Rain [Casmir/Kail]

[luscen]

Rain was not one of Casmir's favorite experiences. It had its advantages, certainly, but it also made hunting more difficult; it masked scents, reduced visibility, made it more difficult to pick out sounds... In short, everything the Hunter relied on, rain was anathema to. That aside, it just tended to make things more dour and oppressive in general, dragging the blonde's mood down and miring it in a bleak melancholy.

Not that he needed much help with that, today. He'd shambled his way here, arm wrapped in a makeshift sling, after leaving Stella's cave that morning, unable to continue sitting there doing nothing while his body recovered. The Witch herself didn't like moving around during the daylight hours, obviously. And due to her nature likely enjoyed the weather less than he did, so she'd opted to remain behind in her self-appointed den while he returned to the site of his ill-fated fight with Atol.

Casmir had little trouble finding the place. The scent of blood came to him first, in spite of the rain. And there was still plenty of that present, having stained the dirt and rocks, stubbornly refusing to be washed away by the still-light shower. Casmir had to pause when he'd reached the sight of Sjira's death; the echo of the boy's screams, paired with the sickening noise of flesh being ripped and sliced under Atol's ministrations played back in the Hunter's mind like a gruesome recording. There was no sign of the Stormling's body, however. Casmir wasn't sure how he felt about that. Was he relieved that there wasn't a more permanent reminder of his failure to protect Sjira? Or was he upset that he had nothing, not even a lifeless husk, to apologize to and try to make amends with? The Hunter searched his feelings, but found he couldn't quite grasp what was going on in his own head. Was he even upset? How much death could one man see before it started to lose its effect on him, after all? Was Sjira's loss just another corpse on the pile? Casmir didn't know, and that only added to the deep disquiet wracking his soul.

'You don't have the right to be angry,' an accusatory tone hissed in the back of Casmir's mind. 'After all, you were the one responsible for this. You could have done more, prepared better. Told the boy more about the situation. His death wasn't Atol's fault- it was yours. Just like all the others.'

The usual protests and counter-arguments that Casmir's more rational mind normally had on hand remained silent. He offered no defense for his mental adversary's assault, merely clenching the fist of his broken arm, feeling the pain of it course through his body at the gesture. It seethed in him, like a toxin, and he embraced it; embraced the blame, clinging to it the same way a coddling child clutched the hem of their mother's skirt. He knew he was to blame for it. It had been a necessary evil, he'd told himself. The only way to move Atol into a proper position, he'd argued. What kind of Hunter tried to lure their prey out with no bait, after all?

This was how it'd had to be, or so he'd thought at the time...But what did he have to show for it? A blood-spattered forest clearing, a madman with everything he needed to bring about the end of the world, and a dead child – another victim of the Hunter's weakness. Casmir silently dug into his coat with his free hand, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. Pushing it open with his thumb, he snatched a cylinder between his teeth, drawing it out while returning the pack to his coat pocket. Stoically lighting the cigarette, his gaze turned upwards, watching the trail of smoke waft skyward. A low peal of thunder sounded in the distance, followed by the slow descent of rain drops splashing on his forehead.

The Hunter paid them no attention.

[qhostqrowls]

Kail trudged through the forest, heedless of the rain soaking through his clothes and dampening his fur. It had been days since Sjira's death. He hadn't eaten since. Hadn't slept, with the look of terror on the dragons face all he saw when he closed his eyes. The weight of his utter failure to protect his friend coiled tight around his grief and rage. He'd died in agony, and he hadn't managed to so much as scratch the mage that had killed him.

By the time his scuffle with the spirit had ended and he'd limped back to the site the scene had been crawling with agents, the body gone. Even without a mutilated corpse, the stench of death wouldn't leave the site for many moons. Even the rain couldn't mask the metallic tang of Sjira's blood permeating the air. The wendigo scrubbed a hand across his eyes, blinking back his anguish. It felt as if his own heart had been carved out of his chest, like it was a wound that would never fully heal. Tears wouldn't bring him back. Didn't change the outcome.

His misery abruptly soured, his hackles up at the acrid odor of cigarette smoke. The faint human scent beneath it was familiar. The Hunter - the one that had been there during the fight, the one Sjira had said was hunting Atol. An ugly resentment reared it's head at the thought of the man. He despised Hunters on principle, and didn't trust the intentions of one that had wheedled his way into a friendship with a dragon. One that had so conveniently been there when he died. He wanted some answers.

His pace hastened, lean form slipping silently through the trees, pushing through brambles and bushes without so much as a rustle or quiet snap of a twig. Within the minute he was near enough to watch the man tilt his face skywards through the screening undergrowth. The rain fell steadily, dripping from boughs and leaves onto the motionless super. If he struck now, the man likely wouldn't notice until he was upon him, and it would be over by then - he appeared weaponless and had an arm in a sling. In one fell swoop he could rid the world of one more Hunter and gouge himself on a meal. But answers were more important, and wariness warred with the hunger stirring inside him. Questions first.

"You." Kail spat the word like it tasted bad, stalking out of the forest opposite the man. He looked more monstrous than ever as he stared the human down - eyes like chips of ice, features sharp and gaunt from the days he'd gone without eating, dark hair slicked back by the rain.

"Casmir, ain't it?" He continued, and though his voice was level there was a faint wrinkle of a snarl across his face. "I thought the mage would've killed ya. But here ya are."

The words fell heavily from his lips, each one more resentful than the last.

[luscen]

Casmir didn't turn until he'd heard his name spoken, slowly shifting his gaze down from his morose musings to stare blankly at the newcomer. Recognition was slow in coming, but before long the Hunter was able to recall who the scraggly tangle of wiry limbs and antlers was: the Wendigo, from the other day. The one who'd tried to fight Atol alongside Casmir and Marchelute. 

'Wendigo,' a stray thought passed through the Hunter's mind. 'Man eater.' 

Casmir considered the creature with an unreadable expression: Wendigo were Native American beasts associated with cannibalism, dark spirits drawn to the wickedness of man consuming man flesh, and consuming the minds of those who engaged in the act. They relished in the ravaging of human flesh, ever hungry for fresh prey to devour, always delighting in the act of murdering and gorging to satisfy their gluttonous hunger. Some myths claimed that the desire to murder and evoke terror in its victims afforded the Wendigo unique powers among flesh-eaters, even able to mimic the voices of victim's loved ones. The better to draw their prey to them, and see that horror in their eyes as they find not the comfort of a mother or lover, but the rotting teeth of a walking corpse.

'Monster,' the thought came, unbidden, and an ugly sentiment reared its head in the Hunter's mind at its arrival. 'Murderer.' 

Casmir's eyes became like twin pools of ice, as he turned to face Kail properly. An all-too familiar instinct fell upon him, and in his current condition, the Hunter was all-too-quick to embrace it. The trail of smoke from his cigarette wafted up into the air between him and the Wendigo, the tip glaring an angry red in the dimming light of the storm-soaked evening. Another boom of thunder pealed across the heavens as the Hunter's gloved fist tightened. He didn't bother to answer the creature's question. There was no point, after all.

Casmir wasn't interested in speaking, right now.

[qhostqrowls]

The blank hatred in Casmir's eyes were mirrored in Kail's own. His gaze visibly hardened as the man stayed silent. How was it that the dragon had been sliced open like a pig, and the human only limped away with a broken arm? It didn't make sense. It wasn't fair. The last of a great species, gone forever, while this unremarkable human stood practically unblemished in front of him - and had the audacity to look at him as if he was in the wrong.

"Course ya ain't got anything to say for yourself." The wendigo spat at the ground near the man's boot, lip curled as he sized him up. Casmir was no different to every other surly human that was indignant about being preyed upon. As if it wasn't the natural order of things. He had the same self-righteous air - the same strain of hatred they all held for monsters like himself.

A supressed snarl wrinkled across Kail's face. If he wanted a monster, he'd get one. His ears pricked at the faint creak of leather as Casmir clenched his fists.

"You working for him?" It wasn't a question - the accusation was clear and all the more venomous for it. "Can't see why else he'd let your sorry ass crawl outta there alive."

[luscen]

Casmir had been willing to wait for the wendigo to make the first move- they were wily, certainly, but like most predators, tended to rely on their strength and agility, which meant they didn't often have a fighting style beyond "large swings and heavy bites." Powerful, but easy to avoid, if you knew what you were doing.

Then creature opened his mouth and asked if Casmir was working with "him." There was only one man that could mean, and the insinuation brought back memories of Atol's gloating, his statement that he'd "fashioned" Casmir, built him up. Sharpened him into a tool to capture Rhys with. 

The statement caused the Hunter to see red in both of his eyes, and he launched himself forward, low to the ground. His attack would be simple: bait the Wendigo into attacking, slip around it, and then get him to the ground. He had a few options at his disposal, there, but once he he had the beast pinned, a quick stab of the dagger into the Wendigo's heart would kill him, just like it had the Skinwalker.

Unfortunately, however, before the scarred man could reach his opponent, a stray bolt of lightning struck the ground between them, a peal of thunder following in its wake that likely deafened the two of them. Perhaps it was a last, desperate attempt by whatever remained of Sjira, a means to prevent more death on the site where he'd been butchered. Or, perhaps it was just a lucky coincidence. Regardless, when the antlered Super next looked, Casmir was nowhere to be seen, his cigarette having fallen to the ground. 

[qhostqrowls]

Kail shied away from the lightning strike with a snarl, eyes narrowing at the blinding flash of light. Not a Hunters trick, he realized belatedly, yet the man had used the distraction to his advantage. The wendigo turned his back to the charred earth and abandoned cigarette, scanning the tree line with a stormy expression. The Hunter was much faster than he'd expected, but he was still human. Even with the scent of ozone thick in the air, he could smell him. Old smoke clung to his clothes and hair like a second skin, and beneath it all was the ever-tantalizing lure of human flesh and blood.

His gaze settled on where Casmir was concealed with a startling, predatory accuracy. Had he planned to ambush him? Shoot him from a distance? He began to stalk forwards - slowly, watchfully, and wanting nothing more than to lunge forwards and tear him limb from limb.

"Running and hiding." His words were a low hiss, accompanying each measured step forwards. "Is that all you're good at? Get out here and fight!"

[luscen]

As the Wendigo stalked forward, his hooves shlucking through the muddied dirt that had quickly formed in the wake of the sudden rain, he was met with silence- if the Hunter had heard him, he didn't seem to be interested in indulging the beast's desire for a proper fight.

The irate, antlered creature swept through the underbrush, his nose leading him on through the rain and the low light- he could smell the tobacco lingering in his nostril, guiding him onwards like a beacon. Then, he saw it: a glint of sliver, the barest flutter of a coat. A sure sign that the Hunter was waiting behind the nearby tree, likely with some trick up his sleeve. Unfortunately for him, luck didn't seem to be on his side, today.

The Wendigo pounced, powerful limbs reaching around the edge of the tree trunk. Much to his confusion, however, he only came up with an empty coat- the Hunter's cigarette smell still lingering on it, almost cloyingly so.

Just then the sound of creaking wood caught Kail's ear, and he turned just in time to see the Hunter swinging down from the tree branch, his face smeared with mud. Mismatched eyes blazed and his boot was aimed right for the Wendigo's face, gravity giving more weight to the blow.

[qhostqrowls]

Kail sifted out the humans scent from the stench of smoke not a second too late, his pale eyes flicking upwards a moment before the tell-tale groan of wood.

He ducked, and Casmir's boot slammed against his antlers with a solid crack. Better a snapped tine than a broken nose, but the stab of pain that tore through his skull was nothing short of blinding. The wendigo snarled as he stumbled, swinging an arm at his leg. It was a blow meant to tear - to shred through tendon and muscle, cripple the Hunter, drag him down with him. With the coat gone, the man had one less layer of protection against his claws and fangs.

Hunger and rage trembled beneath his skin, urging him to abandon any last semblances of humanity. To go feral and tear his adversary limb from limb with nothing but ravenous hatred. But he couldn't afford to loose control - not with this Hunter.

He was lunging for the man the moment they hit the ground, one fist drawing back for a swift right hook, the other hand splayed to tear at the leather strap of his the utility belt. Hunters were nothing without their tricks, without the wards and runes and deadly little knickknacks. If could get his good arm pinned, he'd be unable to reach for them regardless. Maybe then he'd start talking.

[luscen]

The Wendigo's clawed hand snatched at Casmir's leg, disrupting his fall even more than the strike to the antler had. The Hunter managed to buffer himself, avoid landing on his bad arm, but the muddy ground made it hard to get a good footing, and the creature's claws had managed to hit their mark, his leg bleeding and burning from the weight he now tried to put on it. He looked up to see the beast advancing on him, the rain reducing it to little more than a wiry, lumbering form in the darkness, but that seemed to do little to weaken his resolve.

A splayed hand grasped for him, going for his utility belt. Casmir didn't have much left in it, so he decided to use that to his advantage- the moment Kail tugged, trying to tear it off him, or draw the Hunter in for a follow-up strike, Casmir unlatched the belt with a deft motion, letting it fall away and hopefully throw his opponent off-balance. Then, he pushed forward, dodging under the Wendigo's incoming hook and closing the distance.

The Hunter's dagger leapt from the sheathe tucked under his forearm, blazing eagerly in his hand. There was a hiss wherever the falling rain struck the blade of sunlight, as it arced through the air ready to smite whatever evil stood before its wielder. Casmir slashed the blade across Kail's side, his good foot looking to hook around Kail's leg and bring him down to the ground.

[qhostqrowls]

Kails pupils swelled at the scent of blood, hunger clawing at his stomach and anger clouding his thoughts. The punch didn't land, and he threw the utility belt to the side with a snarl as he righted himself, staring down the Hunter and the new weapon in his hand. Two could play at that game.

He ripped a bowie knife from the holster at his hip. It was a simple but effective weapon - wickedly sharp steel used to gut and skin, stolen years ago from one of his wealthier hunter kills. Nothing compared to the dagger the Hunter wielded, but it would do the job all the same if he managed to stab him.

The wendigo hissed, jerking back as the glowing blade slashed across his side, slicing through the thick canvas of his jacket and cutting into the skin beneath. The pain was acute, burning in an unnatural way as the man went to throw him off balance.

The muddied ground beneath the pair froze over in the blink of an eye, a circular ring of ice that stretched in a six meter diameter across the clearing. His own footing wouldn't be effected, but the Hunter would find it harder to stay balanced with the terrain now slick and frictionless.

The two hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and with a loud curse from the teen. He stabbed blindly at the center of Casmirs mass, his other handing striking out at his broken arm. He didn't think to block, or be on the defensive - there was nothing but the urge to kill him, make him suffer.

[luscen]

Casmir heard a loud crack as the ground beneath him froze solid, the sudden chill seeping into his bones. His clothes were insulated to regulate his body heat, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel the dramatic shift in temperature. As it was, when he dropped Kail, the Hunter fell along with him, the two bodies hitting the ice with a heavy thud.

The Hunter was moving instantly; he saw the bowie knife stabbing forward, towards his chest as he tried to get to his feet. Rather than sway back or try and duck around it, Casmir twisted to the side, letting the blade uselessly scrape across the surface of his body armor. The Hunter was already matching the creature's pace- the Wendigo was fast, but he'd fought faster opponents before.

Flipping his blade in a reverse-grip, Casmir crooked his arm around in a fierce hook. Aiming to knock the blade to the side, the counter-strike would force Kail's inertia to drag the Wendigo along with it. He'd follow up with an uppercut- even a Super had weak spots, and in this form the Wendigo would feel the effect of a solid blow to his jaw. Once addled, he'd be open to a strike to the heart, and there'd be one less monster in the world.

Unfortunately, however, the Hunter forgot about the binding on his arm. So when he went for the follow-up, he wound up instead jerking slightly and almost lost his footing on the slick ice, and took Kail's slash directly against his bad arm.   

[qhostqrowls]

Kail’s claws sliced through bandages and skin, sinking into the flesh below. Hot blood welled against his fingers, and he felt a primal stab of satisfaction at the sensation. As Casmir stumbled, he shoved his forearm against the man’s chest in an effort to slam him back down and against the ice.

He could feel his sanity slipping away second by second. All he could smell was the man’s blood, and his pale irises were almost black, pupils blown wide in anticipation.

But he hadn’t been attacking the man for a meal - it was for Sjira. He didn’t want the human dead, not when he hadn’t spoken a word, hadn’t explained himself. He hadn’t suffered nearly enough yet, either. The wendigo shook his head, doglike, and grit his teeth.

With one hand gripping the knife and the other all but embedded in the hunters arm, Kail only just held himself back from instinctively going for a bite to the throat. He readjusted the blade, aiming to press it against the man’s jugular. If he could just get the man to be still - to listen - then he could get some closure. Find out what had really happened.

[luscen]

Casmir couldn't repress the groan of pain that escaped his mouth as the wendigo's claws sank into his forearm. Instead, he took that blinding agony, born of broken bone and sundered flesh, and clutched it tight, compressed it into a ball of righteous anger gripped in the palm of his hand. His mismatched eyes locked with Kail's - now little more than a thin halo of pale light around a sea of pitch - and he drove all that pain, all that anger, against this wretched cannibal. 

"How many?" The Hunter's voice was a cold to make the ice beneath the pair's feet warm. Rather than wait for an answer, he drove the glowing blade of his dagger up, into Kail's forearm; the Wendigo wouldn't be able to free it without maiming himself, rendering his knife-hand useless. 

"How many children did you lure with the voices of their mothers?" he pressed, pushing against the feral Super. A trail of warm blood dribbled down his neck, where Kail's knife had broken skin. "Or women the voices of their lovers?"

The scarred man abruptly brought his silver-lined boot to bear against Kail's elk-like leg- the thinner bone structure of unguligrade limb meant that a solid blow there would stagger the Wendigo, if not outright cripple it for a brief period. He followed up with a heavy smash to the Super's jaw, momentarily releasing his grip on the dagger to land a clean, unexpected punch. Even a wendigo could be staggered with a solid enough strike to that area; once he was disabled, the Hunter would move in for the kill.

Then there'd be one less blight on the world.

[qhostqrowls]

The wendigo snarled at the searing heat of the blade, arm jerking back instinctively. Dark blood splattered against the frozen ground, and he clung to the pain to ground himself as he teetered dangerously close to a shift, features momentarily blurring to something entirely monstrous.

The lapse in control almost cost him the fight. There was a vicious kick to his ankle, and as he staggered back his vision went white, ears ringing and jaw aching. He lashed out blindly, an arcing slash of the blade meant to keep the man from following him down, knowing he needed to make space between them, and fast.

Kail was beyond Casmir's reach in a heartbeat, on the very edge of the frozen perimeter. Cold blood caked his forearm, and he shook his head again, disorientated, as his vision blurred back into focus. The man was a heavy hitter - stronger than he'd thought.

His spit was bloodied when he spat to the side, and there was a limp in his stride as he began to circle the man again, more watchful and much angrier than before. His eyes narrowed as he belatedly registered the Hunters words, his lip curling in derision.

"More than you'll ever save." He hissed. It didn't matter that he didn't hunt children - he needed to anger the man. "And no more than the supers you've orphaned. Or do ya kill them too, after you've skinned their parents and collected your payment?"

His voice lilted mockingly, hoof steps silent and measured as he circled.

"How many trophies did you take from Sjiras corpse? A few scales? Teeth, maybe?" He adjusted his grip on the dagger, eyes never leaving Casmir's. "I know ya friend carved him up good, but you - maybe you were happy leaving him to rot."

His voice broke on the last word, equal parts heartbroken and livid. He'd make the man talk before this was over, one way or another.

[luscen]

“Keep his name out of your rotten mouth.” The Hunter growled, teeth bared to match the wendigo’s ferocity. Filled with rancor, he brought the dagger of the sun down in the center of the frozen patch. The blade burned with his fury, the ice melting so rapidly it flung up a shroud of steam that hid him from the Wendigo’s senses.

The Hunter lunged from the iron curtain like an hound from hell, dagger blazing as he went for a piercing thrust to his opponents chest.

“What do you think you are, his friend!?” Casmir’s mismatched gaze fixed itself on the pale blue points of ice burning back at him from the shadows of the beast’s face, following the thrust with a wide horizontal slash. He was spurred on by his fury at the monster’s accusations, not wanting to give the thing time to recover, but also desperate to silence him.

“Murderers like you don’t make friends, you make corpses,” he snarled, aiming a stab at Kail’s thigh. “So don’t act as if you gave a damn about him!”

The sound of cruel laughter ghosted faintly across his ears through the rain, two simple words echoing in his head with every swipe:

“Your fault. Your fault! Your fault!”