Ivory was quickly realizing that it was much easier said than done. As soon as they had made the declaration along with Russel, the wyrm– because it certainly was a wyrm, even if Ivory was unfamiliar with this particular type– leapt off of the fridge and darted into the living room. Russel was on it in an instant, and Ivory had quickly side-stepped out of the way to avoid being barreled over by the larger man. He muttered swears as the rug slid under his feet, windmilling his arms so he didn't faceplant into the unlit fireplace.
“Dammit. Ives, did you see where it went?” Russel called, his sharp eyes scanning around in search of any flash of green, any sign of his current target. Being a werewolf gave him many advantages over Ivory, who was simply human. Yet, the two often worked well together. This was one such instance, because Ivory quickly positioned themself on the stairs, glancing up the steps to make sure the elongated wyrm hadn't run up there without their notice.
“I didn't see it,” Ivory called back, their eyes scanning around from their elevated position, perched on the fifth step and peering down into the living room. “Did you check the couch?” They ask, mirroring Russel’s slow movements as he scans around. He nods, not daring to speak up in case he startles the elusive creature into running again, and peers around the couch to no avail.
A metallic noise had both of them freezing in place, glancing at each other before both of them turned their sole attention towards the front door. Logically, Ivory knew it was severely unlikely that the wyrm they were chasing had not only made it to the front door without their notice, but also unlocked the deadbolt from the outside, but for a split second there they were definitely questioning reality. Then the door opened, and in came Thomas, blissfully unaware of the chase that his roommates were partaking in. He noticed immediately upon walking in that something was amiss, after all it was rare to see Russ being still or quiet on any occasion, but even before he could fully get his brows furrowed something shot out of the fireplace, earning a shocked cry from both Ivory and Russ.
“Shit, Tom, close the door!” Ivory yells, jumping off the stairs and nearly crashing into Russel, who was already hot on the soot coated wyrm's extra heels. Thomas stumbled back against the door, one of his hands clutched over his chest.
“What the- what the hell are you doing?” He snapped at Russel, frowning deeply at all of the little footprints the wyrm was leaving all over the floor and walls.
“Trying to catch it!” Russel calls, though Thomas had already figured out that part. It was the why, or the ‘what’ that he was unsure about.
The Lancaster household was no stranger to wyrms. Anyone who was as deeply involved with the mythic world as they were had at least heard of, if not seen one. Hell, there were already three of them that called the cabin home, and were cared for (and perhaps a bit spoiled) by the roommates. This particular wyrm was unique, though. An extra set of limbs allowed it to run around much faster, and it had a notably more dragon-like appearance which Ivory appreciates. Beyond that though? They also didn't know why Russel was so dead set on catching it.
“Will you please just help already?” Russel whined to Thomas, giving the shorter man a desperate attempt at puppy eyes. When that only earned him a deeper frown in return, he tried to appeal to Tom's logical side. “We can't let it run amok in the house anyway.”
“Fine.” Thomas sighs, his posture finally relaxing a bit as he turns to put his keys on the hook. A streak of green darts between his legs before he can even step back, and the three young adults freeze as they watch the wyrm snatch up the keys and chitter excitedly.
Movements slow, Thomas reached out and then grabbed the longer wyrm around the middle, grimacing when it thrashed around in protest. That finally got Russel and Ivory to spring into action again, the werewolf reaching out to help steady Tom's hold on the wriggly wyrm, his larger hands engulfing Thomas's smaller ones.
“Finally.” Russel whoops, carefully taking the wyrm out of Thomas's hands. He lets it go willingly, quickly wiping his palms against his slacks. Ivory leans over to get a closer look at the wyrm.
“Poor thing, it looks grouchy.” They sympathize, using the back of two fingers to gently pet down its body. Russel makes a face at this gentle behavior.
“Uh-uh, don't go bein’ all sweet with this demon!” He protested, lifting the wyrm out of Ivory’s reach. “You don't even know what it did to me!”
Ivory snorted a laugh but ultimately ignored him, getting bolder with their pats as it– well she, now that Ivory could see her markings better– trilled and rubbed her head against their hand. “I don't believe you.” They decide before even giving him a chance. “She's a sweetie.”
“Uh, no?” Russel frowns, though his grip on her had definitely loosened as she seemed to become more docile. Thomas had stepped out the second she was captured, doing who-knows-what. “She stole my sandwich. That's like, an unforgivable offense.”
Ivory blinked, still petting the wyrm. Their poker face broke and they dissolved into giggles, finally noticing the absolutely innocent look she was giving them. “Nah, she gets a pass. She's just being a fickle little thing.” They muse. Russel just sighs, knowing that once Ivory got fond of some creature, there was no getting rid of it. As if proving his point, Ivory scooped the wyrm from his arms and cradled her in their own. “That could be a good name, huh Fickle? That suits you well.”
Fickle chirps contentedly, especially when Ivory trades a few shiny pennies for their keys, which they return to the hook. Russ just sighs, muttering something about English majors and their strange naming practices, and goes back to the kitchen to make himself another sandwich.
