A DEEP AND DARK DECEMBER [reserved]

[Sergio Lisciotti]

WE KNOW THAT GOD IS DEAD, THEY'VE TOLD US

Sergio hated the cold. It had to be the invention of the devil, as far as he was concerned. He had shrugged himself into his coat, but it didn't keep him warm enough. On the contrary, the wind bit him to the bone, and he was wracked with shudders as he pursued the blonde Hunter, following closely in his footsteps. Some good fella, probably the lead hunter, had decided Sergio's skills were still a little lacking, and, as a result, told him to go along with someone else and learn the tricks of the trade all over again. Really, it came down to laziness. He didn't want to hunt, so he didn't, and that ended with him being reprimanded for it, and thrown in Jace Everlast's care. Poor sucker.

He struggled, stepping through snow that was easily two feet deep, envying people with shifts that were either not cold blooded, or more adapted for travelling through the difficult elements. He had a harsh little smirk on his face as he squinted into the sun, finding all of this unbearable--hell, what happened to the nice old Cadillac's, the money, the fireplaces, for Christ's sake? They were almost to the edge of Fallen territory, toward the forest of Analoya lands, where they would be training. Sergio supposed he should be thankful that this Hunter was willing to help him, but the cold had soaked through his clothes and he was feeling anything but thankful. If anything, he thought that the other was a nice view.

"You know, I don't think that these cats are going to be very happy we're in their territory." Sergio offered a slit of a smile, the comment flippant despite the nature of it. They had crossed over into Analoya woods by now, and the trees prevented the sun from reaching the ground. It dropped several degrees more than previously, and Sergio was wracked with a shudder. Really. Couldn't this wait for the summer? Hell, he'd be more than happy to do this in with the sun on his back. He leaned against a nearby tree as the blonde stopped before him, itching for a cigarette. He figured that if he fished one out he'd be reprimanded for it. You didn't smoke when you were being educated, as his old pals would have said.

"I guess we should start this shit, huh? Damn, it's freezing out here." He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep his warmth to himself. "What are we doing? Hunting down a deer? Learning to survive in heaps of snow?" A crooked smile, and then, flirtatiously; "Although, I bettya that there are some better ways to warm right up out here, y'think?"

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BUT LISTENING TO YOU I WASN'T SURE

[Jace]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 498px; height: 480px; background-image:url(http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x363/DoomBunniBins/tables/jacetbl.png)] His hunting trip had been corrupted into a training expedition. A training expedition for someone who should already know what he was doing. He had used his easy access to make his annoyance clear, but Charm had given him one of those looks. Not one from her broad repertoire of “Jace, so help me, you will behave,” which is what he’d been expecting, but one that was calculating, measuring him up and finding him suitable. “You’re going, so get over it.” It was then that he understood what she was doing. They weren’t sending him because of his brilliant teaching methods. They were sending him because he was an ass on a regular basis, let alone when he was annoyed. Basically, they intended to make Mr. Lisciotti want to never, ever again be the subject of a training expedition. Which hadn’t reduced his grumbling a bit. He couldn’t even have the dignity of being sent out to impart his notably exceptional skills - instead, he was to give some lazy slacker a kick in the pants. Why that couldn’t have been done back in the city, he hadn’t a clue. Although, he did acknowledge to himself that Charm probably expected him to have a bit of fun harassing his fellow hunter, and he probably would. His thoughts were interrupted by a comment on the cats of the area. Shrugging a shoulder in response, he answered without turning around. “They don’t come out this way much. Too many shifters, not enough big game.” Indeed, the game trails were only marginally less snowy, but he kept an eye out for fresh tracks anyway. There was a small, swift creek nearby that ran most of the winter, where hopefully they would have more luck. Pausing in a small clearing, far enough away that their voices and scent wouldn’t scare anything off, he turned around, brow burrowing slightly at the other man. It was cold, yes, but the exertion had kept him comfortable enough, if not truly warm. He puzzled over it a moment, eyeing the guy’s clothes, and then recalled that the lead hunter had mentioned he had a small snake shift. Combined with his lack of suitable outerwear, it wasn’t surprising he was cold. He was thinking that he’d have to mention to Charm that they had yet another hunter with a paltry excuse for winter wear, when Sergio continued with that was obviously a line. And Jace, who had been conditioned by months spent with Tain, answered on autopilot: “Well, I am hot enough for both of us.” Clearly, his mouth thought it was supposed to flirt with any and all sarcastic, blue-haired men. He blinked, nonplussed, then frowned before answering the other question. “D, none of the above. I trust you know how to set snares, considering they cover that when you’re a tenderfoot?” Without waiting for a response, he slid the pack off his shoulder, pulled out a roll of wire and tossed it over. “There’s a brook to our south. You can set some traps there, quietly, and I’ll see if there’s anything out and about.” Taking out a pair of pliers and pulling off his gloves, he crossed the few steps over to the other hunter, and shoved both into his hands. “C’mon, keep up.” And he was off again, pushing through the snow toward the creek. He kept up a brisk pace, trying to force some warmth into the other, but slowed to a stop when he could hear the first gurgle of water. He waited for Sergio to move up beside him, then murmured, “I’m headed upstream, come find me when you’re finished.” With that, he dropped the pack by their feet and shifted, feeling warm, tawny fur envelope his chilled feet and hands as they became paws. Pleased, he gave his thick winter coat a brief shake, and padded away into the cold shade of the trees, large paws carrying him lightly over the snow.

[Sergio Lisciotti]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; height:530px; background-image:url(http://i45.tinypic.com/xomj9s.jpg)] Sergio hoped the other man was right; he certainly didn't want to end up being some lion's breakfast. Of course, the Italian wasn't a natural cynic, and he supposed he would cross that bridged when (and if) it arrived. Now, however, Sergio eyed the other man, feeling as though he was being looked at and found lacking, probably due to the fact he looked--and felt--like a partially drowned rat, the lower portion of his pants soaked, and his shoulders hunched against the cold. His hair hung limp in his eyes, which were sharp despite everything, looking at Jace with a mixture of humor and wariness. Well, I'm hot enough for both of us. Sergio's brows jerked upward in a show of surprise, but then he proceeded to smile lazily. His impression of the other had just been lightened quite a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, if the other could flirt so offhandedly. Was it merely a joke, or was it a real flirtatious comment? The Italian didn't know, and certainly didn't care to ask. He was a man of assumptions, anyhow. "You can say that again." Another lopsided smile, something that was diminished with his next shudder. "Snares. Sounds like a riot." His voice was genuinely amused, but his eyes were displeased. Sergio barely managed to catch the wire, his numb fingers struggling to work. But he did it, albeit gracelessly, and shoved it into his pocket. Next, he was handed gloves and pliers. C'mon, keep up. Sergio followed to the best of his ability, lagging slightly. Shit, he needed to quit the cigarettes. He could feel the burn in his lungs by the time they reached the brook. "Good to know you're leaving me to, the, uh mercy of the wilderness." Sergio kept his tone light, despite the fact he was a little unsettled by the way things were progressing. The way he saw it, it was stupid to split up when there was the slim chance an Analoya was lurking in the nearby brush. He raised a hand to the bridge of his nose, ran his fingertip across the scar there, and reminded himself that there were worse things than lions and tigers. "Yeah, will do." Sergio eyed his surroundings after Jace left, momentarily envious of the other man's fur. But he wasn't about to slack off a second time; he figured that it was about time he started pulling his own weight, even though he would have preferred some easier assignment. He drew the wire from his pocket and snipped it to a suitable length, twisting it to form the suitable circle. He found what looked to be a well-worn game-trail, with tracks through the fresh snow, and hung it mid-level, to snag a passing animal by the neck. He had been paying some attention in his basic classes as a tenderfoot. His hands shook, even with Jace's gloves, and he felt like his fingers were made of lead. But he felt like failure was not an option. It hurt his pride more than he cared to admit to know that he was less than satisfactory when it came to such skills. He was a city boy through and through. He'd been raised in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, and had never left. Hell, the only trees he had seen before now were the ones in the park, planted a certain distance apart, groomed to perfection. He finished setting several snares, and trembling, he hitched his shoulders up and pursued Jace's tracks. They were relatively easy to follow, and after a while, he found the mountain lion again. "Alright, so. Snares are set. " He leaned back. "Beautifully, I might add. The best damn snares you've ever seen." His voice was teasing again. Sergio momentarily wondered just how seriously he should have taken the other's earlier flirtation. It really was cold out there. He jerked the gloves off his hands, and approached Everlast, offering them somewhat gingerly.

[Jace]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 498px; height: 480px; background-image:url(http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x363/DoomBunniBins/tables/jacetbl.png)] The snow compressed with a near-silent rustle as he settled into a crouch, poised and alert in the cover of a dead thicket. Jace waited, unmoving, as his heartbeats ticked by, the inaudible flow of breath a counterpoint. With a hunter’s patience, he could have stayed there for hours, gaze fixed on the creek below him. A disturbed spot on the gently sloping bank indicated it was a place where creatures came to drink, and the vantage point meant it would be easy to creep closer. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very long before there was a crunch of footsteps behind him. Sighing, he straightened out of his crouch and twisted to face the other shifter with an eyeroll. “I’m sure they’re gorgeous.” He flicked his ears when Sergio approached, holding out the gloves. “Keep them,” he said, turning away with a last glance at the stream. If he were on his own, he would spend most of his time on the hunt, sleeping as his wild brethren did, briefly and with little cover. If he were with someone else, he still might do that. But Sergio didn’t have a defensible enough shift, or any strange kickass Keeper powers. He had weapons, sure, but muscle and metal meant little when mutants roamed the woods. Jace wouldn’t leave some city-boy to the mercy of winter-starved beasts. Or the cold, he amended, with a glance at the shivering man. Leading the way through the trees, he shifted back, letting his form roll up to human height. He collected the pack, frowning at Sergio as he slung it over his shoulder. “I’m guessing that no one ever took you aside for extra winter survival training, right? Or offered you better winter gear? Bastardi pigri,” he muttered, moving off again. Raising his voice back to a conversational level, he continued, “There’s a difference between being given tips and generic pointers and actually being educated. Most shifters handle the cold well, so they skimp on the details, but you’re clearly not one of them.” Several minutes later, after walking steadily west, he found the snow-covered jumble of boulders he was looking for. He approached cautiously, in case someone else was already there, but the snow was undisturbed and his telepathy picked up no one in the vicinity. With a brief, pleased hum, he dropped the pack into the curve of the C shape the boulders formed and rubbed his cold hands briskly together. The snow was deep there, due to shelter from the wind, but that would suit their purposes. “So let me guess - they told you to dig a hole in a snowbank, and that’s about it. Here’s what we’ll do...” Jace explained the concept, how they would dig a hollow against the wall of boulders, lay branches around it in a lean-to formation, and pack snow against the outside. He would shift and dig out the hollow, and Sergio could collect the brush they’d need. “Here, though -” He pulled off his jacket and passed it over, then slid back into his cougar form. “Don’t go too far.” With that, he turned away and waded over to the boulders, large paws scooping away the snow.

[Sergio Lisciotti]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; height:530px; background-image:url(http://i45.tinypic.com/xomj9s.jpg)] Keep them. His brows arched slightly, but the Fulsi did not protest. On the contrary, he was relieved. He tugged the gloves back on, and after a moment of beating back his pride, he said, "Thanks." Quite frankly, relearning these hunting tricks had been a relief in the wintertime. Sergio followed the other man through the trees, stepping in his tracks to keep from stumbling. He could hardly imagine being alone right now in the freezing cold--he would be dead. It wasn't that his teacher's had been bad, particularly. Merely that Sergio was indolent and they hadn't thought to point out some of the basics, or they thought he could handle himself. His knowledge of the forest had consisted of knowing that there were trees. And animals. "Yeah, that sums it up." His interest was piqued by the Italian phrase. It was spoken well. He stored that information away for later use. He might have added on to his comment had it not been for the fact that they had reached an alcove of boulders. Sergio's shoulders hunched against both the cold and the idea. He recognized the area, at least the concept of it. He had listened some in his lessons. He figured they would be making one of those shitty holes-in-the-snow. By the time Jace spoke, and finished explaining, Sergio wasn't particularly ecstatic, but he was certainly pleased with the idea of being warm. Not to mention, Everlast wasn't a bad looking guy. If he had to be stuck in a space that big, at least it wouldn't be with someone hideous. Sergio smirked. "Alright. Sounds better than being out here in the cold, anyway." Sergio took the jacket with a thankful nod, shrugging it on a moment later. He felt like it wouldn't do much to dethaw him immediately, but at least it buffered the wind. Sergio pulled the machete out of his belt and started off toward the surrounding forest. This was easy enough. He hacked away some of the lower tree branches. He made a pile of them, evergreens with their thick branches and bristles. At one point, he thought he heard the brush snap, and his head jerked up. Analoya didn't scare him; he just thought he ought to have a healthy respect for animals that outweighed him by hundreds of pounds. He had to admit, he was fantasizing about his bed in Bensonhurst. Feather pillows, thick blankets, Romeo. He rubbed at the scar on his nose before resheathing the machete. He wasn't eager to remain out of sight for long. He aligned the branches and grabbed the biggest by the cut-off point. A few minutes later, and he had dragged the mass of them back to the boulders, almost taking a different route back. His mouth took on a lopsided smirk. "In one of these things, we'll get hot and sweaty in no time. What else do you need me to do?"

[Jace]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 498px; height: 480px; background-image:url(http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x363/DoomBunniBins/tables/jacetbl.png)] Repressing the feline instinct to romp around and roll in the snow, Jace industrially cleaned out a hollow. While he worked, he kept one ear twisted in the direction the other Fulsi had gone. It was easier - and more accurate - to keep tabs with his telepathy, but that was invasive and draining, and it made his head ache if he focused it so sharply. As long as Sergio hadn’t gone far, he would hopefully hear any ruckus in the normal way. It appeared that ruckus wasn’t a problem, though, given that the other hunter returned quickly enough. Jace snorted at him. “Let’s set these...” He shifted back to human, grimacing as the wind cut through his shirt, but made no move to reclaim his jacket. Instead he began laying branches, pressing the blunt ends into the snow, leaning them up against the rocks. It only took a minute to arrange them suitably, then he shifted again and began shoving and piling the snow, packing it around the framework. They completely sealed off one end, but left a gap at the other to act as a doorway, with a cleared space of bare stone just outside it. Satisfied, Jace sat back and glanced at the sky between the tree branches, then pawed the remaining wood into a small heap in the cleared spot. “It’ll be dusk in about an hour. You can start a fire if you like - I’ll go check the snares, and see if I can catch anything. I won’t be far. Stay here, and I’ll be back before dark." With that, he slipped over the top of the boulders and back into the forest proper. The snares were empty, but he hadn’t really expected otherwise, not when they’d just been set. After giving them a quick check, Jace settled beside a thicket just out of range of the boulders. If Sergio yelled, he’d hear, but it wasn’t close enough for the presence of a human to scare off any game. And sure enough, as dusk settled in, the small creatures came out and about. He returned to their little camp with a plump snowshoe hare hanging from his jaws, just as the first stars were becoming visible overhead. Deciding that the opportunity was too good to pass up, he dropped the hare beside the small fire, right in front of Sergio. Then he sat, tail curling around his feet, and looked up at the man with an expectant expression and the mrrow? of an oversized house cat. Except house cats usually brought their owners mice as presents, not three pound rabbits. After a pause, he ignored the other shifter, licking the back of a paw and drawing it across his face, cleaning his whiskers. Mostly, he wanted to see if the hunter knew how to clean and dress a catch. They could eat some of it, and bury the rest in the snow to keep until they headed home.

[Sergio Lisciotti]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; height:530px; background-image:url(http://i45.tinypic.com/xomj9s.jpg)] If Sergio was being frank, one of the reasons he hadn't gotten a good lesson in "mid-winter for building", was because they had wanted it taught in a group to save Hunters. And? He'd gotten stuck by a couple six-foot-four guys, unable to see over their shoulders. He gave up standing on his tiptoes, lost interest, and went to picking at his nails with a KA-Bar. He stood with his arms crossed, rubbing heat into his biceps. It didn't work well, but at least with Jace's jacket he wasn't shivering anymore, and he decided that the puma shifter could have left a much worse smell in the collar of it. Serg, no matter how grudging he was about the whole thing, figured that survival skills were good to have. He had taken mental note of how Jace was making the little "shelter" (it looked a whole lot more like a circle of sticks and a hole in the snow). "Yeah, yeah. Fire. Gotcha." Sounded like a good idea, though. And it was something Sergio knew how to do. He went looking for drier wood, found some in the alcoves of trees, and returned to their little hovel feeling quite satisfied with himself. In a few minutes (and after a few frustrated tries) he got a fire burning, and rewarded himself with a cigarette. He was smoking by the time Jace got back. His brow arched as the puma dropped the hare, first in confusion, and then in disbelief. Christ. Boy wasn't thinking he was going to clean that sucker, was he? Mrrow. He did. He definitely did. Sergio stubbed out the cigarette and picked the rabbit up by the hind legs, wrinkling his nose. "Never liked cats 'cause of this," he said, but it was a lighthearted jab, and he sat on the edge of a nearby rock to begin cleaning the damned thing. Or. Skinning and then cleaning, he remembered, right before he began the sharp incision that would have turned the rabbits insides into its outsides. Serg was guessing that Jace probably saw the mistake, too. He offered a sharp smile before returning to work, removing the gloves and placing them in his lap. Uh. So. Guts. He started the incision at the groin, up, and precise. He spread the ribs and opening, and then proceeded to carefully remove the intestines. Gross. After that was done with, he methodically began to remove the fur of the catch, which took a while, before he proceeded to lay it out flat on the rock beside him. He raised his eyes to Jace, nose still wrinkled, and said, "This is disgusting." He stood up, however, satisfied with his work. "I hope the kitty's hungry. I put a lotta work into making this clean for you." He said this devilishly, a notch to his chin. He went to the pile of scraps left over from creating the shelter, and proceeded to find a relatively long branch with few other branches attached. He broke the remaining ones off and proceeded to fix the rabbit to the end. He moved closer to Jace, now, and sat beside him. He set to cooking it. He'd had this Tenderfoot duty often enough to know what he was doing.