Every Dog has his Day [Trance]

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[bg=02000e] Adley hurried through the winding streets, his head down. The morning was still early, and a thin mist hung over everything, though the sun looked like it would burn it off soon. The Fulsi’s shoes – which were once smart, clean and new Burberry trainers – splashed through little puddles and his fighting staff dragged behind him. He was not being picky about where he stepped at all; it didn’t take a Keeper to figure out that he was in a rush. Not that there was anything special about this particular morning; every day Adley raced to the wall, the only place he could think of where he could safely avoid Adam. Ever since that rather unfortunate meeting back during the thick of winter, Adley had been doing all he could to keep his distance from the tiger shifter. And now, Goddamn, he was the Alpha! Adley had stewed about that when he first heard of it, his plans of casually slipping out to find a different ring to join up with dashed. Not only that, but every day he lived in fear, wondering if the new Alpha would ever remember him and decide to exercise his new power. No one would say anything if Adam killed Adley, he knew; and if someone asked, he could easily cover it up and say Adley was a spy. Everyone was already suspicious of him, the strange boy who dressed and spoke like a Keeper and refused to associate with anyone. The Tenderfoot passed the last building and broke into a slow jog. He hated the last stretch of empty pavement – he felt so vulnerable and exposed. Before long, though, he was in the cover of trees and he allowed himself to slow down. Adley reached his usual tree and tucked his staff under his arm, beginning to relax. Every day he climbed up the tree and sat there on lookout. It was a boring life, but at least it was a life. It was a much better alternative to being dead. Just as he was reaching for the first branch, though, he caught the scent of another. Adley whirled around, fighting the panic that told him to flee. The scent was unmistakably Fulsi, which brought to mind only one person. But instead of the tall, dark-haired man he so feared, his eyes alighted on a boy with golden-brown hair and slightly olive skin. “Trance!” Adley cried out, unmistakable relief in his voice. He hadn’t seen much of the dog shifter since their walk last winter, and he surprised himself by being actually glad to see him. “What are you doing here?” --- words; 437 ooc; olord, bad post XD But I have an excuse, these are shortposts u.u

[trance]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,425,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=000000] Turmoil clouded his vision—it made him feel suffocated, as if his breath was smothered in his lungs. It was like someone held a towel over his face and never took it off. He was blind and barely breathing, fading away with every other breath from his collapsing lungs. It hurt in an anguishing way; and he was afraid. Trance felt desperately alone. He felt as though every single tie he’d ever had to another person had been severed. He didn’t know what to protect. He didn’t know who he wasn’t supposed to defend. All in all, he didn’t really know who he was, without the guarding part of his life. So, as a result, he threw himself completely and utterly into his work as Scout. He did what he was told, and he did it with mechanical precision. He would not let himself fail, even though he felt as though the consequences would not be dire if he did. The constant threat of being hurt for doing something wrong was… no longer breathing down his back. But he still didn’t want to screw up, he didn’t want to make people think he was… incapable. He wanted to be seen as strong, even though the scars on his body told otherwise, and the dullness in his eyes spoke legions on their own. He moved easily, loping at a steady pace. He was upwind, which was a stupid mistake. He could smell absolutely nothing—besides that, he was in his human form, which he held little favor for anyways. Not to mention as a man, his nose hardly caught any scents at all. He was checking the Fulsi wall out of his own desire—he apparently needed a break, after insistent non-stop working. But working made him think clearer. It made everything more realistic and less like a dream he’d wake up from soon. Trance was alert enough to slow momentarily when he sensed something awry. His eyes shifted and caught on movement—and then stayed fixated with eerie focus. His lips thinned, and his expression turned momentarily pained. “Nothing.” His answer came too quickly, his eyes locked on Adley’s face. “What are you doing here?” The words sounded like an accusation, and the Fulsi Scout winced. “Sorry. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

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[bg=02000e] “Nothing.” Adley stopped short at the response-no, it was more of a retort. The shock on his face was impossible to hide; he wasn’t expecting a warm, worshiping welcome, but that certainly didn’t mean he was expecting this. Trance’s next remark had the Tenderfoot on the defensive, and he unconsciously stood straighter and more rigid, his expression closing in to a carefully practiced look – that of the Keeper. It was detached and disinterested, calculating and aloof. And elite, always elite. The truth was that Trance’s words hurt, which was not supposed to happen. The only kind of paint a Shifter – or anything else of the sort – was supposed to deal to Adley was the physical kind. He had to retreat to his mind to sort things out for a few moments before replying. Obviously the other was harboring less than charitable feelings towards him, which, really, was no surprise, after the way things transpired last winter. Still, though, Adley had felt kind of warm towards Trance, especially after the latter protected (or at least, kind of did) him from Adam. After Adley provoked him. Which, in retrospect, was probably not wise. Adley felt towards Trance as one might feel towards a favored pet, or at least he had been up until a minute ago. “Nor I you,” He said politely, in the sterile way that only Keepers and their kin could. “But we’re both up bright and early, hm.” Gradually he was becoming more monotone and monosyllabic as his brain started to work things out. What if Trance had been sent by Adam? What if Adam was here? He cast a furtive glance around, then chided himself. He was being silly and paranoid. There was no way that the Alpha was worrying about a Tenderfoot like him – no, the Alpha must have much bigger things on his mind. This thought both relieved Adley (greatly) and irritated him. He did not like being waved off as unimportant, however beneficial it might be to him. What Adley didn’t notice, though, was the silent beast that had appeared from the shadows of the tree Adley had been about to climb. Its footfalls were sure and soft as it slunk on the thick branch that the Fulsi had been so fond of resting on. The cougar stayed low against the branch, its fear of humans and the like gone from its time in the Menagerie. It had long grown used to hunting the weaker Shifters, Retros and Anthros, and though it seldom won it never gave up. It retracted its claws a few times, waiting for an opportune moment, eyes never leaving its prey. --- words; 440 ooc; nice kitty? 8’D

[trance]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,425,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=000000] “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not an experiment and you’re not a damn Keeper.” Why did the way Adley spoke make him so angry? Trance didn’t curse often, but the damn rolled off his lips with a bitter tone. His dark eyes were narrowed, his mouth set into a grim line. It wasn’t defiant, per se, but it wasn’t the same soft expression that Trance had become accustomed to wearing when in the presence of his master. He didn’t know how to take Adley. There was no doubt about the fact he needed someone to lead him, in a way. There was no doubt about the fact he needed someone to tell him what to do. He didn’t know how to think for himself. Did he? He knew how to be commanded. He knew how to act under order. Not out of free will—it was so strange to feel like suddenly lashing out, like snapping savagely at someone who had hit him—not physically, but mentally. He felt like he ought to make the world hurt for the injustice done to him. He wasn’t an animal, was he? Trance didn’t know, not really. He stood in his limber human form, staring at the man who had hurt him without really meaning to. Who had commanded him. Who had taken control. Isn’t that what Trance wanted. “I… I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be… mean.” Disobedient. “Its… been a while, y’know? I’m sorry—” Trance would have said more, had it not been for the fact his eyes slid to the tree that Adley had been about to climb. One branch in particular caught his attention. It moved differently than the rest, not swaying with the wind, but bobbing softly up and down, sinking a little lower then it ought to… Had he been in his dog form, his hackles would have risen. The instinct to protect rose up inside of him. “Adley!” The puma decided to leap just as the cry was ushered from Trance’s lips. The feline was large for one of its kind, easily. The tawny-gold fur was all Trance saw in sudden desperation. His body acted before his mind processed anything. In a short leap, he closed the distance between himself and Adley. His shoulder hit the other man in the chest; hard enough to knock him off his feet… the puma hit the ground hard, too, right besides them, a yowl having built in its throat. The sound was furious and brutal, earsplitting, like a bloody war-cry. Trance’s eyes widened. The mountain cat must have been at least eight feet in length, including its long tail—an adult male in his prime, weighing somewhere around 170 pounds. It had narrowly missed its target, and Trance was half-sprawled on the ground besides Adley. The Scout leapt to his feet, just as the puma turned and leapt again—what it didn’t expect was Trance shapeshifting just in time, meeting the beast half-way in his smaller dog form, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. [ooc; hope the slight PP was okay :3]

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[bg=02000e] He couldn’t deny the further surprise he was feeling. The hand on his staff tightened just a bit and his eyebrows wrinkled together. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being talked to like this – most of the experiments he’d interacted with on the other side of the wall did as much trash talking of him as they could. The image of Trance as the obedient watch-dog that Adley had previously had was slowly slipping away, becoming replaced by that of the typical experiment. Though Adley knew that no experiment was typical, and that was what made them all so interesting. His expression hadn’t changed much; he’d kept his composure, thankfully. But he didn’t have time to utter one word of a reply before Trance was barreling into him, sending the pair of them crashing to the ground. Adley yelled out, at first believing that he was being attacked by the other. When he sat up, though, he saw the mountain lion in all its majestic grace. His brain was whirring, but his reaction was still slower than Trance’s; Adley had barely processed that the puma was right there when he saw Trance’s dog form leaping to meet it in mid-air. The large cat fell back, landing on its side and quickly rolling to its feet. It gave a horrible snarl, baring all its sharp teeth, and then lunged at the dog, swiping its powerful paws at the canine. Adley, meanwhile, was white with fear. He grabbed his fighting staff and held it between him and the cougar, like it was some sort of shield. He watched Trance, who looked so small compared to the wild cat, and wondered how on earth he possibly hoped to fight it off. Adley had taken biology classes in school and was forced to watch videos of pumas fighting other animals and he knew they were no joke. A shot of inspiration struck him then. He knew what he could do! Almost eagerly he got on his hands and knees and crawled towards the dueling pair, doing his best not to catch the mountain lion’s interest. Once close enough he picked up his staff and gave the cat a big whack – he would’ve liked to hit its head, but as that was out of reach he settled for its rump instead. --- words; 387 ooc; holycrappost. XD but the pp is fine <3 83

[trance]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,425,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=000000] Trance felt the wildcat tumble aside, having not expected the vicious dog to barrel right into it. The surprise of the attack was now that Trance was relying on—after all, it helped when dealing with an opponent five times your own size. The puma responded initially with a batted paw that narrowly missed. Nevertheless, it caught Trance on the side of his face, whipping it aside with the force of it, making his neck pop and running bloody furrows down his jawline. He snarled, lips lifted up and away from his teeth. It became a deadly dance of lung and recoil, of attack and defend—but he knew it was a losing battle. He may have been fast, and small enough to dodge and weave between the great cat’s blows, but he was unable to keep it up forever—in fact, Adley was almost entirely forgotten in the process of attack and defend. Primarily, defend; which meant Trance had to keep the wildcat focused on himself rather the his other Fulsi companion. It was… exceedingly difficult, and more than once the puma landed a blow on him. The wet, meaty sound of something hitting flesh caught Trance’s attention. The dog’s eyes widened and then flicked to Adley—the puma had spun around, yowling, going to face the young man with teeth bared… the shepherd’s eyes landed on a fighting staff, and then to the distracted puma; it was coiling to leap, spittle and blood on its jaws. Savage. In an instant of disdain, Trance attacked again, catching the feline off-guard. He hit it hard in the shoulder, teeth closing viciously on the side of the neck in desperation… the mountain lion thrashed, twisted, and Trance’s claws tore furrows in its side as it attempted to dislodge him. He had no idea how long he could hold on for.

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[bg=02000e] The wildcat took aim at Adley, its muscles bunching up beneath its tawny hide. It reminded Adley of a spring, pushed down and contracted, ready to explode at the slightest disturbance. For a moment he couldn’t help himself; he found himself marveling at the tremendous potential energy the beast was exhibiting. Fascinating. For that moment he understood the dedication and inspiration that zoologists had; there was truly nothing like watching an animal like the puma in action. Fortunately, though, one of the Fulsi in the present company wasn’t admiring the wildcat. Adley received another nasty jolt when the cougar leapt for him again, only to be countered by Trance. His heart beat raced as he watched the two fall to the loamy ground yet again, realizing how close he’d come to having his throat ripped out. He couldn’t help it, though – he was a scientist at heart, not a fighter. He simply wasn’t cut out for living in a place like the Menagerie, where new threats grew daily like Hydra’s heads. And that was why the only thought he had when the mountain lion was deflected from him was escape. He saw the two struggling and knew that Trance was injured, perhaps mortally, but told himself that it was not his place to interfere. He knew that he wasn’t allowed to alter the experiments’ experiences; he couldn’t assist any certain one or hinder another. That was up to the Head Keepers to do when they were testing the limits. He found that he couldn’t leave, though. His feet seemed to be separate from the rest of his body; no matter how hard he told them to run they just sat there idly. Where are you planning to run, Adley? He asked himself, and cold realization struck. He had nowhere to run. The Gospel Complex was the closest safe haven, but he had a feeling that the puma would finish the Scout off long before Adley could reach it. He had no choice but to act, and act now, while the thing was distracted. It was for that reason and that reason only that he rose with his mouth set in a thin line and started towards the brawl, picking up his staff along the way. He was doing this only for his own survival – he couldn’t dare to even think that it had something to do with the dog that was beginning to turn more red than white. No, Adley knew that it didn’t matter – couldn’t matter – to him whether or not the Shapeshifter lived or died. With that thought in mind he reached the cat. It was preoccupied with the Fulsi who was hanging onto his neck, and Adley would take advantage of that. He raised the fighting staff up, his mind doing quick calculations to find the angle and distance away he should position it to make it the most advantageous for him. This time he was able to take aim at the cougar’s head, though it was moving around in its efforts to silence Trance. Whoosh. Adley brought the staff crashing down directly on top of the monster, knocking it out cold. For good measure he whacked it a couple of more times, stopping only when it began to bleed from its head. A sick feeling threatened to expel the contents of his stomach and made his knees weak. Had he killed it? He prodded it with the staff, which confirmed nothing for him. Then a new thought dawned on him – he’d taken down this wild cat. He hadn’t needed all those fancy automatic weapons that the Keepers had – he’d killed (or maybe just knocked out) it with naught but his bare hands and his fighting staff! An unfamiliar sense of pride grew in his stomach as he looked at the limp cat. He’d done that, all by himself! Well, perhaps not all by himself. He glanced at Trance, remembering his protector for the first time. Adley winced and looked away, unsure if his stomach could handle looking at all the gore. They may have won, but the mountain lion had sure put up a good fight, of which Trance was evidence. In contrast, Adley had only a few small bruises from when Trance pushed him down. A small ball of guilt burrowed its way into the young man, but he quickly extinguished it. It was not his fault that this had happened – both of them had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, something about just walking away and leaving the Scout by himself felt wrong. Adley rubbed at his nose and chanced another glance at him, then nudged the dog’s shoulder with his staff. “Hey, uh, man, you okay?” --- words; 786 ooc; forgive me if things are a bit cracked out, am half asleep x’DD

[trance]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,425,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=000000] He truly believed he was going to die. It was a startling thought; one that had rarely been contemplated prior. He understood pain. He understood misery. But he did not understand death. Trance did not fear it, but he did not embrace it—everything inside of him shied desperately away from the notion of it. But what else did he think was going to happen? Any moment Adley would run—any moment his life would end at the fangs of the beautiful wildcat. At least he’d go out with a bang. For a moment, he recalled the dead, shady look in Brennan’s eyes. He remembered the grotesque, cloudy shadow of death on things; people and animals alike. He accepted it. He accepted this with the whole of himself. At least he was protecting someone, finally—just like he was meant to do, in the end of everything. He was a guard dog. He wasn’t supposed to spend his life doing nothing with it, protecting no one, living selfishly and without any sense of duty or loyalty. Even though… he did not want to die for Adley. The thought was shocking, but very real. He did not want to die for a practical stranger that had abused his power over Trance; who had made him obey and feel terribly conflicted. He didn’t want to lose the life he was not done living just because of that. The puma thrashed wildly, bucking. He held fast, jaws clamped on the loose skin of the tawny cat’s neck.. The thing got him twisted around, somehow. It bit into his haunches; its claws tore his flank to ribbons. And then, most devastatingly—when he could no longer hold on—a clawed paw ranked over the left side of his face, across his brow, down the side of his jaw. All the other pains were trumped by the anguish in his eye and face. The sudden burning pain, and the blankness that came with it. Trance fell limp. It was just then, luckily, that Adley struck the mountain lion with the staff. The white shepherd was curled in on himself. The audible sound of wood hitting flesh reached Trance’s ears; and it brought him a sort of sick glee. But as soon as Adley nudged him with the staff, he whipped up his head and snarled, blinking rapidly. One eye was full of blood, opaque, suddenly unseeing as the four horizontal claw marks over it bled relentlessly. The snarl fell slack on his face, but already his body was beginning to tremble from the sheer shock of the incident. “No.” the word was more of a snarl than anything else. [ooc; … hahah… ha… ha 8D]

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[bg=02000e] Adley’s hands tightened on his staff at Trance’s snarl. He was still jumpy the fight, which had seemed so long but in truth had ended quickly. With forced even breathing he set his fighting staff down on the ground, doing his best not to inhale through his nose. It smelled like death. Once more he looked down at Trance, and once more he was overcome with the need to vomit. He staggered back against a tree and held his food down, though barely. “Shit,” He muttered under his breathing, eyes roaming up and down the other’s battered pelt. The sudden responsibility he felt made him panic. What was he supposed to do? He knew a fair bit about anatomy, yes, but he was definitely no medic. He couldn’t help Trance. Nor do you have to, that small voice told him. Trance was not his responsibility; actually, he was more of Trance’s responsibility, being a Tenderfoot and all. The joyous lifting of burdens almost brought a smile to his face. He was free to walk back to the Gospel Complex and forget that the entire thing had ever happened. … But something was wrong. His feet were anchors again; he told them to move, but they stayed stubbornly put. Adley scowled at his shoes, cursing them for what they were going to force him to do. If he couldn’t return to the city, he’d have to pick some other course of action. And what would that be? He fretted for a bit as he tried to find some other acceptable option. The first idea that he thought of he tried to dismiss right away, but it kept worming back and drawing attention to itself. At first it seemed silly, but the more he thought about it the more ingenious it became. He could pretend to be an experiment himself. Think of all the new angles and perspectives he’d have on these Shifters! He grew slightly dizzy with the thought; how had he not thought of this before? Talk about making the best of a bad situation. His fingers curled up so tight against the tree that he ripped a piece of bark off. He stared at it for a moment, then dropped it and took a step towards the other. If he was an experiment, he would do all he could to help a fallen comrade. His good mood was dashed, though, when he realized he had no clue how to help. He hadn’t been kidding himself when he thought of how he couldn’t help medically; he honestly couldn’t. However, the Fulsi had many who could. Realization dawned on him and it seemed the day would just keep getting better and better. “I’ll, uh, go get you a Medic, okay?” Something about waiting for his plans to be confirmed and allowed by a Shifter irritated him, but he reminded himself that he was just pretending to be an inferior to Trance. For research purposes only. --- words; 494 ooc; … Adleyy XD <3 WHAT A SILLY. And poor Trance DDD8 </3

[trance]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,425,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=000000] Trance had never feared death—not really, at least. But now that he was on its doorstep, he was not willing to go. Some part of his mind chided him. You’re being dramatic. You’re not dying, it said, but Trance hardly believe it. It hurt—it hurt more then he thought anything should hurt. Even being shot wasn’t this bad. The only thing he could really compare to it was the pain of being knocked unconscious before being taken to the Menagerie. Trance’s muzzle was twisted into something grin and miserable, blood running down one side of his face like a grotesque half-mask. Eventually he shifted back into his human form, to clutch the side of his face with his hand. He felt the blood leak through his fingers, and then he felt the tug of several other gashes all along his body. The wildcat had put up one hell of a fight. Now, in one startled moment, he looked to the side… only to see the puma sprawled out on the ground, blood leaking from its temple. Trance was shocked. But, too soon, he was distracted by the fact he couldn’t see from his left eye. How was that? It hurt. And then something about a Medic. Trance had almost entirely forgotten about Adley, but with his eyes closed he couldn’t see the other shifter. Trance sat on the ground, face in his hands, trying not to hyperventilate. It took several tries before he could speak properly. “A… a Medic. Y-yes.” [ooc; … I dunno where we ought to go from here. We could just end the thread and skip ahead a couple of days, I imagine?]

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