"Mostly, yes. Fortunately, I was already used to pain long before I ever became a werewolf." He sounds rather cavalier about the whole thing. Then again for Ivar this was all old hat after so many years.
Ivar's face does take on a more serious cast to it when he takes note of the extent of Billy's injuries. Yes, he was going to need to do something about this quickly before blood loss or infection were swift to take him. He crawls up closer to him. He's going to have to fix this with some direct contact.
"I assure you I'm far kinder then your last master ever was to you." Then again, not leaving him with a big gaping hole in his chest was a pretty low bar to start out with. "Besides, there are certain things I prefer to have a human around for. They won't occur to you, but trust, they are there. And you seem reliable enough."
"Because of your legs?" God, had they even had a form of pain management back then, all those years ago? Something to help him manage it?
Billy watches Ivar wearily as he closes the distance between them. He doesn't flinch away from him at all, doesn't make any move to put space between them, but it's obvious he seems unsure.
"Not making me feed my friends to a monster is a good start." The gaping wound in his chest is barely held together and Billy wonders for a moment what's kept him alive for two days at all. Sheer force of will, perhaps? "Like buying milk? Cooking you spaghetti? I'm good at that."
"Exactly." There had been nothing for the pain back then, nothing except something like taking mushrooms to get high or drinking to numb the pain away for a short amount of time.
"Oh, I'm a monster and no mistake," Ivar says in a cheerful tone. "But if I want to eat anyone, I'll be doing that on my own without any help from you." It's been some years since Ivar ate a human, but he'd never kicked the habit entirely.
"Before we discuss your new life as a minion--" Yep, Ivar's already decided this is going to be a thing without any real input from Billy himself. "--let's get you back on your feet." Then Ivar's licking at Billy's chest, letting plenty of saliva drip into the gaping wound so that it will start to heal at an accelerated rate.
“Yeah. You can keep the people eating to yourself.” There’s disgust on his face and Billy doesn’t even try to hide it from the wolf. Why? Because it’s gross.
The touch of tongue to flesh isn’t a shock -he sees it coming- but he still somehow startles and the reaction is instant. Whatever invisible force -Billy’s own mind, he realizes- let’s go of it’s hold on his wound and the blood that had been oozing slowly spills freely. The sound Billy makes sounds almost inhuman and he feels like his guts are about to fall out of his chest.
Ivar realizes what's happening almost immediately. Shit. The timetable to get Billy's chest wound fixed just moved up by an exponential rate. If he loses too much blood, then it won't matter that the wound is healed. He'll still die.
He continues his ministrations, quickly getting the sides of the gaping hole to start closing, moving towards one another. It's going to be a hard, painful process to get the bones, muscles, and skin to all rapidly grow back in time. It's a good thing Ivar has long since stopped caring about personal boundaries or human levels of embarrassment or he'd find this all incredibly awkward.
Usually Billy would care that there was a man so far up in his space, running his tongue over his chest, but he doesn’t care about much at all in that moment. He isn’t sure if he’s going to vomit or pass out but he is sure that he’s going to die. And wasn’t that just a huge kick in the ass?
It’s a fight to stay conscious but if Billy is anything, he’s a survivor and he knows if he closes his eyes now, that’s it. Game over. So even as he chokes and his eyelids get heavy, he refuses to give in.
Although, if he’s being honest, there are worse ways to go than with an attractive man in his lap.
And if he mumbles that out loud, well, he’s dying? Who can hold it against him?
Ivar's busy focusing on making sure the healing saliva works fast enough. It's going to be a close call. He can hear what Billy mumbles and almost smiles even as his tongue runs over Billy's chest once again. Poor kid. Couldn't have been easy being gay in in this decade. Funny how Ivar's own people had been more accepting of different sexualities then the the so-called 'modern day'. Of course, they'd had their own prejudices instead, like the importance of being the dominant one in the relationship, and how if you weren't you were seen as lesser for it.
Ivar finally finishes and stops, looking his work over. The muscles have all reconnected together and the skin has regrown, looking pink, raw, and tender to the touch from growing so fast. But at least it's all done. Billy, on the other hand, is not looking anywhere near the realm of good. He starts looking like he might pass out even now that the danger is past.
Ivar shakes him none too gently, trying to keep him conscious. "Hey. No, don't fall asleep. Kid, come on, stay awake!"
Billy is losing the battle against his eyelids and he only vaguely recognises that the feeling of falling apart is gone. The worst of the pain is gone. He knows he should be happy that he's alive but he can't feel much of anything in the face of the all consuming exhaustion that's taken over. He's damp with blood and saliva and he's...
"Cold." His eyes jolt open at the shake and they're unfocused when they find Ivar. "So tired. D'it work?"
There's a grim but satisfied look on Ivar's face. He looks Billy over one more time, patting him gently on the arm. "Yeah. It worked. You lost a lot of blood, but you're going to make it."
Ivar pulls himself up and sits down next to Billy. Phew. Now that his minion is out of the woods, he can breathe a little bit easier. "Eat a lot of protein. You'll need it to replace the blood you lost. Eggs are good for that. Also broccoli for the iron."
"I think... I think I was the one holding it together." His eyes are closed and he leans his head back against the back of the couch and turns his head towards Ivar without opening his eyes to look at him. "The girl... The one I saved from him, she had these powers. It's why he wanted her dead. She threw me through a wall with her mind. I think that's what was holding me together."
Finally opening his eyes, blue slivers peek out between long lashes and he watches the wolf for a moment. "I don't think there's anything except Eggos here."
Ivar nods at the words. "It'd have to be something like that. A touch of the supernatural goes a long way. You would've been long dead otherwise." He pauses a moment. "I could smell it on you. All that you went through, it leaves a scent that's unmistakable."
He pats Billy with a note of fondness on the head. "You're welcome." He sighs, a plan forming in his head. "I suppose I'll have to duck out and get some supplies for you. But first I'll bag a rabbit so you're at least left with some meat." He's already taking charge and forming a plan.
Ivar was no fool and they were going to need to play this smart if he wanted Billy's continued survival.
“Can you still smell it?” His blood was still black, as was obvious by the thick stains covering his torso and staining his pants. It takes more effort than he likes, but he manages to reach up and touch the freshly stitched up skin on his chest. It feels soft and new and it’s strange to think this had been a gaping hole minutes before.
“I’m not eating a raw rabbit. Please don’t make me eat a raw rabbit.” If he could, he’d definitely have paled at the idea.
“I don’t think we should stay here. No guarantee the girl and the others won’t come here and I... I want them to think I died. It’s better for everyone.”
He leans over, sniffing Billy intently as he once again got into his personal space, those too-blue eyes closed as he concentrates. “Yeah. It’s still there alright.”
At Billy’s dismay at eating raw meat, Ivar sighs and rolls his eyes in a theatrical manner. “Fine. If you insist on being a dirty heathen, I suppose we can cook it.” Despite his sarcasm, he has somewhat forgotten that human beings generally liked cooked meat. Years in the woods as a wolf and some of the things that made up humanity started to fade away.
He nods. “Once you’ve regained a little strength, we can go. Is there a vehicle here? If not, you can just ride on me.” There was advantages to being able to turn into a wolf the size of a small pony.
“Oh. Do you think... I have powers or something?” Wasn’t that a mindfuck? What had that thing done to him?
Billy chuckles softly. “Me? The dirty heathen? You wanna eat a dead rabbit raw!” Billy sways slightly towards Ivar, seeking the warmth radiating off the other man. He’s cold, he realizes. Just the way He’d liked it and Billy had always hated it but now? Now it was so much worse.
“Don’t think so. Mine was... destroyed.” He frowns. “Wait what?”
"Hmmmm." Abruptly, he leans over and starts sniffing Billy intently, starting at his hair and working his way down. He licks the shell of his ear as if tasting for something. With a decisive snort, he stops. "I think so. It must've left something of an imprint on your soul. Or whatever human beings call the spirit within them these days."
"Flesh is always best when eaten raw," he says staunchly. He will fight anyone who says otherwise. Then again, most people weren't literally part-animal. He lets Billy lean up against him. Poor kid just had a rough day, so he couldn't blame him for seeking out comfort where he could get it right now.
Ivar grins, canine teeth looking just a little sharper then they should have been naturally. "You know. Ride on my wolf self. Don't tell me you never had the fantasy as a child of riding on a wild animal?"
Billy flinches at the soft lick, but he doesn't move away from the wolf at all. He's just not used to any form of non-violent contact and it catches him off guard almost every time someone offers him anything. "I guess that... could be interesting? The wolf and the spoon-bender."
Blanching, Billy actually shudders at the idea of actually eating anything raw. "Still no." He shakes his head, mussing his curls against Ivar's shoulder.
"I can't say I ever really thought about it? Well, maybe a shark. When I was kid living on the beach. I mean, I get that you're giant, but like... carrying a person big?"
"You'll be in good company with the circles I run in at least," Ivar says. He thumps Billy in a friendly but still solid reminder on his shoulder.
"Don't you worry, kid. I'll make sure it's cooked before you eat it." He makes a movement like he's considering getting up from the couch, but he stops to answer Billy's question.
"Werewolves continue to grow their entire lives after we turn. And I turned very early on when I was young, so I've been growing for a very, very long time now. I'm plenty capable of carrying a human being these days."
"You know a bunch of people who can move things with their mind?" Billy prepares for the pain that doesn't come; apparently after a few days in agony, you were just prepared for it always.
Billy scrunches his face up at the nickname of "kid". He's not a kid anymore, even if the wolf is ancient in comparison.
"Wait, what? So when you were little, you were a little wolf? How old were you when you turned? What makes it happen?"
"I've been around a long, long time, pup. You've no idea what I've seen up until now in my life." Ivar is rarely surprised these days after such a lengthy life. He's seen things that even Billy, with all his strange experiences, would hardly believe.
"Exactly. I was a very small wolf pup at first." His face gets a guarded expression when Billy asks how old he was when he turned. It's the first time he's looked less then calm and matter-of-fact like he has the whole time. "Werewolves activate their blessing by killing someone. I was five when it happened." The firm tone makes it clear he doesn't want to answer any more questions regarding the subject. Even now, all these centuries later, he still hates to think of that day.
"Man, half the time I have no idea what I've seen in my own life." Billy leaned even further into Ivar's shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed.
Billy can't see Ivar's face but he can here the shift in his tone and he knows he's pushed a button that was over the line. "Oh. I'm sorry you had to go through that." He knows he came from an incredibly different time, where killing wasn't the crime it was now, but it clearly affected him on a deep level.
He squeezes Ivar's thigh gently, offering comfort.
Ivar gets very moody and quiet when Billy says he's sorry and then squeezes his thigh. It sounds too much like pity to him and combined with the fact that he's already tetchy about people touching his legs in general makes him a bit grumpy.
Abruptly, he shifts off the couch, fast enough that Billy flops right over without Ivar to prop him up. "I'll be going to get that food now." He starts to remove the clothes he'd put on. He'll need these for when he gets back.
Billy flinches, both from the fall and from the knowledge that he said the wrong thing -a fact that doesn't really surprise him, but frustrates him all the same.
"Ivar." He doesn't say sorry again, but he does watch Ivar from his new position laying on the couch. "Thank you."
Ivar finishes shucking off the last of the borrowed clothes. There's a moment of gut-wrenching cracks and snaps as his bones, tendons, and muscles reconfigure themselves into that of his wolf form. Then he's standing there in the wreckage of the home, a wolf big enough to compete with some ponies for size.
He nods once at Billy. "Get some sleep. Then he trots off on padded paws. He's gone for about forty-five minutes. Regardless of his size, it still takes time and skill to catch creatures to eat. He fills his own belly first before he snaps the neck of a rabbit or two to bring back to Billy. He returns as the early morning hours approach. He walks back into the house, two scraps of bloody fur being held in his massive jaws.
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Ivar's face does take on a more serious cast to it when he takes note of the extent of Billy's injuries. Yes, he was going to need to do something about this quickly before blood loss or infection were swift to take him. He crawls up closer to him. He's going to have to fix this with some direct contact.
"I assure you I'm far kinder then your last master ever was to you." Then again, not leaving him with a big gaping hole in his chest was a pretty low bar to start out with. "Besides, there are certain things I prefer to have a human around for. They won't occur to you, but trust, they are there. And you seem reliable enough."
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Billy watches Ivar wearily as he closes the distance between them. He doesn't flinch away from him at all, doesn't make any move to put space between them, but it's obvious he seems unsure.
"Not making me feed my friends to a monster is a good start." The gaping wound in his chest is barely held together and Billy wonders for a moment what's kept him alive for two days at all. Sheer force of will, perhaps? "Like buying milk? Cooking you spaghetti? I'm good at that."
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"Oh, I'm a monster and no mistake," Ivar says in a cheerful tone. "But if I want to eat anyone, I'll be doing that on my own without any help from you." It's been some years since Ivar ate a human, but he'd never kicked the habit entirely.
"Before we discuss your new life as a minion--" Yep, Ivar's already decided this is going to be a thing without any real input from Billy himself. "--let's get you back on your feet." Then Ivar's licking at Billy's chest, letting plenty of saliva drip into the gaping wound so that it will start to heal at an accelerated rate.
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The touch of tongue to flesh isn’t a shock -he sees it coming- but he still somehow startles and the reaction is instant. Whatever invisible force -Billy’s own mind, he realizes- let’s go of it’s hold on his wound and the blood that had been oozing slowly spills freely. The sound Billy makes sounds almost inhuman and he feels like his guts are about to fall out of his chest.
He screams
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He continues his ministrations, quickly getting the sides of the gaping hole to start closing, moving towards one another. It's going to be a hard, painful process to get the bones, muscles, and skin to all rapidly grow back in time. It's a good thing Ivar has long since stopped caring about personal boundaries or human levels of embarrassment or he'd find this all incredibly awkward.
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It’s a fight to stay conscious but if Billy is anything, he’s a survivor and he knows if he closes his eyes now, that’s it. Game over. So even as he chokes and his eyelids get heavy, he refuses to give in.
Although, if he’s being honest, there are worse ways to go than with an attractive man in his lap.
And if he mumbles that out loud, well, he’s dying? Who can hold it against him?
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Ivar finally finishes and stops, looking his work over. The muscles have all reconnected together and the skin has regrown, looking pink, raw, and tender to the touch from growing so fast. But at least it's all done. Billy, on the other hand, is not looking anywhere near the realm of good. He starts looking like he might pass out even now that the danger is past.
Ivar shakes him none too gently, trying to keep him conscious. "Hey. No, don't fall asleep. Kid, come on, stay awake!"
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"Cold." His eyes jolt open at the shake and they're unfocused when they find Ivar. "So tired. D'it work?"
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Ivar pulls himself up and sits down next to Billy. Phew. Now that his minion is out of the woods, he can breathe a little bit easier. "Eat a lot of protein. You'll need it to replace the blood you lost. Eggs are good for that. Also broccoli for the iron."
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Finally opening his eyes, blue slivers peek out between long lashes and he watches the wolf for a moment. "I don't think there's anything except Eggos here."
He's silent for another moment. "Thank you."
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He pats Billy with a note of fondness on the head. "You're welcome." He sighs, a plan forming in his head. "I suppose I'll have to duck out and get some supplies for you. But first I'll bag a rabbit so you're at least left with some meat." He's already taking charge and forming a plan.
Ivar was no fool and they were going to need to play this smart if he wanted Billy's continued survival.
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“I’m not eating a raw rabbit. Please don’t make me eat a raw rabbit.” If he could, he’d definitely have paled at the idea.
“I don’t think we should stay here. No guarantee the girl and the others won’t come here and I... I want them to think I died. It’s better for everyone.”
Including him.
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At Billy’s dismay at eating raw meat, Ivar sighs and rolls his eyes in a theatrical manner. “Fine. If you insist on being a dirty heathen, I suppose we can cook it.” Despite his sarcasm, he has somewhat forgotten that human beings generally liked cooked meat. Years in the woods as a wolf and some of the things that made up humanity started to fade away.
He nods. “Once you’ve regained a little strength, we can go. Is there a vehicle here? If not, you can just ride on me.” There was advantages to being able to turn into a wolf the size of a small pony.
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Billy chuckles softly. “Me? The dirty heathen? You wanna eat a dead rabbit raw!” Billy sways slightly towards Ivar, seeking the warmth radiating off the other man. He’s cold, he realizes. Just the way He’d liked it and Billy had always hated it but now? Now it was so much worse.
“Don’t think so. Mine was... destroyed.” He frowns. “Wait what?”
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"Flesh is always best when eaten raw," he says staunchly. He will fight anyone who says otherwise. Then again, most people weren't literally part-animal. He lets Billy lean up against him. Poor kid just had a rough day, so he couldn't blame him for seeking out comfort where he could get it right now.
Ivar grins, canine teeth looking just a little sharper then they should have been naturally. "You know. Ride on my wolf self. Don't tell me you never had the fantasy as a child of riding on a wild animal?"
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Blanching, Billy actually shudders at the idea of actually eating anything raw. "Still no." He shakes his head, mussing his curls against Ivar's shoulder.
"I can't say I ever really thought about it? Well, maybe a shark. When I was kid living on the beach. I mean, I get that you're giant, but like... carrying a person big?"
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"Don't you worry, kid. I'll make sure it's cooked before you eat it." He makes a movement like he's considering getting up from the couch, but he stops to answer Billy's question.
"Werewolves continue to grow their entire lives after we turn. And I turned very early on when I was young, so I've been growing for a very, very long time now. I'm plenty capable of carrying a human being these days."
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Billy scrunches his face up at the nickname of "kid". He's not a kid anymore, even if the wolf is ancient in comparison.
"Wait, what? So when you were little, you were a little wolf? How old were you when you turned? What makes it happen?"
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"Exactly. I was a very small wolf pup at first." His face gets a guarded expression when Billy asks how old he was when he turned. It's the first time he's looked less then calm and matter-of-fact like he has the whole time. "Werewolves activate their blessing by killing someone. I was five when it happened." The firm tone makes it clear he doesn't want to answer any more questions regarding the subject. Even now, all these centuries later, he still hates to think of that day.
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Billy can't see Ivar's face but he can here the shift in his tone and he knows he's pushed a button that was over the line. "Oh. I'm sorry you had to go through that." He knows he came from an incredibly different time, where killing wasn't the crime it was now, but it clearly affected him on a deep level.
He squeezes Ivar's thigh gently, offering comfort.
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Abruptly, he shifts off the couch, fast enough that Billy flops right over without Ivar to prop him up. "I'll be going to get that food now." He starts to remove the clothes he'd put on. He'll need these for when he gets back.
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"Ivar." He doesn't say sorry again, but he does watch Ivar from his new position laying on the couch. "Thank you."
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He nods once at Billy. "Get some sleep. Then he trots off on padded paws. He's gone for about forty-five minutes. Regardless of his size, it still takes time and skill to catch creatures to eat. He fills his own belly first before he snaps the neck of a rabbit or two to bring back to Billy. He returns as the early morning hours approach. He walks back into the house, two scraps of bloody fur being held in his massive jaws.