Blood. [ The word is huffed out through clenched teeth. ] I could sense yours and hear your heart beating before you even entered the room, that's how powerful it is. And people outside ... there are a few that I can make out, too, because they're close enough.
[ He looks at his own hand, still pressed against Dearka's chest, and thinks that it'd be pretty easy to just grab him, whether it's enough to sink his teeth into him or to even just draw blood in some, any other way. But is it him that actually thinks that, or is it just this manic craving lurking in the back of his mind?
Yzak is briefly pulled out of that focus when his eyes move from his hand to Dearka's face, and ... the rest of him. At least they match in that they both have newly grown fangs now. But everything else?
He gives him a slow once over, sees his tail idly sway behind him, as if trying to gauge how he feels about this. The claws, the hair (fuzz? fur?), the way he looked just a couple of moments ago when he entered... ]
[Blood. The word echoes in his ears, and his heart rate seems to quicken in response. That's... Okay, maybe that should be disgusting, but it's also kind of... Hm. That is... Well, there's a reason there's so much fiction around such monsters that has a sort of kinky, romantic air to it, right? HMMMMM...
Yzak's comment snaps him out of following that train of thought. He blinks, and then barks(lol) an incredulous laugh.]
Give me a break... You can't tell me that when I haven't even had a chance to look at myself in the mirror yet.
[ Dearka will feel his fingers tense slightly a couple of times against him, before Yzak finally rips his hand away - feeling his heart like that as well is making this a hundred times worse. ]
At least you can see yourself in a mirror.
[ He takes a step back, and gives a wave to the bathroom, hoping that Dearka will at least temporarily put some distance between them to do just that. ]
Not that that even matters so much right now anyway!
[ Yzak finds himself pacing, trying to focus even though these new, heightened senses are attempting to catch his attention from all directions. Dearka so close to him, he can hear more people outside. And he's just become aware that a fight breaking out a larger distance away just got worse because he can pick up on some sudden spikes of that scent of blood. ]
Is it just physical? Your changes? Or have you noticed anything else?
[He will! He WILL go take a look! At Yzak's gesturing, he slinks off into the bathroom like a good boy and approaches the mirror to see exactly what the damage is...
...Honestly, it's not anywhere near as bad as he was expecting. But then again, maybe he should have known better when the assessment of "appalling" was coming from Captain Fussy over there. Dearka won't deny that the changes ARE weird though; the teeth are sort of the most uncanny thing, flashing white as he bares them to take a closer look. But the ears aren't so bad if he just keeps them held against his head when he's looking at himself, and the scruff... Honestly, he thinks it adds a sort of ruggedness to his appearance that he could work with??
By his assessment, most of this stuff he can live with, for however long this lasts. There are just two actually annoying aspects to his state that he's presently aware of: One is his clothing being, just, fucked right up. So many popped seams...
...The other thing... Is something more instinctual. It's that sort of relentless, restless energy that's pulsing through his veins, the nagging urge to burst outside under the wide-open sky and chase, hunt, brawl, live. Basically: he feels like a rowdy dog that hasn't had enough exercise or something.
Case and point: he doesn't answer Yzak's question right away, because he's also picking up on that fight which is happening some distance away, by both scent and sound. His ears prick up with interest, and he starts staring really intensely at the wall in the direction of the fight, as if he can just see right through it. The extra ruff of hair on his neck is also starting to bristle and stand on end, and unconsciously, his fingers tighten around the lip of the sink. A soft, annoyed growl starts to build in his throat.]
[ Yzak pulls in a deep breath, slowly letting it out through his nose, trying to shake off the distractions. He's tense, nervous (more afraid, really, but he's hard-pressed to admit that even to himself), but determined and thus mentally, he's pushing back as hard as he can against everything because he wants to think. To figure this out, plan out some way to ... he doesn't know what. Fight it? Stop it altogether? Deal with it?
Maybe deal with it, if the former two options are impossible. Dealing sounds better to him than embracing right now when he feels as thought he doesn't have a firmer handle on things. And he hates feeling like he lacks control of things, especially when it comes to himself. ]
Dearka?
[ He calls when he realizes he not only doesn't answer but doesn't say much of anything in those few beats of silence. ]
[Dearka's not not trying to think of solutions, but... As usual, being the guy who backs up the leader kind of just suits his tastes and demeanor better. Generally speaking, his job is to stay calm so he can maintain support and defuse his high strung friend when he gets too wound up. Right? He's the rock. They can't both be freaking out over here, no matter how alarming their monstrous changes may be.
At least, that's the sort of energy he was attempting bring, and the role he was trying to settle back into... Up until these noises from down the street caught his attention. Now he's just, no thoughts, only focusing on that, energy levels rising--
Yzak's voice snaps Dearka out of it with a small jolt, and he grits his fangs and shakes his head, trying to further clear his thoughts.]
Ah-- Sorry, I just... Nevermind. What was it you were asking again?
[He emerges from the bathroom and slouches against the door frame, his shoulders unusually tense.]
[ Yzak's brows knit together in concern; and the concern is a godsend, to be perfectly honest. This awful ferocity he feels simmering inside him isn't entirely unlike the whirlwind of adrenaline on the battlefield. Emotions clashing together, confusion intertwined with the desperate need to survive... he's been in similar places before.
And it's Dearka who acts as a tether, not allowing him to stray in one direction or let any of those feelings overtake him, because him and his safety are that important to Yzak. That's been proven on more than one occasion, and that's the case right now as he notes Dearka's demeanor. ]
I asked, [ He repeats, voice now edged with that tone that says he's got a sense that Dearka's feeling as off kilter as he is right now. And though he may sort of know the answer now, he still continues, set on this because he wants clearer ones. ] if what's going on with you is more than just those physical changes.
[He straightens up a little at the edge in Yzak's tone, caught off guard by how pointed that question is... Which, he really shouldn't be. It's not at all odd that Yzak would pick up so easily on the information that something is off.
Dearka sighs in defeat and forces himself to relax again at least a bit. There's really no sense in hiding this...]
Nothing like what you mentioned. But... I feel restless. It's like I have all of this excess of energy bottled up in side me...
[The sentence ends with something of an irritated growl. The more he reflects on it, the more aware he becomes of it. Like an itch deep under his skin that he can't possibly scratch...]
He can't tell if that's a good thing or just an entirely different problem that they're going to have to deal with here. ]
Restless energy... [ He repeats, lowkey glad that Dearka stays where he is. For all that this wave of his stubborn determination is helping, it doesn't mute the din in the back of his mind entirely that keeps trying to turn his attentions elsewhere.
Yzak moves to the edge of the couch, leaning back to half-sit on the armrest, one hand dropping to brace himself there properly. He tips his head down and focuses his gaze on the small pile of books on the sidetable in front of him. ]
Lycanthropy has just as many variations in their tales as vampirism does. And in a place like this ... [ His other hand comes up to run through his hair, frustrated, and his wings reflect the frustration by shaking a few times, somewhat like the tapping of one's fingers when they're nervous. ] who the hell knows if there's not something brand new going on that we've never even heard of before!
[ Yzak shuts his eyes. ] Does it feel ... aggressive? That restlessness. Like it's telling you you've got to do something to pacify it?
That's what this feels like to me. [ The hand in his hair comes down to his mouth, and Yzak again lightly thumbs against one of his fangs, his voice growing lower and more urgent as he continues on. ] Only it's sating a hunger so I don't starve. But if I keep ignoring it...
[Dearka pointedly continues to remain where he is, but his eyes follow Yzak as he moves. He's also still tense. He's leaning heavily against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, claws digging into his forearms. He's listening, but he's also growing increasingly more restless the longer he stands here.]
...If you keep ignoring it, you might lose control. That's what you're thinking, right?
[He doesn't wait for an answer. There's a bit of an impatient edge to his words, an irritability that's somewhat uncharacteristic.]
Yeah, that's how I feel too. I think staying out of the moonlight might be keeping me in check, but... All I want to do right now is get outside and run.
[And then hunt. And bite. And who the hell knows what else.]
[ He runs his thumb over his fang one more time, before he slides his hand over his mouth entirely. ]
And it feels disgusting. Worse yet is that we know from experience that we can't do anything to get rid of it and are just going to have to deal until it's over! [ And also from experience, it's afflictions and changes like these that Yzak deals the worst with; ones that threaten or outright take his autonomy.
His eyes move back to Dearka again. Run sounds nearly ... innocent when put so simply. But even Yzak knows that feeling most likely belies much more. Not just from his own passing knowledge of werewolves from legends, but the way that even Dearka's outline in the doorway is so much more ... pronounced, larger even though he's trying to remain normal and calm, like there's something deeper in there fighting to come out... ]
With the way nearly everybody else is acting right now, you're going to end up doing more than running if you go out there.
[ ... ]
Which will probably make you start to act worse, too. [ He continues on, more thinking outloud at this point. ] But what the hell are we supposed to do, just stay in here? That doesn't seem like the best idea, either. Perhaps wait until the sun comes up and see if things calm down enough by then...?
[Until the sun comes up... It hits Dearka then: will Yzak even be able to go outside during the daytime like this? He feels a knot tighten in his stomach at the thought. Vampires pretty famously don't do well in the daylight! But the very idea of their lives being disrupted in such a drastic way...
...Probably better not to point that out right now. The man's stressed out enough as is, and they have a long ways to go until daybreak... And some pretty powerful instincts to try and keep in check in the meantime.]
You're probably right about that. [That going outside will make it worse.] I guess I don't know for sure, but. It feels true. I'm more likely to launch myself out one of those windows than I am to make it to sunrise like this, though.
[He thinks in silence for a moment. The clear issue here, to his mind, is that they need to a find a way to deal with these instincts. Either by sating them directly, or by alleviating them some other way...
........Ah.
Dearka looks up again suddenly, his expression serious as he tries to catch Yzak's eye.]
[ Yzak's expression makes up for the fact that Dearka isn't a mind-reader, but he can probably nearly hear the mental record-scratch that Yzak's brain does at that suggestion. All other thoughts about what he just said there about launching himself out of a window are ... well, thrown out the window.
He sits straight up, shoulders squaring as he turns his head to give Dearka the most flabbergasted of looks. ]
What!?
[ There's a small flip in the pit of his stomach, something excited, something begging yes in response to the offer. ]
[That reaction is honestly so predictable, it actually brings a little smirk to Dearka's face. He laughs and dips his head slightly, gazing up and over at Yzak with one eye closed, one open.]
Why not? You're worried you won't be able to stop? Sounds to me like that'll be even more of a risk if you continue to put off feeding for too long... Might as well do it now, while you're still able to exert some control. Right?
[ Yzak pushes off of his hand braced on the armrest of the couch to stand, fully turning to face Dearka. He might as well be the werewolf with the hackles raised here, but his wings sway, extending and contracting as if adding that extra bit of gestured emphasis to what he says as he speaks. ]
What would something like that do to you? It could change you into something ... [ He gestures a hand at Dearka's form. ] else. Something worse, or more dangerous.
That's even assuming it can do anything if it doesn't just kill you! [ The way he argues, it's almost as if he's doing it with himself as much as Dearka, trying to keep down that want to leap at the offer. And now that he's raising his voice, those fangs of his are all too noticeable. ] And I'm not just talking about if I can't stop - because as long as I can feel even a shred of my own will I'm not just going to roll over and let myself be controlled by some animalistic compulsion anyway! But there are plenty of tales out there that tell of bites being poisonous, paralytic.
I obviously don't want to hurt or kill anybody, but least of all you!
[Yzak rattles off half a dozen perfectly legitimate and smart reasons for why they shouldn't try this, but. As he stands there, Dearka is gradually becoming more and more certain that he really wants to try it anyway.
The problem, really, is that he can't just easily brush off the very real fears that Yzak expresses. Dearka knows he would feel similarly, if their positions were reversed. Still: he can't just give up on this that easily. Not when he's convinced this might actually be the ideal solution to their problems...
He with a sigh, he finally pushes off the door frame and stands up to his full and proper height, arms over his chest. He's not trying to loom or anything, but he IS trying to show that he's very serious about this suggestion.]
...I know you don't. So... I'll open up a vein for you. You can feed on me without needing to use your fangs that way.
[ At first, Yzak grimaces at the very mention of opening up a vein because that is not something he would have ever banked on hearing in his entire life, much less in a fucked up context like this.
But the reality of the idea isn't nearly as bad as the initial image it invokes, especially not when Dearka sounds like he intends to be careful. Something small and painless to test the waters, because Yzak isn't even sure what a minute amount of blood is going to do to him, when he can hardly stand things as they are now.
He still has reservations, but he clearly untenses some, his wings folding in more and moving less erratically. Whether Dearka intends to look loomy or not, Yzak doesn't regard him with any sort of fear when he stares, head tipping slightly as he considers whether or not he wants to do this.
The wave of need that courses through him in that moment pushes him a little harder toward his answer. The answer Yzak wishes to choose because if it can help and put his mind in a clearer place, at least until morning, that will be a very good thing. The answer that hunger wants, which is a greedy, near lustful yes. That sensation though, feels a bit like nausea so he brings his hand up loosely to his mouth again, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. He exhales against his own palm with a muttered: ]
I do feel ... like I'm so god damned hungry...
[ Yzak swallows thick, and in his eyes it looks as though he's prepared to say yes. But before he does, he feels the need to add: ]
Variations in Greek legends say it can just as easily be saliva that does something like that. Not just fangs—
[While Yzak argues with himself and takes the time to breathe through this, Dearka waits as patiently as he can manage, given that there's an electric tension thrumming between the two of them. He hasn't quite managed to sort out just why he's so invested in getting a 'yes' from Yzak on this, beyond the obvious factor of concern for someone important to him. If Yzak decides he still doesn't want to try this, they'll just have to figure something else out. Right? It's not that big of a deal...
But just when it seems like he's going to get that 'yes' after all, Yzak starts fretting some more about Greek mythology or something. Dearka, whose ears had been pricked up excitedly for a moment, sighs, closes his eyes... Rubs his forehead for a moment... Lets Yzak continue without really listening...
...Until he can't deal the inaction anymore.
That's when he walks up, pushes Yzak's hand out of the way, and swoops in to shut him up with a kiss. If he's calculating right, hopefully he'll catch him with his mouth already open so he can slip him some tongue all the more easily :/]
[ Well, the kiss is going to prove that it is in fact safe to go the route Dearka just suggested, because as luck would have it, that prattling on about other vampiric lores and potentially poisonous saliva gets debunked in the process. A risky action, but luck is apparently on their side for that much at least.
Yzak perks up when Dearka closes the distance between them, cautious because how else could he be at a sudden movement in such a precariously mysterious time? But when he grabs his hand and leans in to kiss him, that already electric tension sparks even stronger. A common feeling of his regardless, because in reality every time he kisses Dearka he feels that - the flip his heart always makes, the way he feels every nerve in his body light up like something new is awakening in him - and it's a feeling that hasn't waned even if it's come to be something so familiar to him. (but also let's be real yzak is the one who's going to be 15 years into a marriage and still blushing when his feelings get too intense) A noise of surprise gets muffled in his throat as that hand pushed away grips at Dearka's wrist. For what feels like a very long moment, everything in Yzak's body language, including the way his wings perk straight up behind him, is rigid...
Until it can't help but erode when the kiss is held for a beat, two beats, and maybe it's because of the way his own body's changed, but the warmth of his tongue and the slightly different feeling Dearka's mouth feels against his with his own changes are little details he picks up on so much more easier right now. For that moment, it feels ... nice, as it always does, and oh that it could remain that way because how Yzak would love just let himself melt into it more than he's already begun to.
But he realizes how easily he could bite down on Dearka's tongue. On his lips. How easily he could tear into him and how part of him desperately wants to. And this close where he can feel Dearka's heartbeat as loudly as he can his own is near deafening and dangerous and— ]
[ The hand around Dearka's wrist tightens, and his other hand drops onto his shoulder. He pulls his head back to break the kiss with a low, needy exhale (maybe not quite the needy it would usually be, though) and push him back - push, not shove, so his hands remain where they are and he's still basically face to face with the other man as his own face scrunches up, flushed and scowling. ]
[It's certainly a strange experience kissing him like this, being so different and yet so familiar... But it's an experience Dearka thoroughly enjoys, and he feels the wild instincts churning inside of him flare up in excitement. He's not at all worried about Yzak taking a bite out of him, frankly.... He doesn't mean for this kiss to last too long, anyway. Long enough to shut Yzak up, and long enough to trace those sharp new fangs of his with his tongue. That's all. While they're locked together, he brings a hand up to cup the reluctant vampire's chin, gentle but firm, conveying that he's not completely throwing caution to the wind here.
Then they part. Yzak splutters, and despite the fact that he didn't exactly pull that stunt as a joke, Dearka snorts, and laughs. He gives Yzak a razor sharp grin in reply, allowing himself to be pushed away easily. He feels alive and overjoyed, contrary to Yzak's primary concern against them swapping spit.]
Yeah, I did say that, and we will. But think about it: if your spit WAS toxic to me, that would absolutely suck, y'know? [For a lot of different reasons.] So I decided to take the initiative and test things out, instead of wasting more time quibbling about it. That way if it DID kill me, at least I knew I'd go out doing what I love.
[He winks, and smirks obnoxiously, tail wagging behind him.]
That's the most ridiculous explanation I've ever heard!
[ And yet, the way Dearka can so easily just talk like that with that grin on his (weird hairy dog) face and without so much of a stutter or a shred of awkwardness; going out doing what he loved... ugh. it's enviable because those sentiments are tougher for Yzak to put out there. Enviable, and mentally Yzak attaches to those words because sometimes he wonders if Dearka realizes just how powerful remarks like that are, driving straight into his heart whether they have a playful, flirty edge to them or not.
Now that there's a small distance between them, he can really feel that lack of warmth so much prominently. ]
Really, talking so nonchalantly about dying like that...! [ He lets out one of those growly, overdramatic sighs, the sort he makes when he's shaking something off. Because it didn't happen, it's fine, and he wishes to keep his sights on the issues directly in front of them. ] It might well have happened if you'd kept that up for much longer. [ His eyes flick up under his bangs to look at him with the seriousness his tone takes on, the suggestiveness in them clear enough about what sort of urges passed in that moment. He holds Dearka's gaze, letting that shift back to more dire matters set in. ]
Let's do this, then. But on one condition.
[ He still feels the phantom touch of Dearkas hand to his chin, gentle but holding back a much stronger potential. Which is exactly where this thought sprouts from. ]
If I start doing anything weird or off, [ Anything they've spoken of; a loss of control, a step into danger or some life-threatening frenzy; Yzak says that with a heavy emphasis on the trust he has in Dearka to make a call of what and where that line is. ] then you stop it. Even if you need to break my jaw to do it.
[Despite his jokey attitude of a few moments ago, Dearka is listening and taking this very seriously. He doesn't look particularly pleased to be given an order of that nature (seriously? You want him to bust up your BEAUTIFUL FACE???), but. He also isn't saying 'no'.]
Eghh... I'd really prefer to do this without having to resort to such drastic measures, you know... But. [He sighs.] Yes sir, commander sir... Understood.
[Leaning back in, he takes ahold of Yzak's chin in one hand again, gently brushing his thumb along the jawbone in question. Their eyes lock. He murmurs a simple question:]
[ The look Yzak gives him at that first statement, one corner of his mouth slightly pulled up says it all; that goes without saying. Because he shares the same sentiment, he would also like his (beautiful) face to remain completely intact, here. However, as a soldier, he knows full well that he puts his entire self on the line, body and soul - emphasis on body in this case. And always in that mindset, for the sake of something important he doesn't second guess it, prepare to give what he must.
Dearka's heartbeat is like a drum in his ears, quick and rhythmic and drawing him in as if trying to put him under a spell. Feeling those fingers on his skin again, he glances down where he just makes out the tip of Dearka's thumb. ]
You're the one with the claws. [ Still holding onto his other wrist, he tugs to bring his hand in, turning it so it's facing palm up. ] Just don't overdo it— something small.
[ He stares at those veins on his wrist, unaware of the way his eyes dilate and his wings twitch, like a predator preparing to pounce. Because despite his great stubborn ability to fight it, fuck, he's so hungry. ]
[What's that thing they say about there being a thin line between fear and attraction...? Or something like that, anyway? The specifics don't matter, just the general idea is correct here. Dearka is watching the unfamiliar little predatory twitches and quirks that Yzak is displaying, and stirs up a very odd mix of emotions. It's sort of gratifying, to be wanted in such a desperate way; to have something that someone craves so badly, and to be able to provide it. But it also causes him pain to see this person he loves having to fight so desperately against such unnatural instincts.
Frowning, Dearka nods in affirmation.]
Alright. Let me see...
[Yzak's the genius when it comes to close quarters and hand to hand combat, but Dearka's obviously no slouch at it either. At the very least, he knows exactly where to avoid cutting, provided he doesn't want to cause a huge mess and possibly bleed out all over the place. He lets go of Yzak's chin and hovers hand over wrist for a moment, considering his options carefully.
Don't worry, partner... I'll make sure you're back in control soon enough.
He presses the point of a claw to his skin and draws a quick line without hesitation, grimacing only slightly from the pain. Immediately, bright red blood starts to well up along the cut.]
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no subject
[ He looks at his own hand, still pressed against Dearka's chest, and thinks that it'd be pretty easy to just grab him, whether it's enough to sink his teeth into him or to even just draw blood in some, any other way. But is it him that actually thinks that, or is it just this manic craving lurking in the back of his mind?
Yzak is briefly pulled out of that focus when his eyes move from his hand to Dearka's face, and ... the rest of him. At least they match in that they both have newly grown fangs now. But everything else?
He gives him a slow once over, sees his tail idly sway behind him, as if trying to gauge how he feels about this. The claws, the hair (fuzz? fur?), the way he looked just a couple of moments ago when he entered... ]
—you look appalling.
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Yzak's comment snaps him out of following that train of thought. He blinks, and then barks(lol) an incredulous laugh.]
Give me a break... You can't tell me that when I haven't even had a chance to look at myself in the mirror yet.
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At least you can see yourself in a mirror.
[ He takes a step back, and gives a wave to the bathroom, hoping that Dearka will at least temporarily put some distance between them to do just that. ]
Not that that even matters so much right now anyway!
[ Yzak finds himself pacing, trying to focus even though these new, heightened senses are attempting to catch his attention from all directions. Dearka so close to him, he can hear more people outside. And he's just become aware that a fight breaking out a larger distance away just got worse because he can pick up on some sudden spikes of that scent of blood. ]
Is it just physical? Your changes? Or have you noticed anything else?
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like a good boyand approaches the mirror to see exactly what the damage is......Honestly, it's not anywhere near as bad as he was expecting. But then again, maybe he should have known better when the assessment of "appalling" was coming from Captain Fussy over there. Dearka won't deny that the changes ARE weird though; the teeth are sort of the most uncanny thing, flashing white as he bares them to take a closer look. But the ears aren't so bad if he just keeps them held against his head when he's looking at himself, and the scruff... Honestly, he thinks it adds a sort of ruggedness to his appearance that he could work with??
By his assessment, most of this stuff he can live with, for however long this lasts. There are just two actually annoying aspects to his state that he's presently aware of: One is his clothing being, just, fucked right up. So many popped seams...
...The other thing... Is something more instinctual. It's that sort of relentless, restless energy that's pulsing through his veins, the nagging urge to burst outside under the wide-open sky and chase, hunt, brawl, live. Basically: he feels like a rowdy dog that hasn't had enough exercise or something.
Case and point: he doesn't answer Yzak's question right away, because he's also picking up on that fight which is happening some distance away, by both scent and sound. His ears prick up with interest, and he starts staring really intensely at the wall in the direction of the fight, as if he can just see right through it. The extra ruff of hair on his neck is also starting to bristle and stand on end, and unconsciously, his fingers tighten around the lip of the sink. A soft, annoyed growl starts to build in his throat.]
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Maybe deal with it, if the former two options are impossible. Dealing sounds better to him than embracing right now when he feels as thought he doesn't have a firmer handle on things. And he hates feeling like he lacks control of things, especially when it comes to himself. ]
Dearka?
[ He calls when he realizes he not only doesn't answer but doesn't say much of anything in those few beats of silence. ]
no subject
At least, that's the sort of energy he was attempting bring, and the role he was trying to settle back into... Up until these noises from down the street caught his attention. Now he's just, no thoughts, only focusing on that, energy levels rising--
Yzak's voice snaps Dearka out of it with a small jolt, and he grits his fangs and shakes his head, trying to further clear his thoughts.]
Ah-- Sorry, I just... Nevermind. What was it you were asking again?
[He emerges from the bathroom and slouches against the door frame, his shoulders unusually tense.]
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And it's Dearka who acts as a tether, not allowing him to stray in one direction or let any of those feelings overtake him, because him and his safety are that important to Yzak. That's been proven on more than one occasion, and that's the case right now as he notes Dearka's demeanor. ]
I asked, [ He repeats, voice now edged with that tone that says he's got a sense that Dearka's feeling as off kilter as he is right now. And though he may sort of know the answer now, he still continues, set on this because he wants clearer ones. ] if what's going on with you is more than just those physical changes.
no subject
Dearka sighs in defeat and forces himself to relax again at least a bit. There's really no sense in hiding this...]
Nothing like what you mentioned. But... I feel restless. It's like I have all of this excess of energy bottled up in side me...
[The sentence ends with something of an irritated growl. The more he reflects on it, the more aware he becomes of it. Like an itch deep under his skin that he can't possibly scratch...]
no subject
He can't tell if that's a good thing or just an entirely different problem that they're going to have to deal with here. ]
Restless energy... [ He repeats, lowkey glad that Dearka stays where he is. For all that this wave of his stubborn determination is helping, it doesn't mute the din in the back of his mind entirely that keeps trying to turn his attentions elsewhere.
Yzak moves to the edge of the couch, leaning back to half-sit on the armrest, one hand dropping to brace himself there properly. He tips his head down and focuses his gaze on the small pile of books on the sidetable in front of him. ]
Lycanthropy has just as many variations in their tales as vampirism does. And in a place like this ... [ His other hand comes up to run through his hair, frustrated, and his wings reflect the frustration by shaking a few times, somewhat like the tapping of one's fingers when they're nervous. ] who the hell knows if there's not something brand new going on that we've never even heard of before!
[ Yzak shuts his eyes. ] Does it feel ... aggressive? That restlessness. Like it's telling you you've got to do something to pacify it?
That's what this feels like to me. [ The hand in his hair comes down to his mouth, and Yzak again lightly thumbs against one of his fangs, his voice growing lower and more urgent as he continues on. ] Only it's sating a hunger so I don't starve. But if I keep ignoring it...
no subject
...If you keep ignoring it, you might lose control. That's what you're thinking, right?
[He doesn't wait for an answer. There's a bit of an impatient edge to his words, an irritability that's somewhat uncharacteristic.]
Yeah, that's how I feel too. I think staying out of the moonlight might be keeping me in check, but... All I want to do right now is get outside and run.
[And then hunt. And bite. And who the hell knows what else.]
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[ He runs his thumb over his fang one more time, before he slides his hand over his mouth entirely. ]
And it feels disgusting. Worse yet is that we know from experience that we can't do anything to get rid of it and are just going to have to deal until it's over! [ And also from experience, it's afflictions and changes like these that Yzak deals the worst with; ones that threaten or outright take his autonomy.
His eyes move back to Dearka again. Run sounds nearly ... innocent when put so simply. But even Yzak knows that feeling most likely belies much more. Not just from his own passing knowledge of werewolves from legends, but the way that even Dearka's outline in the doorway is so much more ... pronounced, larger even though he's trying to remain normal and calm, like there's something deeper in there fighting to come out... ]
With the way nearly everybody else is acting right now, you're going to end up doing more than running if you go out there.
[ ... ]
Which will probably make you start to act worse, too. [ He continues on, more thinking outloud at this point. ] But what the hell are we supposed to do, just stay in here? That doesn't seem like the best idea, either. Perhaps wait until the sun comes up and see if things calm down enough by then...?
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...Probably better not to point that out right now. The man's stressed out enough as is, and they have a long ways to go until daybreak... And some pretty powerful instincts to try and keep in check in the meantime.]
You're probably right about that. [That going outside will make it worse.] I guess I don't know for sure, but. It feels true. I'm more likely to launch myself out one of those windows than I am to make it to sunrise like this, though.
[He thinks in silence for a moment. The clear issue here, to his mind, is that they need to a find a way to deal with these instincts. Either by sating them directly, or by alleviating them some other way...
........Ah.
Dearka looks up again suddenly, his expression serious as he tries to catch Yzak's eye.]
...Yzak. I think you should feed on me.
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He sits straight up, shoulders squaring as he turns his head to give Dearka the most flabbergasted of looks. ]
What!?
[ There's a small flip in the pit of his stomach, something excited, something begging yes in response to the offer. ]
Are you out of your mind!? No!
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Why not? You're worried you won't be able to stop? Sounds to me like that'll be even more of a risk if you continue to put off feeding for too long... Might as well do it now, while you're still able to exert some control. Right?
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[ Yzak pushes off of his hand braced on the armrest of the couch to stand, fully turning to face Dearka. He might as well be the werewolf with the hackles raised here, but his wings sway, extending and contracting as if adding that extra bit of gestured emphasis to what he says as he speaks. ]
What would something like that do to you? It could change you into something ... [ He gestures a hand at Dearka's form. ] else. Something worse, or more dangerous.
That's even assuming it can do anything if it doesn't just kill you! [ The way he argues, it's almost as if he's doing it with himself as much as Dearka, trying to keep down that want to leap at the offer. And now that he's raising his voice, those fangs of his are all too noticeable. ] And I'm not just talking about if I can't stop - because as long as I can feel even a shred of my own will I'm not just going to roll over and let myself be controlled by some animalistic compulsion anyway! But there are plenty of tales out there that tell of bites being poisonous, paralytic.
I obviously don't want to hurt or kill anybody, but least of all you!
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The problem, really, is that he can't just easily brush off the very real fears that Yzak expresses. Dearka knows he would feel similarly, if their positions were reversed. Still: he can't just give up on this that easily. Not when he's convinced this might actually be the ideal solution to their problems...
He with a sigh, he finally pushes off the door frame and stands up to his full and proper height, arms over his chest. He's not trying to loom or anything, but he IS trying to show that he's very serious about this suggestion.]
...I know you don't. So... I'll open up a vein for you. You can feed on me without needing to use your fangs that way.
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But the reality of the idea isn't nearly as bad as the initial image it invokes, especially not when Dearka sounds like he intends to be careful. Something small and painless to test the waters, because Yzak isn't even sure what a minute amount of blood is going to do to him, when he can hardly stand things as they are now.
He still has reservations, but he clearly untenses some, his wings folding in more and moving less erratically. Whether Dearka intends to look loomy or not, Yzak doesn't regard him with any sort of fear when he stares, head tipping slightly as he considers whether or not he wants to do this.
The wave of need that courses through him in that moment pushes him a little harder toward his answer. The answer Yzak wishes to choose because if it can help and put his mind in a clearer place, at least until morning, that will be a very good thing. The answer that hunger wants, which is a greedy, near lustful yes. That sensation though, feels a bit like nausea so he brings his hand up loosely to his mouth again, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. He exhales against his own palm with a muttered: ]
I do feel ... like I'm so god damned hungry...
[ Yzak swallows thick, and in his eyes it looks as though he's prepared to say yes. But before he does, he feels the need to add: ]
Variations in Greek legends say it can just as easily be saliva that does something like that. Not just fangs—
i don't have any smooching icons so you get this,
But just when it seems like he's going to get that 'yes' after all, Yzak starts fretting some more about Greek mythology or something. Dearka, whose ears had been pricked up excitedly for a moment, sighs, closes his eyes... Rubs his forehead for a moment... Lets Yzak continue without really listening...
...Until he can't deal the inaction anymore.
That's when he walks up, pushes Yzak's hand out of the way, and swoops in to shut him up with a kiss. If he's calculating right, hopefully he'll catch him with his mouth already open so he can slip him some tongue all the more easily :/]
this, what this man is attracted to... also 1/2
Yzak perks up when Dearka closes the distance between them, cautious because how else could he be at a sudden movement in such a precariously mysterious time? But when he grabs his hand and leans in to kiss him, that already electric tension sparks even stronger. A common feeling of his regardless, because in reality every time he kisses Dearka he feels that - the flip his heart always makes, the way he feels every nerve in his body light up like something new is awakening in him - and it's a feeling that hasn't waned even if it's come to be something so familiar to him. (but also let's be real yzak is the one who's going to be 15 years into a marriage and still blushing when his feelings get too intense) A noise of surprise gets muffled in his throat as that hand pushed away grips at Dearka's wrist. For what feels like a very long moment, everything in Yzak's body language, including the way his wings perk straight up behind him, is rigid...
Until it can't help but erode when the kiss is held for a beat, two beats, and maybe it's because of the way his own body's changed, but the warmth of his tongue and the slightly different feeling Dearka's mouth feels against his with his own changes are little details he picks up on so much more easier right now. For that moment, it feels ... nice, as it always does, and oh that it could remain that way because how Yzak would love just let himself melt into it more than he's already begun to.
But he realizes how easily he could bite down on Dearka's tongue. On his lips. How easily he could tear into him and how part of him desperately wants to. And this close where he can feel Dearka's heartbeat as loudly as he can his own is near deafening and dangerous and— ]
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W-weren't we going about this carefully!?
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Then they part. Yzak splutters, and despite the fact that he didn't exactly pull that stunt as a joke, Dearka snorts, and laughs. He gives Yzak a razor sharp grin in reply, allowing himself to be pushed away easily. He feels alive and overjoyed, contrary to Yzak's primary concern against them swapping spit.]
Yeah, I did say that, and we will. But think about it: if your spit WAS toxic to me, that would absolutely suck, y'know? [For a lot of different reasons.] So I decided to take the initiative and test things out, instead of wasting more time quibbling about it. That way if it DID kill me, at least I knew I'd go out doing what I love.
[He winks, and smirks obnoxiously, tail wagging behind him.]
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[ And yet, the way Dearka can so easily just talk like that with that grin on his (weird hairy dog) face and without so much of a stutter or a shred of awkwardness; going out doing what he loved... ugh. it's enviable because those sentiments are tougher for Yzak to put out there. Enviable, and mentally Yzak attaches to those words because sometimes he wonders if Dearka realizes just how powerful remarks like that are, driving straight into his heart whether they have a playful, flirty edge to them or not.
Now that there's a small distance between them, he can really feel that lack of warmth so much prominently. ]
Really, talking so nonchalantly about dying like that...! [ He lets out one of those growly, overdramatic sighs, the sort he makes when he's shaking something off. Because it didn't happen, it's fine, and he wishes to keep his sights on the issues directly in front of them. ] It might well have happened if you'd kept that up for much longer. [ His eyes flick up under his bangs to look at him with the seriousness his tone takes on, the suggestiveness in them clear enough about what sort of urges passed in that moment. He holds Dearka's gaze, letting that shift back to more dire matters set in. ]
Let's do this, then. But on one condition.
[ He still feels the phantom touch of Dearkas hand to his chin, gentle but holding back a much stronger potential. Which is exactly where this thought sprouts from. ]
If I start doing anything weird or off, [ Anything they've spoken of; a loss of control, a step into danger or some life-threatening frenzy; Yzak says that with a heavy emphasis on the trust he has in Dearka to make a call of what and where that line is. ] then you stop it. Even if you need to break my jaw to do it.
That is an order.
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Eghh... I'd really prefer to do this without having to resort to such drastic measures, you know... But. [He sighs.] Yes sir, commander sir... Understood.
[Leaning back in, he takes ahold of Yzak's chin in one hand again, gently brushing his thumb along the jawbone in question. Their eyes lock. He murmurs a simple question:]
Now... Where do you want to begin?
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Dearka's heartbeat is like a drum in his ears, quick and rhythmic and drawing him in as if trying to put him under a spell. Feeling those fingers on his skin again, he glances down where he just makes out the tip of Dearka's thumb. ]
You're the one with the claws. [ Still holding onto his other wrist, he tugs to bring his hand in, turning it so it's facing palm up. ] Just don't overdo it— something small.
[ He stares at those veins on his wrist, unaware of the way his eyes dilate and his wings twitch, like a predator preparing to pounce. Because despite his great stubborn ability to fight it, fuck, he's so hungry. ]
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Frowning, Dearka nods in affirmation.]
Alright. Let me see...
[Yzak's the genius when it comes to close quarters and hand to hand combat, but Dearka's obviously no slouch at it either. At the very least, he knows exactly where to avoid cutting, provided he doesn't want to cause a huge mess and possibly bleed out all over the place. He lets go of Yzak's chin and hovers hand over wrist for a moment, considering his options carefully.
Don't worry, partner... I'll make sure you're back in control soon enough.
He presses the point of a claw to his skin and draws a quick line without hesitation, grimacing only slightly from the pain. Immediately, bright red blood starts to well up along the cut.]
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