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[bardische]

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[massochism]

[He scrabbles back, and Olivine lets him go. Instead of approaching at all, he just... sits himself down, kneeling on the trampled grass and fallen leaves. Hands come to rest on his thighs, and Olivine shakes his head.]

It's alright. I'll stay here. [There's nothing that can be done, at least not properly, without his consent.] I'm here to understand what's happening, nothing more. You have my word that you're not in danger here. I trust that you mean no harm, so... I hope you'll be able to trust me in turn.

[bardische]

[ He watches intently as Olivine sits. The man isn't scared, at least not like the others. Something in Basch aches, and his back arches, teeth bared as he moans in pain.

The claws on his hands retract to nails, the pads of wolf feet dissipating to skin. Another layer of fur thins on his legs, feet starting to look more human. But it leaves him nauseous and panting. He tries to sit, tries to remember how to look like the person across from him. ]

It's...not supposed to happen this quickly...

[ He's on his ass now, at least, leaning against the roots of a tree. He closes his eyes, head leaning back as he tries to calm his breathing, his ears straining for sounds of danger beyond their clearing. Thought is getting a little easier, and he wrinkles his brow. ]

Why ... aren't you afraid?

[massochism]

[God... watching him, it takes every ounce of concentration Olivine has to just sit and watch. All the curiosity in the world could never really outshine his instinct to help, and all he wants is to surge forward, to soothe the evident pain of this transformation. To watch it in real time is as fascinating as it is upsetting, knowing now for certain that it's painful. Fingers curl tight against his palms in the effort, and his expression falls a little more at the revelation.

If it's not supposed to happen this quickly, then... why is it? He doesn't ask—there's almost no chance Basch himself knows why, or he probably wouldn't have been so caught out by it. Still, as unsteady and uncomfortable as this is, he seems to be settling a little bit. That's... good. He thinks.]

... I'm not unafraid. [Olivine has one hell of a sense of self-preservation, so of course there's part of him that is terrified. There's always a risk that his showing of harmlessness backfires, and even though the priest is a strong fighter, he's young, and he has much to learn.] But you haven't threatened me yet, and the people didn't speak of personal attacks. If you are indeed what they're afraid of, I don't think you mean them, let alone me, any harm.

[bardische]

[ The words penetrate his mind more easily now, delayed by pain moreso than any lingering fog. He winces again, breathing heavily as he experimentally curls toes that are nearly human, some extra ligament flexing and burning as he does.

Not unafraid. Well, he cannot argue that logic, he supposes. He is turning back to a man, and it's true he's never mad an intentional attack, not in his life, not outside the battlefield. ]

I'll turn again [ He grunts through the pain, trying to read Olivine's face. He's poor at reading people even on the best of days. Is this man naive? A collector or a researcher? Arrogant in his own ability to deal with monsters? ]

It doesn't matter...that I never intended harm... [ His had falls back again, eyes closed as he tries to catch his breath. He feels feverish and heavy, only half-aware he's speaking outloud. But he does feel, more or less, like himself, and that's enough relief to make him wish to weep. ]

[massochism]

[fear is hardly a shameful feeling, in Olivine's opinion. fear keeps his naivety in check—and indeed, he knows there is at least some of that affecting him—and it keeps him alive. it's only when it overcomes reason and logic that it becomes a problem for him.]

Then we will deal with it when it happens. [Olivine's expressions are large, facilitated by the size of his eyes and the warmth of his gaze. not always perfectly easy to understand, but at least it might help a little. he's wary, attentive, but compassionate.]

It does matter. Especially to me. [a soft affirmation, almost a sigh of relief as he does fall back again. still in pain, surely, but maybe...] I'm here to ascertain what was happening to these folk, that's all. ... may I try to help heal you now?

[he can tell that Basch is feeling more... well, human, but he's still not prepared to just step forward, nor does he want to force his assistance on someone who doesn't want it.]

[bardische]

[ It's not that Basch doesn't believe him, it's that he doesn't understand. Why show him, a dangerous stranger, compassion? He does not deserve it. But he respects the quality. If Olivine is not afraid of him, then he will be careful to watch his own threat level and leave long before it is of any issue.

Right now, he doesn't feel well enough to stand, let alone to survive on his own. Perhaps...perhaps that would be fitting, but he has heard rumor that the curse will not let him die except by silver stake through the heart, and he does not wish to transform back so suddenly and violently if something -- reasonably -- tries to pick him off while he's weak.

So, reluctantly, he nods. It is the best decision. ] You may.

[massochism]

Thank you.

[There's relief in the words, a tension draining out of him as he draws forward. Not quite a step, but close enough that it he reached fully, he could perhaps just brush the man in front of him. Eyes fall closed and he inhales quietly, hand rising between them.]

O God, hear my prayer...

[The words are barely a murmur, a shimmer of light forming in the center of his palm and growing as power fills it. It's warm and gentle, like sunlight and a soft breeze, soothing and pure. And in truth, Olivine doesn't know whether or not it will heal a werewolf, but he certainly hopes so. The amount of pain simply changing forms seems to cause is just... too much.]

[bardische]

[ Olivine shouldn't be the one giving thanks, but Basch keeps quiet. Who is he to argue, or refuse a gift?

Even so, he winces back as Olivine gets closer, some part of him still a scared animal. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to count his breathing and bring his shoulders down from his ears.

God. Well, certainly not one that kept him. Not something he deserved. He'd protected churches, defending people's right to practice their religions, but it meant little to him.

The magic, though, pulls a whimper from him, body arching into the soft warmth of it. Memories he hasn't touched in many years stir at the edge of his mind. Endless flower fields, a meadow with his mother and brother, a time he thought the war would end--

He moans, back arching again, heat searing through his legs, his tailbone, then his head. But the fur falls away. Legs return to human shape, tail and ears retract, and he's left nothing but a dirty, tired, too-thin man. ]

[massochism]

[Olivine would argue that one need not worship God to receive His blessing... especially if he knew of the acts Basch had completed. But for now, the priest can only watch in concern to see how this will work. (Privately, he tries even harder not to think about the sound of whimpers and moans, long buried desire distorting them without the boon of sight.)

Thankfully, it seems to do enough. Maybe there's some coincidence there with his shifting, but it doesn't really matter. What's important is that the blond looks significantly more relaxed, less tense from the pain. And more human, true, but that's incidental.]

There. [His brows knit a little, still concerned.] How do you feel?

[bardische]

[ His breathing is still heavy, but the ache is duller, his head clearer. ]

Human, mostly. Thank you.

[ It's effort, though, and he still leans his head back, taking steadying breaths. ]

That's not magic I'm familiar with. You must be very skilled. Do you usually use it on dangerous strangers?

[massochism]

I'm glad. I was afraid it wouldn't work, given the source of your injuries.

[He's not sure if he should even call them injuries, but clearly it worked, so...]

Healing magic is my specialty, and this is temple magic taught to order priests. And I only use it on dangerous strangers when they're more afraid of themselves than I am, sir.

[listen. He opened himself up for that one.]

[bardische]

[ Basch has his own suspicions, that since the transformation had started it could be helped along, but it isn't worth speculating on, not when he knows so little. ]

I am still learning, and I don't know much of magicks.

[ His gaze does drift up, mouth falling open, but then he gives a faint smile, shaking his head. ]

We shall see who was the wiser, I suppose. I should be alright now, and I'll move on before I transform again.

[massochism]

That's alright. I don't mind explaining what I can. Most magic isn't forbidden to talk about, after all.

[the smile feels like triumph, flutters in his senses in a way he's not used to. conversely, it gives him pause at the idea of Basch leaving. it's not... just the thought of him being gone, of course, and he consoles himself that the danger should come first anyway.

it does not.]

I suppose we shall. [a beat.] ... where will you go? and is there nothing that can make the transformations easier on you? I... I wouldn't want you to come to harm for something you can't control.

[there's also the fact that Basch is completely naked, which Olivine is... ]

[bardische]

[ he shakes his head, gesturing vaguely. ] I am a well-seasoned soldier. I will find my way.

[ he has no plan. He doesn’t even really know where he is, but he feels protective — even for him — and will not bring this kind stranger into his mess. ]

You have been kind, and all I can repay you with is honesty. This affliction is too new for me to understand its mechanisms, and — I believe I deserve my pain. I remember not what I have done when I am transformed, and I do not know when my bite is contagious.

[massochism]

... I don't doubt you. On almost any of it, that is.

[that doesn't make it bother him less. looking at this scruffy, dirty, bloodied man and thinking about the wolf he'd been not long before, it's hard to just accept it. more still when he knows full well what kind of hunters they could send out.]

But I don't think that anyone deserves pain like this, especially learning it all alone. I... know it's a sudden request to make, but if you would be willing, I would like to travel with you for a time. Just... while you figure this out, at least.

[bardische]

[ His brow knits at that. Not in rejection, just bewilderment. If the Father wanted to study him, or watch to see if he was dangerous, he could understand that. It was the only sensible reason the man would ask to stay here him; it was clear he was no good company. ]

Where is it you're going, Father? Or are you wandering?

[ He ought to leave the other alone, but he's too honest for it. ]

I have not figured this out, not well anyway, in near ten moons. I do not expect one more will reveal its secrets to me.

[massochism]

It isn't that I'm going anywhere, or wandering...

[Olivine's expression is a little complicated at that. The truth is that he could call his duty complete, having found the answer... but it wouldn't be satisfying. Not as a priest, and not as himself.]

I would be lying to say that there is no part of it related to monitoring you for the sake of the villagers, and I won't insult your intelligence and say otherwise. It...

[He pauses, sighs softly. Long fingers reach to push his hair back over his shoulder.]

Even so, I ultimately just want to get to know you. That probably seems strange, but it's the truth. I have a feeling you're worth more than you think you are.

[He offers a small smile then, a little shy really.

Of course, accepting means Olivine is going to have to find him some clothes and a place to clean up, but that doesn't bother him.]

[bardische]

[ Well, he can appreciate honesty. Perhaps he should have realized there was no need to dance around his feelings and pretend this was anything other than surveillance. He'd been an outside before, a less dangerous one. ]

I can leave. After a rest it won't take me more than a day or two to get clear of the village. You need not worry after me or your people. But if you wish to observe me, I can allow it until I am clothed and fed and rested. I plan to leave this area regardless. A few days' delay does not trouble me if it is your preference.

[ As to worthiness, the thought only processes long enough for him to skate past it. A ploy to earn his trust? A naive bit of warmth from a sheltered priest? It matters not.

But he does see the shyness in that smile, and -- as out of character for him as it is -- finds himself noticing a soft jaw, and thick, well-cared for hair worn in a style he isn't used to seeing on men. He feels for this Priest -- protectiveness, perhaps, of someone kind to him, and someone younger than many of his recruits. They'd give him that shy smile sometimes -- uncertain in their authority.

So he gives one back, quiet, but more assured. ]

My name is Basch.

[massochism]

That's my duty to the villagers. I'm not worried for them, truthfully... but I would appreciate that. At least until you're well enough to go.

[he's naive, but not weak. that much is all that really matters to him—if it came down to it, he could handle himself. in any case, there's a little relief in the agreement to stay, a warmer smile drawing across his lips when Basch introduces himself.]

I am Olivine. It's good to meet you, Basch. [his head tilts with his smile then, and he climbs to his feet to offer a hand up.] I don't have anything to give you to wear, but we should be able to find somewhere we can wash up... and I'll stop by the village and see if they have a cloak I can purchase, at least. I need to reassure them that their animals are safe for the time being anyway.

[bardische]

Which of us is deciding I'm well enough?

[ It's not quite a joke, but it isn't pointed either. Especially as he realizes he'll be further in the other's debt for staying; nothing to be done for it. He needs clothes until he transforms again, and bathing would help. He's...slowly realizing how nonplussed this beautifully groomed young man, especially compared to how dirty and unkempt Basch is. ]

I will defer to your instructions, then. I should be alright to walk. [ He stands, gingerly. Nothing bad, just light aches. The magic did a lot, it seems. ] And if there is anything I can do to repay your kindness or your purse, please tell me.

[massochism]

Hm... both of us, perhaps.

[of course, Basch has the final say in all of it, and Olivine is fine with that. and really, it's not like he doesn't have any embarrassment over this, but he's mostly ignoring it. getting him a bath and some clothes is more important than getting lost in some childish stammering state.]

You don't need to worry about my kindness or my purse. If you must find something, then... just converse with me over our time together. Your company is enough for me.

[it may sound a little said, but he says it so earnestly it almost seems normal to him. with Basch on his feet, he can start off; Olivine has a decent memory of the terrain, so finding a secluded river shouldn't be too bad. the rest can come after... though he supposes he could stop by the village while Basch bathes, too.]

[bardische]

[ The only reason Basch hasn't flushed in embarrassment at his state is that the wolf's sense of nakedness being natural lingers. That, and Olivine hasn't reacted.

But being so earnestly asked for his company and conversation somehow brings that back to the forefront, and he's suddenly very aware of this educated, soft, well-coiffed young man standing before his bloodied, dirtied naked body. His eyes fall, even if he keeps from flushing. ]

I will answer what I can. You have my word on that. But perhaps I can bathe and dress before we discuss too deeply. There is a stream not far, if I recall.

[ He does recall, sharply, but by way of a canine; he isn't sure it's suited for traversing as a man. ]

[massochism]

That was the intention. It shouldn't be too far, you're right. And when we get there, I can go find you something to wear while you bathe, unless you think you'll need any assistance.

[Olivine can't help his little laugh, hands lacing together before him as he starts forward. thankfully the stream should be deep enough, even for someone of Basch's height, though they'll know soon enough.]

[bardische]

Do I still seem not quite a man? [ He asks it genuinely, glancing down at himself -- and his bloodied, dirty nudity with some shame -- looking for wolven elements or injuries. He sees neither.

Olivine laughs, and Basch isn't sure why. Rather than feeling self-conscious, he finds himself uncharacteristically warm at the sound, wanting to elicit it again. Not that doing so is a strong suit.

Still, his legs are steady -- stronger than after a usual transformation -- and he starts in the direction of the stream. ]

[massochism]

Not at all. I just offered anyway.

[as ever, Olivine is honest. it's certainly less to do with any lingering effects and more to do with who he is as a person. he's similarly oblivious to Basch's thoughts and wonders, even as they walk.]

I wasn't sure if you'd be fatigued after the transformation; the information we have about werewolves is quite limited.

[he does offer that much, just glancing back briefly in consideration. Basch does seem perfectly steady on his feet, and there is admittedly a small part of him that worries that the other would leave while he went to go get him clothing.]