C A T A C L Y S M [Tain] Feb 3, 2015 3:15:08 GMT -5
Post by Py Ackerman on Feb 3, 2015 3:15:08 GMT -5
P Y T H A G O R A S | A C K E R M A N
A gust of wind broke through the bend of the cliff they were currently scaling, and Py adjusted his jacket collar tighter about his neck, glancing up at the sky with a look of extreme trepidation. The clouds were dark and grey, fit to burst, and all signs seemed to point that they would soon be on the receiving end of another fresh bout of snow. His fellow hunters would be most unimpressed by this, to be sure, considering the blizzard from before had only recently subsided. It was cold though; not cold enough for the frost’s bite to do much harm since it was only early winter, but still enough to turn Py’s cheeks pink and coat the ground in thin layers of ice.
Despite this, Py had been willing enough to volunteer himself for one of the small scouting patrols being sent out that day, a quiet hand raised among many eager ones. With the Carna’s sudden and unexpected change in leadership, patrols were more frequent and terrain that hadn’t been considered patrol-priority was suddenly being scouted out. With his experience and backhand knowledge of the cliffs from prior hunts, Py was deemed sound enough to send out on a team of two on what would be a dubious trek. From what the hunter could gather, Jocelyn would make a firm but fair leader in this ragtag ring he called a home. She had a steady way about her that would lend stability to them all. However, he nearly snarled a protest of frustration when the one person he’d been avoiding in all of Carna managed to become his partner. His plus one, he supposed. Tain. That, he thought, was not the least bit fair. So, being the little shit that he was, Py hadn’t bothered to tell him where exactly they were scouting, having figured he could check with their alpha if he truly wanted to know.
For the most part, he tried his best to ignore him, as he’d been doing for the last few weeks. He exchanged clipped words and short sentences if he had to, but made no effort to engage in any sort of conversation. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to ignore him, though. Half of him wanted to shake him, ask him, ‘what the HELL, man?’, talk it out, the other half wanted to snarl at him in anger, clip his jaw with a fist, and a small part of him – a very small part that he had to bury down whenever he felt it begin to rise painfully in his chest, was on the verge of some sort of breakdown. Ignoring Tain was his only way of coping with that, because if he made eye contact with him, if he held that pale gaze for a fraction of a second longer than he had to, the tide would rise up and swallow him whole.
The revelations in the cages had left him feeling torn and vulnerable, and the worst part was that he had no one to turn to for advice or reassurance that everything would be okay. Max and Vince were concerned for him, knew that something was off, but the extent of his explanation to them thus far had been ‘boyfriend troubles’. They’d encouraged him to try and make peace with Tain, but anytime he considered it, the complicated nature of the situation always flooded back into his thoughts, making him balk. Knowing he’d been lied to for the better part of a year was a real mood killer.
Still, as he heard Tain’s footfalls behind him, and the scattered sounds of pebbles being loosened and kicked, he couldn’t help but feel the familiar pangs of affection for him that always seemed to crop up at the most inconvenient times. His feelings for him in that regards hadn’t changed a lick, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Presently, he was reminded of one of their first hunting trips, and how lousy of a hunter Tain had been because he kept scaring off prey with careless footsteps.
And it provoked Py enough that he actually decided to warn the other man as he reached the top of a ledge. Glancing back over his shoulder, he called, “Mind the edge, yeah? Stay on the inside and watch your footing, the ground’s shit. Don’t be breaking an ankle out here. Won't do you any good.” It was probably the most he’d said to him in the past five days combined. The hunter was, as it were, not quite heeding his own advice, preferring to keep to the outer edges to track the flow of the river as they headed against its direction. They were scouting along the Torrentem Cliffs, following a loose trail into the mountain pass that was home to the Lawaii, the river below a low rumbling mess of currents that eventually fed into the bay. The further along they got, the worse the terrain seemed to get, and as afternoon slipped by and snow began to blow again, Py began to wonder if his luck had finally run out.