abraxaslogs | [closed] I'm a rising pisces and a fucked up moon

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[closed] I'm a rising pisces and a fucked up moon

Who: Wilhelm and pals
When: January and onward
Where: Nocwich, Thorne, etc.
What: Catchall for the foreseeable future (until the right mood lyrics grab me by the throat)
Warnings: Will mark threads as needed

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As the wagon rolls and jolts down the road, Wilhelm wonders what the hell he was thinking when he signed up for this gig. His track record for defending himself is...well, lackluster, and here he is guarding a whole wagon through beast-infested woods. White-knuckling the back of the wagon as it sways around a bend, he reminds himself that Lucifer and Kell are here with him. He can try to transmute their competence into his own confidence. He has his fire and, tucked in a pocket, his knife.

He couldn't do shit for the bodies stacked in the wagon bed when they were still alive, but maybe he can so something for them now.

One point of pride amid his hard-to-die doubts: Wilhelm has managed to enshroud much of the cart in magical darkness. Masking the whole thing was out of the question, as it would prevent the driver from seeing the road ahead. Or his hand in front of his face, for that matter. Only Wilhelm can see through the thick shadows he creates. So, it should — he hopes — make their group harder to find in the dim forest.

It's always healthy for them to be let out of Thorne but Lucifer is having some regrets for the amount of travel this is supposed to take them. Maybe he could ride one of the horses. Maybe he could perch on the top of the wagon. (Neither of these things will happen.)

The party accompanying him doesn't know how lucky they are that Lucifer isn't singing at least. Not because he thinks they'll be ambushed. It's just. Some extra precaution. No lingering concerns or anything from the last time he sang on a mission and then later had his brain rattled and sidling with a monster.

That can't happen here. Shouldn't happen here.

But he's being a good little archangel for the kids, you're welcome.

He had given Wilhelm a hum of pride though, when he had pulled up his darkness shroud, and in a way that wouldn't hinder the wagon. A+, gold star, excellent maneuvering of a spell, yada yada. Lucifer is walking just in the fringes of it, his arms lazily folded behind his head, letting the shadows wrap over him like a cloak. He can see through it, not perfectly, but enough for what he needs, and it provides him with a bit of cover. His careless behavior is mostly for show; he is keeping apprised of their surroundings, as tempting as it is to slack off.

Partway through the trip, he does stage-whisper over to Kell, "Maybe this will help with your 'research.'" Because werewolves in a setting that is outside of what they normally see. For his writing.

There are day when Kell thoroughly hates he agreed to move to Nott. The crown has provided them with a house, but pays Rhy only enough to keep them fed and the house heated. There's none left to pay for even a single servant. Which is something Kell things a lot about on his worst days. Neither of them changed their habits, neither of them was even in the tiniest part aware of how much fucking work is needed to keep the place and themselves clean. Food needs to come from somewhere and it needs to be prepared. Kell can swear their conditions were set as such on purpose. That the crown is trying to make an example of them. Maybe even make them beg to be admitted back. Look how good you had it in the castle. Are you sure you want to live in this wretched place? Well, over his dead body.

It does mean though that given a chance to escape for day or two he jumps on it with no thought at all. If his current living arrangement has given him anything, it's stamina. It sure does require a lot of walking. So now Kell walks along the coffin cart like he's on a leisurely stroll not a grim trip escorting a wagon full of cadavers. Still tired to the bone, but only mildly annoyed.

Especially after Wilhelm did all the work covering most of the wagon in darkness so now it practically blends with the surroundings. Which Kell made sure to complement, loud, so that Wilhelm heard it. He didn't mention that it does make it look as if the stage coach was sitting on air, and Lucifer's floating head at the side is pretty unsettling on its own. At least that their werewolf companions find it funny. Kell only addition was a masking spell for the stench. While his reason behind it was selfish, it actually turned useful. It made it more bearable for them, but also preemptively dealt with the danger of any predators getting drawn to their little party by the smell.

Mildly annoyed and tired makes him a perfect target for Lucifer's jabs.

"Fuck off. My research made some nice money."

It doesn't help that Lucifer's comment is followed by snicker both from above Kell's head and behind the wagon. Oh, yes, the werewolves can hear you, Lucifer.

Wilhelm is perched on what would in modern parlance be called the bitch seat, little more than a plank of wood affixed to the back of the wagon for the purpose of having someone mind the cargo from the rear. He is, with the deliberate care of someone avoiding weight on a wounded leg, trying not to think too much about the cargo at his back. The dozen bodies wrapped in black like slates wiped blank by death.

The spellwork fills his mind up nicely. His shadows aren't attached to the cart, exactly, so he has to keep the dark mass shifting at the same pace that they travel — which is easier to do from aboard the wagon. Even so, it's a test of mental agility and endurance.

The repartee between Lucifer and Kell helps to lighten the eerie woods and their morbid task. A smirk curves Wilhelm's lips as he joins in.

"What research?" he asks, feigning ignorance. "That sounds—"

Suddenly, the wagon fishtails on a patch of ice, and his sentence ends in a tangled swear as he clings to the side to keep from falling off. His shadows peel off the wagon, settling around Kell instead. As for the wagon itself — it's careening dangerously close to the edge of the road, which plummets down the steep slope of a hill.

He shoots a scathing look Kell's way because hey, he was actually being serious, but it shouldn't really be a surprise that Kell took it otherwise--they're maybe not... exactly on the best terms, he's not too sure. He easily remembers Rhy's dry 'I'm surprised you still remember who I am' during the Wintertide festivities.

So maybe he should have visited Nott! Why! What's the point! He tries to avoid Nott, it's not his fault that the two ended up in the one part of Thorne he doesn't go. And anyway! He's certainly! Not! Neighborly!

(The ice patch does save them from Lucifer's snappish reply, because why would he clarify and smooth feathers when he can just dig in further.)

"Ah. Hell."

Simply spoken and hiding the knee-jerk spiked panic that takes him by surprise. He's jolting forward with inhuman speed--maybe even a skipped-forward flight, who could really say--and reaching out to grab for Wilhelm, the wagon a secondary concern, and the werewolves not even making it on the list.

They do not need Wilhelm joining the corpses if that cart goes over.

That they drifted apart is as much fault of circumstance as them both being obstinate fools. But even a month or two ago Kell wouldn't have snapped the way he did at what was, in fact, not even a provocation. It's easier to be mad on Lucifer for not visiting than admit he misses him. Just like he does all the people they left in the castle.

It only adds to their similarities that they react identically when the wagon suddenly swerves dangerously close to edge.

"Wille!"

Kell yells, but not with anger for the darkness that envelops him, cutting of his vision completely, making him trip on a tree root sticking out of the ground that he'd otherwise notice without making an effort, and now doesn't because all of sudden he can't see shit. It's worry bordering on panic.

He can't see a thing, only hear the wagon driver swearing as he tries to reign in the horses, the wheels creaking, and high pitched squeals coming from the forest way too close for comfort. Pigs? In the forest? Kell is a city-born through and through, and he hasn't yet tried hunting in the woods near Oleuni Square. So he doesn't recognize the call nor understand why the other of their companions joins in on the swearing. He's an older guy, until now walking on other side of the wagon from Kell, with hands casually hooked on a long spear he carries on his shoulders, looking bored. He doesn't sound bored now.

"Lucifer?!"

Kell yells again as he scrambles to his feet. He needs to move to leave the darkness behind. It's harder when he cannot see. It's like trying to skate with your eye closed.

Really, then, Wilhelm should be commended for reconciling the two over a common cause: saving his stupid ass from breaking his neck in a ditch.

One second, he's sliding with the cart — the weight of all those bodies lending it momentum across the ice slick, the horses protesting as they're pulled off course. The next, arms are wrapping around him, yanking him off of the wagon. As his feet hit solid ground, he finds himself stumbling backward into Lucifer. He grabs onto him for balance. Panic crashes inside of him.

With eyes wide, he watches the wagon tip off the road and go lurching downhill over stones and roots and brush. Spilling the carefully wrapped bodies, one here, one there, as the wheels jolt and tilt.

He has all but forgotten about the shadows he'd kept wrapped around the cart, now scattered. Pulling out of Lucifer's grip, Wilhelm begins to pick his way down the hill.

"We have to...we have to get them back on the cart," he mutters, sliding down a wet patch of leaves and holding onto a tree trunk.

Gold star, kiddo.

"Polo!" he shouts back for the redhead. They can do the whole echolocation deal, easy. Call and response. Marco Polo. (He's not sure Kell would get the Marco Polo reference.)

The ice isn't doing Lucifer many favors either, but center of balance has never been a problem for Lucifer when you have supernatural, ethereal, unseen wings. And though he slides backwards, Wilhelm relatively secured, he keeps his stance stable.

As Wilhelm takes on the slippery route, Lucifer hears the same thing Kell had.

Torcainse. Just what they need on top of whatever state the wagon is in.

It's probably a bad time to ask the werewolves where is the bacon, but BOY is the temptation singing through his veins.

"Careful," he says, loud enough for them both to hear (and likely the werewolves with their keen hearing, but they certainly know about the nearby boars already), "we've got bad company nearby."

He makes his way down to the crest of the hill just before it goes over and peers down, less caring about stabilizing the cart until he gets a better idea of their new situation.

And swallows.

".... looooooot of company, turns out."

"What?!"

Kell definitely does not catch the reference. He knows nothing about echolocation. His ignorance doesn't stop it from working anyway. The danger does seem to kick his brain into override making him finally remember the names of the werewolves that accompany them. Edgtho, the driver. Herger, the spearman. Nothing like mortal danger to spur one's memory.

Or insults.

"Don't separate, you idiots! They'll pick you up one by one like rabbits!"

It's the spearman who lifts Kell from the ground, and all but throws him at Lucifer. Kell doesn't have a chance to protest or even comment. The werewolf already has his back to him as he addresses Lucifer, quite rightfully identifying him as the adult of their group.

"You! I recognize you, you have hunted with us before. Keep your pups together, so we maybe stand a chance."

Kell almost blurts that he's not a fucking child to be herded around, but realized in time, that he'd just prove the point by doing this, so wisely keeps his mouth shut, and dutifully lines behind Lucifer. He'll get to complain about it later. When they're not in danger of getting skewered in the middle of nowhere.

Wilhelm has nearly reached the first spilled body when the flurry of shouting from the road pulls him from his single-minded purpose. Jerking his head up, he scans the perpetual twilight of the woods. That's when he hears the snorting, and sees the tusked creatures emerging from the trees.

At the bottom of the hill, the wagon has slid to a stop against the broad trunk of an oak. The driver, Edgtho, has jumped down to free the wheels from the rocks that lock them in place. The horses stamp their hooves and throw their heads in terror as the boars tilt into a full-on charge.

Fuck.

A second of tangled panic, and then fire snaps to life in his palm. It's his best weapon. It makes him feel a degree of control when the situation tips into danger. He slips a look back at Lucifer, awaiting some indication of what the fuck he should do. (Though, he objects to being called a pup.)

This is really, really not fair.

His kneejerk reaction is in a similar vein as the other two but just a little askew, the near-snapped, "They're not my--" that quickly just drops off with a snarl. He's remembering too-well a conversation with Kyle outside a makeshift hospital in Nocwich and his bewildered he's not my 'man' when Kyle brought up Istredd.

And look how that turned out.

"Watch the cart and get those bodies sorted!" he yells back to the werewolves, like he didn't just have a very petulant response two seconds ago, "if the ones that got knocked aside get trampled--" Well. It likely wouldn't be greatly received, that's for sure. And Lucifer is all about his reputation. It's the only thing likely keeping him alive.

Considering that he doesn't think Wilhelm can anxiety-dump on a bunch of hogs, and for creatures accustomed to the endless night the Darkness magic won't do them any good... he's left with his fire. Why couldn't it have been bandits or something, huh? So Wilhelm's got fire and whatever combat skills he's maybe managed to learn from Kyle, and one of Lucifer's older shield models.

Kell easily fits into the magic-user slot. Lucifer's known that from the get-go when they ran their fire brigade. The good ol' times when Lucifer was willing to kinda-sorta start to drop a house on Kell instead of now where he very much needs and wants to keep Kell alive not only because Istredd's 'sort of adopted' Kell but also just simply because Lucifer.

When did everything get so complicated? With all these different people? Humans?

Point is: Kell's got the most magic juice with a decent side of melee.

Lucifer, as always, is the front-line fighter.

That spread versus... eight... cringe nine...? No, ten torcainse.

That's fine, y'know, he likes those odds. Definitely.

(He just might have an easier time if he were solo. That's all. Less to ~~worry about~~ focus on.)

He knows Wilhelm's gotten a fair control of his flames but Lucifer isn't actually sure the extent. If he could create and shape a wildfire.

But maybe Kell could. And he wouldn't put it past Kell to have the means to fulfill what quick battle thoughts are running through Lucifer's head.

Either way he needs a bit more time, a bit more space, and for a bunch of boars not to be charging them!!

He grabs them both since for one reason or another they've already been up in his space, one arm around each of their necks, pulling them in impossibly close with an iron grip that they should get the point that they better not try to wriggle free. He clearly speaks the Ancient Thornean word for protect--a word that Wilhelm at least would recognize--and the wooden-carved brooch partially tucked between Lucifer's pair of tunic sparks with power.

Actual sparks, in fact. For a moment Lucifer doesn't think dragging the two in will protect them, but then the lightning shield bursts up around their huddle and an electric shock feedback pulses out a radius of five-feet away from them, temporarily stunning the nearest boars and catching the others off guard at the sudden hold-up.

The shield will last thirty seconds. The stun will only get them five, but he's banking on there to be some disorientation to them shaking out of it.

His words are quick: "Burn whatever you can; spook 'em back first. Then we corral them, keep it so they can't charge easily." He looks to Kell for assistance there, as the stun effect wears off but Lucifer's lightning shield holds. Lucifer doesn't have the magic means to achieve what they need.

Kell had never truly hunted. Well, he killed a hydra in the Feywilds - with Alucard's help, but never went against a really wild animal. Let alone ten. Charging. The shock loses him precious seconds, and when he shakes it off there's fire coming from Wilhem's side, Lucifer is casting a spell Kell doesn't recognize, and Herger has planted his spear firmly into the ground. Kell blinks, and a wall of earth rises in front of the charging hogs, but they smash right through it. The stench of burning fur fills the air when first four crash into the lightning barrier, dropping on the spot stunned. He can hear the werewolf on his side whistle, but it barely registers. Just as he barely registers Lucifer's order. Enough to follow it, but not enough to realize it's where the idea for his next action comes from.

Kell borrows Wilhelm's fire, making the flames larger until they swallow the stunned boars and form another wall trailing the outline of Lucifer's ward. The only drawback being he can't see anything past it now. Which is a problem, because he doesn't want to risk panicked boars carrying the flame into the woods and setting the whole forest around them on fire. But he can feel the fire, its insatiable hunger, as it reaches out with its many, greedy fingers towards the dry leaves, fallen branches, dried bushes, and tiny sticks that line the side of the road, and he pulls it back, holding it in place. Speaking to it about the four tasty boars it can consume instead.

Kell's connection to magic is always more about cooperation than control. It is a force in and outside of him that he talks to, bargains with, but very rarely commands it. It's his blood that commands it, but apart from blood commands, magic is his ally not his servant. Through it Kell can sense, even if he doesn't see, the other boars turning back. The distance between them and the fire growing. What he does not feel from the leaving animals is panic. What he does is anger.

"Impressive," Kell can hear Herger say, though the tone of his voice doesn't really support the compliment. "but a ditch and a couple more spears would have been more useful. Now that you killed four of them, the rest will come back."

Kell looks back at Lucifer. He's still seeing all like through an orange veil, the presence of so much flammable material around them clawing at his mind like a scent of fresh baked bread to a starving man. He realizes the sparkling barrier is gone. The only thing separating them from the danger is a wall of fire he has to constantly focus on to keep it from spreading. And no other defense if the boars pass through it, or he tires faster than the animals, and his control slips.

It's rare that Wilhelm makes the trip to Nocwich without any plans to meet up with a friend. A date with Jesper — though, that aspect of their friendship has now changed — or tea with Wanda, or lunch with Hilda who has a new shade of nail polish to try on him. Everything Oleuni Square has to offer is just more fun with someone else. But today, he just has a little extra money in his purse and a beautiful boy in mind who he's trying to make happy.

He scours the marketplace in search of something suitable for a "just because" gift. Will Kelson think these hair decorations are too feminine? Would he like those tiny pewter figurines, or is Wilhelm just drawn to them because there's a frog among the display?

As he's debating if he should go back to that one stall, he notices a boy slumped against a streetlight at the market's edge. The boy's face is pale and dark bags hang under his eyes. With concern overtaking his countenance, Wilhelm approaches and crouches down in front of him.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Will had gone to Oleuni Square to check once again for any cool medical supplies, any potential substitute for ambrosia or just fun and tasty snacks. He liked to be prepared if another demigod was among the Summoned. Or if his boyfriend was. And he knew kitkats were essential to Nico's mental and physical health. So. Substitute kitkat shopping. Now however? He was slumped against a street lamp clutching an iced caffeinated beverage like it was life itself. Ordinarily, he was a pretty good caffeine addict. Without sunlight? Caffeine as life wasn't it? Anyone else he would have ordered out to rest, but, Will was a giant hypocrite with poor work/life balance and a crappy sense of self worth.

He perks up when the cute boy at one of the stalls came over to him. He may be dying but he wasn't blind. "I've been better honestly." Maybe he should buy some foundation to cover up the wonder bread color his skin gets here? That was a thought! "Nocwich doesn't agree with me. And yet, I keep coming here." He held out a hand to the boy, sipping his life force caffeine with the other. "I'm Will."

The kid looked human. Zits were always a good clue. No immortal being was going to willingly have them. So, his chances of being transformed into a sunflower just dropped to zero. Excellent! Will got a glimpse of acne scars and wondered if he could clear that up. Re-attaching arms? Yes. Acne scars? Who knew?

So much happens all at once — Lucifer wrenching him close and activating his magic forcefield, Kell seizing his flame and amplifying it into a wall that engulfs the boars, the beasts snorting and squealing from what seems like all sides — that it paralyzes Wilhelm. Although he's been training in magic and combat for over a year now, he's hardly ever had to put his skills to the test in a crisis.

Funny enough, it's annoyance toward Kell that awakens first underneath the suffocating blanket of panic. That's his fire, dammit. He can control it himself. It lasts a flash of a second, this irrational indignation, before he reaches for the flames through his connection to them, like they are hot nerves outside his body. It used to be that others always had to fight for him. Lucifer, rushing in with shimmering wings to save him from being mauled that first (and for him, only) time in the hunting woods. Kell, shielding him as they escaped falling rocks in the pit and dogged cultists on the mountain.

Now, he can stand and fight for himself.

(But it definitely doesn't hurt to have Lucifer and Kell by his side.)

Wilhelm stretches the fire toward the hogs, hoping that it will scare them off, that they'll keep running. And they do keep running. Only, it's toward the cart — the next closest target. Herger, having scooped up one of the fallen bodies and thrown it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes — or a sack of whatever werewolves might like to eat — is soon overtaken by a stream of boars barreling downhill.

On one hand, it's nice to not be on the receiving end of thirty to fifty feral hogs. (Okay, so, there aren't that many, but his adrenaline sure as hell can't tell the difference.) On the other hand, it would probably be bad if they demolished the cart and further desecrated the bodies on board.

So without a second thought, or much of a first one, for that matter, Wilhelm crashes through the fire to chase after the boars. His flames don't burn him — they part around him. He swipes a burning ball up in his hand as he passes, and he hurls it at the pack.

"Hey! Can you guys just fuck off?!"

"You can hold it," Lucifer says to Kell, no-nonsense, nothing flowery. Hard. Resolute. "You can hold it and more," he continues, and that might be a risk pushing him here in this moment to maybe go beyond his limitations, but when else? Training in safety isn't going to push boundaries. It's here, now, in the literal heat of battle.

Lucifer could care less if the forest burns. He does, however, get slightly irritable at Herger's remarks even though he may as well have said similar over a year ago. "You make it sound like that isn't what I'm hoping for," Lucifer says over his shoulder, his voice devolving to a syrupy lull, his stance becoming just slightly off--head creaked too far one way, the rest of his body jutted to the side. The firelight is reflecting in his eyes, or maybe they are glowing, who's to say?

Neither of them have ever quite seen him this way. Close, maybe. But not this.

Battle pulls something else out of Lucifer, the monster writhing within the cage of his vessel. He enjoys spilling blood, enjoys getting his hands dirty, but he is always the predator. An ambush like this puts him into something more unpredictable. Calls out to him differently, and his hackles might as well be raised as they gain what little of their footing just as Lucifer needed. He didn't need much. Just a breath.

A moment.

He wants the boars to come back because now he's ready, prepared, thrumming with Intent.

"But," he drawls, piercing gaze to Herger, "if you want to be a good boy a dig a hole for us, by all means."

The 'good dog' is nearly there but even Lucifer as he is currently still considers (barely) political ramifications.

He should let Herger get gorged. Death has less of those 'political ramifications' in his opinion than the werewolves returning home and lamenting about unprofessional and disrespectful Thorne Summoned. Death they can wave off as a misstep.

Look, it makes sense to Lucifer, okay.

The other guy's fine though and, well, they still need someone that can drive the cart, so Herger gets off easy.

With only the sound of rustling wings, no other indication making their existence known, Lucifer disappears one moment and in the next is on the other side of Wilhelm's Wild Charge and the boars, flanking a few of them. Three are already turning back for Wilhelm, angry aggression for the fireball as it eats and sears into their sides, one of the trio stumbling and slowing down, before stopping entirely. The two continue for him in their rage.

Lucifer focuses on two of his own three that are still set in their ways for the cart, and immediately punches one hand each through the tops of their meaty heads, skillfully avoiding the numerous tusks, and cracking into their skulls with the force.

His tunnel-vision for the combat, for wanting to enjoy this--always has been his downfall, and that hasn't changed--comes with the unfortunate side-effect that while he's trying to keep some distracted awareness for the other two, it's... not nearly as much as there would be normally.

Not nearly as much as there should be. Odd that it won't be his undoing this time.

He's trying to figure out what doesn't agree with me means — allergies? The food? The crowds? Then he's wondering if he's supposed to shake the guy's hand or help him up. Wilhelm starts with the first, reasoning that if Will is unwell, then he should probably stay off his feet. Though, he could probably find him somewhere more comfortable to slump...

"Uh, Wilhelm." His lips twitch with a chuckle at the coincidence. Will, Wilhelm. "Or Wille, if you want to make things confusing."

He throws a glance around the square, as if a clear-cut answer for what the hell to do with this pale, faint boy might pop up.

"Should we...get you something to eat? Or would that make it worse?"

Will laughed at the coincidence. "Which name do you prefer?" He was honestly tempted to go for Wille, because it was always fun when things were confusing. But he'd also call him sparky or pikachu if the guy wanted. He watched the other boy look around, and then look at him, realizing he was probably a lot more worried than he should be. Or at least, than Will was. He tried to make it better.

"Food sounds nice. I think I saw a pastry shop around the corner. I'm fine, really." He wasn't. " My skin hasn't started opening up and bleeding, so we still have time. I haven't seen that many people my age around here, honestly. I'm glad to meet you." Then again, Will's idea of 'fine' was probably pretty skewed after 3 wars fighting against gods, monsters and other demigods. Life was weird. Will sipped the coffee he had like it was life itself, and stood up his full height. He was tall. Taller than Wille, and muscled from years of training and restraining annoyed Ares children.

"I just need sunlight. A friend taught me a light spell but, I honestly don't want to use it and risk hurting anyone in here who....can't be around light." Wasn't that the point of this place? He didn't want to start an international incident because Apollo. That was his life wasn't it? Because Apollo.

Edited (slight addition) 2024-02-11 14:14 (UTC)

Well, the fact that he has the energy to talk this much eases some of Wilhelm's concern. Though, his chattiness could have something to do with the coffee he's gulping down like it's the only thing holding him together. When Will stands, Wilhelm joins him.

"Okay, let's get pastries then."

He'll feel better, at least, if Will eats something. With a little follow me gesture, he starts heading toward the bakery. Having frequented the same shop on past Nocwich jaunts, he knows exactly where it is.

"Wille is fine," he adds with a shrug. Then his expression folds in sympathy as he considers Will's predicament. He knows something about having a spell that you're hesitant to use because you know it will harm someone else as much as it will help you.

"That sucks. So you're like...what, a reverse vampire?"

The two boars swerve to the side with Lucifer not exactly fully aware they do so and Kell completely oblivious. While Wilhelm and Lucifer deal with their, Kell concentrates to fortify the cart. The ditch suggestion was not all bad, even if he hated how it was delivered. Intense focus is one of rare situations where Kell is difficult to manipulate or provoke no matter what insults are hurled his way. And that wasn't even an insult, more like a snide remark, which while he did not appreciate, it was easy for him to ignore when concentrating on keeping the fire in check.

At this point it's fairly clear the fire does nothing as way of repelling the boars, but Lucifer told him to keep it so he does. It makes all his other efforts harder, but at this point Kell trusts Lucifer implicitly and the thought to argue has not even crossed his mind. He faintly recognizes shearing noises behind him. Metal striking wood. He doesn't think about it. The thing he can do, other then just holding the fire, is to reach for the packed soil just in front of the wall of flames.

He's half-way through making a ditch that while almost protecting the cart still leaves him wide open, shielded only by the flames. It all happens to quickly for Kell to realize in the moment what's going on. Suddenly all he feels is searing pain in his left calf and he screams collapsing to his knees. It's a miracle he doesn't lose control over the flames completely, but the blaze shoots higher fueled by the blood flowing out free from a long gash in his leg. He hears the pained squeals of the animals following squishing sounds and an eruption of foul smell. Later he won't be able to explain how he did it, but he feels the beating hearts of the enraged boars, reaches for them on pure instinct and crushes. It's the last think he remembers before loosing consciousness.

The fires die as dramatically as they exploded upward with neither Wilhelm who started it, nor Kell being able to sustain them. It leaves a scorched line trailing the unfinished ditch and a few singed branches above the cart.

As far as Will was concerned, it probably was the only thing holding him together. Lacking the regular sunlight his demigod body needed to sustain himself, well, caffeine wasn't the best substitute but it was this demigod's vice of choice. Brought about by years of medical crises with injured and dying teenagers and nymphs, and him. Staying up for days on end ended up being pretty normal for Will. So. Caffeine addiction.

This was the fifth time now that someone else has tried to care for him and you know? It was super weird. Will was used to the caretaker role. He was used to being the one taking care of literally everyone else. Having someone else look out for you too? Nice. It was nice. So he followed his new friend.

Then he let out a laugh, a warm, sunny laugh. "You're the second person to make that comparison. I guess so! I never realized it was going to be as much of a problem until I came here, though." Sure, he had to deal with it while wandering around Tartarus, but. That was kind of a one time deal right?

"So what's your deal, Wille? Having fun pleasing our kidnappers? Or are you living the dream here?" For all he knew he came from a world that was literally on fire, this could be paradise. For Will? Well, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing was free. And just because the Gods here seemed to be more...distant than the ones back home on Olympus? Well, he was still waiting for someone to order him to fetch some magical socks for them. Everyone wanted something. You just had to figure out what it was, and try and keep everyone alive in the process.

It almost escapes his notice that Will doesn't provide a definitive answer to what he actually is. But Wilhelm supposes it doesn't matter much. Reverse vampire it is — withering in the darkness and sucking down coffee for sustenance.

"My deal?" he repeats. Then he shrugs. "I don't mind it here, honestly. Maybe it's not always easy..."

That's an understatement. Wilhelm has faced some of the steepest challenges of his life in this world. He has been broken and battered, burned and bruised. But he has also come through those challenges stronger than he ever was in his old life.

"But my life is actually mine. I don't have to just do what my parents want all the time."

And that makes it all worth it.

Will actually laughed at that, it was ironic, that statement was one he understood. Probably not exactly what Wilhelm had in mind, but it was definitely something he could relate too.

"I feel a little bit like that, I know what you mean. Here you can be whoever or whatever you want, and no one will hold it against you, or want something from you." Like their dirty magical socks fetched. Because that's what he was good for right?

It wasn't that Will didn't want to tell Wille who or what he was. For all he knew, Apollo didn't exist in Wille's world and it wouldn't matter. At the same time, he'd told others, and it hadn't changed their view of him. But. They had been adults. Would it change Wille if he knew? Or could Will get away with just being a reverse vampire for a while longer? It was the same reason he had asked his boyfriend to take a regular, human taxi cab instead of magical transportation. It was normal.

It had also scared him halfway to death, next time he might be okay with the zombie chauffer instead of a terrifying drive in a new york taxi cab during rush hour.

As Lucifer and Kell spin strategy and brandish the full thrust of their powers, it's all Wilhelm can do just to stay on his feet. Everything happens in a blur, a sharp beating pulse all around him. The hogs wheel around, stamping the ground and snorting. Wilhelm, knowing he should stop before he gores himself on their tusks but unable to slow his downhill momentum, curves to the side — and, stumbling, catches himself on a tree.

Then — a gristly, squishing sound, and frenzied squeals snuffed short. Suddenly Lucifer is there, arms slicked red up the wrists. Two of the boars crash dead in the underbrush.

What survives of the pack is still rushing toward the cart, a torrent of hooves and tusks. Herger, taking advantage of the opening cracked by Lucifer to run, has loaded the body back onto the wagon. Edgtho wrestles with the jammed wheels. Kell is carving out the ground, moving mounds of earth with a few practiced gestures.

For an overwhelming moment, Wilhelm gets stuck in indecision. And in that moment, that hesitation, one of the boars collides with Kell. The fire Wilhelm had just begun to reach for exhales its last breath in a sudden rush.

"Kell!" he yells, dashing toward him. With little thought invested in how effective it will be, he draws his knife from his pocket for protection against the boars.

Lucifer's only drawn back to himself by Wilhelm's shout for Kell, and he blinks red from his eyes and takes a few moments to look beyond the vanished flames, watching unblinking.

Tired, annoyed, covered in blood, mildly curious if he could get a chance to watch Wilhelm gut a live animal or if he'd be mauled like Kell, thinks he needs to likely give Wilhelm one of the newer voice-activated-only shields, and doesn't so much as fly as he pond-hops atop the boar, slamming the head of the creature down into the ground before Wilhelm.

"I'd ask if you want a lesson in how to flay flesh, but maybe another time," Lucifer drawls, voice distant.

Thankfully for Wilhelm Lucifer does not punch his fist through this one and cover the kid in blood, but he unfortunately witnesses Lucifer snapping its neck and dismounting the body, his attention already back to the woodline and nothing else.

The flames weren't about keeping the boars contained, once their original job had been taken care of.

It was the rest of the woods. The predators he was familiar with. The scavengers looking to slip in and take advantage for a meal, just as deadly, and even more fast. The ones that would understand fire catching to trees when they use the forest to their advantage and would shy away.

Lucifer doesn't see any blue glows slinking their way through frostbitten grass, sleek fur on the prowl. Distantly, very distantly, among the dark shift of leaves on a cool breeze, he thinks he catches something. Red eyes watching to mirror Lucifer's own, but they blink out just the same and are gone. With the boars decimated, their opportunity to use the distraction is gone with them.

He surveys the rest of the massacred scene, makes sure Kell's final blow--whatever magic he had used--had snuffed out the remaining lives--does not rest his eyes on Kell's downed body, and instead turns steely eyes onto the werewolf pair. He's still weighing if he really needs both of them, though a compartmentalized part of him acknowledges that they aided in the last strike...

... In that his only acknowledgment is him pulling a spear from a dead body, spins it about his fingers, and then jabs it back into the boar. He might come back for it before they depart.

"Make sure we're ready to continue as soon as possible," he says bitingly, "I don't want the Gealaci Kucing getting comfortable with our delay and come out seeking leftovers."

It's only then he rounds back to Wilhelm, attention finally on Kell, and folding down besides Kell. "Watch my back," Lucifer instructs, more to keep Wilhelm's likely-to-be-waning adrenaline occupied than needing him. "Look for red eyes and blue glowing skin. You've seen one before."

He doesn't reach for his healing, remembering too well the power jam when he tried to heal Kyle. Lucifer tears his hip bag from his side and opens a flap with a sharpened focus, taking out the medical kit he acquired from Nadine to have in case Wilhelm and Kell got in a bind in the mountains after escaping the island.

Funny. To be used for one of them, anyway.

Real funny.

He gets to work. It won't be good. Not as clean as it could be, not as well sewn together, but he applies the topical ointment and the bandage isn't budging. It's quick work, but it gives the werewolves time for the cart to be checked over from their in-combat fixes, and he thinks Nadine would perhaps be satisfied with what he had to work with.

"Help him up," he tells Wilhelm as he packs up his kit. "Just watch the leg." He doesn't think Wilhelm will loose hold of the unconscious Kell. Hopes he won't, anyway. Lucifer has to delegate somehow, and he doesn't trust the werewolves to--

"If we take him with us, it'll slow the trip," Edgtho says. "I can escort him back."

Lucifer freezes, none to keen on the idea, his attention locking to the werewolf. "He's coming with us."

Edited 2024-02-23 09:05 (UTC)

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