ghostwolf | Hound of the Baskervilles

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[phdr]

Hound of the Baskervilles

Two months ago, during the time when the different worlds converged, the tiny Lacie encountered a very large wolf. One month after receiving that negligible cut to her palm, she turned into a little black wolf puppy for a night, and wasted no time sinking her fangs into Kevin's hand when he tried to pick her up and keep her out of trouble.

Tonight, there are two wolves in the Baskerville House, and they've pretty much figured out what's going on.

Lady Shelly and Oswald agreed some time ago that Kevin would make a pretty good wolf, if it came to it, and he really can't help but feel like someone is laughing at him over it. His two stints as a bunny rabbit did not prepare him at all for walking around on four legs -- walking, not hopping -- and having a mouth full of huge teeth. He keeps tripping over his own feet, getting confused as he tries to sort through all the sounds and smells, and earlier his long tail got stuck in a door. It would be easier if he were a pup like Lacie, loping about the house and crawling under the furniture, but as a full-grown werewolf Kevin is huge, four feet tall at the shoulder and heavier than he is as a human. Finally, after spending half the night trying to endure the house, the white wolf ventures outside in an attempt to get used to this new form. After all, given that the Brat has turned for the second month in a row, it looks like he's probably going to be stuck with it...

When not at home with Glenwald and company, Kevin can be found wandering through the streets he often haunts during patrol, enjoying the late-night solitude of the mansion's gardens, or perhaps even sniffing about at Lady Shelly's house, just to make sure nothing suspicious is going on nearby. Hopefully, he'll be back at home safe and sound before the moon sets. If he isn't, somebody gets to deal with a mortified and very naked knight, who will proceed to sleep in their house for two days and then eat the whole pantry for breakfast. Ah, the noble life of a werewolf!

[

fallingbackup wearing his shiny new coat, if you will. Due to busyness, there is no post as of yet for

bittybratty's first transformation, but I will link it here whenever something is backdated. Slow, late, and backtags welcome as always!]

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Aaand he's walking away again. Easily distracted doggy is becoming a bother, so Gilbert does just that, turning around to walk away towards the mansion. Kevin seems to be okay on his own, and he has a hat to clean. Maybe once he's done straightening it up he can bring Kevin back some meat or. Something.

Not like he cares or anything, though.

Much the way Break usually is, Kevin is half with him and half not -- he wanders along in the same direction as Gilbert, but sometimes he's at his side, sometimes he's behind him, and sometimes he goes on ahead. He's particularly distractable once they're inside. He hasn't been into the place with his new nose and ears yet, and he slows down to investigate. It's amazing, really. The wolf can identify a few of the people who passed by recently, and even when the smells are unfamiliar, he can differentiate between Chains and humans now. This werewolf thing might actually turn out to be useful, depending...

That solves one problem, but it does feel a little strange to have a huge wolf at his side as he walks through the halls of the mansion. The hallways are dim, only a few candles still lit, which helps him to ignore the oddness of it all. If he can't see as well, he can just pretend like it's really Kevin at his side, patrolling like normal.

Except even Kevin was more of a conversationalist than Wolfy McGee over here.

The kitchen is nearby, and the kitchen has both food and a sink, so he stops here and goes straight for some type of water-slash-soap source. His hat is getting a bath now.

He'll get food out in a second unless Kevin is feeling particularly ambitious towards pulling cabinets open himself.

"My poor hat..." he laments sadly as he works.

While Gilbert is busy being finicky and fastidious, the wolf occupies himself sniffing around, but warily -- he remembers accidentally snorting a bit of pepper in Shelly's kitchen and having a sneezing fit over it. There isn't anything in here that's any more interesting than there was there, so sure enough, his attention turns to the icebox.

This, he knows, is where the meat will be.

The lack of opposable thumbs is a problem, but Kevin doesn't really feel like waiting for Fussy McNoisypants to open it for him. Carefully, with surprising delicacy, he manages to get his teeth around the handle enough to pull the door open. When Gil turns around, he'll see a successful and happy wolfbutt, tail wagging while the other half is buried in other people's leftovers. Aww, yiss. Someone left, like, a whole chicken in here.

Okay, he has to admit. That's pretty adorable in a weird sort of way.

He'll take a second out of his busy hat-cleaning time to look over at Kevin and snicker under his breath. Cute.

Unsanitary too, but he'll get to that in a second.

Don't worry, Gilbert. Glen thinks he's adorable, too. Good thing neither of you are inclined to ruin it by telling him so.

Wolf he may be, but he takes a while devouring his latest snack, because he still tries to do it neatly. Truth be told, being so big, having terrifying teeth and a long tongue, and great big paws to go with them -- it makes him feel self-conscious. Kevin is a pretty well-mannered guy in general, at least at the dinner table. But as a wolf he tries extra hard not to make a mess or show his teeth too much, even if he's got his head buried in the icebox and his current company is otherwise occupied. He might be a dog but that doesn't mean he has to be barbaric about it.

He hasn't eaten anything raw yet tonight, either. Eventually he'll just start thinking of raw meat as extremely rare steak and move on with his life, but tonight is not that night.

Hat sufficiently clean (for now) he sets it off to the side to let it dry a bit before turning towards the ravenous wolf. Well, this is a sorry sight, but if he offered to bring the food out to the table, he might have even more trouble than he's already having.

And Kevin might be offended if he put it on the floor.

........Hm.

"Ah. Kevin..." It's probably smart to ask first, he doesn't want to get bitten. "Do you want me to put that somewhere...easier...to eat it...?"

Licking his muzzle, Kevin tilts his head back to look up at Gilbert before conceding the point. Even with his thick, luscious fur, it isn't exactly pleasant to eat directly out of the icebox.

As it turns out, though, the wolf is totally cool with the table. Being four feet high at the shoulder means he can reach the top of it easily, without having to try to get his wolfbutt settled in a chair; he had tea with Lady Shelly earlier this evening in that exact manner. Backing out of the refrigerator, Kevin trots over to the table and shoves a chair out of the way, sitting down with his tail neatly curled around his feet. Yes. This will do fine.

Okay, well, this is normal, he supposes. This has become what his life is all about. Serving leftovers from the icebox to a huge wolf who used to be his patrolling partner who will one day be his superior while he's sitting properly at the table in one of the nice kitchen chairs. Life goes on and on, and this is just another thing that he has to accept as 'normal'.

He takes the plate with the rest of the chicken out and sets it down on the table first, then turns back to see what else might be hiding in here.

That chicken will soon be a shredded mess upon that plate. Occasionally there's an alarming crunch as Kevin runs across a bone and eats it anyway; bones as dinky as the ones a chicken has are negligible to him. At least he doesn't let his mess get past the edges of his plate.

Mostly.

There are some vegetables as well, but Gil is pretty sure that these won't go over as well as the chicken. Fruit, too, and some good looking bread alongside a half-eaten chocolate cake. He's not sure if these would be bad for a wolf stomach, but he'll probably switch back soon. Though not necessarily by the time he's done digesting, and switching back with a stomachache probably wouldn't be the most fun he's had today.

Ah, but there we are. Half a turkey with some roasted potatoes still on the plate. Gil takes it over to the table and puts it down next to the plate of chicken.

"Are you still hungry?"

There's raw meat too, which he's sure would be okay for a wolf to eat, but Kevin-inside-the-wolf might reject it on principle alone. This would be easier if he could talk, but Gil is not going to encourage him to howl words. Not when children might be trying to sleep.

He's always hungry, if the suddenly wagging tail behind him is any indication. It's precisely the sort of gorgeous fluffy plume that makes you want to grab onto it, and if Kevin had any idea it was doing that, he'd hate it. He has a great many tiny dignities, and having something fluffy attached to his bum and showing off his emotions like this ruins all of them...!

But in addition to dignities, now he also has turkey, so that's cool.

Gilbert doesn't know a whole lot about animal behavior, but he's pretty sure a wagging tail means he's happy.

Damn it all, this is so embarrassing all of a sudden. You might not feel it at the moment, Kevin, but Gilbert does. Shit. Okay, he'll go back and look for more, hold on a second. Let him search and ponder his life choices up to this point while he does it.

When Gilbert turns around again, it will be just in time to see the wolf yawn, mouth opening wide to expose a gaping maw riddled with horrifying teeth, meant for shredding and severing and generally tearing things into tiny pieces.

After that he lifts a back leg to scratch one of his ears again, shakes himself, and resumes nibbling daintily on his turkey.

He's found another loaf of bread, which isn't meat but at least isn't vegetables. It's placed down on the table next to the rest of the food.

"Right...you'll probably want to sleep soon."

But where are they supposed to find a puppy bed big enough? >':

You mean he doesn't get to sleep in a people bed? :c

Well, shortly, that won't be an issue. Kevin's other ear starts to itch -- and as soon as he's scratched it, his spine joins in, and one of his paws. Backing away from the table, he stands and shakes himself off; and though he doesn't notice, a clump of fur fluffs away, drifting down to the kitchen floor. Twisting, he attempts to nose at whatever is making his back itch, and a grumbly wolf noise escapes his throat.

"--Hey!"

Gilbert jumps back a few steps, giving the wolf more space as he probably doesn't realize just how much of it he's taking up right now.

"What's wrong?!"

It itches, and itches terribly; it isn't long before his whole skin feels like it wants to just crawl right off. Kevin lets out a whine, ears lying flat against his skull as he looks for something to rub up against. He settles for the sharp edge of one of the cabinets, but it doesn't really help, and he leaves more fur behind when he tries to slide against it.

Outside, the sky is turning lighter, and the itch begins to grow so deep that it hurts.

How bad can an itch really be, Gilbert wonders. Well, he's not about to walk up to Kevin and scratch it, not like he's in a frenzy like this. Instead he just gives the wolf some space and waits for whatever is bugging him to pass.

Soon, Kevin forgets Gilbert is there entirely, too preoccupied with the sudden onset of pain he's feeling. Settling down on the cool tile of the floor, the wolf pants, ears back. Now and again, a groan escapes him. He isn't entirely sure what's happening. He hadn't been present the first time the little Lacie had changed back into a human from her wolf form. But now that he's confused enough to look, the sky outside is awfully light --

It may be just a trick of the light, but the wolf is looking a little smaller as the minutes pass, the fur a less fluffy and luxurious. Then there's a crack as his bones begin to shift, returning to their usual lengths and positions, and Kevin jerks, cries out with the pain of it. He's been injured before, but the last time he'd felt miserable all over was when he had the influenza earlier in the year, and it hadn't been nearly so bad. Not like this.

Gilbert has an idea - somewhere in the part of his mind that isn't panicking - of what's going on here, but it's overshadowed by, well, the panicking part.

He barely gives notice to the fact that Kevin is shrinking and falls down to one knee at his side.

"Hey! Kevin?!"

The transformation is gruesome to watch, really. Fortunately, the knight curls in on himself as he becomes human again, so Gilbert will miss the worst of it. He'll see the ears travel downward to their proper place, the way claws melt into fingernails and the way fur disappears beneath pale skin -- raw from the abuse of changing, but the damage fades quickly.

He won't see the awful grimace on Kevin's face as his muzzle shrinks back into his face. Or anything else of major importance. There's not a stitch on him, once the fur is gone.

Every line in his body is stretched tight with pain, and though it seems to ease once the knight is fully human again, it leaves Kevin exhausted. With another awful groan, he plops onto his side, bumping up against Gilbert's knee. Eyes half-closed, he breathes heavily. The sun is completely up.

Somewhere in between oh and shitshitshitshit lies Gilbert's real thoughts on the matter. His and jerks back away as the transformation starts, and he leans back on one foot to give Kevin space to flail about as needed, though he doesn't run away. As soon as he slumps back down and the worst of it seems to indeed be over, Gil hesitantly reaches out for him again.

"Kevin...?" he says as he puts a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Nn --"

He'd been about to drift off; at the touch, he stirs awake again, and his eyes attempt to focus. All that's in front of him is the cabinet, but though he's human again, his senses are still more acute than they used to be. Though Gilbert spoke hesitantly, Kevin can hear him loud and clear. The smell of the cigarettes the man smokes -- it's stronger than it should be, and the knight knows immediately who is touching his shoulder.

Kevin doesn't jerk away. If anything, he relaxes a little. The simple comfort of not being alone is welcome as the aches begin to fade. Exhausted, his thinking is muddled, but one thought occurs to him, and he latches on to that thought.

"...werewolf. Gilbert," he says at length, voice slurred; his human tongue feels strange in his human mouth. "Pointin' at -- the moon."

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