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TIMING: Late August LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES: @lithium-argon-wo-l-f & @ironheartedfae SUMMARY: Gael offers to go on another picnic with Ren. They have a special guest CONTENT WARNINGS: Somehow none

It was late afternoon to early evening, the sun still just enough in the sky to coat the distant parts of the forest in soft blue hues while simultaneously setting the taller trees ablaze in fiery yellow light. Gael opted to take them to the Pines near Deersprings, someplace they could still walk to and from reliably - she still had as much energy as he had, for sure, so long as he was allowed to pause on occasion on the off-chance that his back would act up apropos of nothing. She was more than accommodating again, as she usually was, which was one of the many things he appreciated about her. Their relationship had only improved since their last picnic and Gael was rather hoping that they could turn this into a regular event; something to feel normal, something that was allowed to just happen and not only on special occasions when she’d earned it. The trip had been similar to last time, with each of them pointing things out to the other, though Gael felt another unfamiliar tug of something on his insides. It was sparse, almost like the twinge of an aching bone that you couldn’t quite place but it was there nonetheless. He wasn’t sure he could explain it, either, which he found frustrating. He’d so far been successful in staving off Ren’s questions pertaining to anything particularly unusual about his disorder. Condition. Disorder. Injury? He wasn’t sure what to call it but the longer he thought about it, the more nothing seemed to fit. There wasn’t anything wrong, that was the main thing he wanted to convey. The last thing he wanted was to worry the young fae with whatever was going on with him. They’d already exchanged an unspoken promise between each other that they’d do what they could to help but she already had so much to worry about, so many things to discover and learn and experience. Gael had started to experience the occasional, small twinge of melancholy at the thought that she would live so much longer than him, especially given that they were twenty years apart already and he couldn’t guarantee when this brain injury. Disorder. Condition… Injury. Disorder? Would flare up and cause actual problems. There wasn’t anything quite like becoming close with someone who had the potential to outlast you by several decades; was this how parents felt with their kids? All of this stayed nicely inside that little injured (or disordered) head of his, though and Gael reacted to everything Ren showed him with the same level of gentle enthusiasm as he always had. He packed more apple juice and ignored the sensation that pulsed through him on occasion to just… take her head in his hands and nuzzle their foreheads together affectionately. Or run off to chase some scent that wafted by his nose. He was being ridiculous. “You think here would be okay?” He asked lightly, pausing in a small clearing that had relatively flat terrain, leaves littering the ground and with rays from the sun beaming through. The area looked picturesque, really and he glanced down at Ren with his eyebrows raised though his expression was asking the same question.

—

Another trip out into the woods, another day of that light and airy feeling floating through Ren's body making them feel almost human. Gael was good at that. The nymph still wasn't sure what to call…whatever this was. Friendship, sure. But every day the kind man spent teaching the young fae more things, taking the time to explain things that weren't quite accessible to her, going out of his way to care for her in a way no one ever had before… it was more than that, wasn't it? Closer to what Darya should have been. Perhaps the biggest lesson Gael imparted.

The term mentor rolled around in Ren's mind.

It was one she had attributed to the warden who raised her. Mother had been a term earned. Because it denoted a closeness that the older woman maybe never wanted in the first place. The experiment was supposed to forge a weapon, not a family. Hunters rarely had normal familial structures as it was. Throw in their natural enemy, and you have a recipe for distance.

Gael didn't do that. Didn't make Ren compete for affection. For basic needs that the young girl had long convinced herself she didn't really need, no matter the toll that took on her psyche. Every day spent together with the chemistry professor was undoing a little of that damage, bit by bit.

The little red head looked up and around, wide eyed as always, but with a lopsided smile just barely splitting her lips enough to show teeth. “Yes, this is lovely.” And it was. A whole different spectacle from the one they had shared the other day. The pines shaded the clearing, but not so much that it could be considered dark. It was comforting. “I can set up the blanket this time!”

—

She looked up at him and he reciprocated her small smile with his own. “I think that’d be great.” He nodded, encouraging her thoughts and what she wanted to do - he’d set everything up last time as she excitedly buzzed around the field, with a weight of expectation that they’d have to talk about heavy subjects that needed to be addressed. He didn’t want this time to be like last time. What Gael felt like he needed to tell her kept getting caught in his throat, locking his joints, filling him with an uncharacteristic sense of anxiety. He wanted to talk about the things he knew, the things he actually was. He wanted to share his experiences and stories with her, things to serve as lessons and entertainment, things she could use to apply to her own life to better prepare her for the aspects of being human. Like he was. …Right? Gael handed her the blanket that was rolled up under his arm and he took another opportunity to glance around the clearing, closing his eyes as his other senses absorbed the sounds and smells of nature. Two birds chittering to each other behind them until a third showed up, chasing the first one away. A twig finally fell away from the branch it was clinging to and fell to the ground softly. Churned dirt from a creature burrowing at the base of a tree. His heartbeat. Her heartbeat. He didn’t want this to be like last time. “I brought a couple of different drinks this time.” He decided to fill the air with small talk as he pulled the basked off from where it was looped on his arm. “Got some water and apple juice but I also brought some grape juice.” He raised his eyebrows. “It just tastes good with meat and bread. I think you’d like it.” Because this was so important that she know that.

—

There was a pep to the redhead’s stride that only grew with each outing. Ren nodded enthusiastically then grabbed the pack and started unloading. Carefully and methodically, like each decision mattered. The direction of the blanket, how evenly it laid. A picture perfect picnic was on the line, and she wanted to make sure she delivered.

“Do they have juices for every fruit?” She asked, incredulous. “That seems like such of an effort, truly.” And grapes were so small! How many did they need to juice to get the same amount as an apple? Truly a modern wonder. Humans thought of the strangest things when they had time to do so. Time spent living instead of training to be a protector, a shield, being honed into a knife.

With the blanket just-so, Ren sat in her corner of it. Criss-cross. Not a very advantageous seating position. Too much room for a slipup or clumsy mistake if she had to suddenly stand. A show of how comfortable she was here, with him. Of how comfortable she had become because of him. “This is good. I like this place very muchly, sky guy.”

—

“Would you believe me if I told you ‘pretty much’?” Gael smiled as he observed her placing the blanket down. There was a system to it, a clear vision that he obviously held in her mind as she did so - everything had a place, an artistic expression of what she pictured to be idyllic. He watched her, though, with the pride of seeing her do something because she thought it looked nice rather than necessity. She finished and sat in the spot she normally sat at and Gael gave her a light round of applause - not too loud, but also not false and empty. “Bravo, it’s beautiful.” He praised, gesturing to it. “I couldn’t have done a better job if I tried.” Which wasn’t untrue; she obviously put more thought into it than he did. He was just there to enjoy it with her, however she wanted to enjoy it. Carefully, he sat down near her, finding his own spot most comfortable when he was sitting to her left, as he did before, as he did on the bed the first night and even the couch sometimes. Once he was sitting, Gael himself stretched his legs in front of him before loosely crossing them at the ankles as he was wont to do when he was perfectly comfortable; it was easier, once they were actually engaging in the picnic, to attempt to calm down from the strange pulses of energy that ran its fingers up his spine with unease. “I like it, too.” He said, reaching into the basket as he started to pull one of their three thermoses from it. As he did so, however, his head turned instinctively to face the dappled trees, though he couldn't’ have been sure why. Was it a smell? Had he thought he heard something? He shook his head and turned back to what he was doing. “So! You wanna try the grape juice? Or are you feelin’ something else right now?” He asked, turning his dark eyes to her now, an eyebrow quirking faintly.

—

Wicked's Rest had dulled Ren's senses. There were enough fae and fae related things around that her skin had a near constant hum to it. The bells so many others talked so highly of, they were something the young nymph loathed. With the cu-sith following her around… well it was harder to tell when it was than when it wasn't. Plus, the girl was distracted. Playing human with Gael. Pretending to be something she wasn't.

So much so that he noticed something before she did. His head turned and she was far too focused on the picnic. On the basket. On the joy the day had in store for them. As… whatever it was they were to each other. Ren didn't know how to quantify it, wasn't sure it was a good idea to put a name to something when she hardly knew what it was.

"I will try this graped juice." Ren had gotten pretty good at trying new things lately. Thanks, no doubt, to Gael's gentle guiding hand and words of encouragement. "While you are getting this I could… arrange the sandwiches?" A smile had rooted itself between her right and left cheek. Between dimples and frosted with freckles. Feeling almost as picture perfect as the day had been so far.

The young fae busied herself with the basket for a moment, but found her hand coming back with a splinter instead of a sandwich. "Oh sugar." A non-swear she'd picked up somewhere and added to her lexicon a lot more frequently than the sentence enhancers or emfasis that Conor man had tried to teach her. Fuck, had it's own place.

Right in between the perfect day, and the large lupine monster that ricocheted out of the bushes. Spurred on by the scent of spilled fae blood. The cu-sith didn't stop to ask what had caused it. It had been watching from the sidelines for too long. Trying to figure out the man's intentions with the young nymph she had taken a liking to. She smelled blood and it made her see red.

The wolf moved so much faster than she should have been able to at her size. Ren reeled, shocked by the sudden shape towering over her. Growling at Gael as if he'd mauled the girl, rather than her giving herself a very tiny scratch.

"No! Get away, you horrible thing!" Ren pushed back against the animal, who only turned to growl at her too. As if to say that she knows best.

—

“Grape juice it is.” Gael nodded and motioned to the basket with his head. “Go for it, I’ll pour you some.” He was fuzzy. It was the warm, good type of fuzzy, reserved normally for seeing cute things, feeling a pleasant sensation on your skin or hearing the precisely correct tune. He knew it wasn’t quite comparable to something Ariana had remarked feeling before, but it was still a feeling of content that he liked to hang onto when he experienced it.

And yet, underneath it all he felt a small measure of… uncertainty. It wasn’t obvious, but rather it gave Gael the impression that they were being watched and while the man didn’t inherently mind feeling eyes on him - again, if he couldn’t handle it then he should’ve picked a different profession - this time it felt… scrutinizing. And not altogether human. He felt almost as though they were being stalked by an animal but the sensation was so minute, so easily dissuaded by the logic in his mind telling him that surely she would’ve noticed before he did if they were, considering her set of survival skills that he didn’t entertain that thought for very long. The smell of blood accompanied with Ren’s quiet non-expletive greeted his senses and Gael paused in what he was doing, glancing over. “Ah, you get a splinter?” He asked, not worried at it at all and if what he’d gotten to know about her was true, she probably didn’t think much of it, either. “Yeah, these old-fashioned picnic baskets can be–” An instinct, an animal part of him reacted by cutting his sentence short as sights and smells that decidedly didn’t belong to the girl crashed into them, literally and rhetorically. His body moved for him, barely having time to close the thermos as he made a motion to get close to Ren when it was cut short and instead of seeing her immediately, he was greeting with the snarling visage of a massive (and he meant massive; easily the size of a bull), hound-shaped creature that glared at him with piercing green eyes as it stood protectively over the entomid. Gael felt a wave of fear seizing his muscles, seeming to threaten to cause his freeze response to activate - how had he not heard it? How was it so fast for something its size? Was he insufficient, not as good at using his strange ‘skills’ as he thought? These wonders raced through his mind as adrenaline forced itself through his body, keeping him just mobile enough but the fear of freezing was still very real and it probably would’ve worked had the fae’s voice not cut through his thoughts, prompting both him and the hound to look at her. The fear, while still very present but not for himself, morphed into something else when the hound took to growling at Ren instead. “Hey! Eyes on me!” He barked at the large beast, his brow furrowing as his eyes narrowed. “I suppose you’re the cu-sith I’ve been told about, right Ren?” He asked, his voice clear and commanding as he looked at the hound but was obvious he was speaking to both of them.

—

There was a seismic undercurrent to each of the beast's steps. It was so large it couldn't help but knock things over or crush them. Sandwiches were squashed, the basket was in pieces. The cu-sith unintentionally slaying the thing that had hurt the fae despite being much more fixated on the tiny shouting human who didn't smell human at all. Wasn't fae. That's all that mattered to her.

She had been so agitated lately. More than the stress and anger it normally carried in its chest, she was furious with no direction. Ready to snap her jaws at anything and everything. When the fae child protested the cu-sith whirled around, her hungry maw dripping with anxious slobber. She picked up Ren by the scruff of her jacket. Thankfully the teeth cleared her skin, but it pulled the fabric so tightly around her neck that she was nearly choking by the time the beast got her in the air.

Ren scrambled, clawing at the shirt but finding no purchase. Frantically, she reached out toward Gael, toward her backpack that held her knives. She couldn't even scream or try and ask the cu-sith to back off. And it didn't even realize the damage it was doing. Thinking only of a petulant pup that needed to be brought back to their den. Seemingly done with Gael it simply turned, starting to carry the nymph off like she was her's. Possessive. Determined. And yet…Tired.

—

For a moment, Gael thought that this massive creature, the snarling, dripping form of rippling muscles underneath plantlike skin could be reasoned with. Ren had described her as intelligent, without the ability to speak but with a capacity to understand, if only when it came from the small fae. That moment was there and gone in a heartbeat though as the cu–sith had picked Ren up by her jacket, not unlike a mother to a stubborn child and didn’t regard Gael further before it turned and got the impression that that was that. With the next heartbeat his vision, the snapshot of Ren helplessly being spirited away by a monstrously large hound, was awash in red. More adrenaline shot through his body, accompanied with that unfamiliar feeling that occasionally pulsed in his veins, weaving itself around his extremities. As it did, the sound of bones popping rang through the air like firecrackers and without waiting another heartbeat, Gael launched himself at the bull-sized beast. “I said, eyes on me!” The command was guttural, tearing itself from his throat like a cement block being dragged across concrete and yet it was loud as his body collided against the cu-sith’s. As Gael’s vision was unfocused and his mind was filled with one directive and only one directive - Protect Ren - he could still make out the dreaded familiarity of seeing his arms covered in thick sable fur, his fingers elongated and adorned with shiny black claws that dug into the cu-sith’s side in a swipe as he himself fell over, not even sure if he knocked the cu-sith from her path but if it didn’t work, he’d try again. His brain flooded with rage at the audacity of the hound, the primal urge to take what wasn’t rightfully hers away from him, away from herself, deciding what was best for her without any regard. The cu-sith might’ve been angry, but he was, too; that was his pup she was taking. —

Ren dangled helplessly as the cu-sith attempted an escape only to be cut off by– by… Gael. The nymph's vision was blurred, hazy from the sudden lack of oxygen getting to her brain, sure. But that was him. That was her Gael, sprinting full speed towards the moss covered wolf, looking rather… wolfy himself. Bursting at the seams as bones rearranged and a beast in its own right took his place. The werewolf, because that's what it had to be– slammed into the cu-sith. Hard. It sent the creature sideways, having to dig its claws deep into the earth to remain upright.

There was a weightless dizzy moment of shock as the cu-sith shook its jaws, loosening its grip for a second so it could find better purchase. But Ren didn't have a leafy layer of stretchy fur at the back of her neck. She was a scrawny kid at best. And a twig thin bug at worst. This time it hit skin and drew blood. Which only seemed to confuse and infuriate the beast further. It dumped Ren off to the side and complied fully with Gael's command.

All eyes on you. It seemed to say. She lowered herself, standing defiant between the werewolf and the pup they quarreled after. A desperation in her eyes as she was sure the other beast was going to hurt the little one. Not on her watch. Not again. A low rumbling growl reverberated through the glen. A sure-fire sign that something else was about to emerge. Ren, dirty and bloodied, shouted as loud as her hoarse throat would allow, begging Gael to get out of the way.

A cu-sith's bark could be a hell of a lot worse than its bite.

—

The professor (because that’s still all he was, right?) scrambled to his feet, kicking up leaves and dirt as he stood slightly hunched once he did. Arms that were too long for a reasonable human hung in front of him, quivering claws that dripped with blood twitching as brown eyes that seemed partially filled with gold stared down the creature. Gael felt pain coming from his hands, his head, his spine, muscles having been stretched, bones broken apart and put back together, organs slightly rearranged inside of him as he lingered in an uncanny valley of body parts - a human torso and head with Frankensteinian additions from a completely separate creature haphazardly glued to him. He also felt pain as he saw the cu-sith carelessly drop Ren, the smell of her blood reaching his nose again. The scent, Ren’s scent, and how she was unceremoniously thrown aside sparked inside his brain and he was similarly incensed, wanting nothing more than to lunge again and tear the beast to pieces. …He didn’t, though. He wanted to, he felt the sensation pumping through him, urging him to do what he could to incapacitate and hurt and dissuade the cu-sith from hurting Ren anymore and leave her alone. But he didn’t. Instead, Gael’s head tilted and he looked over at the fae’s crumpled form on the ground as the latter shouted at him to move. In that moment, he wanted so badly to attack the cu-sith again out of some animalistic instinct to protect his pup, the kid that wasn’t even his either by birth, adoption or otherwise - how could he claim ownership over someone else like that in any instance other than this one was a question for a more intellectual mind. He wanted to but he didn’t. For now, Gael was able to discern her instructions among the blood that pounded in his ears and he listened. He moved, but it wasn’t quite in the direction he himself was expecting. He moved down.

Down onto all fours, before down onto his stomach. Down in submission, not rolling over but also not making himself appear as big as his fur-covered limbs wanted him to. It took effort; he wanted to use the position to spring forward, use the ground as an anchor to throw his weight at the hound. He felt his head burning with anger, fury, rage. Common sense felt fickle, a thought in his mind that was threatening to be ripped to shreds. But he didn’t. He moved down. Gael would take whatever the cu-sith wanted to do to him to establish dominance, just… “Please don’t hurt my girl.” He said slowly, knowing full well that the cu-sith could hear him as well as he could’ve heard himself from that distance. His voice still carried a growl to it, low and scratching as though it should’ve been spoken through a mouthful of larger teeth but it wasn’t, it just came from him. All the while, he kept the two-tone eyes on Ren’s diminutive frame, his expression wide and afraid but not for himself.

—

The bursting bark had been building in the cu-sith’s chest. A sudden rush of air and sound exploded forth. Almost enough to rival a banshee’s wail, but deeper, darker. A rumble and crack like thunder rippling overhead. A bolt of lightning crashing next to you could’ve been quieter. Less painful. But she didn’t aim it directly at the werewolf. The cu-sith was still awash with righteous fury, but she was clever enough to notice when a change in the dynamic occurred. Her massive head tilted upward, releasing the sonic blast away from the man, away from the kid. Still enough to leave their ears ringing for sure, but not enough to hurt in the way it might have if directed more specifically.

Green eyes studied the werewolf. Chuffing and growling, she began pacing around him. Leaving just enough of a window that Ren could scoot through, rushing to Gael’s side where she threw her arms around him. Holding tightly as she could, trying her best to be a shield. Either not stopping long enough to notice all the changes, or not caring about them half as much as she cared about the person behind the fur and teeth.

Ren huddled over Gael, too scared to look behind her. Too scared that the cu-sith was going to do something she couldn’t protect him from because she was too small, too weak. “Please.” The nymph begged, hoping it was enough to dissuade her. “Do not hurt him– Please do not– hurt each other–” Her mind was racing about a thousand miles per hour faster than normal. Her heart was trying its best to keep up. Ideas that were half-formed at best pushed forward, rising to the surface. “It is okay– he is good he is– папочка to me.”

The cu-sith snuffled at the air. A droning rumble filled her chest, but not the same as before. She was confused by the girl’s actions. At the apparent misunderstanding she had. And maybe, just maybe, a little relieved too. Because apparently, she wanted the same thing as the werewolf. Wanted to keep the small one safe. The creature on the ground was wise to show deference, but she could recognize the power it held too. Power enough to protect.

The kit had a way of throwing herself into danger that the beast didn’t like. When she had followed the child into the woods that day she was sure this was another trap. Something she’d have to rescue the pup from. Her ears were still pinned back as she stepped closer, eyeing the way the diminutive frame tried to put herself between her and the other. Worried, perhaps, at the fear she seemed to have inspired in the young fae. That was never the creature's intention. She just thought she knew best for the pup but—

There was a reverence in his actions. One she could respect. Not only was the werewolf strong, he was smart. And maybe that was enough. Maybe the man who was not just a man could walk among the humans and protect the pup whenever she was near. Her massive head drooped. A less angry growl still at her lips as she nudged Gael’s face with her muzzle. Nosing her way in between so she could lick at Ren’s cheek, at the tears that streaked down. Then repeated the gesture on the man, as if to say “Take care of her.”

—

He had fully anticipated a form of retaliation, finding that he had kept his body low to the ground but still agile enough that should the cu-sith turn and regard Ren once more, Gael would’ve been on the back of the beast with little else in his static-filled brain. Even now, as the hound threw its head back and released a wailing, howling bark into the sky, piercing his eardrums and making his head spin, part of him still wanted to take advantage of the lack of eyes on him, relinquish… whatever he was actively fighting against and bury his face in the neck of the creature. No. Instead, he flinched, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as the howl sent a ripple of fear through his system. A different part of him wanted to grab Ren and flee, run as fast as his legs could carry him as far as they could but instead of either fighting or flying, instead he stood his ground (relatively speaking), pushing his torso up on his elongated arms with a grimace that stemmed from multiple entry points of pain. The cu-sith lowered her head once more and the two stared at each other, green and brown and amber all observant of one another. Gael’s thoughts were dulled, his senses being filled with the smell of Ren’s blood, the ringing in his ears from the cu-sith’s howl, his mind undecided on what it wanted to do. And through all of that, he felt Ren’s arms around him. And he felt his body autonomously move and those long, twisted, inhuman limbs shook violently for a few moments, clawing at the ground as they wanted to rip apart the thing that touched him– No, it was Ren. His head, still humanoid, still Gael, leaned forward and he buried his nose in Ren’s curly hair, inhaling deeply, absorbing her scent. It was Ren.

The arms covered in sable fur with the shining black claws released the handfuls of dirt and grass that they’d scraped up. He leaned forward, still regarding the massive hound warily as Ren was trying to express her thoughts coherently, using some words he didn’t understand regardless of what the situation was. Whatever she said, muddied in his mind though it was, seemed to have gotten through to the cu-sith, at least, and the bull-sized dog approached them now. Instinctively, Gael started to growl himself, a low, involuntary thing that was there and gone as the cu-sith nosed into him, nudging his head aside so she could lick the fae. Then she licked him. A massive, warm tongue against his face with a softness previously unseen or felt from anything about the cu-sith. “..I know.” He replied quietly. “I care about her, too.” It was a guess; the hound wasn’t apologizing, but even though Ren wasn’t his child biologically, he still felt a fierce protection towards her. It was deep, much deeper than almost anything else he’d felt before. It was catching his nephew before the latter drove out into the road on his little bicycle. It was helping a stranger’s daughter go down the escalator when she got separated from them, crying as she was by herself. It was holding Ren in his arms that night she cried to him, showing him what she was but with him only seeing who she was, who she could become. The cu-sith, in her own way, felt that way towards Ren as well. Protection in the way she knew how. Parental in a way Gael had never been but could try his hardest to. Slowly, very carefully, one of the gnarled, clawed hands reached up and wrapped itself around Ren, fingers ever-so-gently resting on her shoulder. He smelled her, he heard her, he touched her. She was there, and Gael could be, too.

—

The apogee of uncertainty had passed. The cu-sith stared sidelong at the pair, deciding her place was back on the trails, back deeper in the woods, still searching for something. Unknowing of how to convey it to anyone, only to prowl and protect what she could. She padded away, only turning once she crossed the threshold of the woodline. Loosing a low rumbling warning, as if to say she’d be checking in. And if anything happened, well. Gael’s imagination could fill the gaps.

Ren didn’t turn to watch her leave. Didn’t lift her head from the spot buried into the crook of Gael’s neck where she could hear his heart beating heavy in his chest. Could feel the radiating warmth. The word had come out, half tumbled and in a different language but the sentiment was there long before. In stories, fathers were protectors. Were caretakers and could kindly watch over someone. Fathers were a source of love and strength. Both of which the young nymph drew from Gael, despite the lack of a biological connection it rivaled the bond of the woman who had raised her.

Gael didn’t just take her in from the rain. He showed the young kid what it meant to be loved unconditionally. Something that was just… impossible before. Her mind twisted up excuses for Darya’s behavior in the love she still carried for the woman, but she didn’t have to do that with him. Just being around the professor made her feel at home. Made her feel real. Like she was a kid and not a weapon. A person and not a shield.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was tiny, but his hearing was good. Ren nuzzled in closer somehow. Still not quite willing to give up the spot. Like if she let go, somehow the problems would come back. Somehow he’d be hurt and she’d be alone again. It was becoming increasingly clear that the nymph never wanted to be alone again. Even if she didn’t know what that really meant for her. For her past. For the uncertain future that stretched out for so long ahead of her. Ahead of them. “Are you– are you, you?”

—

The humanoid didn’t take his amber-swirled brown eyes off of the cu-sith until she had physically disappeared from view. And still, even then, Gael could feel that urge, that anger pulling on him. He breathed heavily through his nose with the exertion of it, feeling his fingers wanting to tighten on the material on Ren’s back. Part of his brain told him that there was still danger so long as the cu-sith was free to walk. That some part of Ren would– No, she wouldn’t. Gael remembered her scent, feeling her against him. He clung to those sensations as tightly as she hung onto him, pressing her head into him, feeling her diminutive, trembling frame under an oppressively inhuman hand. She wasn’t going to leave even though he wasn’t… what she thought he was. Even though he wasn’t quite what he thought he was. She wasn’t going to leave, so he worked not to leave. “I’m okay.” He assured, his hand moving up to carefully place the claws on the back of her head for a moment, though they grazed over the spot on her neck where the cu-sith had drawn blood. He inhaled, the combination of feeling her blood on his decidedly nonhuman hands catching the answer of whether or not he was ‘him’ in his throat. He wasn’t sure how to answer that, though as he felt himself taking deeper breaths, pushing more of the logic that was so important to him through his brain and trying to eliminate the more… he wasn’t sure how to refer to the thoughts that spurned him to pursue the cu-sith. He focused on Ren, urged through the ringing in his ears, carefully maneuvering his hand around so that it didn’t touch the wound on her neck again. “I’m not sure.” He said honestly. “I’m Gael.” He replied slowly. “But I don’t know what that is.” He shifted so that he looked down at her now. “Are you okay? We can patch up your injury, and–” He now actually paid attention to the fur on his arms, the way his fingers looked like they belonged to something else entirely. “I’m… sorry.”

—

Her hand slipped away from his back, taking a moment to feel the nape of her own neck where the teeth had pierced her. They came away wet, but she didn’t feel much pain. It must not have been that deep, or maybe the adrenaline just hadn’t worn off just yet. “I am fine, we can bandage later. Not bad.” Ren exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours. Even if the whole encounter lasted maybe twenty seconds, tops. Relief flooded throughout her body, loosening the tense muscles that ached to sprint. To hunt. Of all the things she’d been taught, throwing herself into danger to save a werewolf was not one of them.

Ah but– But this was the thing Gael couldn’t talk about. The thing that had been pulled from his mind, siphoned out like the last dregs of gas in a car running on empty. Exhausted in every sense of the word. Ren understood everything in an instant. The full moons, the silver… It was a lot to take in, sure, but it was still her Gael. Still her–

“I was– I did not want her to hurt you but– You protected me too, you–” Too many thoughts swirled inside, discordant and dizzying. But those strong arms held her close. The feeling of being at home never left. Whatever this was, however they needed to face it, that was okay. It was going to be okay. If she wasn’t a monster, neither was he. “I was scared. I cannot lose you.” Ren didn’t know much of the outside world. Wasn’t great with people. She had never expected something like this to come from her mission to Wicked’s Rest. Never expected to find a whole new purpose to life, a new way to live it.

Time had always been a long blank canvas before. Now it was something bright. Vivid. All around her. Never quite enough of it to hold as it slipped away through her hands. In learning how to be around Gael, Ren learned how to be herself. Learned to get closer to people her own age. Learned what it meant to have people to fall back on. To care about and be cared for in return. “I can’t lose you, папочка.” She repeated. Where it had been an accidental slip before, she meant it now. Even if he wouldn’t know what the word meant, or what it meant to her.

—

Gael wasn’t sure which parts to respond to first; when she said that the wound wasn’t that bad, he wondered how true that was, how close the cu-sith had gotten to potentially paralyzing the girl. When she said she didn’t want the hound to hurt him, he wanted to assure her that he would’ve taken anything and everything to ensure Ren’s safety. It was difficult to say those things after the fact; he knew how easy it was to become involved in the theatrics of heroism and how difficult it was to sift through those mixed messages, to separate the truth from the adrenaline-filled fiction. But then she said that she was scared. That she didn’t want to lose him. Gael pulled back, hearing the tone in Ren’s small voice and what he wanted to say before in response to anything else felt more solid. It was a lighthouse in the shifting sea of his mind as he held on tight to her voice, her scent, her presence, calling him back as he felt when the dark, primordial thoughts started to advance onto him. His bestial hands moved on their own again as they lightly, tenderly cupped her head in them; they were massive, dark blackish brown contrasting against the vibrant red of her hair, making her bright eyes pop as Gael held her tearstained face in them. Then she said the word again. Папочка. He didn’t understand the word, though if it meant how it sounded then he didn’t need to understand the word itself to know what it meant. “You won’t, mija.” He replied, his voice dry as it lost the guttural growl that tinged his words previously. “I’ll never leave you.” He assured, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together gently. “And you won’t ever lose me.”

—

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