he was face to face with the dog. Smiled. Didn't move....He didn't have any treats...]
Ah...
[Some people watched, wondered themselves if this dog was his. Bridget lightly clapped his hands.]
Come here, boy? I won't hurt you. Are you lost?
[Was this even a good idea? Roger was pinned on Bridget's waist. If there was a sweat drop emote, Roger had it.]
Re: b.
what does he mean no treats?Ted, still in a dejected mood, turned his head to show a crestfallen canine countenance. It wasn't all sad; Bridget was a familiar face who seemed not to recognize him. He was still blonde as ever, but a foot or two taller with much more fur, clothed only in the tattered remains of his colorful pajamas.He sounded different too, chuckling in a lower timbre.]
Heh, no, not terrestrially. Good afternoon to you too, Bridget.
[His muzzle gave him a once-over. Bridget looked a little older, but he still had the disappointing haircut that was too long for one in their teens. The curse seemed to pass him by, for he detected no inhuman alteration. Some people have all the luck. Still, he didn't stop to talk and plodded along like one sleepwalking.]
Re: b.
Like nothing in his pockets. SORRY.Bridget froze, stared up at that canine face puzzled. Giant werewolf in pajamas, bright pajamas. Kinda reminded him of someone who wore bright stuff.Anyway.]
... You know me?
[Bridget pointed at himself, almost sounded flattered. Which he was. Yes, still same Bridget with his nun attire and longer length of hair, mostly the front.]
Re: b.
Who doesn't? The marvelous tricks you perform with your yo-yo's are known the world over. The sleepers, the throws, the loops. I'll never forget the first time I saw you in the flesh. It changed my life forever.
[He can't keep a straight voice or face through any of that, but boy does he try.]
action
Namur shakes his head. At least Ted seems to be in better spirits. It's refreshing.]
Naw I jus' don't wanna turn t' ash 'fore the week's out. Yer lookin' awful hairy. How's the wolf life treatin' y'?
Re: action
[He idly sniffs the air.]
Bestially. Just about every sense is keen to the point of profundity. For example, I'm almost certain someone farted about thirty yards away. Goodness knows how you manage it. Had to find new dress too; tails are more troublesome than I thought. One errant wag is all it takes to break a vase.
action
Yeah, folk don't realize how much they tell y' jus' by bein' 'round. Y'll survive, an' probly miss it all when yer human 'gain.
Y' know there's a tailor in Nova what makes clothes on the spot for weirdass sizes an' shapes, right? Where the hell y' think I got this?
[He shrugs, indication the hoodie.]
If y' ain't got the cash for it I'll cover y'.
Re: action
Haha, doubtful. I faint to imagine what sulfur would smell like too close! You know how bakers deliberately waft their fumes to unscrupulously attract hungry pedestrians? Now it's as though everyone's so scheming. Sometimes it's all one can do just to think without assault from all sides. On top of that, I can't even make a fist without digging into my own hand! Not to wholly complain, mind; like all such transformations, they're fun to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.
[Gee, that sounded like an offer to help. DO NOT WANT. But that gives him an idea.]
I appreciate the charity, but it's wasted on me. But if you're in a mind to dispense dollars, how about putting me on Jolly Eddy's payroll, eh? I could outdo the work of everyone combined while sitting pretty!
action
Re: action
[Explanations for internal motivations? Boooring.]
You know, like a sand dollar?
[Commence wolf snickers.]
It was America's--my own world, if you've forgotten--take on the red bills we enjoy. With another stream of employment, there'd be that much more.
action
A'ight. Y' had some pretty solid reasons for leavin', least in yer opinion. What's yer reason for wantin' t' come back?
Re: action
Guess your hearing went away, eh? Well, that's all right, I've another: courtesy!
[Again, no explanation. There's no need to bore others with that stuff if they haven't asked.]
action
Courtesy..?
[Yeah, sorry bro. He doesn't follow.]
Re: action
[You know, generally speaking.
Relevance, what's that?]