“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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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.