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Pooch Poaching [Closed] - Printable Version

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Pooch Poaching [Closed] - skiesofpurple - 03-18-2017

Something fancy here!

RE: Pooch Poaching - skiesofpurple - 03-18-2017

"Come oooon, come on, comeon... Shit."

You know those days that start off pretty fucking decent, but as time goes by you come to the slowly dawning horrible realization that it was going to be an absolutely shit day? Yeah. Yeah, that's where we're at right now. Nothing made sense in the world and everything was awful. There wasn't any fucking way to salvage this day, not when his 2L orange soda had slipped out of his grip and was now decorating the walls, floor, and soaking into his shoes. To add insult to injury, the soda had fallen on his backpack before bursting, so his fritos that he'd been looking forward to ALL DAY were undoubtedly both crushed and also soaked. Because this was his life and everything sucked.

The only saving grace from this whole disaster was that his DS was in his back pocket, therefore safe from the splash zone, and he'd left his laptop at home in favor of creating maximum chip-toting capacity. Not that that capacity was doing him any favors at the moment.

In obvious distress about aforementioned soda and chips, Axel reached up one hand to tug the curls at the top of his head in frustration, only to freak out even more because he'd somehow missed the fact that there was soda all over his hands and now it was in his fucking hair. The hair that he'd spent hours in a chair getting fixed up just this morning. He'd nearly cried when he'd finally seen the really awesome fade that still left his natural hair a bit long on the top, but now said hair was going to be sticky and smell like artificial citrus because he was an idiot.

He did not cry in that chair and he was not going to cry now, god DAMN it.

Axel finally managed to shove his keys (the keys which had started this whole mess in the first place by making him practice juggling with a 2 liter soda bottle) into the door of his shitty apartment. He had to shove his shoulder into it and throw all the surprisingly considerable weight his 5'9'' frame could muster to finally get the damned thing open. Somehow managing not to faceplant on the floor when the door gave way, he stumbled into his apartment and out again with some dishrags that probably used to be clothing before they became too ripped to be aesthetically mangled. Tossing those on the artificially orange puddle decorating the hallway, he scooped up his backpack and stomped into the kitchen to toss that in the sink.

His apartment was small and shitty. But that was okay, because the landlord didn't ask question about the legality of him living here to begin with. It consisted of a kitchen that was part of a tiny living and dining space that was part of his bedroom that had just one door leading to the smallest bathroom a grown man could reasonably fit inside of. The majority of the space was taken up by a disproportionately huge desk containing three monitors hooked up to his baby, his pride and joy, his beloved computer he'd build his own very self. In an ideal world, he'd be booting up his baby right now and logging in to check and see if anyone was up for running some old content on his favorite questionable MMO RPG, but he didn't dare approach his most prized possession when he was tainted by sticky sweetness that'd be IMPOSSIBLE to clean off his keyboard later.

All-in-all, it took about 10 minutes until the hallway was clean enough that his landlord wouldn't bitch at him about the soda and his backpack was cleaned and clear of both chips and soda. He was down to two crushed bags of chips and four cans of monster from his shop run. Unfortunately, none of the soda had survived, but maybe that was a good thing. He'd probably never be able to look at orange soda the same way again after this.

The (sadly) crushed chips ended up tossed halfheartedly in the direction of his computer rig while the monsters achieved places of high honor in his mini fridge next to his bed. Once those essential responsibilities were accomplished, he shed his band hoodie and artfully ripped jeans to hop in the shower to either drown himself or remove all evidence of his previous blunders from his person. Probably the latter, but given his day thus far, the former wasn't out of the question.

RE: Pooch Poaching - Blade - 03-18-2017



“I need you to retrieve him.”

She was being a bit vague he surmised as he ran stood but a few paces behind her. The ‘her’ in question was running a brush through her brown-black curls. He watched her work at the vanity in her room, meeting her bright emerald gaze in the mirror. She must have noted the curl of his brow because she stopped, reached for a photo, and held it up to him to take. Which he did.

“I don’t know what his last name is, if he even has one. But he goes by Axel.”

Marcus glanced at the image of the dark-skinned male in a hoodie. It was a pass-and-grab sort of photo. Something someone took on a phone.[Image: Isabella.png]

“The address where he lives is written on the back.”

“Can I ask what you want him for?” Marcus inquired, finally saying something.

“We’ve talked about this, you and I. The world has changed, and we need to change with it. We need an addition to our family and he fits the bill—alone, poor, no real ties to the world. His skillset will do, even if he’s not the absolute best.” She’d been focused on her hair, brushing it again, but she paused once more to turn and look at him; one hand gripped the iron-metal of her chair back. She smiled. “It’s been jus the two of us for such a long time. Are you afraid, piccolo drago?”

She wasn’t Italian; not by a long shot. But she had the look, in a way, and felt it suited her to favor it when giving him pet names. As for how he felt... he didn’t know. It didn’t matter, regardless, if it was her will. And he would endure, just as he always did.

“What I feel is of no concern; I’ll do as you bid, Isabella-sama.” He bowed even as she smiled on.

She turned back to work on her hair. “It’s in New York, so I expect you won’t be back for a few days. Take the jet, but be mindful of the time. And Marcus?”

“Yes?’ he asked, stopping just before he left the room.

“Don’t be too rough.”

___

To say it was in Marcus’ nature to be spooky would be not be entirely incorrect. Spooky though, perhaps, wasn’t the best word. He wasn’t trying to be, at any rate. Cautious. He was being cautious. And he had every right to be. His mistress had failed to mention to him that the man he was obtaining was in fact therian. He’d like to think she’d simply forgotten, but he knew better.

The moment he’d walked into the empty studio apartment he could smell it everywhere. In his dirty clothes, his sheets, his shower. His nose had curled at the scent and he exhaled in a half growl, half hiss; though, he wasn’t certain if the sound were simply because he could not help it given what he was, or, if were directed at Isabella-sama herself. And why would she keep that tidbit to herself? He would not have said no; there was no one else should ask, or trust, to retrieve him.

But back to being spooky.

He hadn’t been there long before there’d been noises outside the door—keys in the lock. Instinctively, he’d slipped into the shadows. His form didn’t merely burrow into a corner, but instead he invoked the shadows themselves and disappeared into nothing—observing when the therian male finally entered his room. He watched as he tossed his backpack into the kitchenette area’s sink, the chips towards his computer, and then as he himself slipped out of his clothes and into his impossibly small bathroom.

Marcus ran a hand through loose strands as he gazed at the computer. That, in all likelihood, would have to come with them. But he could send people for that; there were those who owed him a few favors in these neck of the woods that would get it done to his standards. He was more inclined to replace it, but knowing what he did from what little time he’d dealt with techs... they didn’t like leaving their... devices... behind like ill-begotten tired toys.

Once that matter was resolved, once he felt as if he’d grown accustomed to the scent of everything, he stepped back out of the shadows; they curled and retreated around him and back from whence they came with not a sound.

Curls, more like lazy waves, of his black tresses were coming loose from the red ribbon he’d tied his mane back with. His attire for the evening was perhaps more imposing than it should be, but he felt better for it given what he was facing.

Black slacks, black long sleeved shirt, and all of it trimmed in dulled gold. The shirt itself was more like a coat, reaching just to his knees. And the whole ensemble looked like something one might see in a modern Asian film. The fabric was comfortable and cut for easy movement—a Japanese silk mixed with something else.

He debated activating his armor and sword, thumb rolling over the ring on his right hand. One didn’t walk about with such things on anymore; not in the modern age when it seemed so out of place and got mouths yapping.

The pup was young... but... the same sense of caution from earlier sprang anew and he made his decision. In a blink, his thumb swept more earnestly over the ring, intention made more prominent, as the sword appeared on his hip—a katana that had seen him through far too many ages. Next came the armor; though, this was a bit newer: silver over the knees in layers and around his thighs, shins, along his shoulders, his arms, and bit along his chest.

Once satisfied, Marcus strode to the bathroom. He half considered waiting until the pup was finished, but didn’t think it was prudent to give him any kind of advantage. Fingers wrapped about the hilt of his sheathed blade as he walked in. The pup was already in the shower; which was good, there wasn’t much space to hold two men outside of it.

“Are you Axel?” he asked into the curtain, half wondering if this were going to be difficult to accomplish. Isabella-sama had said he was poor with no real ties in the world. However, that didn’t mean he’d make this easy. And given that he was a therian... He half wondered if he’d smelled Marcus already. The fact that he hadn't acknowledged him at all made Marcus tense, wondering if he were playing possum this whole time.


RE: Pooch Poaching - skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017

Okay, so everything probably wasn’t as gloom and doom as he was making it out to be. Or, at least that’s what he kept trying to tell himself as he stood under the pathetic trickle of lukewarm water that substituted an actual shower in this shitty apartment. He’d gotten the mess cleaned up just fine and he did still have his chips and monster. The chips were a little broken, but they’d taste the same. He had a raid lined up for later that night and he was totally going to kick some Old God ass. His hoodie hadn’t gotten too gross, but his shoes were gonna be a bitch to clean later. Those jeans were due for a wash anyway. But no one had beaten him up today! ...Yet.

Sighing to himself, Axel went about cleaning off the sticky remnants of soda as quickly as he could reasonably allow for. It wasn’t like he could actually stay in here long enough to drown himself, not unless he wanted to die of hyperthermia way before asphyxiation kicked in. Already the water was turning from lukewarm to uncomfortable and if he didn’t get out of here soon it’d-

“Shit!” Axel yelped. Manfully yelped. In a very masculine, totally-not-high-pitched manner. He also totally didn’t chuck whatever it was in his hand at the moment (soap. He threw a bar of soap) in the direction of the voice on the other side of his shower curtain, only to watch it bat harmlessly against said curtain and slide all the way down to the shower floor. Gross.

Wait, no getting distracted by soap. That had been a voice! In! His! Bathroom?

“Wh- who the fuck is out there? How the hell did you get into my apartment!” He (manfully) shrieked at the shower curtain. And then promptly felt like an idiot.

Had he been imagining things? Was he hallucinating voices because he’d been awake for probably over 48 hours at this point? He’d locked the door! He knew he did! He always did! There was no way someone was in his fucking bathroom right now! Besides! He should have smelled them! If there was someone, which there wasn’t, so clearly he was just going insane. Which, considering the options, he was sort of preferring at the moment because he was naked, in the shower, and whoever was on the other side of the shower couldn’t possibly have any good intentions because they broke into his apartment so clearly he’ll have to figure out some way to scare them off without turning into a hyena and killing them and he was so. Not. Ready for this shit.

Okay. Time to storm the breach.

Axel quickly reached out to grab the shower curtain, dramatically sweeping the offending plastic away to face his possibly hallucination / cat burglar. The fact that he was standing in a shower, naked, and had neglected to turn the water off seemed to escape his notice entirely. “I don’t know who the fuck you- oooouu HolyShit are you a samarai?”

And, sidetracked again.

“Holy Shit are you here to kill me?” There we go. Now he was staring, eyes wide, at the katana at his hallucination’s hip. He was pretty impressed with what his brain had come up with to tell him to go the fuck to sleep. It was super realistic, from the clothing to the modern armor to the authentic looking sword he was pretty sure could chop him in half without even trying. Maybe he should just skip the raid tonight. He’d be able to pug a group later, no problem.

“Okay. So. There’s a hot samurai standing in my bathroom and he’s here to kill me. Message received, I’m going to bed.” And finally, finally, he started groping blinding at the wall to (unsuccessfully) turn off the damned shower. It would have been a lot easier to do if he could take his eyes off the guy in front of him, but between the sword, the face, the hair, the armor, the clothing, and the general air of *~mystery~*, well, there was a lot to take in.

RE: Pooch Poaching - Blade - 03-19-2017

He blinked once and his brows rose at the yelp and at the soap—at least, he was pretty sure it was soap—as it hit the plastic curtain in front of him and fell with a thud. At the shrieking a vein above his brow twitched. The sound was not enjoyable. At all. But he was patient, so he waited the pup out. Thus far, however, this was beginning to look as though it was going to be difficult. Annoyingly difficult. He wasn’t shocked at the prospect; not entirely.

Marcus didn’t exactly feel up to explaining how he got in. Obviously, the pup’s residence didn’t have proper protections. Not that it would have been difficult for him, regardless. Even so, it was a wonder someone hadn’t broken in sooner; someone who wasn’t human—someone with intentions far more perverse and malevolent than his own and Isabella-sama’s.

What did surprise him was his reaction to his attire. At least briefly. He supposed it didn’t matter. Metas in this region weren’t prone to wearing clothing such as his—armor. Not usually, anyway. He imagined he would look unusual to a tech who wore jeans and hoodie.

Marcus refrained from sighing at the reaction anyway. His question still hadn’t been answered. He also refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes, and muttering a few choice words. He really wanted to, but it wouldn’t due to appear quite so frustrated just yet. But the shrieking... Gods. He really hoped he wasn’t normally prone to that. The komodo’s sense of serenity couldn’t take it.

His state of undress was expected and didn’t bother him. Being a therian, it was less than important, after all.

Wait... did he think he was a hallucination? Hot? What?

There was definitely a vein about to burst above his brow. Techs... Kami...

“You are not hallucinating,” Marcus bit off finally, sternly, a growl humming in his chest as his eyes narrowed. “And no, I have not been sent to kill you, pup.” Though, he was seriously reconsidering that option.

“I will repeat my question once more: Are you called Axel?” If the tech were admiring him, Marcus was too irritated to notice. “You have experience with computers? Security systems, yes?” He certainly looked like the one in the photo, but Marcus need to be certain.

RE: Pooch Poaching - skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017

Man, his hallucination looked pretty pissed off. Axel wondered vaguely how all this worked as he finally spared a glance over to the shower’s tap so he could turn the damn thing off and stop being pelted by frigid water. Seriously, so not helpful right now. Back on track, did the samurai being pissed off mean he was secretly pissed at himself? Was his subconscious yelling at him for all of his latest fuckups? If that was true, where had it been ten years ago when he decided to up the ante from a simple fugitive to international fugitive? Huh, maybe this was his own personal sign of the apocalypse. Something awful this way comes.

Oh, wait, the hallucination was talking again. What he said made him want to roll his eyes and laugh in his face. So cliche.. Instead, he snorted. “Dude. That is exactly what a hallucination would say.”

He reached out to gently pat the shoulder of said hallucination, if only to prove a point when he obviously wouldn’t be able to touch him because he wasn’t real, but then his hand actually made contact with some fairly admirable biceps covered in armor and he promptly lost whatever train of thought he’d been chugging down.

“Oh.” A few more pats to confirm his suspicions, followed by a curious squeeze. “You’re… real?”

It took a second for Axel to process all this before his hand was shooting back so hard he stumbled into the back wall of his shower because if the arm was real the man must be real and that would mean that the sword is real too. Holy shit.

“What the fuck.” He whined, a nervous, low giggle escaping from deep in his chest as he regarded his not-a-hallucination with wide eyes. “Then why are you here?” He let out a quick barking laugh when a thought occurred to him. “Do you have a question about a fucking computer? Here’s some advice: turn it off then back on again. Then email me or something instead of showing up in my apartment. Who even are you? What are you? Who told you that it was okay to randomly just show up in someone’s apartment and barge in on them in the shower? I was raised in a (totally metaphorical) clan of hyenas and even I know better than that!”

He was babbling and he couldn’t stop. It was kinda instinctual for him. Get cornered by a much larger predator, get nervous, start vocalizing until he was shut up or the predator lost interest. And yet, somehow, in the endless babble of words escaping from his mouth, he still, uh. Somehow didn’t answer the dude’s initial question.

Oops?

RE: Pooch Poaching - Blade - 03-19-2017



Marcus waited. Because, while he was mildly annoyed, he had an infinite amount of patience. He waited while the pup tried to process what exactly was going on. He waited while he turned off the water and.... snorted.

...only for him to say the most impossibly stupid thing imaginable.

But Marcus didn’t respond; not yet. That was primarily because the other man was reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. Patting. He barely tensed, waiting to react—to see if the pup were going to attempt something. Some kind of escape or attack. But he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed Marcus’ arm after a beat of a breath and seemed to process—finally—that the komodo was—in fact—real.

As the pup stumbled back into the shower under Marcus’s scrutinizing gaze of silver and ice-blue, giggling of all things and barking on about email, computers, and the intrusion into his personal space, the komodo began to wonder...

He hadn’t noticed at first because he’d been too focused on the fact that the other man was therian—that Isaebella-sama had sent him to retrieved someone without enough information. To niggle him. Because he could handle it, of course. But there was a chance, also, that she’d done it to avoid a debate with him. He didn’t contest her much ever; rarely, in truth. But adding a therian to their little group did not sit well with him. And he had no doubt she’d done this apurpose.

But he was noticing now. The hyena—as he’d identified himself to be—was not acting like someone who knew about The Other, the paranormal, vampires, therians, and everything that waded about on the other side of The Veil. He hadn’t put wards or protections on his residence; he hadn’t attacked Marcus; and he hadn’t shifted to any of his—likely—more powerful forms.

He was also growing weary of the chatter, but worked through it as he came to a very real conclusion. The pup knew nothing about what he was. At the very least, if not that, he knew nothing about The Other or The Veil...

Which meant that...

“Fuck,” Marcus hissed, another growl deep in his chest as it sunk in. He was not a teacher. And if this is what his mistress had in mind on top of everything else—babysitting duty and training—he would most definitely protest. He didn’t care how good the other man was at breaking into security panels or hacking into Court documents.

But the chatter wasn’t helping. At all. Neither was his epiphany.

Truely, Marcus didn’t know much about hyenas, but he did know about instinct and pack order. And those he used. Half because he wanted answers and half because he needed some release for the anger boiling under layers of practiced calm.

Marcus’ eyes almost seemed to flash as he darted forward—too quickly for human eyes—grabbed onto the pup’s biceps and slammed him into the shower wall. At the same time, his form shifted, black scale covering a good portion, but not all of his skin. They seemed to flip over what skin he had, visible once flattened—like strange scifi armor. Some of it decorated his face even as his fangs grew just a tad longer—noticeable as he bared them. Claws elongated; nails no longer, black and sharp and roughly three inches. He was also close enough now that his entire body just barely pressed against the younger male’s.

His nose brushed the other man’s as he hiss-growled; however, the latter sound, deep in his chest, was louder than before—pronounced and with intent. His sharp gaze focused on the pup’s.

“Name,” he snapped, nigh rumbling, seeming more animal than human in his demand.

RE: Pooch Poaching - skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017

Axel froze, words dying on his tongue the moment the samurai hissed a curse. Something had shifted in the atmosphere of the room, something his nervous babble wasn’t masking anymore. Samurai was getting pissed. For the first time in this whole interaction, Axel was struck with the realization that he might be making a series of horrible, horrible mistakes.

This theory was practically confirmed when the samurai moved so quickly that Axel could barely see him. All of a sudden, he found himself with his back pressed against cool tile and his front barely pressed against a long length of chilly armor. It felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room, his lungs no longer functioning, eyed wide and a ringing in his ears that, upon closer inspection, sounded like someone was making pathetic, terrified barely-there whimper-giggles.

Oh. Oh, that was probably him.

The demand of a name snapped him out of it, hands reaching up to scramble ineffectively at what he could reach of armor-covered arms, a shudder running up his entire body as he began shaking from cold and adrenaline, his ability to breath suddenly restored with ragged, shaky, wheezing breaths that sounded almost like laughs because he just couldn’t stop, fuck.

He was being held, naked and wet and cold and shaking, against the tiled wall of his shower by a samurai who was actually a monster. He was allowed to panic, alright? Sure, he was a monster, too, but he’d spent his whole life learning to hide while this guy just straight up transformed into a lizard-dragon-scaled-man thing! Right there in front of him! He could feel fur rippling along his own skin in response, his gums itching as his canines lengthened, jaw shifting to accommodate bone-crushing teeth. His instincts were telling him to shift and attack and flee, but he choked back the change with another high-pitched whine-giggle that human wouldn’t have been able to pull off.

“A-axel.” He managed to wheeze out, body once more entirely pathetically human. “I’m Axel.” His hands kept trying to get a grip on something, but had to settled for grasping blinding against the tiles next to him. He hadn’t stopped shaking, either, eyes fixed and staring at the threat literally staring right down his nose.

“W-what do you want with me?” He barely whispered, but considering how closely they were pressed, it sounded like he was shouting. At this point, all that was running through his mind was bigger predator, no clan, I’m going to die I’m going to be eaten.

RE: Pooch Poaching - Blade - 03-19-2017

“So you can shift,” he said, voice still a hiss-growl, in response to the fangs and fur. It wasn’t entirely intentional; Marcus had shifted. But the mild anger wasn’t helping. And it also didn’t help that he’d had his patience tried. It might have been different if the pup had attacked. He was accustomed to that sort of thing. It would have been a simple matter and he would have knocked him out, taken him, and called someone to box and deliver the crap in his equally crappy apartment. Easy.

But he hadn’t. And right now, he didn’t know if he were grateful for that or frustrated because of his mouth.

The giggles... it was reactionary. And Marcus couldn’t help but reacting to that—the animal part of him, the beast beneath skin, and bone, and as ancient as sentience on this god forsaken planet. His eyes narrowed and his mouth softened, fangs a little less barred. It wasn't quite submitting, but it was close enough for Marcus to assess it as such. The whining was close, and, he secretly commended him for holding his gaze.

Marcus grip gentled only slightly. Barely. Especially when the pup’s hands were made to rest on Marcus’ arms. And he closed his eyes, inhaling once as he moved closer to the pup’s hairline—something softer. Comforting.

Kami... how long had it been since he’d dared bother interacting with another of his kind? Properly, at that. Almost normal. Isabella-sama wasn’t wrong; the world wasn’t the same anymore, and yet, he would never stop hating himself.

He shoved it aside mentally and pulled his face back, eyes narrowed as the pup’s scent surrounded him. He needed to get back to the matter at hand—control his base instincts. He’d gotten a name. “You will come with me—by force if you make it difficult. I would rather hope you didn’t,” he told him. “I will not explain here.” Because unlike Axel, he did take precautions. And he simply didn’t trust that someone might not be listening in.

RE: Pooch Poaching - skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017

“Yes?” He squeaked out in response. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question, but he hadn’t been meaning to do a lot of these things during their brief interaction thus far. Shift. That was a good word for it, one of his favorite terms, if he’d ever had the balls to voice it before. This guy said it like it was natural, expected, like he’d been wondering if Axel even could. Which begged all kinds of questions, really. How had he known? Axel was good at controlling himself. He knew how to cover up his tracks and only shift in places he was certain no one would see. Had this guy known coming in or had he figured it out? What else did he know?

Were there more people like him out there?

Axel shuddered again, this time not from the cold. It had always been a fantasy of his. To find others. When he was little, wandering around a strange city where no one quite knew what to do with him in either form, he’d fucking dreamed of discovering an entire, I don’t know, fucking family of things like him. He’d settled for finding humans who resembled one of his forms and went from there, chasing the idea of a place where he might be able to fit it across the entire fucking globe. Trying to find some place to belong.

This was not how he had imaged discovering that there were other shifters out there.

Axel froze, his spiraling thoughts coming to a screeching halt when the lizard-samurai-man-thing leaned closer and… smelled him. He bit back on another round of whine-giggles threatening to escape his throat, horribly confused by this turn of events. Lizard man had softened, somewhat, his grip and his stance, and the shift was giving him whiplash. His hands gripped onto armored arms once again, his teeth finding and grinding into his own lower lip as he, finally, tried to get some control on his fucking nerves so he could maybe figure out what the fuck was happening and what the hell this dude’s intentions were.

He was also still very naked and very cold. The close contact with armor was not helping.

“But why.” He whined, unable to keep the petulance out of his voice when lizard-samurai started making demands again. This wasn’t fair. Sure, he was living in a crappy apartment in a crappy city and he’d been having a really crappy day, but that didn’t mean that he was due for some epic adventure to come pick him up and sweep him away! He was done with epic adventures! His whole life had been a really shitty epic adventure and all he wanted was to live out the rest of his days in a crappy apartment playing crappy videogames and making sure that his existence was never discovered by anyone, ever, through borderline illegal online information manipulation!

But something was telling him he wasn’t going to get a say in this whole situation.

“Fucking fuck. Okay. Okay, I get it, I don’t have a choice, but can you at least tell me if you’re taking me somewhere to kill me?” Or worse. That whole hair-smelling thing was lowkey running through his mind over and over and he couldn’t parse it out. Humans didn’t do shit like that and, sure, this guy obviously wasn’t human (scales! So many scales!), but he was having trouble changing his entire worldview to accept that there were more things like him out there that weren’t human, but also weren’t 100% animal.

RE: Pooch Poaching - Blade - 03-19-2017

He’d been correct then in his assumptions, it seemed. No smart remarks about knowing, no snap-beat responses with a word like ‘duh’—he wasn’t fond of that word. Just a questionable ‘yes’. He wasn’t certain if he were more aggravated right then because of the confirmation—real, tangible, not suspicion (damn Isabella-sama if she knew)—or if there was a mild pang of sadness in his chest. Even in the modern world, packs generally did a decent job of not letting other therians shift through the cracks—wholly unaware of what they really were after the change happened. He recalled being confused himself...

He let the thought die as immediately as it'd come. The pup was terrified; his fear was overwhelming almost.

His heart felt a bit ragged with the knowledge that even if Isabella-sama didn’t know he was naive to their world she would still insist on Marcus keeping him in his care. He didn’t want to think about it. At all. and yet, his mind kept coming back to it.

He released Axel as he whined out a ‘why’. He tempered down his baser instincts well enough not to snap at him, especially when he asked if Marcus were going to kill him. The komodo didn’t roll his eyes—because that would be infantile. Instead, he released him and stepped out of the shower. “Get dressed and pack a bag.” All at once the scales, claws, and fangs slipped away—receding as he shut his eyes and shook his head once—like shedding water. He turned and moved to leave the bathroom, speaking again as he did so, as he swiped a thumb over the ring on his hand and the armor and sword faded to nothing. “I’ll have someone retrieve the rest of your things.” A pause. “The computer.” A breadcrumb, perhaps?

Because he had, afterall, broken into his apartment and terrorized him. and now that his faculties were in a much better state, he was beginning to assess how this must feel to the pup—one who obviously didn’t know what the hell was going on. It’d have been different if he at least knew about The Other and The Veil. But he didn’t.

Marcus wasn’t going to let his guard down, but he could smell that Axel’s feelings were at least genuine in that regard. He wasn't trying to trick him into a false sense of security.

He sighed once before moving to lean against a wall in the small studio apartment, arms crossing over his chest as his head dropped just so. Relaxing, almost.

RE: Pooch Poaching - skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017

Axel slumped back against the wall the moment he was released. His legs shook, barely managing to keep him standing as the rest of his body began to shiver in earnest. He automatically brought his arms up to cross over his chest, hands tucking into his sides as he tried to bring back up his core body temperature. Fuck this whole situation sideways, it sucked so bad.

Now there were more commands, more demands, some cryptic words… this guy really didn’t know how to put a guy’s mind at ease. He glared mutinously at the samurai, especially once he was mostly human again, but the expression on his face probably resembled more of a sullen pout than actual anger. He didn’t move until he was alone in the bathroom. Only then did he unstick himself from the wall and swipe his microfiber towel to get rid of the last of the water sucking the heat right from his body.

Once he was mostly dry, Axel let himself have a moment, just one moment, to take in a deep breath, hold, and let it out on a slow exhale. He just needed a second to himself before exiting the bathroom to return to the regularly scheduled shitshow he called a life.

“Nice misdirection.” He said offhandedly while wandering over to his dresser, next to his bed, in search of clothes, still completely naked. Now that he wasn’t being threatened in a shower, he somehow had managed to bullshit his way to a cocky attitude, no doubt to cover up his underlying nerves at this whole situation.

He quickly pulled out boxer briefs and socks from the dresser and tossed them on the bed. Finding pants involved bending down to inspect various articles of clothing in a bottom drawer that had been folded in such a way that he couldn’t actually tell what any of them were. Therefore, he had to take each article out and refold it if it turned out it wasn’t what he’d been after in the first place. He rummaged for a while before finding what he was looking for, tossing some dark wash, ripped skinny jeans onto the bed as well. The shirt he chose was fitted, black, and had red claw marks across the chest because he thought he was hilarious. That, he pulled right over his head once he found it before turning to put on the rest of his clothes. The last thing he grabbed was another band hoodie, this one a bit oversized, that he practically burrowed into because, fuck it, he was still pretty chilly.

Once dressed, he obediently grabbed a bag and tossed his meager collection of clothes into it. He didn’t really have all that much, just a couple days worth of shirts and jeans that he cycled through. Some of the crap he wore didn’t even start out ripped. His lack of options was made all the more apparent when he’d emptied his dressed and turned to start sadly at his discarded clothes from earlier. With a resigned sigh, he tossed his dirty clothes into a plastic grocery bag and stuffed it in with everything else. Who knew where he was going, it was better to pack everything than risk losing anything.

Mission accomplished, he tossed his bag onto the bed. His eyes wandered to the tiny window that lead out into the city night only briefly, vaguely entertaining the idea of vaulting out and making a break for it. But, instead, he turned to his kidnapper with a stubborn expression. “Happy now?”

“Okay, look.” He said while crossing his arms defensively, clearly hyping himself up to say what he wanted to say. “I get that you’re apparently mysteriously kidnapping me or whatever, but I swear that if anyone messes up my rig I will seriously flip my shit. That thing-” He dramatically pointed to his computer “-is all I have in the world.” And if this guy was going to make vague comments about having people bring his computer somewhere (hopefully wherever it was he was being taken, fuck), he wasn’t going to accept anything but the most delicate handling of his girl. Building computers was expensive.

“Now where the fuck are we going and what the hell am I supposed to call you because ‘My Samurai Kidnapper’?”

RE: Pooch Poaching - Blade - 03-19-2017

Marcus gave him time to gather himself. The pup would have more than enough time to process this situation once they were on the road, a plane. It was a bit of a drive to the airport Isabella-sama used for her personal jet, but they would at least be able to speak in the car without worrying about eavesdropping. He wondered how much he would tell him; it would be better if Isabella-sama did it, truthfully, but he supposed she would appreciate it if he took a bit of iniative. He just... conversation wasn’t his forte. Usually.

Ah... there was the mouth again. Marcus didn’t move or open his eyes just yet. “No one’s going to kill you,” he muttered with a bit of bite. “I didn’t come thousands of miles to spray blood all over the walls.” He still didn’t move as Axel packed his things up into a bag, but his eyes cracked open once the pup looked towards the window.

Would he...?

Marcus really didn’t want to chase him across New York. He really didn’t.

His stomach knotted once and it occurred to him that he was hungry. Food would have to happen later. Preferably in the privacy of the car.

“My happiness is of no consequence in this instance,” he said in return as he straightened and pulled himself away from the wall. As Axel went off on his tangent he remained just as stoic; though, his lips did twitch a bit in latent irritation. “It will be packed and delivered to my standards.” Because he believed him when he said it was all he had in the world. For a very long time that had been Marcus’ own blade. And while he wasn’t going to compare his katana to a computer... of all things... he could see the likeness in sentimentality.

He sighed once and brushed strands from his face—a futile effort as the ill-tied strands just fell back over his brow and along his jaw; he once again felt a little... guilty. “It won’t be damaged,” he added finally, one hand on his hip. And then he blinked again, as if startled at being asked for his name.

“Marcus.” A pause. “Are you ready to depart?”

RE: Pooch Poaching - skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017

Wow, this guy was super comforting. By which he meant that he wasn’t comforting at all. Axel valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes and bare his teeth in a mocking grin, but only just. Instead of doing either of those possibly dangerous things, he directed his attention towards grabbing his wallet and DS from where he’d left them earlier. He stuffed them in his back pockets and, as an afterthought, grabbed the chargers for each to throw in his duffle bag with his clothes. His crushed fritos joined the charger, too, since he figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a snack for whatever the fuck he was going.

“Whatever you say, buddy.” He muttered under his breath, moving over to his computer. With a sigh, he resigned himself to how he wouldn’t be able to even bring his laptop with him. He’d washed his backpack, but it was still pretty soaked so he wasn’t going to risk potential water damage. Instead, he placed his laptop in front of his desktop’s keyboard, arranging it so that both computers and the laptop charger would be hard to miss when whoever showed up came to collect his things. If anyone showed up at all. If he was even alive to get his things later.

With one last longing look at his pride and joy, Axel turned away from his desk, grabbed his duffle bag, and marched over to the samurai. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Literal.” A pause and then, “Marcus.” He said the name slowly, sampling it against his tongue and the man standing in front of him. He wasn’t sure how well it fit, but it was probably better than calling him whatever nickname popped into his head at any given moment.

“Yeah… I guess.” He hesitated, resisting the urge to look at his stuff again. If he looked back at his computer he might not be able to leave. This might become more real. Part of him hoped that he’d wake up cold and naked in the shower because he’d passed out from sleep deprivation and this had all been a very vivid dream. The rest of him knew that he was never that lucky. “Ready when you are.” He shifted his duffle on his shoulder, prepared to follow wherever and however Marcus was going to go. For all he knew, the guy was going to sprout wings and fly him to a castle tower somewhere. Heh. That'd actually be kinda cool.

RE: Pooch Poaching - Blade - 03-19-2017

Compliance. That was acceptable. Better than actually jumping out the window and forcing the komodo to shift and ruin his clothes just to chase him down. He’d somehow forgotten to bring the ones that didn’t do that for this little adventure. And while he would never admit it out loud, he really liked this suit. He’d rather not have to try and replace it.

“You have my word,” he replied of the computer. Not something he gave out lightly—an oath. But Axel wouldn’t know that yet. His brow rose just so at the nickname, not entirely sure what to make of it, but he didn’t comment as the pup corrected himself.

He nodded once he said he was ready and turned towards the door; which was about three feet away from him. The room was uncomfortably small for a man of his size, but it didn’t really matter. In a beat of a moment he was exiting. As soon as Axel followed he shut the door behind and reached into a pants pocket. A slip of paper with strange symbols was placed on the door. It lit up for a moment, faded into the door itself, and then the symbols spread along it, the walls, before going away entirely.

He always kept a few wards and protection spells on hand; things that Isabella-sama made, just in case he needed them. He was glad he hadn’t forgotten them this time. He didn’t want anyone breaking in before the pup’s stuff was relocated to New Orleans. And if anyone managed to break anything...

...Kami help the idiot to made him break his word.

“Let’s go,” he said next, turning and heading down the hall towards the exit, striding with what appeared to be a purpose.