#ask-the-parasite

[ask-the-huntsman]

The parasite wakes to the restless movement somewhere nearby, sitting up to blink until his eyes focus on Hunt tossing and turning in his sleep. It doesn’t happen often enough to be a pattern, but in the time they have known each other Parasite knows it is not nightmares the huntsman is fighting. It must be another vision, of pasts lived or futures yet to be seen, he can never know. The only thing Hunt has been able to share with him is that he is not able to speak of the visions, lest terrible things happen to him or those he saw in the vision.

Carefully, he shuffles closer, touching a steadying hand on Hunt’s shoulder. The other jolts, eyes flying open. The parasite can’t read the expression on his face but when Hunt’s eyes focus on his face a feeling of unease makes it home in his chest- Before he can speak the huntsman’s name, the other whispers out uncertainly but clear as day:

”Naib.”

(@ask-the-parasite)

The name leaves his lips before the freshly awakened huntsman can even sit, blinking slow as he takes in the parasite's worried features with utmost care. A moment passes in that silence, Hunt's lips a thin line as he deciphers the others face.

“Naib,” he tries again with no further explanation, eyes honing in on the parasite’s who, in a word, now looks entirely blindsided. 

Hunt takes a moment longer to gather himself next, swallowing thickly but gaze never wandering off the other’s. What was shown in his vision still lingers at the back of his mind; there was a community, friends and family, a place to call home. They were pieces of the parasite’s past that he could never again talk about himself.

They are his memories, he is certain, for the parasite he saw was but a human; a man no less a part of his home than the next. A man such a far-cry in appearance from the half wolf before him now, but still recognisable after all the time they've shared.

Blinking, Hunt slowly sits up, his mind now calm enough from the fleeting visions wake. Still, it leaves an ache in his chest; the weight of a memory not his own nor for him to share with the righteous owner, both a guilty burden and a blessing.

It carried with it a piece of Parasite he feels confident enough to share after all.

"That is your name, isn't it?"

[ask-the-parasite]

@ask-the-huntsman

(Continued from here)

The parasite paces restlessly, nervous eyes flickering towards the woods every time his thoughts wander to Hunt. At every little noise he picks up, the wolf’s ears perk up- and every time the source is revealed to be but a harmless critter. As much as the noises put him on edge, the overbearing silence is worse. It stretches on for what feels like an eternity, before a familiar call pierces the air.

Brooke flies into the clearing, wings beating the air hurriedly and her call panicked; Parasite is kneeling before her the instant the falcon lands on the long since cooled remains of the campfire. Her gaze is unrelenting and the parasite fails to keep his heartrate steady as soon as he picks up the smell of blood, eyes finding the crimson stains only a moment later.

He had know this was a possibility- the reason for Hunt’s distress could well have had to do with the fear that one of them would end up in danger. Hunt could well have been trying to keep the wolf from harm’s way, just to deny the curse any more footing from his emotions. But Parasite didn’t have time to guess on the huntsman valiant reasoning.

Brooke lets out another shrill call and once she takes flight, the parasite is already back on his feet and making a run for the thicket. Parasite follows the falcon’s calls, but he soon picks up on Hunt’s trail. Letting Brooke guide him through the woods, all the while Parasite makes sure the scent trail goes in the same direction. 

The trees and undergrowth make way for an unfamiliar clearing and for a fraction of a moment, the parasite freezes. Parasite’s stomach turns unpleasantly as the smells of two strangers invade his senses, but amongst them he finds Hunt’s scent, foreboding hint of iron mixing into the trail. His heart hammers wildly in his chest, cold sweat sheening on his skin as the marks burn deeper, reaching father.

He looks up to see Hunt’s falcon settle on a branch and his vision blurs- Parasite blinks once, then twice until he can make out the falcon again. Her attention is unfaltering as the bird surveys their surroundings, clearly in searching of her master. Two foreign voices arguing behind the cover of trees attract his attention and as soon as Parasite notices their presence, a gust of wind carries their scents to him. It’s the same two men whose tracks he found in the clearing, but he doesn’t care about the unfamiliar humans. 

Hunt’s scent is close, too close, and the odor of blood is too fresh for the blood flow to have stopped. He is terrified of what has happened to him- Parasite can’t see him, the only sign of the huntsman’s presence what the wind carries for him to smell. A low growl spills through Parasite’s bared teeth, the stitches pulled taut and anger spilling from every fiber of his being. Limbs stretched and bent in unnatural angles he stalks closer to the shine of an artificial light where the invaders are still arguing, oblivious to the beast’s presence.

One of the adult men is carrying a firearm, pointing it towards the branches of a large tree. Parasite is close enough to catch them off guard even if they could hear him coming- but the men are greedy, too arrogant with their weapons and foolish not to respect the forest and those who dwell within. 

Parasite lunges for the one with the weapon, earning a startled yell and consequent screams of terror as their eyes land on his inhumane form. Hunt’s scent and the odor of his blood cloud over his thoughts.

There are screams, despicable pleas and unfulfilled threats.

Futile escape attempts, cries for help that no one answers.

There is more red, the pale canvas easily giving under his sharp claws.

His teeth tear through the soft matter freely, repeatedly, until he can’t smell anything but its unpleasant stench.

There is no more movement, only his chest rising and falling rapidly.

His tail lashes wildly from side to side, breath running ragged and red dripping from his maws.

There are no more sounds of struggle.

No more signs of life but his own twisted, stained form standing protectively before an old tree.

[ask-the-huntsman]

The parasite walks along the edge of the forest, where threes and bushes thin out to make way for open fields of grass. His eyes travel along the horizon line, making sure that no unwelcome quests have found their way to their secluded corner of land. He sees nothing out of place, ears turning towards any unexpected sounds but his surroundings remain peaceful; only occasional sounds of the wildlife rustling among the undergrowth carry to his ears.

He turns to walk back into the thicket, ever alert but satisfied that for today, things are quiet. Never traversin the same path to nor leave a trail Parasite strides through the undergrowth, stepping over branches and around fallen tree trunks. Suddenly he picks up a familiar scent, and turns his face skyward to follow its tracks. He hasn’t seen Hunt for few days, so the discovery is a pleasant surprise. The huntsman should be just nearby- His mischievous streak catching up to him, Parasite decides to try and see if he could take the other by surprise.

(@ask-the-parasite)

Crouching to rest beside a stream splitting a tiny opening in the woods, the huntsman cups his hands into the cool water for a drink as he plans the rest of the night out. Perhaps he could set off for the area they last met with the wolf in, and see if the parasite could be tracked down. It has been a good while after all and Hunt can’t deny wanting to check-in on how he’s doing.

About to lean down for another drink, Hunt instead perks up at the sound of something rustling in the greenery around him. Foliage shakes and bends momentarily as if making way for something and then stills. Not smooth enough to have been the wind, perhaps a small, harmless critter of the forest coming out for lunch, startled by his reaction? Usually Hunt wouldn’t be overly concerned, but considering Brooke set off to hunt for her dinner moments prior and he is completely without ‘sight’, he listens keenly for a while longer.

In the end, only the wind hums in the tree tops and his cloak sways lazily on the perch where it’s rested, and Hunt’s shoulders slowly relax. He returns to hover back over the water to drink quietly with a thought; perhaps the critter would get back on the move as well and he could have lunch as well.

[ask-the-huntsman]

The Parasite wakes up early into the morning. He feels slightly disoriented, blinking in the bright sunlight and trying to get his bearings about him. The summer sun is persistent, its light crawling in through the smallest of gaps and making the wolf feel a little bit too warm even in the shade of the safe haven. He's only slept for a few hours since the sun-up and the bleariness is a bad combination with the humid heat of the hideout, quickly souring his mood.

Not often one for moving around in the daylight, the parasite is reluctant to get up but he pushes himself up and climbs out of the haven, knowing he won't be able to fall back asleep before dipping into a river or stream. He desperately needs to wash away the clamminess sticking to his skin, if he is to have any hope of getting a few more hours of rest before sundown.

Emerging into the light of the day, Parasite blinks furiously, shielding his eyes against the brightness while his eyes adjust. His clothes feel too hot under the glaring sun and begrudgingly, Parasite removes the wolf pelt, shaking his ponytail free to unstick the hairs the heat has glued to his neck. He is reluctant to leave the hat behind, but finally, the parasite decides it is well enough hidden at the haven and he'd rather not drag it around while he looks for a place to bathe.

Leaving the safe place behind, Parasite takes off towards the closest spot of running water he knows. It doesn't take long for his ears to pick up the lively sounds of a stream and although he moves slowly, warier traveling the forest in the daylight, it's a relief how quickly he reaches the riverbank.

(@ask-the-parasite)

The heat of daytime is a little more bearable above ground where the wind picks up from time to time. However, it’s unfortunately not enough to keep the huntsman from stirring now and again when a warm beam of light catches him from between the swaying foliage.

The spot he picked to rest was a tree close to one of the running streams, favoured by Brooke for how easily she could go take a dip if need be. For him it would be more of a hassle climbing down and up again, but at least the soft babbling of the waters below is a soothing distraction from the blaring heat.

The distraction however turns to a temptation when a surprisingly brisk breeze sweeps by and sunlight reaches his face, beaming all too hotly for him to remain still. Even Brooke trills from her perch above his but defiantly the falcon tucks her head back in and continues her slumber.

With a tired sound Eli sits and blinks himself awake to take in the area; though not completely unfamiliar, the daytime woods look quite alien with the lush greenery and all the light bouncing to-and-fro. The stream runs bright and there are more sounds of life about, and while he can appreciate such a lively scenery, he could appreciate it plenty more were it not for all the sweat at his nape.

Hunt slips down from the tree, leaving behind his cloak on the branches as the base of his makeshift ‘nest’. He’ll just have a quick dip to cool off then resume resting, hopefully until dusk next time...

The cool stream water on his skin is a welcome change before he’s even fully dipped in, still slowly wading into the deepest part reaching barely to his waist, Hunt lets out a content sound and simply basks for a moment. That brief passing of silence however carries the sound of approaching footfalls to his ears and wary immediately, the huntsman tenses and peers about, feeling just a tad defenseless in the waters as he is, until-

“.. Hm? Oh, the heat drove you from your rest, too, I see,” his expression turns sympathetic and light when he shifts to greet Naib stepping fully into view. With a look he could tell Parasite is all but happy about having to be out in this heat and light, clearly quite disgruntled. Their shared predicament is annoying for certain but luckily the remedy is right there.

Whether Naib needs the privacy or no, Eli turns to shift about in the waters, wading with his back to the other for a while to give him a moment. They’ve never bathed in the same area so he can’t say what the other would prefer or if he’d rather move further along the stream entirely but Hunt himself isn’t all too bothered being in the waters already.

[ask-the-parasite]

(Another art post for rp thread here with huntsman Eli, soft fools I care them sm)

[ask-the-parasite]

It's from @ask-wick-the-postdogo //

"Bark bark" *running to find Naib*

-Naib!! I got mail for you where are you?

"Arf" *the stop in the middle of the way*

-Wait? Where is he???

*started to sniff the air to see if there anything something to track down Naib*

The parasite hears rustling in the bushes and on instinct his first reaction is to hide- When the small creature comes into view, he's surprised to see a small dog bounce into the clearing.

He- can't imagine how the little creature could do him harm and so curiously, Parasite peeks out from his hiding place. He can't help but think that he looks cute, and unconsciously, parasite's tail does a happy little wag.

Parasite crouches down a short distance away, waiting to see how the little creature would react.

[ask-the-huntsman]

@ask-the-parasite​

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 )

Hunt doesn’t stir from basking in the warmth of the fire, not until he feels the weight of his cloak settle on his shoulders that is. Curious, he turns his head to peer up at the wolf who decided he’d be better off wearing it still. Donning a calm smile, Hunt wordlessly thanks the parasite with a dip of his chin.

The quiet of the night is swallowed by the crackling of the fire again and the huntsman allows himself to be absorbed by it, but keeps half his attention on the wolf now whom seems to have become aware of the state he’s in if the huff is anything to tell by.

Hunt turns his way again, offering a bit of a sorry smile at his predicament. Having dried blood crust and itch isn’t a pleasant sensation at all so Hunt well understands the aura of annoyance about the wolf when he sweeps his tail and tugs at the dried clumps.

When the wolf wanders off shortly after, Hunt hums by himself and turns to watch their food again. It should be ready soon and just the thing to help Parasite forget about the irksome sensations..

Above the sound of the bonfire, Hunt can hear how the wolf drops into the waters a little ways off and chuckles breathlessly to himself.

By the time the wolf makes his return, the huntsman has already taken the fish from their spots by the flames and set up another pair. Their ready meals give off a mouth watering scent that makes the pang of hunger ever clearer. The past day and night were fueled by adrenaline alone, but he notes in himself and the wolf too that their movements have grown sluggish, needs finally catching up with their bodies.

“Here,“ Hunt waits until Parasite is seated to offer him his food, watching a little amused how he begins to feast before taking a hungry bite of his own.

As they sit in silence and eat, Hunt observes the wolf, still slightly dripping from his dip in the waters. He’s likely too occupied with the long awaited meal to care. At least the blood is all washed out he notes, but some longer tufts of fur still seem to be in tangles.

After a few more bites, Hunt scoots closer to Parasite with an unhurried pace and looks to his eyes once more, offering a nod to placate whatever worry or questions may rise within him from the action, “It’s alright, you can eat.”

When the wolf seems settled enough, Hunt lifts his hand to brush along the fur. The first touch is careful and slow, skirting over the knots still. Repeating the motion a few times, Hunt watches for signs of discomfort before allowing his fingers to rake a little deeper into the wolf’s fur. They catch onto small tangles and undo them, but whenever there’s too much resistance, the huntsman eases up and watches for the wolfs reactions before proceeding to groom his fur.

[ask-the-huntsman]

@ask-the-parasite

(Begins here. Continued from here )

Hunt’s sleep is heavy immediately, the toll of the exhaustion clear in how he doesn’t stir in the slightest when the wolf covers his wound or moves in to warm the huntsman. The only movements from him are the steady breaths throughout the night while the wolf keeps watch. Come morning when Parasite tucks in closer, his own fatigue catching up as well, Hunt too curls into the warmth.

It’s not until when the sky starts to dim into orange hues with the setting sun, that the huntsman shows any sign of stirring. Blinking groggy and disoriented, he knows better than to try and move, rather focusing on taking in the situation first.

The first thing Hunt notes is the warmth he’s enveloped in; a blue mass of fur resting over him and right beside him, and partially even over him, the wolf deep in his own slumber. Again, he can’t help but marvel at how far the wolf has come to be so gentle, if only towards him. It’s a welcome development in that perhaps one day, even in the worst grips of fear, he won’t feel he is entirely alone.

The huntsman smiles tiredly by himself at the thought and figuring more rest wouldn’t hurt, allows his eyes to droop again. However, the telltale flutter of wings above catches him before sleep does and Hunt blinks again. It’s no doubt Brooke flying in to check-in on them. She must have been so worried all night, Hunt has to praise her for her patience while they’ve been resting.

Carefully he raises his head, trying not to nudge the wolf around too much to at least let her know he’s doing better. The wound still needs addressing and though the warm spot they’ve generated is tempting, the huntsman ever so carefully starts to pry himself from the pile of warm limbs and fur.

It’s a bit of a struggle but he goes free in the end, catching the wolf’s ears twitching from the disruption. Luckily though Hunt can see his chest continue to rise and fall in slow, steady breaths. To make up for the lost scent he might stir to however, Hunt slips off his cloak and tucks it between Parasite’s arms.

Raising to his feet gingerly to get a feel for how his wound might flare, the huntsman quietly leaves their little safe spot when the pain is but a dull throb. The wolf might have disagreed with him moving about, but Hunt too can be a little stubborn in wanting to do things his way. He can dress the wound, but it definitely needs washing up first. If he’s lucky and Brooke co-operates he may even be able to make up for the dinner he cost them last night.

...

By the time Hunt returns where the wolf was left resting, night has descended fully and the forest is alive with it’s nocturnal beings. He quietly approaches the wolf for a closer look to check in on him. Seeing Parasite still fast asleep eases his mind and Hunt looks to the ample catch of fish, courtesy of Brooke, that he’s brought along.

Quietly he gets to work in setting up a little fire to cook while Parasite yet rests and in a while there’s a thin pillar of smoke rising and the scent of cooking fish wafts about the area soon enough.

As the fire softly crackles and the moon makes its climb, Hunt sits by the fire and takes his turn watching over the wolf. He’s deserved his rest more than well enough.