"This isn't your property?" Marco asks mildly as he watches the other man stand up and walk over to him, a hint of a smile flashing across his lips at the casual compliment that he shelves off to keep him warm later. He knows he looks like a total mess right now, dried blood caked on his face and hair, blond strands bound together because of it.
"Not bleeding," he responds and somehow he knows this to be true. "I heal fast," he promises. "Must have a bit of a concussion, everything's blurry." But not blurry enough that he can't see that fetching gold-green of the man's eyes. "You make a handsome tiger, stranger," he says, not at all bothered by the vicinity of their bodies or the hold on his chin, allowing his saviour to turn his face whichever way he prefers. He snuggled up to that soft fur last night, why feel shy now?
"Yes," he answers, simply and easy. "And dirty. You wouldn't happen to have some water so I can clean up? I look cuter without a blood facial, promise."
"Oh, you're just running a full service establishment here," Marco notes with a faint smile that crinkles the skin around his eyes with plenty of merry crowfeet.
He offers his hand, well, after wiping it somewhat onto his thigh, flakes of blood smeared on the pale fabric. "Marco, I think. Marco Sawall." It feels right. It must be his name.
"I eat anything," he says tentatively and notes that it sounds true. "Yes, I do." He doesn't talk about allergies like most people might, he doesn't really have an experience of those, even second hand. "Can I help with anything?" Perhaps with something that doesn't require standing because he still feels dizzy.
Maybe that head injury is worse than he thought. Caspian stands there for a moment, intent and discerning.
"You can keep your ass where it is for now and tell me what you remember. "
He hasn't forgotten the shape-shifting from last night, but he'll take his fences one at a time. Cas checks his food supplies with a quiet sound of triumph. Sausage and eggs it is.
Marco's gaze shifts, and for a moment he considers redirecting the topic of conversation. He knows this is something he probably would find reasons for. Never admit a weakness if you don't have to.
But this tiger has given him no reason to doubt him, no reason to fear him, and he's been very helpful.
Finally he looks up and shrugs mildly. "I don't remember much. I had a card on me, a driving licence. It had the name on and a picture. I think it's me." He draws in a breath as he tries to remember, anything at all. But the headache bounds a little closer at his effort and he sighs, shoulders pulling up in pain. "I remember falling. Being shoved. That's it."
That's all he says for a moment, focusing on actually cooking for now. Maybe he should get some carbs in here... he's pretty sure he has bread. Toast'll do. It doesn't take long for him to get a plate together, piled with enough food for two people since he fully intends on also eating from it. He had a good hunt last night, but he's hungry again now.
Caspian grabs a bottle of water and a towel on his way back to the bed. He sets the plate on a nearby trunk, then pours water onto the towel to get it wet. He takes a minute to clean off Marco's hands, figuring he'd prefer not to catch the scent of blood every time he lifts a fork to his mouth.
Marco yields his hands without a question to be cleaned, watching his thin fingers as Caspian cleans them up. They definitely are attached to this body that he isn't sure he feels his own. Should they look like that? His fingers.
"Thank you," he says again, then takes the towel to wipe his face with it, the crusted blood from his forehead, his upper lip, unmarred skin beneath. The wound is somewhere at his hairline, his lip is split and it hurts, but he ignores that ache.
The mention of a hospital makes him look up sharply and then suck in a hissing breath as the bounding behind his eyes increases. "No hospital," he insists. "I don't mean to cause you any more trouble, I'll leave if you want me to. Just no... hospital." The idea fills him with dread. Charts and networks, his name recorded, his face in security cameras. He's not well enough to take on whatever did this to him in the first place.
A deep breath drawn in, then exhaled slowly. Marco relaxes again. He nods quietly as he takes the fork and pierces a piece of sausage into the spikes of it.
"Thank you," he says, again, for the umpteenth time. If he ever has a chance to repay any of this, he will take it, thrice fold.
Eating is a slow and precarious affair, his jaw hurts and something inside his throat aches whenever he swallows. But still, he eats with good appetite, even if he has to force himself a couple of times. He will heal fast, but he also spends fast.
"I'm sorry," he finally says when he has gotten a few bites into himself, inhaling the first ones with the eagerness of a starving man. "I literally dropped out of the sky on your path. It must not have been convenient for you. You're a good man, Caspian."
Caspian doesn't stare, but he does pay attention. He can hear some of the hesitance in the way Marco eats, the pauses and changes in his breathing when something hurts. But he says he'll heal, and he's eating well.
He snorts a laugh when Marco apologizes.
"Mm, doing the bare minimum of decency doesn't seem that worthy of praise, but you're welcome. Only other option was leaving you to freeze out there."
He's quiet for a moment as he finishes off a bit of sausage.
"Look, I don't actually live here 'cept for a few days a month or when I'm feeling the need for getting out of the city. I'm going back, but you're welcome to come with until you figure yourself out."
Marco's blue eyes follow him across the table as he says it's just decency to help someone and not leave them to freeze. In his gut he feels that it's the option that he's more used to where he comes from. He has a feeling there's something else said beneath those words, however, and he takes a hint, nodding with a small smile.
"Definitely would like to see what's beyond this forest," he replies. "Perhaps it'll jostle some memories."
He chews each piece that goes into his mouth very carefully, even if it does hurt. But it hurts less going in that way. But it also means he's taking long pauses between speaking.
Finally he asks: "Is it the moon?" he asks curiously. "That turns you or something else?"
"Mmm, noticed that huh?" Caspian grins and sits back. He'd kill for some coffee, but he forgot to bring any out. "Yeah, it's the moon. I can do it at will but the moon kind of... forces the issue."
He tips his head.
"What about you? Don't know many shifters that can change just body parts."
It takes a lot of will and experience to manage, and some will never be able to manage it.
Marco listens with quiet interest while he eats, considering Caspian with curious eyes. He has just one different shape where he shifts to, Marco guesses. From somewhere within him the knowledge about shapeshifting comes, provided by something he's learned in the past.
"Your own body image is natural and recorded in your neural pathways," he quotes, knowing the passage from lectures he's participated in the past. "To change it one requires a fluid mind and acceptance of Flexible Reality." His nose wrinkles as he thinks about it. Something else comes to him in the heels of the first thought. "Flexible Reality is a concept that is taught, hopefully as a child, or it might take hard time rooting. When enduring Chaos, you must be chaotic. When enduring rapid change, you must be capable of rapid change."
He quirks his brows at Caspian, not sure if any of that made any sense to him. Marco isn't sure if it made sense to him. Jury is still out.
It makes sense, kind of, but he's not following the overarching premise. Cas doesn't think that matters, though. The part he gets is that it takes some practice and willpower, which is not all that different from how he learned.
"Sounds like you know a lot for a guy who isn't sure his identity matches his ID," he says idly, golden gaze flicking up to look at Marco again.
"It keeps bubbling up," Marco admits with a hint of a shrug. He might have blushed a little if he didn't have a hard lined control over stuff like that, he finds, his body automatically adjusting itself when the flush threatens to dust over his pale cheeks. He realises that this is a skill he's learned mostly because his colours are light and a flush is often telling. He needed to control it and the messages it sends.
"I have a vague idea what the Chaos is, but it's still mostly a mystery to me. Just conversations that somehow just are illuminated in the dark." He seems a little frustrated, is a lot more inside.
He looks up at Caspian, biting his bottom lip as he shrugs again. He's trying, but it's not coming to him just like that.
He nods, taking it in stride for now. He won't push and hopefully this won't come back to bite him in the ass somehow. When the plate is empty, Caspian gets up so he can clean up and put things away.
"If you're feeling up for it, I wanna get back to the city sooner than later. I got some clothes you can wear if you wanna change out of those."
Looking at Marco, Cas is pretty sure they'll fit. Maybe not well, but well enough.
"Yes, please," Marco replies easily and starts to rise from the bed. He's still dizzy but he manages to keep his stance somewhat steady by focusing on a single point on the wall opposing him and widening his stance quite a bit.
"You mentioned warm water. I'd love to wash up a little," he says and his voice is a little hoarse but not pained.
"You gonna be able to stand up?" Caspian gives Marco a dubious look as he wobbles on his feet. The shower stall isn't that big, so at least he'll have plenty to lean against without moving away from the water.
He gestures Marco over to a door and nudges it open to reveal a small bathroom.
"I'll be fine," Marco insists as his eyes widen a little as the bathroom is revealed. Okay, he'll manage just fine!
"Thank you," he smiles as he takes a few stumbling steps and then steadies out himself, getting used to the dizzying sensation of his head protesting to the sudden movements. "I swear, I won't pass out in the shower," he promises.
He tries to be quick, but it takes him way too long to gingerly clean himself up. He decides to take a shower, because there's a lot of dried blood matted onto his scalp. Stings and aches keep him fully aware and while he might have felt more than a little woozy more than once, he is quite fine when he exists the shower, drying himself on his ruined clothes because he doesn't want to ask Caspian to constantly provide him some sort of assistance.
He holds the shirt against his waist when he exists the stall. There are extensive bruises on his body, dark and obviously hurting against his sides, around his neck, more trickled to his legs. But the wound on his head hasn't opened again and there seems to be another on his thigh that has already scabbed over.
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blackbluewhite2021-01-10 11:44 pm
no subject
"Not bleeding," he responds and somehow he knows this to be true. "I heal fast," he promises. "Must have a bit of a concussion, everything's blurry." But not blurry enough that he can't see that fetching gold-green of the man's eyes. "You make a handsome tiger, stranger," he says, not at all bothered by the vicinity of their bodies or the hold on his chin, allowing his saviour to turn his face whichever way he prefers. He snuggled up to that soft fur last night, why feel shy now?
"Yes," he answers, simply and easy. "And dirty. You wouldn't happen to have some water so I can clean up? I look cuter without a blood facial, promise."
no subject
It's well water but beggars can't be choosers. But there's plumbing and a water heater, luxuries Cas wouldn't compromise on.
He sits back.
"I'm Cas. There anything you don't eat?"
Hopefully he hasn't landed himself with a vegan. Pickings might be slim if so.
no subject
He offers his hand, well, after wiping it somewhat onto his thigh, flakes of blood smeared on the pale fabric. "Marco, I think. Marco Sawall." It feels right. It must be his name.
"I eat anything," he says tentatively and notes that it sounds true. "Yes, I do." He doesn't talk about allergies like most people might, he doesn't really have an experience of those, even second hand. "Can I help with anything?" Perhaps with something that doesn't require standing because he still feels dizzy.
no subject
Maybe that head injury is worse than he thought. Caspian stands there for a moment, intent and discerning.
"You can keep your ass where it is for now and tell me what you remember. "
He hasn't forgotten the shape-shifting from last night, but he'll take his fences one at a time. Cas checks his food supplies with a quiet sound of triumph. Sausage and eggs it is.
no subject
But this tiger has given him no reason to doubt him, no reason to fear him, and he's been very helpful.
Finally he looks up and shrugs mildly. "I don't remember much. I had a card on me, a driving licence. It had the name on and a picture. I think it's me." He draws in a breath as he tries to remember, anything at all. But the headache bounds a little closer at his effort and he sighs, shoulders pulling up in pain. "I remember falling. Being shoved. That's it."
no subject
That's all he says for a moment, focusing on actually cooking for now. Maybe he should get some carbs in here... he's pretty sure he has bread. Toast'll do. It doesn't take long for him to get a plate together, piled with enough food for two people since he fully intends on also eating from it. He had a good hunt last night, but he's hungry again now.
Caspian grabs a bottle of water and a towel on his way back to the bed. He sets the plate on a nearby trunk, then pours water onto the towel to get it wet. He takes a minute to clean off Marco's hands, figuring he'd prefer not to catch the scent of blood every time he lifts a fork to his mouth.
"Should probably bring you to a hospital."
no subject
"Thank you," he says again, then takes the towel to wipe his face with it, the crusted blood from his forehead, his upper lip, unmarred skin beneath. The wound is somewhere at his hairline, his lip is split and it hurts, but he ignores that ache.
The mention of a hospital makes him look up sharply and then suck in a hissing breath as the bounding behind his eyes increases. "No hospital," he insists. "I don't mean to cause you any more trouble, I'll leave if you want me to. Just no... hospital." The idea fills him with dread. Charts and networks, his name recorded, his face in security cameras. He's not well enough to take on whatever did this to him in the first place.
no subject
"No trouble," he says as he offers Marco a fork. "Just figured I'd offer it."
He picks up the other fork and sets the plate of toast, eggs, and sausage between them.
"Eat, then. And we'll figure out where to go from here."
no subject
"Thank you," he says, again, for the umpteenth time. If he ever has a chance to repay any of this, he will take it, thrice fold.
Eating is a slow and precarious affair, his jaw hurts and something inside his throat aches whenever he swallows. But still, he eats with good appetite, even if he has to force himself a couple of times. He will heal fast, but he also spends fast.
"I'm sorry," he finally says when he has gotten a few bites into himself, inhaling the first ones with the eagerness of a starving man. "I literally dropped out of the sky on your path. It must not have been convenient for you. You're a good man, Caspian."
no subject
He snorts a laugh when Marco apologizes.
"Mm, doing the bare minimum of decency doesn't seem that worthy of praise, but you're welcome. Only other option was leaving you to freeze out there."
He's quiet for a moment as he finishes off a bit of sausage.
"Look, I don't actually live here 'cept for a few days a month or when I'm feeling the need for getting out of the city. I'm going back, but you're welcome to come with until you figure yourself out."
no subject
"Definitely would like to see what's beyond this forest," he replies. "Perhaps it'll jostle some memories."
He chews each piece that goes into his mouth very carefully, even if it does hurt. But it hurts less going in that way. But it also means he's taking long pauses between speaking.
Finally he asks: "Is it the moon?" he asks curiously. "That turns you or something else?"
no subject
He tips his head.
"What about you? Don't know many shifters that can change just body parts."
It takes a lot of will and experience to manage, and some will never be able to manage it.
no subject
"Your own body image is natural and recorded in your neural pathways," he quotes, knowing the passage from lectures he's participated in the past. "To change it one requires a fluid mind and acceptance of Flexible Reality." His nose wrinkles as he thinks about it. Something else comes to him in the heels of the first thought. "Flexible Reality is a concept that is taught, hopefully as a child, or it might take hard time rooting. When enduring Chaos, you must be chaotic. When enduring rapid change, you must be capable of rapid change."
He quirks his brows at Caspian, not sure if any of that made any sense to him. Marco isn't sure if it made sense to him. Jury is still out.
no subject
"Sounds like you know a lot for a guy who isn't sure his identity matches his ID," he says idly, golden gaze flicking up to look at Marco again.
no subject
"I have a vague idea what the Chaos is, but it's still mostly a mystery to me. Just conversations that somehow just are illuminated in the dark." He seems a little frustrated, is a lot more inside.
He looks up at Caspian, biting his bottom lip as he shrugs again. He's trying, but it's not coming to him just like that.
no subject
"If you're feeling up for it, I wanna get back to the city sooner than later. I got some clothes you can wear if you wanna change out of those."
Looking at Marco, Cas is pretty sure they'll fit. Maybe not well, but well enough.
no subject
"You mentioned warm water. I'd love to wash up a little," he says and his voice is a little hoarse but not pained.
no subject
He gestures Marco over to a door and nudges it open to reveal a small bathroom.
"Sink or shower, all yours."
no subject
"Thank you," he smiles as he takes a few stumbling steps and then steadies out himself, getting used to the dizzying sensation of his head protesting to the sudden movements. "I swear, I won't pass out in the shower," he promises.
He tries to be quick, but it takes him way too long to gingerly clean himself up. He decides to take a shower, because there's a lot of dried blood matted onto his scalp. Stings and aches keep him fully aware and while he might have felt more than a little woozy more than once, he is quite fine when he exists the shower, drying himself on his ruined clothes because he doesn't want to ask Caspian to constantly provide him some sort of assistance.
He holds the shirt against his waist when he exists the stall. There are extensive bruises on his body, dark and obviously hurting against his sides, around his neck, more trickled to his legs. But the wound on his head hasn't opened again and there seems to be another on his thigh that has already scabbed over.
"You said clothes, right?" he asks mildly.