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Post by luscen on May 28, 2020 4:58:26 GMT -6
The Hunter didn't so much as snicker as he watched Sara greedily drink the tea; now that her body had been given permission, so to speak, it was little wonder she'd latch onto the tea so hungrily. He noticed, however, that she was working her lips- the sign of a mildly burned tongue, no doubt. He'd have to encourage her to slow down, some.
“Here,” he said, taking a spoon and drizzling some honey onto it. “Take this and suckle on it for a moment. It should help coat the burn, some.” While the shifter did as he instructed, he pushed the plate of scones over to her. “If you're hungry, you can have some. Don't feel bothered- I wasn't very hungry, anyway.”
He took the cup of green tea, adding some cream to it. Casmir wasn't exactly one for sweets, as that was more Delphi's taste, but a little could sometimes go a long way with him. He mulled over Sara's words, frowning slightly. “This friend of yours, Koji,” he asked, looking over at her. “You said he was tortured?” That was a bit of a red flag- torture wasn't an accusation one threw around lightly, and he didn't believe Sara to be one for hyperbole. If those were her choice of words, he doubted this “Koji” was simply the unfortunate victim of a mugging or a hate crime or something like that.
The question was: Why? What had he done to warrant such a thing? He'd wanted to ask Sara more details, but he felt it best to let her speak at her own pace, and to not make inferrals. Doing so, even if that wasn't the intention, would likely agitate her and make her upset with him for suggesting something that wasn't there.
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Post by tsukikoko on May 28, 2020 5:30:59 GMT -6
Sara used the honey as an excuse not to answer for a while, hating herself for needing the excusing and hating that she'd spoken at all. It felt like a breach of the Genasi's privacy, talking about his condition. But she just couldn't help herself now that she'd started, and in her tired state, not quite in control of her mental faculties, each word fell from her lips like stones into a pond, disturbing the water and revealing just how churned it truly was beneath the surface. The shifter needed to get some of this off her chest, somehow.
"Why aye," she said, having removed the spoon from her mouth. She lifted a scone, holding it but not yet eating, despite the incessant, gnawing hunger in her gut. "'E was taken, missin' for days, an' when 'e were dumped later 'e-" she trailed off, unable to bring herself to list the injuries. Not only was it too much for her to say, it felt too much a disservice to Koji to reveal so much. "The damage was extensive," she said instead, the whitened pallor of her skin and shell-shocked look in her expression enough to tell Casmir just how bad 'extensive' might be.
Sara took a bite of a scone then, as much to give herself something to focus on, instead of the images flashing across her vision, as to sate her famished body. While she barely tasted it, the food went down easily enough, until about halfway through another choking sob caught her unawares. Luckily she'd already swallowed the last bite, but she certainly couldn't take another. "We tried... tried tah find 'im, but-" She crumpled forward, head propped up by the palm of one hand as she braced her elbow against her knee. Her tail curled around herself, instinctively defensive, an attempt to shield herself from what had happened. "I just- wish I could take what 'ad 'appened from 'im, ya know?" She whispered, voice trembling.
She really would, if she could. If she could transfer those injuries and the associated memories to herself so he didn't have to suffer them, she would in a heartbeat. That poor boy didn't need more pain in his life. Instead, there were small comforts, things she tried to do for him to bring a little light to his day - books or affection from something furred and four-legged. It just never seemed enough.
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Post by luscen on May 28, 2020 5:41:20 GMT -6
“I do,” Casmir replied. He leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees, and his hands folded under his nose. There was a distant expression in his eyes, memories of certain hunts, certain missions. The pain of arriving too late, the anger and frustration, and the incessant gnawing doubts and debasement; that if you were stronger, or faster, or smarter, or just better than you were, then things would be different.
The Hunter pushed the thoughts away- Sara needed someone to listen to her right now, not a reason to worry over someone else and think she was being a nuisance. He relaxed his posture and took another drink of his tea, giving her a moment to collect herself before he spoke again.
“This other friend of yours, you said he was kidnapped?” he asked, looking back over at her. He didn't want to make assumptions, but this was beginning to sound like it was some part of a pattern. He almost thought that one of the two was a diversion for the other. The only problem was trying to figure out which one was which.
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Post by tsukikoko on May 28, 2020 7:02:47 GMT -6
Sara glanced up, catching sight of the Hunter's pose and expression for a fraction of a second before he relaxed it. It was clear, from the response and the distant look, that he'd been through his own fair share of something similar. Her brow creased again, this time with concern for him, rather than her own discomfort. "Caz, luv-?" she managed to say, a rising lilt to her voice that implied a building question and a sudden focus to her, despite the ever-present fatigue. But before she could ask any further, he moved the conversation on.
Casmir's question killed the shifter's words on her tongue, had her rubbing her arms anxiously. She nodded, slowly. A new fear rose; that the man sitting beside her might look into it, for some reason, and place himself in danger too. Paranoia from her lack of sleep? Perhaps. But she couldn't shake the feeling anyway. Who knew what these people were capable of, to have successfully taken Isaac? "The 'ouse was found ransacked, signs of a struggle, like, an' me friend.. gone." She didn't add names or too many details, partially because her words were sticking in her throat and partially because of the aforementioned fear. Then there came thoughts of Tsu, how he'd be tracking Isaac, the danger he too might be in. The old werewolf was strong, she knew that, but if they went for him because he was trying to get Isaac back... if they'd taken the director, her friend, despite what she knew he could do. She thought of their trip to space, Isaac's smile, how he'd helped drag her out of the dark. What could have happened, what could be happening? Koji's injuries, Tsu on his own, the what-ifs of things that had happened and might come to pass, all began to swarm over Sara. She felt rising, black, swirling terror of this unknown entity that had so brutally and so casually torn their lives apart.
Abruptly, the shifter was on her feet, near pitching forward but beginning to pace anyway, driven by the same frantic energy that had kept her up for days. She had to go, get out, track Tsu somehow, check he was ok, just make sure. She couldn't lose him too. But Koji, Aaron, she couldn't let them worry if she went haring off trying to find a werewolf.
She- she had to- had to-
She didn't know.
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Post by luscen on May 29, 2020 1:06:51 GMT -6
Casmir was glad to have cut off Sara's line of inquiry with his own question, at first. He'd never been one for being put under the scope, and besides that fact they were here to talk about her, not him. And yet, when he saw her body language shift as she proceeded to answer him, expression morphing from concern for him, to hazy recollection, then anxiety, and finally wide-eyed stress, he felt he'd made a mistake.
“Sara...” he cautioned, knowing what she was thinking. The redhead was too caught up in the desire to act, to be doing something about the situation. Even if her body were bone-tired, and malnourished, her mind was too active in the moment to let her rest. She rose swiftly to her feet, though there a tense moment where it seemed like she was about to pitch forward onto the coffee table. Casmir instinctively reached out to grab her, but she managed to right herself and stepped away from the couch.
“Sara!” the Hunter said again, sharply. He stood and took hold of her wrist; not strong enough to bruise, but his grip was solid enough that she wouldn't be able to simply pull her arm away as she was. Casmir moved closer to her, placing his other hand on her shoulder and turning her to him. “You can't help anyone like this,” he told her quietly. “You know that.”
'You shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't even be here!' the practical side of Casmir's mind argued with him. It was right- the Hunter wasn't her psychologist, was barely even her friend, in fact. He'd just happened to risk his life saving her from a mess he himself had gotten her into, and his concern that the matter wasn't fully put to rest had led to him making the decision to give her a direct messaging option for him via the BBS. She had more professional and more reliable means of helping her, not some reclusive hermit hunting down jackalopes and dodo birds...
And yet, the Hunter's meddlesome nature wouldn't let the situation lie. He moved his hand from Sara's wrist to her other shoulder. “You need to get some sleep. Your brain's tired, and can't make the right connections to figure out what you should be doing first,” he told her, keeping his voice even. It wouldn't do any good to make her feel patronized- that would likely just make her dismiss him or dig her heels in and stubbornly refuse to relent, neither of which were good responses, at the moment.
“When you get up, things should snap into a clearer focus, and you'll know what you need to do,” he continued, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. “But until then, you can help your friends by giving yourself some time to rest in a proper bed. If you can't do it at home, you can use mine- it's not the most comfy bed in the world, but it should do."
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Post by tsukikoko on May 29, 2020 5:12:24 GMT -6
The sudden grip on her wrist and bark of her name snapped Sara from her racing, tumultuous thoughts with a jolt and a surprised inhalation. She found herself turned on the spot and looking up at Casmir's mismatched gaze, momentarily confused about where she was and what she should be doing. She blinked, found her eyes tracking down slightly to watch the movement of his lips, aware he was talking without particularly registering the words. Her own pulse was too loud, a deafening rush in her ears that made it seem as though she were underwater. Drowning. One hand gripped the Hunter's arm, a solid bastion of reality to drag her back to the surface.
Another dazed blink.
The warmth of his hands on her shoulders, still present, a steadying weight. Rough, deep tones that oddly soothed. His voice? As though replaying a tape, the shifter's brain recounted the last minute or so, churned slowly over the words and information; something about sleep? Stop. Rewind. Try again. This shouldn't be so hard.
Realisation dawned a second or two later, his words skipping into place like a record needle that had finally found the right groove. A heat blossomed in Sara's chest. Anger? She couldn't tell, didn't have the mental faculties to self-assess. Either way, it leant a burst of energy to her, enough to focus her gaze and remind her frozen tongue how to speak. Again she looked at the man's eyes, while something briefly lit within her own. Fiery, stubborn, a touch petulant from sleep deprivation, the woman who stared back at him held a tight jaw and dagger-like eyes. He was right, a part of her knew he was right, but that didn't make anything any easier, or change how the maelstrom of thoughts and spiking adrenaline had been forcing her awake every time she tried. "Eeee, man! So what, like, ya think I 'aven't been bloody well tryin', do ya reet? Why divvint ya just-" It was impressive, how quickly the shifter's voice rose in volume, delivering a knee-jerk reaction borne of her own frustration, both at being unable to sleep or make meaningful headway with all that was bothering her in her life, with Casmir as the only target.
Yet, she stopped herself from finishing that last sentence, which had almost assuredly been a colourful way to tell him to mind his own. Shock and horror flickered across her lightly freckled face, for reacting in such a way. Here Casmir was, trying to help and all she'd done was snap at him as a wounded animal might. The heat inside her turned to shame, burning hot on her cheeks. "Christ- Sorry, sorry... I shouldn't 'ave snapped at ya. God..." She hung her head, curled her tail across her feet, as so often happened when the shifter was anxious or upset. "Ya reet, I know I ain't good tah anyone reet now but- but I just-" She leant forward. Or, fell, more like. Pitching towards the Hunter until her forehead rested against his chest. She shouldn't have been invading his personal space like this, being as pitiful as this, but the shifter was too tired and defeated to raise herself up now that she'd fallen against him. If anything, she sank further, muscles wanting nothing more than to collapse for a while.
Casmir's clothes smelt of smoke, menthol and tea leaves, but there was an earthy note beneath it all, reminding Sara of pine, soil and the fresh grass she would so often explore as one of her many animal forms. It was... a comfort, oddly familiar. In this dark space, when the visions and memories rose, that pine scent would again filter through, bringing with it dappled sights of sunlight through trees. While her thoughts were still unsettled, this was at least... manageable. Exhaustion crashed over her in the wake of such an opportunity, sleep grasping at her consciousness, a frantic struggle to finally drag her under while it had the chance. For a few moments the Hunter would feel as her muscles, coiled tight as springs, began to relax; her shoulders drooped, the grip still maintained on his arm began to slip, before, perhaps surprisingly, she murmured wearily, "I shouldn't.. be askin', given 'ow I just be'aved but-" a pregnant pause as she trailed off, beset by another period of microsleep. When she twitched awake Sara spoke again, "-could.. could ya maybe sit with me.. for a bit, like?" In other circumstances, the shifter may not have made such a request, or would have been more cautious about accepting the invitation of someone else's bed. But she was so tired and this dark warmth was so far the closest she'd come to successfully falling asleep. Her subconscious latched onto it, wanted to keep it there for longer.
Even if said darkness actually belonged to a blonde-haired Polish man with a scar across one eye.
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Post by luscen on May 29, 2020 5:31:43 GMT -6
Casmir didn't mind the heat Sara had directed at him; in her frayed emotional state, it was to be expected; of course he knew she'd been trying to rest, to recuperate, and if it had been a simple matter of just getting forty winks, she'd never have bothered to call him. The advice hadn't been given out of ignorance, however- in that muddled, sleep-deprived state, logic was often akin to sand, ever-shifting and hard to maintain a proper footing on. So having someone else point it out to you would often serve as the means to orient your focus, bring things back into perspective, even if only a little.
What had caused the scarred Hunter no small measure of discomfort, however, was Sara's sudden lurching forward, burying her face in his chest. It was less a matter of seeking physical comfort, and more being at the end of her rope; he knew that, told himself that, but even still, the sudden invasion of his personal space made him tense up, and he had to fight the urge to shove the redhead away from him.
Then she asked him to stay with her, to sit and keep her company until she fell asleep. Casmir's grip on her shoulders tightened, slightly.
'This is a mistake,' his mind said. 'Refuse. She'll understand. This isn't your problem to resolve.'
“... Sure,” the Hunter replied quietly. That persistent voice hissed at him, called him weak, told him that whatever happened next was on him. He ignored it, however, moving his hands to Sara's upper arm and moving her over to the sofa. He sat down, removing his coat, and guided her down to rest against his broad shoulders. After a moment, he pulled the comforter off the back of the couch, arranging it over her slender body- the blanket was thicker than it looked, and was made out of a soft material that held in warmth, and smelled of spring lillies. Casmir kept his mouth shut, not trusting himself to speak, and kept his hand lightly on her upper arm, where it wouldn't do any harm.
'Hopefully she falls asleep quickly,' he thought to himself, trying not to look at her and silently cursing Aaron's absence under his breath; if the flashbulb had been around, then the Hunter wouldn't be in this predicament.
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Post by tsukikoko on May 29, 2020 9:02:53 GMT -6
The shifter made no argument as Casmir led her, swaying and dragging her feet, to the couch. A short-lived thought rose and fell away, that she should go back on her request, tell him it was okay, he didn't need to put himself out for her. That she should maybe go home; who knew how many hours she'd be out if this worked? But then a guiding touch brought her down to the snug, tangible surface of a man's shoulders and she sank against him without question. Again, the scent of earth and pines enveloped her senses, helped pull her down ever closer to that tantalising embrace of sleep.
Movement. Something settled over her body. She twitched, a soft whimper escaped her lips from the disturbance and the lines of her face creased with distress from some thought or vision Casmir could not see. She turned a little against him, once more hiding her face and as a violent tremble ran through her frame it seemed there was a risk she might bolt upright again. Thankfully, she quietened again a moment later, lulled by the same comforting familiarity as before. A mumbling sound, not upset as the whimper had been and mostly lost to the Hunter's clothes, must have been Sara's voice; it could have been 'thank you', but equally might have been murmured nonsense as she began to fall asleep.
She felt warm, she felt safe. The hand against her arm, light though the touch might have been, coupled with the solid heat of Casmir against her, leant a feeling of security she could not, nor particularly wanted to, fight against. By this point, she barely remembered who was holding her, only that as she curled up more snugly into the warmth, she relaxed ever further. Her breathing, so far mostly rapid and shallow, began to deepen, with a short pause between each inhalation. The anxious twitching of her tail and scrunching of her toes fell still. She moved an arm onto Casmir's chest, resting it there because the position was more comfortable and she was no longer compus mentis enough to recall that he might not like it.
Seconds ticked by, lengthening into minutes. Her body became heavier against him, no longer supporting itself at all. Sara's breathing remained slow and steady, but aside from the rise and fall of her chest, she no longer moved.
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Post by luscen on Jun 3, 2020 5:51:24 GMT -6
Casmir kept his eyes closed as Sara lay against him, his hand resting still atop her bare upper arm. His entire body was practically burning with the desire to get away from the weight that pressed against him, the images and visions of various creatures, lustful, cruel laughter, and unwanted touches drifting through his mind, with the most prominent belonging to a certain succubus of iron-colored skin and ebony horns, her magma-colored eyes peering out at him from shadows, and a twisted grin appearing chesire-like beneath those hateful orbs.
'She's dead,' Casmir thought to himself, over and over again, his other hand curling into a fist. 'She's dead, and she can't hurt you.'
It was a lie, of course. Maelidal had been a fixture of his headspace for some time, and was largely the reason why his aversion to physical touch existed. His fight with her had been the first true hunt he'd engaged in; the succubus who had led him and his brother Szymon to their doom, he had learned during his battle with her that she had used her powers of shapeshifting and infernal charisma to endear herself to the other villages in the area, keeping stock of prime specimens to abduct and offer up to the Soundless on a silver platter. He and his brother's lottery had come up that day, but of course things didn't quite turn out the way anyone had expected.
She had been old, experienced. Taunted him with the right weak points, and nearly killed him in his inexperience. He'd managed to overcome her, but she'd left her mark, regardless. His eye was proof enough of that. Though the more telling scars had been the ones that weren't visible.
'Stop wasting time with this,' the Hunter demanded, gritting his teeth and forcing those dark thoughts out of his mind. Instead, he looked down at Sara, examining her face and the features of her body- a light dusting of freckles crossed her nose, and her hair was a bit more waxen, apparently suffering due to her distracted state. Sunken-in eyes bespoke of that lack of sleep, and the slight crease at her brows told her that her dreams weren't exactly pleasant, at least of late. He recalled how she had responded when he'd first mistook her as an assassin, an idea that seemed laughable, now.
'I don't think she could assassinate a butterfly, let alone a Hunter like me...' the blonde thought with a quiet snort. Sure, he'd seen her transform into a rather ferocious weasel, and then later a panther. But he knew killer intent, the desire to do real harm, when he saw it, and she was blessedly devoid of it.
No, her lot was to sing in bars, laugh, have fun... And also to be prey to night terrors and kidnapping attempts. The fact that she had tried to brush off the Beshilu and Skinwalker's attempt as easily as she had already said that much. And that thought drove a hot spike of indignation in the Hunter's gut; someone like her shouldn't have to deal with things like that- the world was rotten enough as it was, already, without trying to ruin the few good things it managed to produce...
Sara shifted in her sleep, and the Hunter found himself raising his hand, gently brushing gloved fingers across her forehead, strands of red and gold hair swept along in his wake. He wished he could do more for her than this, but sadly such things were not his forte.
Abruptly, the Hunter frowned; this wasn't right. The Flashbulb didn't know where she was, and Casmir doubted the overgrown iridescent french bulldog with the Australian name would be able to tell him anything about where she was. Worse, she was getting too comfy with the Hunter, and Casmir wasn't sure how much he wanted that to be a thing- protection was one thing, but... No, he needed to get up.
The blonde man discretely tried to shift himself out from underneath Sara's somnolent form, ideally to go and retire to his study, bury himself in tomes of eldritch affairs and thaumaturgy. Anything that would put some much-needed space between him and this woman who was proving to be a distraction to him.
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Post by tsukikoko on Jun 3, 2020 17:07:44 GMT -6
To any watching her, Sara was sound asleep. Even when fingers brushed her fringe aside, she barely stirred; if anything, the creases of worry lines faded a good measure from her forehead at the touch.
For the first in a long while, her slumber was peaceful. A quiet, gentle darkness, rather than the malevolent shadows and haunting images that had plagued her of late. A side effect of complete exhaustion and shut down of her mental faculties, potentially, or it may have stemmed from the company she slept against, the ever-present earthy scent. Regardless of the reason, she fell so still as to appear dead, save the steady rise and fall of her chest.
Until Casmir extricated himself.
The cracks were miniscule, at first. Tiny imperfections in the peaceful emptiness of her dreamscape that soon splintered and cracked, a spiderweb of damage. Threat pooled at each split, a concept both physical and metaphorical in the same breath, the way only dreams could be, clawing and slavering to get inside. The shifter's subconscious felt the warmth and security slipping away and was afraid. It reached desperately for it, to hold on as each bead of comfort slipped from her grasp; like tiny grains of sand through her fingers.
As Casmir stood and took a step from the couch, a sudden grip latched onto his hand, curling around two of his fingers. Weak and limp, as though with barely enough strength to maintain that grip, Sara's abrupt action nevertheless conveyed a sense of beseeching emotion. "Pl..ease. Do..n't leave..." Slurred speech, barely audible. Should the Hunter look back he would see the woman's eyes were still closed and she hadn't lifted her head or body so much as slumped forward in the absence of him and made a desperate grab. For all intents and purposes, Sara was still asleep.
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Post by luscen on Jun 3, 2020 18:40:08 GMT -6
Casmir paused in alarm as he felt something suddenly anchoring him by the hand. The grip may have been weak, perhaps, making it a trivial matter to extricate himself, but that didn't matter. The scarred man's condition – his paranoia and aversion to touch – meant that even something as harmless as a hug may as well have been akin to a straitjacket, as far as he was concerned. To be held down was to lose control, to be under the mercy of someone or something else. And mercy was decidedly sparse, in his experience.
As such, Casmir's hand moved before his brain caught up, grasping Sara's fingers in an attempt to pry them off of him. Once the offending grip had been removed, he turned, wild-eyed, to tell her off for trying to trap him. Only to stop short when he realized she was still asleep- her grasping hand had been involuntary, a sign of desperation from a mind that knew the danger it was in. Even if that danger was confined solely to her sleeping mind.
The Hunter's expression shifted, brow furrowing as conflicting thoughts raced across his mind: She was scared. He was a murderer. She wanted help. He couldn't protect her. She needed comfort. He had taken her here under her boyfriend's nose. They continued on like that, two contending ideas that persisted in tugging him in opposite directions, threatening to pull him apart.
He should go. He should leave. She didn't belong here. Why weren't his legs working properly?
Sara's fingers grasped Casmir's, a small, fitful noise escaping her mouth. That sound – that small, pleading noise – was what did the Hunter in. It was something he'd heard from others like her, though they were often younger or smaller in size. Children, captured by monsters or cultists, their worlds shaken, left reeling as the foundations of their world were ripped out from underneath them. Those were the people Casmir was doing this for; those precious few people he could save. To leave Sara in the midst of her turmoil would have been to deny who he was.
'Damn you, woman...' he groused, before gently taking the redhead's hand and squeezing it reassuringly, moving back to sit down next to her. He could endure this- if it meant giving her some peace of mind, even for a bit, he could be her pillow.
Even if every other part of him told him this was a powder keg waiting to explode in his face.
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Post by tsukikoko on Jun 8, 2020 12:54:11 GMT -6
As soon as Casmir sat back down and the weighted heat of him returned to the sofa beside her, Sara moved into him with a muffled whine, chasing the strange familiarity that he encompassed. Against the scent of pine and earth, visions of lounging amongst sun-kissed grass, flecks of dirt catching in her fur and nothing but the simple enjoyment of life to accompany her animal self.
But, alongside that, tainting and nipping at the edges, ever present, was the stress, the fear for those around her. She felt small and weak, prey for so many over the last year. Those days of simple pleasure felt as though they were so far away, might never come again in the way they had so easily before.
Abruptly, in the time it would take the Hunter to blink, in fact, the redhaired woman was gone. He might have felt a strange sensation against the hand that held hers; an incomprehensible feeling both amorphous and fluctuating. In the shifter's place, a rabbit. Fur the colour of rust, save a flash of bright ginger at the nape of the neck and along the top of her head. Only the tail, as ever, seemed out of place. Shorter now, but still most definitely crocodilian, it was the one flaw to her otherwise perfect assimilation into another species.
The animal quivered, back legs kicking lightly with nervous energy, as she squeaked and squirmed her way against his stomach and enveloped herself in the warm darkness she found there. She risked waking completely, teetering on the edge of consciousness and threatening to undo what work Casmir had already put in to help her under.
But, once safe from the perceived threats around herself, Sara slowly fell still again, her disquieted cries softening to murmurs. Only the twitches of her ears and the tightness of her now-tiny body, highlighted that she had not yet slipped back into the deep slumber she had so briefly managed to achieve.
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Post by luscen on Jun 17, 2020 6:13:37 GMT -6
Casmir rested his head against the back of the sofa, drawing in breath through his nose as he tried to center himself emotionally. Sara nestled closer to him, a small shudder quivering through her frame. His red eye rolled over to her, taking in her fitful state, and his heart sank; it seemed the minor disturbance of his attempt to leave had given the nightmares a stronger hold. The Hunter gave her hand a gentle squeeze and a mental apology, unable to do more without risk of waking her from her rest.
He closed his eyes, listening to the gentle tick-tock of the clock that hung on the nearby wall. Thoughts of what Sara had told him ran through his head; perhaps he could speak to Delphi? The Dryder had means of healing that could reach past the conventional, even where magic was concerned. He'd come back from a hunt with broken limbs and ravaged flesh a number of times, only for her to mend him whole in the span of a day. He'd never asked her to do it for another, but there didn't seem to be any reason she couldn't...
Casmir was roused from his thoughts when he felt something unusual from Sara. He looked down, surprised momentarily by the unexpected sight of a rabbit that had managed to wriggle its way onto his lap. That surprise gave way to understanding, however, when he noticed the very out-of-place stubby reptilian tail where a cotton one should be. Apparently the shifter's mental state could influence her ability to transform, even when she was unconscious. An inconvenient drawback, to not be able to fully control your gift.
'She's too afraid,' the Hunter reasoned, as he gently began to stroke his fingers along her fur. Each soft brush led the rabbit's nervous energy to ease, and the Hunter's own anxiety to diminish; he was far more comfortable around animals like this than people, even people like Sara. So, he continued to pet her, soothing her spirits until he was sure she was out cold, again, thinking about her condition. If she had turned into this, she was letting her fear consume her. Or, at the very least, she was heavily at risk for it. She needed some way to build her confidence and courage, a means to make herself feel stronger and more in control.
'Maybe there's a way I can help with that, at least,' the scarred man mused. It wouldn't be easy for her, but Casmir had a feeling she wouldn't have any complaints once she'd decided on what to do.
The rest of the evening passed in silence, and when the haze of sleep eventually dissipated from the redhead, it brought with it the absence of the Hunter- some time during the respite, he'd slipped out from underneath her, leaving her sleeping on his coat.
On the coffee table there was a fresh mug of brew, sitting next to a plate with a traditional English breakfast: a perfectly portioned fried egg, the golden yolk nestled atop a pure white blanket with a crispy underbelly. Cuddled up next to the egg were three plump links of sausage, the skin toasted and glazed with their own juices, promising a mouth-watering tenderness just beneath the browned skin. Not to be outdone by the sausages, however, were the three strips of thick, black bacon, the pink and white skin glistening alluringly, and their blackened edges dusted with a bit of maple and pepper. A portion of caramelized mushrooms were on the far side of the plate, across from the sausages, the very edges browned to a golden tan, half-haloing an equally seared tomato, which mingled with a helping of baked beans. Lastly, two halves of thick, lightly toasted bread bordered the entire spread, serving as a means of scooping up food, if Sara wished to do so. There was no way to tell how long either item had sat there, but the steam that rose from both the mug and plate indicated some form of preserving method, which was revealed to be the spell scroll the entire thing sat on- a simple stasis charm that maintained the state of the food and drink for as long as it remained untouched on the scroll.
The sound of muffled music could be heard coming from the left hallway, perhaps a clue as to where the Hunter had vanished off to. Apparently he had felt that Sara needed food following her rest, but didn't want to stray too far in case she needed something else from him.
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Post by tsukikoko on Jun 19, 2020 10:29:32 GMT -6
It was a long, long time before Sara showed any hint of waking. Once finally, truly asleep, she was still as the dead. Barely moving, hardly making a sound or stirring her muscles. No matter how much time passed, the shifter did not return to a human form while she slept; with a rabbit's mass so much lower than that of a human, there was no 'upper limit' to how long she could remain shifted and with no further stressors to influence her form, she simply remained as that small mammal while she slept.
Once wakefulness finally began to pull at the edges of her consciousness, the ginger-tinted lagomorph began to stretch and wiggle inside the nest of Casmir's coat that she had been placed upon. Her nose twitched, again inhaling the soothing scents of pine and earth that she would forever associate with the Hunter, a scent that kept her relaxed enough to luxuriate in the warm darkness, as her body craved yet more sleep to account for the days she had missed. But eventually, past Casmir's scent, came well-cooked meats and fresh, toasted bread. To her herbivorous brain, the various otherwise delectable smells were something of a turn-off, but they most certainly brought a snapshot of clarity.
Sara sat bolt upright, her form transitioning seamlessly back to the red-headed woman that had first been invited into Casmir's abode. She looked about herself, head snapping from side to side, a brief few moments of confusion giving way to memories and realisation of her current location. While she felt far better, both physically and mentally, there was still a pervasive layer of tiredness that hadn't quite lifted, such had been the depth of her earlier exhaustion. Now, added to that, was guilt and a swelling pulse of panic.
How long had she been asleep? Would Aaron be wondering where she was, would he be worried?
Had she been trouble for Casmir? Recollections of falling asleep on him filtered back to the shifter, and she knew he was not a fan of physical contact. How awkward and uncomfortable had that been for him?
A sound, somewhere between a groan and a whine, escaped as Sara scrambled for her phone. She flicked on the screen, expecting to see missed call alerts, texts, something to show that her partner had missed her absence.
But there was nothing.
Was she relieved... hurt that he hadn’t noticed? Sara wasn’t sure. Likely he was out on a late case, or had he mentioned being out of town?
She ran a hand through her hair, groaned again at the spottiness of the memories half-formed in her exhausted state, found herself wondering where Casmir might have gone.
And abruptly realised the scents of cooked breakfast were still very much present and very much close by.
The shifter’s gaze drifted down to the, quite frankly, amazing rendition of a traditional English breakfast. While her heritage meant she had to give at least a few moments over to gentle critique (who puts maple on bacon?!), the swirling scents and better-rested state of mind served to remind Sara of just how little she’d eaten over the last few days and just how hungry she now was. She was also incredibly touched by such a gesture. Food in any variety would have been something she was immensely grateful for, but Casmir had gone to the effort of making something reminiscent of England, where she had grown up and remembered with no small measure of melancholy fondness.
Heat pricked at her eyes and she swept the back of her hand over the threatening tears, even as she moved towards the food with a wobbly smile. She’d have to track him down and thank him profusely. But first, she really needed to eat.
While the shifter wanted, desperately, to eat everything that had been cooked, with how much time had gone by without her eating enough, she found she couldn’t stomach the entire breakfast. Not without shifting into something bigger, anyhow, which felt an uncouth way to devour a plate of food. Everything she ate was incredibly delicious, however and she felt far better afterwards. Once as satiated as she could manage, Sara found she couldn’t help but curiously inspect where the plate had been sat, marvelling over the spell scroll that had kept it warm and fresh. She set about clearing away her plate soon after, padding around until she found a kitchen area to place it and debating over washing it right away. But she still hadn’t seen Casmir, she really should find him first, to thank him.
She’d been listening to muffled music the whole time she’d been eating, which was the most likely direction the scarred man might be. So, with a half-drunk mug cradled in both hands, a touch more colour in her cheeks and her tail no longer limply dragging behind her, Sara made her way through the safehouse towards the sound.
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Post by luscen on Jun 21, 2020 7:20:27 GMT -6
As Sara made her way down the hallway, the muted music grew louder. In addition, she began to hear a rhythmic “thumping” noise, that came at set intervals. There were three quick one, followed a moment after by a much heavier one, before repeating in the same order. As she rounded the corner, the source of the strange series of sounds manifested in the form of a shirtless blond man pummeling a black punching bag, his fists hammering away at the canvas and causing it to swing inwards and back with every precise blow.
“It's the terror of knowing what this world is about~” David Bowie's voice crooned from an impressive set of stereo speakers. “Watching some good friends scream 'Let me out!'”
The room turned out to be a gym; hard wood floors were lined with protective black mats, and a treadmill sat in the north-western corner. A pull-up bar and weight training equipment sat on the south-western one, with a leg press in the south-east. In the north-eastern corner was an adjustable incline bench for doing situps and leg lifts, making an effective workout circuit laid about the room, with the punching bag sitting directly across from the entrance for ease of access. Bowie and Freddy Mercury, meanwhile, continued to sing about “pressure” from the western side of the room, which was helped by the excellent acoustics.
Casmir began his rotation again; the Hunter's back glistened with sweat, showing off a powerful set of back muscles that flowed and erupted with every shot fired from his arms. He moved seamlessly from a one-two combo: a left jab, followed immediately with a right cross, then finishing by a left hook. For a finisher, Casmir stepped in and delivered a heavy uppercut, making the bag rattle on its chains, before stepped back and repeating the cycle. Each blow struck the bag with a sound like thunder, accompanied by a sharp grunt from the scarred man's lip as he practiced his forms. By the look of things, he'd been at this for a while, and yet he still seemed like he could easily go for another hour.
“Didn't wake you up, did I?” he asked abruptly, though he didn't look back at Sara, instead delivering another blow to the punching bag. “Did you finish your breakfast well enough, or were you one of those strange things called 'vegans' I've heard so many tales about?”
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