westfallcorndog | Worgen Hard or Hardly Worgen?

At this rate Viatorus is going to be stuck in a permanent state of surprise. That is not how he knows werewolves to be in his world, so he has to take time to try and reconsider his understanding of what it means to be a worgen.

Looking back at his hand-paws, he wriggles his fingers. They do look like something that would suit a stuffed toy. Maybe he would like being a worgen better too, if he stopped stressing. The talk about being around nature gets him to look at Harrowheart again. "I... I used to do things like that too. Trying to get close to nature..."

Druid-like tendencies are the very last thing he expected from the undead death knight.

He will take a minute to seriously consider Harrowheart's proposal. Although he's still not sure about carrying him. "Wouldn't you get a cold?" He looks around. "There's snow everywhere. And... isn't carrying someone... rude?"

"Shoot," Harrow whispers as he follows V's sweeping gaze. "I forgot about the snow..." That does put a damper on things. There won't be bugs or grass or any of the pleasant things he'd been imagining. He could make the call one way or another and help V out, but he'd like to give him an opportunity to choose for yourself. "So it's your call. If you want to lay in the snow I'll be happy. If you don't, I'll be happy. This time it's about you."

He looks at his own hands now. So small, so foreign. "Is it rude to carry someone on Earth? It's pretty normal where I come from, 'specially for shapeshifters. People kinda expect you'll offer at the very least. But then again, we still ride horses and sabercats and things like that. On Earth you got cars. Probably makes transportation feel impersonal, huh?"

He eyes Viatorus, then momentarily frowns remembering that it's his own body he's looking at. He can imagine V's face if he tries, though, and that's what matters.

"You kinda look like a guy who likes horses. Does your family own a stable? Is that how you got close to nature? Or some other way?"

An awed whisper of "Sabercats..." slips from his lips before he blinks back into the present.

"I thought it was. Rude, that is." He stops himself to think for a moment before he concedes, "But where I come from, it's frowned upon to resort to physical effort. Maybe it's different for normal people."

Part of him is vividly aware of the stark differences between his life. This conversation is definitely highlighting that for him yet again. He might leave out the whole matter of chauffeurs for now.

"We do. I quite like riding, but I haven't done it in a long time. Usually I like to go for long walks, lay back in the grass... or swim. I used to climb trees, but... the clothes I wear aren't really suited to that." A small smile pauses briefly on his face. It feels strange to smile as a worgen, which doesn't help it stay.

After a moment, he rises slowly to his feet. "Maybe... Maybe if we visit the park anyway. If... If you're sure you'll be alright."

Normal people. It sounds so sad when V puts it that way... For about a second and a half, until Harrow remembers that Viatorus's 'abnormal' life is one of luxury and comforts. Harrow takes in a small breath of cold air, coughs, and reminds himself not to be rude to V about it. It isn't the boy's fault, after all.

He rises to his feet and holds his hands on his hips for a moment or two. He waits to see whether V has any intention to attempt carrying, but if he doesn't he won't say a word. He's perfectly content to walk to the park if that's the way V would prefer.

"I'll be fine. Steve was dressed pretty warm when all this happened. I think I can be out another hour or so. Long enough for us to talk about feelings, anyway."

Viatorus is certainly considering taking Harrowheart's advice. He stands, looking Steve up and down, hands almost reaching out before he steals them back again. Eventually he sighs and rubs his wrists. "I-I-I don't know how to pick someone up. Or carry them."

This would be Harrow's moment to shine if he weren't in a body as delicate as an aging apricot. Nevertheless he's prepared to be supportive. And supported. Dude really wants to not have to walk.

"It's easy!" he says in an upbeat attempt at encouragement. "Think of my body as... As a long suit you gotta carry without wrinklin' it. Drape me over your arms!"

He holds both arms out bent at the elbow, parallel to his body like a forklift, palms toward the sky. "Arms like this, right? My mid-back goes over one arm, my knees go over the other. I'll reach up and hold onto your neck. All you gotta do is put your hands out, bend down, scoop me up, and stand. I won't fall outta your arms, promise."

He bats his eyelashes, fans his face, and with a flattered smile attempts his best falsetto voice and delicate ~~Southern~~ Westfall belle accent. "Just imagine I'm your blushin' bride on our weddin' day~"

Because he wouldn't be Harrowheart if he didn't say something wrong.

Could he have picked a more awkward joke to use? Possibly not. The careful attention on Viatorus' face is quickly replaced, not by laughter or amusement, but by a flash of hurt. Harrowheart knows his own face far better than Viatorus knows how to control his feelings, so the undead worgen probably sees it before Viatorus has a chance to hide it. He tries anyway, looking away for a moment.

Harrowheart didn't know. He didn't mean anything by it. They're not talking about that. Harrowheart is trying to lighten the mood... The best he can do is not let sadness settle.

Viatorus nods and, though a little uncertain about it, manages to pick Steve's small frame up. "It's easy," he comments quietly, trying to focus on the surprise of the revelation.

Harrow absolutely beams, in no small part because of that look he caught before V could stop it. He presses his palms lightly to Viatorus's cheeks and tries to turn his head so that he has to see the way he can make another person laugh. He tries a few times to stop his smile as his cheeks start to tire, but the novelty of the whole situation is too powerful to ignore.

"Nobody's been able to pick me up since I was a kid. Sorry I'm havin' so much fun with this. Just really brightened my day, 's'all."

As he said he'd do he loops his arms around V's neck and tries not to drown in the fur. He nods in what he assumes is the direction of the Parklands. "Let's go find us a nice spot to lie down and have a man chat."

It's certainly bizarre to be able to lift another person. And so easily too... It almost feels as if he's using magic... Or like he's holding a puppy. Ironic, since in this case he's the wolf-man holding a human.

He manages the smallest of smiles. Holding it is no small effort. "It's alright. You shouldn't be sorry for being happy."

Heading to the Parklands is a smooth, simple task, even though he's carrying Harrowheart. Without much thought, he heads towards a point where there's a bench by a frozen lake and plenty of trees around them, taking in all the strange smells and sounds along the way. When they reach the bench, he'll set Harrowheart down in front of the bench.

"Is this alright?"

Harrow hops down gladly. His day – nay, his life – has been improved by the strong arms of a wolfman. He dusts a few stray hairs from Steve's jacket when he's down on his feet, stretches his arms far above his head, and then collapses into the bench.

"I think this is the perfect spot," he says as he crosses one leg over the other.

He sweeps a hand in a long arc to invite V to sit in the snow or on the bench near him. The world is his sitting oyster.

"Now how 'bout we talk about one of the feelings you are or aren't havin' right now? Don't gotta be about your thing with Verity. I'll hear anything. I'll help you riddle out one of your problems, and then when it's over I'll get all uppity and ask for payment and throw a fit when your pretty sister comes and tries not to give it."

He winks? He grins? That must be one of those new-fangled jokes the help are always talking about.

Harrowheart's joke gets a small smile and Viatorus picks a pile of snow to hesitantly sit on. He sinks into it suddenly, surprising him momentarily. Right. He's heavy.

Leaning back until he's lying down, Viatorus sighs. "I don't know which one to pick. I feel... confused... and guilty..." He rolls his head to look over at Harrowheart again. "Did you ever get told to be quiet, to not say things even when you wanted to?"

Harrow has to think on that for a moment. In a short while he shakes his head.

"In the army, sure, but not by a friend, and never like that. That's a real mean thing to get told. It means the other person's already decided your opinion don't mean anything before they even hear it. It's like bein' told you're an idiot, which is somethin' I know pretty well.

"When that happens to me, at first I feel ashamed. I start thinkin' about all the ways I am an idiot, and how my opinion really don't matter. So I imagine right about now you're thinkin' about all the ways you deserve to be told to shut up? Or maybe the reason you yelled is because you felt a little fire of injustice inside ya. Some little part of you knows you don't want to be quiet, that you got things to say, and you got a right to say it. Given enough time either of those could make a guy feel guilty. Which one do you think you're feelin' the most right now?"

Edited 2016-02-01 13:53 (UTC)

'In the army'. Those are words foreign to him. Even his ancestors managed, for the most part, to avoid armies and wars. Wealth allows for that.

"... The first, I guess..." He's quiet for a second. "If I had acted like I've been told to... If I'd just been quiet... Verity and I wouldn't have argued. Everything would be alright. I thought talking would help, but the more I said, the worse it got. Even when I was trying to help, trying to figure things out. If I'd have just shut up..."

Harrow shakes his head immediately. "If you'd been quiet and never brought it up, you woulda felt unfulfilled. You brought it up for a reason. If you just let it sit and stew it turns into uncertainty and discomfort and all kinds of bad, unsaid feelings. Tryin' to talk it out was right. It just didn't go the way you'd hoped, and it turned into a fight 'cause you couldn't sort out your words... Which is hard enough even on the best of days."

He runs a hand through his hair, ignorant to how embarrassing Steve's bangs look when they fall at odd angles.

"So you feel like things are better when you don't talk, 'cause when you open your mouth you say the wrong thing. But you felt like you had to talk, 'cause you had important things to get off your chest. I think I get this. I can cut all this up. Think of it this way: You tried to solve a problem and only failed 'cause you didn't have the right skills. Your intentions were good, which is the important part. Because you didn't perform perfectly, you got told to stop tryin'. Now you feel like it's pointless to try. But that just means you'll never improve your skills, right?"

He scoots to the very edge of the bench to be a little closer to V and puts on his calmest Steve smile.

"This is an easier fix than you think. We can make this work, man. What you gotta do is write a letter. I bet you're better at writin' than talkin', right? It gives you time to sort out all your ideas and double-think your words."

He takes a deep breath and debates what he's going to say here.

"When I found out my boyfriend was havin' an affair and I got real mean to the lady? Well. I hurt her pretty bad emotionally. I called her ungentlemanly words and told her hurtful things. It was disgraceful for me to act the way I did. I felt like I had to make things better, even if I was hurt. So what I did was I wrote a letter. And what I learned was that you can apologize for the wrong things you did without excusin' the wrong things another person did to you. It's about acceptin' your part of the blame. It's got nothin' to do with what they did. If they're a big person they'll apologize in kind. In my letter I told the lady that my words and actions were uncalled for no matter how I felt or how I hurt. I admitted my faults and told her that I hoped I hadn't caused any lasting damage, but I never said that what she did to me was okay. In the end she wrote back and apologized for how she'd hurt me, and she appreciated that I would try to make amends with her even though there weren't really any reason to.

"Now, that's what happened between me and someone I hated. I think it'll go just as good for you if you write to Verity, your friend. Apologize for raisin' your voice at the very least, and apologize for any hurt feelings you caused. Admit your intentions were good but you didn't speak your mind too well, and explain that you didn't mean nothin' by stumblin'. If you'd like to see her again in the future say as much, but give her the option to decline. The only thing you don't do is apologize on her behalf for the things she did wrong. And don't say you're sorry that you even brought it up, 'cause that causes two things: For one, you look spineless, and a spineless person gets walked on. For two, she learns she never has to accept her part in any hurt she causes. And if all goes well, which I think it will, hopefully she'll be a big person and admit her faults in the matter. And if she don't... Well, that reflects more on her than on you."

He raises his eyebrows slowly and studies V's face. "Does this sound fair? Sound like somethin' you can do?"

Considering how attentive and patient Harrowheart has been with him today, Viatorus is not about to be any less to him. It's difficult and strange to hear his problems being worked out like this. Apart from his brief encounters with psychologists, no one has ever done anything like this with him before. It's personal and part of him wants to close up and stop the conversation entirely... but Harrowheart is right in many of the things he's saying. Perhaps it's because he's speaking from experience, but... Viatorus can't ignore good advice.

After careful consideration he asks, "But... wouldn't it be rude? To apologise in a letter instead of in person?"

Again he starts up as a thought occurs to him. "A-And... what if... what if we want to see each other again but it would be better if we didn't?"

Harrow's eyebrows lower. He shifts his mouth side to side as he considers those very valid questions. Every time he's sure this is getting easier Viatorus throws a wrench in it all. Poor kid.

"I mean... I can't lie... There's a chance she'll be offended by a letter. If you think she might think you're rude or a coward, explain real kindly from your very first lines that you wish you could have said it in person but you find your thoughts come easier when you write. Say that this is a very important matter to you, and you'd rather say what you mean than stutter or mess up. And you know, some people actually prefer to get letters when things are rough like this? It's easier. They can read it on their own time, re-read it, think about it. They don't gotta see any hurt faces. Gives 'em a sense of safety and distance to really think it all through."

It's Viatorus's second question that really stumps him. How could two people both want to see each other but decide it's best they didn't? What could get in the way of two people's desire. Light, he can't ask and look ignorant now. Under normal circumstances, of course, but somehow he's become some kind of advisor. That means he's expected to know things without having them spelled out. Time to get vague and introspective.

"Do you think it'll be a bad idea to meet again, even if you both want to? Or are you only worried she's gonna think that?"

Viatorus is incredibly talented at worrying. Even as he knows Harrowheart is speaking sense, and as much as wants everything to be right and end well... He knows how best to worry about it.

The suggestion isn't perfect, but it is reassuring. Really, how could it be much worse than how he's spoken to her face to face?

Oblivious to Harrowheart's cluelessness, Viatorus stops to think about the questions he's being asked. "If... If our meeting, if our being around each other upsets her as much as it seems to..." He stops to frown up at his friend. "Harrowheart, every time we've talked, I've managed to make her sad. That's not what a good friend does. I wouldn't want sadness for anyone, but that's all I seem to give her."

Harrow reaches for his breast pocket and... He doesn't have one. Right. Steve's shirt, Steve's body. Besides, these lungs wouldn't be able to handle a cigarette. He sighs. What a time to not have a way to distract from the difficulty of what he's about to say.

"V, man... Don't take it the wrong way when I say this, but..." Deep breath. "Some people're just... Sad. No matter what you do, they're sad. It goes beyond you. It goes beyond any of us. It's like there's sadness in their brain or somethin'. I don't know how to explain it. I'm no brain doctor." He huffs a single laugh. "If those even exist.

"The point is, Verity's got a deep, deep sadness in her. She cried the first time I met her 'cause I asked her what she does for a livin'. She walked out of a movie with all of us 'cause she got emotional. Tiny things spark up her sadness, and I'd be surprised to learn that you affect her any more than a movie about wars in space or a question at a Hallow's End party. You probably just gotta roll with the punches. And, honestly? I think she'd appreciate havin' a friend over not. I know I would."

Viatorus isn't sure he understands this. There have been a lot of confusing things that have happened in the past twenty-four hours, but this notion is definitely one of the most baffling. He's never heard of people just being sad before.

"But... that doesn't make sense. Happiness is a person's natural state. People are always sad for a reason. I just... don't want to be the reason. I want to make her happy, but... I never do."

Harrow glances left, then right. Happiness is a person's natural state... Did he hear that right? Is Viatorus a character out of a children's story?

"I ain't tryna shit on your parade, man, but... You... Actually, honestly believe that most folks are happy by default?"

His voice quiets then and a deep frown overtakes his features. "Is that true for you and your life?"

Viatorus looks around before meeting Harrowheart's gaze. "You don't meditate, do you?"

He sits up and gestures as he speaks. "When you clear your head. When you stop thinking about everything and worrying... Even when you're supposed to be nothing but empty, or peaceful... You're happy. It just... gets buried."

Harrow grunts. He crosses his arms over his chest, leans back in the bench, and slides down until he's sitting as much on his back as on his rump.

"You're not the first person who's said that," he says as gruffly as Steve's throat allows. "But the first person who told me was bein' a sarcastic dick about it."

He's positive Viatorus isn't capable of sarcasm or dickery, though. And though he doesn't show it in any way other than roaming eyes, he's thinking it over.

Suddenly he grunts again. "Maybe you can... show me or somethin' sometime, Idunno..."

Harrowheart just keeps on surprising him. His eyes widen a little. "Show you?" He blinks a little and realises that he might be coming across as rude. "O-Of course. Yes. I... I've never taught someone how to meditate before..."

A small, uncertain smile pulls at his mouth. "It... It might be nice."

An idea strikes Harrow then and as it forms his eyebrows rise.

"Why don't you try it now? Can you do it here? Like this? Maybe you'll find your center and turn back into a man?..."

He sits up and watches closely. He'd like to see V try, at the very least.

It's... not a bad idea, but Viatorus frowns, concern creeping up on his again. "I... I don't know... It would feel strange. Doing that in someone else's body. Focusing on being in another form... What do I have to do to turn back?"

"That's like askin' me how to move my arms. How do you explain somethin' that's part of your body like that?"

Harrow closes his eyes and thinks. In a few deep breaths he feels close enough to the answer to at least attempt it.

"Think about my human form, if you can remember what that looks like. If not, think about bein' human in general. Imagine your claws retractin' into normal hands, your legs makin' the right angles, your shoulders gettin' square again. Think about all the parts of you that you can move and try to move 'em so that you feel like you look human. Your body might get the hint, and once the transformation starts it'll finish itself before you gotta worry any more. It's all one big flowin' motion."

He has no idea. He has no idea at all and, truth be told, he was hoping Viatorus would magically transform back into a real boy without meaning to and save them all the trouble. He sits tensely on the bench, fingers gripping the seat, and he waits. Hopefully his advice will work.

If that's the closest thing to an answer he's going to get, then he has to take it and work with it. He tries not to look as uncertain as he feels as he gets into a more comfortable sitting position. It's not perfect, but it's close to what he's used to. Folding his hands, he closes his eyes and starts to regulate his breathing.

It's unnerving, doing this in worgen form. The more he concentrates, the more aware he is of the body he's in. Slowly paying attention to each inch of muscle, and the weight of the fur. The strangeness of it makes him open his eyes and flex his hands, clenching and relaxing them. "Sorry. It's... It's harder to do like this. Let me try again."

Harrowheart will have to deal with silence for a while as Viatorus tries again. Without warning, the wolf-man begins to change back into a corpse, startling Viatorus even though that's what he was aiming for. He reaches out for the bench and scrambles a little in alarm at the odd feeling, but it's soon over.

"Oh that felt terribly strange..."

Harrow is just as surprised by the transformation as Viatorus! Perhaps more. He's never been able to watch his body change like that, and it stuns him to finally see it. Quick as it is, he did catch some of the details. And when his human body emerges from where a worgen's had been? Bizarre. Words are beyond him for a moment or two as he stares in thought.

But V is startled, and he needs someone to assure him that everything is right. And he has done a very good job at changing back! It's natural to smile for his achievement.

"You did it! Light, Viatorus, you're real brave to go through all'a that you know? I remember the first time I ever changed into a worgen and how terrifyin' it was to turn back. But you're a man again! Even if you are a man with ripped-up clothes."

He laughs as he plucks at some of the loose shreds of cloth that once made up the shoulders and chest of a tight shirt. "You're gonna have to dress my body up so you don't look like roadkill. I think I got my overshirt in my – your? – bag, if you don't mind wearin' plaid."

Right now, curling up with a big glass of wine and watching old movies would be really nice, but... Then he's getting reminded about the fate of the shirt he'd been wearing. He lifts a hand to his face and touches the tatters still clinging to him. "I'm so sorry... I... I should buy you some new clothes, at least a new t-shirt, but... maybe I'll wear the overshirt until then."

Harrow's first instinct is to tell Viatorus that no, he doesn't have to buy anything. He'll earn it on his own and, really, it's fine! But something brings him back to earlier in the conversation. Viatorus had said he was sorry. Harrow told him not to say that. The intention was to make him feel better, but it only made him more worried. Without realizing it he nods his head as he comes to a realization. Viatorus is a person who wants to be able to apologize to be sure everything is good.

"You can buy me a new shirt, if it'd make you feel good?" With a goodnatured laugh he quickly adds, "I ain't gonna hold you at gunpoint for it or nothin', but if you want to? I could always use a shirt or two."

He opens up the satchel swung around V's shoulders, mindful not to get too close to his runeblades as he does. Out comes the shirt, and he's even willing to help V put it on. The perfect butler. When it's through he waves in the vague direction of the commercial district.

"We can have a good afternoon shoppin'. Maybe even get a gift for Steve."

Being properly clothed again is much better. He smiles gratefully at Harrowheart. It's not exactly easy helping him out with the height difference between the two of them at the moment.

"I'd like that. I'd... I'd like to get you some trousers too. Maybe a suit. I think you'd look nice in a suit." And it would be clothing he's actually comfortable in.

Worgen Hard or Hardly Worgen?

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A big glass of wine and an old movie. Omg V is a 40-year-old woman.

His secret is out!