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[bardische]

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[massochism]

It always feels different, too... does it really look wild?

[He's still more than pleased, eyes closing briefly as fingers brush his hair back. Then he's taking that offered hand, squeezing gently before he climbs into the tub to get situated. The warmth pulls a contented sigh from him, easing faintly sore muscles instantly.]

[bardische]

Good wild [ Basch clarifies. Like trees or a storm or fur.

Is...that something he likes now? Because of what he is?

It's easy to ignore it, to slip into the tub behind Olivine and wrap around him, shifting to try to fit them together comfortably. The water is blissfully warm, and without thinking, he buries his face in that swathe of hair, breathing in Olivine's scent. ]

[massochism]

I didn't think you meant it badly, hehe. But I'm glad to hear it's good.

[maybe that's something you always liked, Basch, and you just didn't have a chance to like it before.

anyway, fitting in comfortably with the blond is a joy and a simple task, his hands coming to rest around the other's arms. he even giggles pleasantly at the press of Basch's face in his hair, eyes closing. at least scent is a pretty commonly known feature of Klein natives, although he doesn't precisely know what he must smell like to him.]

I think I see why you feel it's similar in some ways, now. This feels so comfortable...

[bardische]

Good [ he murmurs, shifting only to hold Olivine even more comfortably, nose still to his hair. For a moment, he forgets to be self-conscious. It's been like that from the start with Olivine, like something about them is rooted, out of time or social pressure or any of the rest of it. ]

I want you to always be comfortable, if I can help it.

[ He presses a kiss to the other's hair, and as surreal as it feels, it's nice, too. Easy. An intimacy that is different from bedding each other. ]

I like this too.

[massochism]

... I'd love to get to where you can be, too.

[a hand reaches up to brush through Basch's hair in turn, fond and warm. it's true, it really does just feel so... impossibly simple. like this is all as it should be.]

I'm glad that it's not too... boring or anything. [not that he has a reason to worry about that. more, he's just happy. they're both here, and... and he can start to put things in motion, slowly but surely. starting tomorrow.]

[bardische]

If you'd told me a month ago I was going to agree to try to stay with someone, around other people, I wouldn't have believed it. [ It's murmured, something that still feels like a huge risk. But it's the best he can offer to affirm his very real comfort with Olivine.

Which, of course, is selfish. But leaving the other would be even more selfish, and so he's able to keep himself from fleeing.

He shakes his head, sighing into Olivine's hair. ]

Uneventful peace is bliss. I will never complain for that. [ Not in his life had he complained about being bored, not since the first war had started. This -- this is a luxury. ]

[massochism]

Hehe. I know how you feel... I couldn't even fathom the idea of asking someone to stay with me then. Not for the church or their own safety, but... just with me.

[The prospect of autonomy feels so taboo, even though he knew he'd surely find someone eventually. It was just... presumed it would be another from the church. And yet, here he is. Not only with someone not affiliated with the church, but with someone for whom his status doesn't really matter. Who sees so much more of him and takes it in stride.

He hopes he can keep that agreement solid as time passes.]

I'm glad, then. [a little laugh.] We'll be busy soon enough, I'm sure... monsters aren't as common here, but I do handle them from time to time, and there's my other duties to balance.

[bardische]

I don't expect your life to change on my account. Honestly, I don't want it to.

[ He wanted to slide into it, support what he could. Get to know who Olivine was in the other facets of his life.

He leans his head against the other, just enjoying the warm water and having Olivine tucked in his arms. ]

But I want to be a place of rest, when you need it.

[ Shy, a flush to his skin. It seems and odd thing to offer when they've known each other such a short time, but he can feel how deeply it's true. ]

[massochism]

I know you wouldn't ask that of me. Any changes I make will be because I want them to change, one way or another.

[with his weight comfortably supported, he relaxes easily, enjoying the lean of their heads to rest together. For a moment, he's quiet.]

Me, too. No matter how heavy the burden, I want to help you carry it.

[He's not even considering how fast and hard he's fallen for Basch, honestly. It's just a fact of life, and as long as it's reciprocated, what does it hurt? Nothing at all, judging by the comfortable quiet he lapses into, time plodding on as warmth seeps into muscle and bone.]

[bardische]

[ That's...newer. Someone else wanting to help him in turn. But he knows better than to protest, because it would be hypocritical when he's asking Olivine to let him in. ]

You may have to help me learn how to share it, but I am willing to learn. Thank you.

[ And it is easy to fall in calm, gentle quiet. The kind that doesn't need to be filled. ]

[massochism]

I think it's good... we both have things to learn from one another. You're welcome, and thank you too.

[contentment reigns then, a slow and idle shift toward the prospect of rest. and eventually, the water cools and sleep beckons—visibly, for Olivine. after all, he's truly, completely enjoying just leaning against Basch, basking in his warmth and moving only as needed to clean himself up and wash his hair.

he may even be dozing a little by the time they're done, a little embarrassed when he suggests they settle in for the night.]

[bardische]

[ Basch is a little embarrassed too, but only from shyness, and the sudden almost-public nature of their attachment. But the church is mostly empty, and there is no difficulty -- relaxed and clean -- heading back to Olivine's room hand-in-hand.

His heart picks up a little as they shut the door and disrobe again, turning down the bed. Soon They're snuggled in together, Olivine back in Basch's arms, and he sighs against the other. ]

It doesn't feel like it should be this easy.

[massochism]

I understand what you mean.

[albeit for... very different reasons, he knows. his voice is just slightly muffled against Basch's chest, head tilted up enough to watch him quietly as he does.]

But I'm glad anyway... it feels nice to even get this chance.

[bardische]

[ It does feel nice to even get this chance.

The rest of the month passes in a blur. Basch is plenty busy getting used to this place, starting to map out the church and the town for areas of potential concern, learning Olivine's routines, and -- most surreal -- spending most evenings in each other's company.

But he keeps an eye on the progression of the moon. Even before he feels his blood start to stir, he says his temporary goodbye, arranging with Olivine to leave him clothes outside of town and to return as soon as he can.

It...hurts. More than he expected to. And privately, he thinks maybe it would be nice to find a way to safely stay. He just isn't sure he believes there is one.

The transformation hurts too. Without Olivine's magic to soothe it, his limbs twist sharply, and his body aches. But he remembers, this time, in a way he hasn't before, that there's something he wants, more than just hunting and sleeping and evading men, and for reasons he doesn't quite understand, he's careful not to leave tracks or take livestock from farmers. ]

[massochism]

[It's really too soon when they're seeing their temporary goodbyes, in Olivine's opinion. He says nothing of it, of course, refuses to press against Basch's reasonable discomfort at staying near—but he still thinks it when the church is quiet and he returns to bed alone.

Imagining the day of return helps a little, at least—even if it sees him in a particularly urgent state practically nightly. It's another relief not to hear of unusual tracks or unexpected losses... but he does worry about the blond anyway.

His distraction is forcibly set aside by monsters and essence-crazed animals making a return—not wholly unexpected, but not the best timing either. Naturally he volunteers to go take care of it, reminding citizens to remain in the city by dusk. The wooded area is easy to traverse, but he finds himself in a little deeper than usual.

Almost like the creatures are... wary? Something like it. Detritus crunches beneath his feet as his pursuit takes him further afield, clothing... slightly damaged from repeated efforts. Olivine himself isn't terribly hurt though—there's a scratch here and there but his clothing has taken the brunt of it.]

[bardische]

[ It's the smell that gets him. It shouldn't be here, and the moment he gets whiff of it, he's single-mindedly stalking it. Not for the hunt; Olivine should not be here, and gods help anything that tries to cross his path.

That's as much as his wolf brain can manage. His efforts to remain unseen are forgotten, and the essence-crazed animals or monsters who cross his path are dealt with swiftly and bloodily.

When he finally catches up to the other, his nostrils flare, protective rage searing through him. There's blood. Olivine's blood.

He bounds through the underbrush, a growling yip his only warning, and tackles Olivine to the ground, snout immediately searching the other for serious wound, large weight pinning him on his back. If he tries to move, Basch growls lowly, continuing to press his nose to every inch of Olivine's body in search of damage. ]

[massochism]

[He very nearly retaliates against the noise, turning to find its source as the werewolf leaps onto him. There's a shimmer of something, a buffer between himself and the ground, that cushions the fall.

It takes a moment to register what's happening, though. His first thought is to move, growl giving him pause enough to stop trying. Where did he even come from??? Still, the other's form is unusual and familiar, to say the least.]

Basch— [He's doing his best to keep his voice even, at least, reaching to stroke through long fur.] I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about.

[granted, the position and sensation of his nose against delicate skin has his mind wandering a little, his usual milky scent growing stronger with each passing moment. It's funny, how much he'd missed him in such a short time...]

[bardische]

[ The sound of his name turns his growl to a whine. He isn't delicate about where he searches, his pupils dilating at the increase in scent.

But, satisfied in his search, he settles his weight on the other's chest, licking against his jaw and leaning into the hands against him. His tail thumps lightly, ears back as he whines again. ]

[massochism]

[warm hands continue their gentle stroking, a little laugh escaping as the werewolf's weight settles on him. it puts a little pressure on his piercings, equally pleasant against the lap of a tongue against his jaw.]

There... see? Nothing to worry about. Just doing my job.

[there's a rustle somewhere else, too far for Olivine's human ears to hear it for now. it certainly sounds big though, plodding along toward them. he will shortly though, as the low rumble following each step becomes more audible.]

[bardische]

[ Basch’s ears, however, shoot up, a growl back in his throat as his head whips toward the disturbance, nose up to the air for the scent.

And then he’s off Olivine, hackles up and tail bottlebrushed, snarling with every tooth bared, angling toward the scent of the encroaching monster.

And the moment it enters the clearing, he lunges, aiming for throat. This monster is fast though, and instead he lands on arm, growing as he clamps down, blood under his teeth.

But the monster is strong, and it manages to throw him down, a claw lightly grazing his side and pulling bright blood onto his fur. ]

[massochism]

Wait—

[the other moves and Olivine is quick to recover in turn, pushing himself up to follow. most of the creatures here aren't so bad, especially for something Basch's wolf size, but he can't help worrying anyway.

thankfully, that worry at least has him up and ready when the other lunges, gathering essence in hand to use as soon as he's sure of what's needed. that turns out to be more defensive than not, though he's too late to prevent the injury altogether. the warmth of his magic hasn't changed at all, though it forms a protective barrier rather than healing him immediately.

he's trying not to panic at the sight of blood soaking light fur, knows that the other is strong enough to have gotten along without him before, but...]

Don't rush...

[it's at least partly for himself, because if he rushes then they could both get seriously injured. at least the creature isn't much bigger than Basch, just fast and vicious—fairly standard for Olivine, but probably new to the werewolf.]

[bardische]

[ His thoughts are narrow and hazy, single-minded to protecting his mate. But some piece of Olivine’s voice penetrates. Basch rights himself and stands his ground, shaking blood and dirt from his fur as he continues to snarl. The magic around him is as familiar as the voice. It’s calming, but it also makes him that much more determined to protect what is his.

He stalks, slowly, drawing the attention of the creature. He never would have rushed in if he were even marginally in his right mind. Even as a calm wolf, he’d have been more strategic. But now he snarls, watches, dares it to try to get a step closer to Olivine. ]

[massochism]

[there's the smallest exhale of relief as Basch settles even that little bit, and he watches the monster now. almost ironically, he's more suited to support than attack—though he's clearly no slouch in that department either. for now then, his focus shifts to healing the other's wounds, gaze flicking to the creature as he does.

God, but he wishes he could speak to him directly. sure, the werewolf seems to understand him, but he can't define exactly what happened to this point, or what he needs, or... anything like it. the only truly clear thing is how protective he is, waiting for movement.

which does happen eventually. Olivine presents a much more convenient-seeming target, and it had already batted Basch away once, so perhaps that makes it bolder still. there's not much in the way of time to move, then, though he's pretty sure he'll be able to dodge at least one or two hits to save the other some worry.]

[bardische]

[ The magic is soothing. His wounds were honestly not bad, but the familiar feeling of Olivine's magic after the empty, lonely hole he's felt as a wolf but hasn't understood is like water quenching dehydration.

But it only makes him that much more determined to protect.

The monster lunges, and Basch is on it, using his body weight to slam into the other. It gets a light swipe at Olivine as its sent staggering.

Basch presses his advantage, slamming into its other leg before tackling it by the chest. Where he'd been somewhat gentle with Olivine, now his all teeth and claw. If he were human, he would have anticipated that being entangled with this monster would make Olivine's magic harder to target. But he's not thinking strategically. He just wants this thing down and dead, and it's doing its best to do the same to him. ]

[massochism]

[it's definitely made harder by the positioning, plus the fact that Olivine isn't entirely used to working with others. but for right now, he's just shifting his intentions to bolstering Basch—soothing wounds, and drawing up a sort of protective "coating" when he can. the magic feels weaker than he likes, he thinks, but he's been using it for a while so it's not that surprising...

the thing can't escape him, and hopefully can't hurt him enough to risk him dying, and so the priest just has to trust that his wolf will win this. it's an uncertainty that twists terribly in his gut, even trusting him as he does.]