Fae suggests catching small game - rabbits and other small mammals, or birds and fish. Snakes or frogs will do in an emergency. Really, things they can smoke or turn into jerky and store in the bag of holding. (...With...the...corpses...)
He's going to try and hunt something a little larger, himself, and tells them not to hunt anything larger than a deer because it'll probably go to waste. Bears are too large and their meat's not going to taste all that good, and boars are dangerous.
He pointedly asks if Mykola is able to catch fish; it says it can, but only whole in its mouth, which Fae finds alarming.
When the thieves are underway, he does linger in that kiss for quite a while, letting on just how much he needed it in how tightly he holds Dima. In answer to the prompt, he smiles softly; far beneath, like a flicker of a candle maybe burning back to life, there's a flash of wildness that would, in another life, give him a feral grin. He's not quite there yet, however.
At their last camp, he spent about two hours fashioning himself a primitive bow and failed to convince Sen to share his arrows, so he spent another hour crafting a few of those, as well. (Survival 19, Persuasion 13 to Sen's 19.)
They'll work, and that's all he cares about.
If nothing else, he tells Dima, he can always run a deer down as a wolf. (But he'd prefer not to do that.)
The spring is quite large, fed from some underground source as well as from a waterfall spilling over a rocky rise. The water's clear and cool, and they're able to see the flash of sunlight on fish that swim near the surface. A deer at the water's edge spots them and stills, its tail flicking and ears twitching in their direction. Fae stills, as well, one hand on Dima's middle to keep him from startling the creature.
He doesn't try to shoot it. When it walks back into the forest, he explains: he doesn't want the animals learning their watering hole's unsafe. Doesn't seem fair.
For Sen and Rin: make a survival check just to see if anything comes wandering into the snare.
[SURV, r: 18]
About fifteen minutes after setting Snare, it's triggered by a large rabbit.
Sen, thinking maaaaybe Rin doesn't want to deal with the unpleasant part of this, will offer to do the other half of the job.
[note: sen you are in fact correct thank you ;.;.; they will be nearby but not watching unless sen asks them for anything ;.;]
Sen isn't going to ask them for anything, and is going to very quickly handle the rabbit. And immediately put it in one of the bags he has for some reason.
[PERC s: 13 r: 29]
Rin, while Not Looking at the rabbit situation, does happen to be looking in the river's direction; they notice movement on the small beach: crabs.
They also notice there are waterfowl picking off the smallest crabs, pecking open soft shells to get at meat.
<.>
Rin is going to Messages Sen: [ Hey, I'm taking a look at some crabs. ]
Crabs, happily, are much easier to think about Dealing With than rabbits. Especially after so many snips so many years ago.
And Rin would like to attempt to gather small small crabs into a bag of their own!
[SURV, r: 18]
<.>
Yeah, they manage to gather a pretty sizeable amount of crabs into a bag. They won't be much good for preserving, but they'll be edible tonight, and bringing in the rabbit as well, they've done a damn good job - which Fae will tell them.
[note: ahhhh ;.; Rin will do a little bounce onto their toes when he doeS tell them! And then tell everyone how skillful and very thoughtful Sen was!]
Sen, meanwhile, is going to attempt to use his shortbow to shoot one of those birds.
Sen's attempt to shoot the birds was not good and there is no bird for eating.
[note: rin calls the birds cowards!]
Which sends the entire flock upward, making angry noises at the interruption of their meal.
As for Fae and Dima!
Fae is able to find food and resources in terrains he knows well, so it's not long before he finds edible berries for the group. It's something.
He's also going to attempt to set a trap-
Which he admits to Dima, he's never been much good at, but he does try to show him what he's doing with a rope snare. (15 on Survival)
<.>
!! Thank you Faolan!
Extra thank you bc I was going to say that Dima will be watching Fae closely and asking him to share what he sees in and knows of the woods around, and how he uses that information to find his way/find food.
Only when they don't need to be hush hush, of course.
...Actually Dima. Will also have an eye out for any potentially useful alchemy ingredients. Because that is an area he doeS have some knowings in.
So learning and looking!
[NAT, d: 24]
<.>
So because his area of expertise is necromancy, there's not a whole lot here that would be useful for those particular spells; however, he does see some herbs that have medicinal properties, flowers used in tinctures for scrying, and one particular plant with a root that sells for a tidy sum of gold to the right buyer.
[note: :o! dima would like to attempt to collect all of these pls, or as many as he can, if any]
Absolutely can. There's no particular trouble in collecting them, and Dima's got himself a nice store of plants now.
Near the end of this, as Fae leads them a little ways away from the spring, he sees that deer again.
He's going to attempt to shoot it with the bow he made, god help him. (4) The arrow sails harmlessly three feet and buries into the ground. Faolan softly curses Sen for being a shithead and tries again. (2)
[note: dima casts Slow on the deer, which fails its save.]
The deer's speed is halved and Faolan is going to try one more arrow. (4) Faolan throws the bow down and says Fuck it, stay here. And he's going to wild shape into a wolf and try to run it down.
So, the deer failed its second saving throw and is still moving at half speed, but the transformation also lost Fae some time. And in the deer's next turn, it'll be out of the area of effect, I believe, so it's now moving full speed, attempting to flee into the brush.
[note: Dima silently cheering for Fae but also lbr mostly focusing on maintaining concentration while being bowled over by how lovely wolf is ;.;]
Faolan brings the deer down by the throat and shakes his head to hurry things along; the deer goes still, and Faolan-the-wolf sits back on his haunches and looks over at Dima.
<.>
Fae sees a look of absolute admiration in Dima's eyes as the half-elf approaches. As before, he holds out his hand palm-up; an offer and a query unvoiced: May I?
What he does speak: "My beautiful Puppy."
<.>
Fae remains still, watching Dima until he's near, then sniffs the outstretched hand curiously - almost as if to ask, What are you doing?
When he looks up again, Dima's able to see he still has blood around his mouth and on his teeth, which would account for why there's no lick. If Dima gets close enough, however, Fae will lean against his side.
<.>
Dima and draws his hand into caress along Fae's head, with a subtle scratch behind his ear, and does indeed draw near enough to leaning. Huffing a soft laugh, he'll hold Faolan the wolf's eyes, his fingers carding through thick fur. "You are a magnificent creature, you know. In every form you hold; in every way you are.
"My Fae, my Puppy, you've done very well.
"Here, and leading our party so far. We'd still be wandering in search of Knaren," there is a deep, deep roll of his eyes at that, "If it weren't for you.
"Clever and skillful; beautiful and vicious. Do you know how lucky I am in you?"
<.>
The wolf at Dima's feet has a stillness inherent to the species, but it's clear he's listening. He doesn't move away for a few minutes, content to be here, be loved, be petted by his Dima.
He drops wild shape, however, the transition leaving him still at Dima's side, though he's careful to try and wipe any traces of blood from his mouth now.
He gives a little nod towards the deer and explains, "It'll start to turn if we don't dress it now. Best do it here and take what we can back to camp."
He starts to say Dima doesn't have to watch, but thinks maybe Dima wants to watch - and even help? - so he offers instead, "Faster with two sets of hands."
There's a hesitation here, another thing he starts to say, then doesn't, then changes his mind once more and smiles a sidelong look at Dima. "Later tonight, I'd like to come back, though. Just us. There's something I want you to see."
<.>
"I'd like that very much.
"Please, Faolan; you must count on it, and so shall I."
The smile he gives Fae is small and pleased, hopeful. (And yes, Dima is thinking of the spring, the fall of water; how well he'd like to see Fae in its misting spray and moonlight. How like the docks it might be; peaceful, complete.) Yes, he'd like to sit beside the spring, but he's eager for anything his Faolan might share.
Including the work at hand.
Though Dima's had little practice handling carcasses for food, he knows the handling and preservation of remains. Knows certain practices of the sort, at least, but he'll watch and follow Fae's lead, suspecting his own knowledge isn't completely transferrable. Asking Fae brief questions for elucidation; once or twice asking that Faolan guide his hand, the better to know the feeling of a certain cut, the better to attend the work with proper care.
He'll ask Faolan how he learned to hunt, and how he chooses prey, supposing that there are reasons to select one and let another go, or to avoid certain creatures entirely, as Fae suggested with bear and boars. If the questions seem to get in the way of their present work, he'll keep them to a minimum. But Dima wants very much to hear of Faolan's experience; would like to hear everything, anything his Puppy might share and say.
<.>
Faolan answers Dima's questions in his concise way, without curtness; he talks as they work about growing up on a farm, about subsistence hunting to help get by. He talks about his own feelings of fairness in hunting, how he never kills females in spring or animals at watering holes, never hunts more than he needs, how he leaves the rest for scavengers or to be reclaimed by the earth. He acquaints himself with the look of an animal fully grown and one still in its youth. He explains about boars, about the fattiness of bear meat, which is good in lean winter months, but not just now.
When Dima asks for a guiding hand, he doesn't mean to betray himself, but the catch of breath is there as they, together, work a knife through. The second time he's asked, he leads kneeling behind Dima, chest to back, and when the cut is made, he lingers, face turning in to Dima's neck, eyes closed soporifically. His hand tightens around Dima's and the knife, and in the pit of his stomach, he feels an electric tension.
(This is the kind of thing that got him in trouble. With Lachlan. With Fedir. With enough men that it got around that he's dangerous, that he's crazy.
A knife.
The creeping suggestion of his own desires beyond children, fatherhood, family, and - honey, yes.
The problem is, he's a man, but he's also a wolf-not-wolf, and there are things lurking inside him that want to see -
A knife beading blood from shallow cuts. (Lachlan had slapped his hand away, had struck him hard enough that he'd reeled back from the blow and dropped the knife.))
(Dima got excited when Faolan threatened him that day in the ruins.) (He moaned so beautifully when Faolan bit him by the fire.)
For a suspended moment, there's only Dima's artery near Faolan's parted lips, warmed by quiet, shuddering breaths; there's the scent of blood and game, of Dima's hair, sweat, subtle perfume of soap. There's the feeling of their bodies faintly moved by rising, falling breath, and a knife.
And slowly, he withdraws, ignoring the insistence of arousal and turning his attention once more to skinning his kill. (Though he makes sure Dima can see how he works now; he lingers over certain cuts, and it could be nothing, could be caution -
Or it could be, to the right onlooker, a silent expression of desire, a suggestion that he's seeing a half-elf and not a deer under the bite of the blade.
When the work is done, it's as though nothing happened at all with the knife. He cleans it carefully and sheathes it, then uses the pelt as a makeshift carrier for the meat they'll take. He's careful not to take all of the choice cuts, leaving the tongue as thanks (begrudgingly - Dima might catch him looking back longingly at it) as well as the beast's liver. Already he can hear birds circling and smell small predators lying in wait nearby; they'll eat well, and so will -
Yes. His family.
Sidebar: Make a note that as of today, Derzhena has not responded to any messages Dima has sent using Sending.
[note: .tbh dima probs would have used sending to attempt to contact derzhena's wife, lariya, after the third time derzhena didn't respond. or if that is too much after the fact saying, that will be his next attempt nod
<.>
Impossible to miss the signs in Faolan.
Unthinkable that he might veil the stagger of his own breath, the uproar of his pulse as his blood races, seethes with longing.
Let, oh let Fae see just what he does to Dima.
Let Puppy see how well his Daddy wants those hands, that knife. Hot breath and teeth so near his throat.
Let Faolan glimpse how well Dmitri wants the give of skin; the surge of rising blood. Sharpness cut across his own surface, driving gasps of blessed pain.
What nobody has given Dima. Not with fondness. Not with ferocity twined in tenderness. Dima’s known his own interest, and has known better than to ask for its infliction. (To do so would have been an opening toward weakness, to admission of predilections not worth risking on men not worth his time, not worth his trust.
He’d trust Faolan to take him to the very precipice of shadowed consciousness. Of course he trusts Fae with his life.)
Oh, what this man could do to him.
And Dima thinks, feels certain Faolan would wish it. Feels certain Fae thinks on it while he butchers his kill, that even as Fae’s eyes keep to his work, Puppy remains electrically aware of Dima’s presence, the potential of his willing, willfull blood. And he feels Fae’s presence like a gaze settled unyielding, like a promising of brilliant threat, like a blade drawn in ecstatic sharpness, its every shift a work of measured care.
Show me your fervor, my Puppy, he thinks, again and again in delicious chorus. Bring me to my blood. At times pausing in his own work to catch upon the graceful precision in Fae’s cutting, in the subtle flex of hands that can caress as easily as gift a wound. Yes, Dima needs to remind himself to breath here and there; yes, he knows a dizzy spinning of anticipation, of the promised breath of pleasure.
It isn’t an impulse to follow now. Not when Faolan is set upon this work; not when he has such cause to handle and preserve the meat that will sustain them. But it’s something to more than dream on. Something more to look ahead to. On the walk back to their camp, he clasps his hand tightly twined with Fae’s. Occasionally curling the brush of a finger, tender and appreciative. Neither pursuing the matter of the knife nor discarding its thought, though another thought, another word sings forward. Born by the form of the wolf and the blood at Faolan’s lip after, by the hover of a knife and the charge of Puppy’s presence, by the roiling within Dmitri’s own blood. He thinks, and feels a shiver in his ribs at the word, I could be your mate.
And leaning over, leaning upward, he sets a kiss to Faolan’s lip. “I’ve learned a great deal today, my Dearest. And you are remarkable.”
no subject
He's going to try and hunt something a little larger, himself, and tells them not to hunt anything larger than a deer because it'll probably go to waste. Bears are too large and their meat's not going to taste all that good, and boars are dangerous.
He pointedly asks if Mykola is able to catch fish; it says it can, but only whole in its mouth, which Fae finds alarming.
When the thieves are underway, he does linger in that kiss for quite a while, letting on just how much he needed it in how tightly he holds Dima. In answer to the prompt, he smiles softly; far beneath, like a flicker of a candle maybe burning back to life, there's a flash of wildness that would, in another life, give him a feral grin. He's not quite there yet, however.
At their last camp, he spent about two hours fashioning himself a primitive bow and failed to convince Sen to share his arrows, so he spent another hour crafting a few of those, as well. (Survival 19, Persuasion 13 to Sen's 19.)
They'll work, and that's all he cares about.
If nothing else, he tells Dima, he can always run a deer down as a wolf. (But he'd prefer not to do that.)
The spring is quite large, fed from some underground source as well as from a waterfall spilling over a rocky rise. The water's clear and cool, and they're able to see the flash of sunlight on fish that swim near the surface. A deer at the water's edge spots them and stills, its tail flicking and ears twitching in their direction. Fae stills, as well, one hand on Dima's middle to keep him from startling the creature.
He doesn't try to shoot it. When it walks back into the forest, he explains: he doesn't want the animals learning their watering hole's unsafe. Doesn't seem fair.
For Sen and Rin: make a survival check just to see if anything comes wandering into the snare.
[SURV, r: 18]
About fifteen minutes after setting Snare, it's triggered by a large rabbit.
Sen, thinking maaaaybe Rin doesn't want to deal with the unpleasant part of this, will offer to do the other half of the job.
[note: sen you are in fact correct thank you ;.;.; they will be nearby but not watching unless sen asks them for anything ;.;]
Sen isn't going to ask them for anything, and is going to very quickly handle the rabbit. And immediately put it in one of the bags he has for some reason.
[PERC
s: 13
r: 29]
Rin, while Not Looking at the rabbit situation, does happen to be looking in the river's direction; they notice movement on the small beach: crabs.
They also notice there are waterfowl picking off the smallest crabs, pecking open soft shells to get at meat.
<.>
Rin is going to Messages Sen: [ Hey, I'm taking a look at some crabs. ]
Crabs, happily, are much easier to think about Dealing With than rabbits. Especially after so many snips so many years ago.
And Rin would like to attempt to gather small small crabs into a bag of their own!
[SURV, r: 18]
<.>
Yeah, they manage to gather a pretty sizeable amount of crabs into a bag. They won't be much good for preserving, but they'll be edible tonight, and bringing in the rabbit as well, they've done a damn good job - which Fae will tell them.
[note: ahhhh ;.; Rin will do a little bounce onto their toes when he doeS tell them! And then tell everyone how skillful and very thoughtful Sen was!]
Sen, meanwhile, is going to attempt to use his shortbow to shoot one of those birds.
Sen's attempt to shoot the birds was not good and there is no bird for eating.
[note: rin calls the birds cowards!]
Which sends the entire flock upward, making angry noises at the interruption of their meal.
As for Fae and Dima!
Fae is able to find food and resources in terrains he knows well, so it's not long before he finds edible berries for the group. It's something.
He's also going to attempt to set a trap-
Which he admits to Dima, he's never been much good at, but he does try to show him what he's doing with a rope snare. (15 on Survival)
<.>
!! Thank you Faolan!
Extra thank you bc I was going to say that Dima will be watching Fae closely and asking him to share what he sees in and knows of the woods around, and how he uses that information to find his way/find food.
Only when they don't need to be hush hush, of course.
...Actually Dima. Will also have an eye out for any potentially useful alchemy ingredients. Because that is an area he doeS have some knowings in.
So learning and looking!
[NAT, d: 24]
<.>
So because his area of expertise is necromancy, there's not a whole lot here that would be useful for those particular spells; however, he does see some herbs that have medicinal properties, flowers used in tinctures for scrying, and one particular plant with a root that sells for a tidy sum of gold to the right buyer.
[note: :o! dima would like to attempt to collect all of these pls, or as many as he can, if any]
Absolutely can. There's no particular trouble in collecting them, and Dima's got himself a nice store of plants now.
Near the end of this, as Fae leads them a little ways away from the spring, he sees that deer again.
He's going to attempt to shoot it with the bow he made, god help him. (4) The arrow sails harmlessly three feet and buries into the ground. Faolan softly curses Sen for being a shithead and tries again. (2)
[note: dima casts Slow on the deer, which fails its save.]
The deer's speed is halved and Faolan is going to try one more arrow. (4) Faolan throws the bow down and says Fuck it, stay here. And he's going to wild shape into a wolf and try to run it down.
So, the deer failed its second saving throw and is still moving at half speed, but the transformation also lost Fae some time. And in the deer's next turn, it'll be out of the area of effect, I believe, so it's now moving full speed, attempting to flee into the brush.
[note: Dima silently cheering for Fae but also lbr mostly focusing on maintaining concentration while being bowled over by how lovely wolf is ;.;]
Faolan brings the deer down by the throat and shakes his head to hurry things along; the deer goes still, and Faolan-the-wolf sits back on his haunches and looks over at Dima.
<.>
Fae sees a look of absolute admiration in Dima's eyes as the half-elf approaches. As before, he holds out his hand palm-up; an offer and a query unvoiced: May I?
What he does speak: "My beautiful Puppy."
<.>
Fae remains still, watching Dima until he's near, then sniffs the outstretched hand curiously - almost as if to ask, What are you doing?
When he looks up again, Dima's able to see he still has blood around his mouth and on his teeth, which would account for why there's no lick. If Dima gets close enough, however, Fae will lean against his side.
<.>
Dima and draws his hand into caress along Fae's head, with a subtle scratch behind his ear, and does indeed draw near enough to leaning. Huffing a soft laugh, he'll hold Faolan the wolf's eyes, his fingers carding through thick fur. "You are a magnificent creature, you know. In every form you hold; in every way you are.
"My Fae, my Puppy, you've done very well.
"Here, and leading our party so far. We'd still be wandering in search of Knaren," there is a deep, deep roll of his eyes at that, "If it weren't for you.
"Clever and skillful; beautiful and vicious. Do you know how lucky I am in you?"
<.>
The wolf at Dima's feet has a stillness inherent to the species, but it's clear he's listening. He doesn't move away for a few minutes, content to be here, be loved, be petted by his Dima.
He drops wild shape, however, the transition leaving him still at Dima's side, though he's careful to try and wipe any traces of blood from his mouth now.
He gives a little nod towards the deer and explains, "It'll start to turn if we don't dress it now. Best do it here and take what we can back to camp."
He starts to say Dima doesn't have to watch, but thinks maybe Dima wants to watch - and even help? - so he offers instead, "Faster with two sets of hands."
There's a hesitation here, another thing he starts to say, then doesn't, then changes his mind once more and smiles a sidelong look at Dima. "Later tonight, I'd like to come back, though. Just us. There's something I want you to see."
<.>
"I'd like that very much.
"Please, Faolan; you must count on it, and so shall I."
The smile he gives Fae is small and pleased, hopeful. (And yes, Dima is thinking of the spring, the fall of water; how well he'd like to see Fae in its misting spray and moonlight. How like the docks it might be; peaceful, complete.) Yes, he'd like to sit beside the spring, but he's eager for anything his Faolan might share.
Including the work at hand.
Though Dima's had little practice handling carcasses for food, he knows the handling and preservation of remains. Knows certain practices of the sort, at least, but he'll watch and follow Fae's lead, suspecting his own knowledge isn't completely transferrable. Asking Fae brief questions for elucidation; once or twice asking that Faolan guide his hand, the better to know the feeling of a certain cut, the better to attend the work with proper care.
He'll ask Faolan how he learned to hunt, and how he chooses prey, supposing that there are reasons to select one and let another go, or to avoid certain creatures entirely, as Fae suggested with bear and boars. If the questions seem to get in the way of their present work, he'll keep them to a minimum. But Dima wants very much to hear of Faolan's experience; would like to hear everything, anything his Puppy might share and say.
<.>
Faolan answers Dima's questions in his concise way, without curtness; he talks as they work about growing up on a farm, about subsistence hunting to help get by. He talks about his own feelings of fairness in hunting, how he never kills females in spring or animals at watering holes, never hunts more than he needs, how he leaves the rest for scavengers or to be reclaimed by the earth. He acquaints himself with the look of an animal fully grown and one still in its youth. He explains about boars, about the fattiness of bear meat, which is good in lean winter months, but not just now.
When Dima asks for a guiding hand, he doesn't mean to betray himself, but the catch of breath is there as they, together, work a knife through. The second time he's asked, he leads kneeling behind Dima, chest to back, and when the cut is made, he lingers, face turning in to Dima's neck, eyes closed soporifically. His hand tightens around Dima's and the knife, and in the pit of his stomach, he feels an electric tension.
(This is the kind of thing that got him in trouble. With Lachlan. With Fedir. With enough men that it got around that he's dangerous, that he's crazy.
A knife.
The creeping suggestion of his own desires beyond children, fatherhood, family, and - honey, yes.
The problem is, he's a man, but he's also a wolf-not-wolf, and there are things lurking inside him that want to see -
A knife beading blood from shallow cuts. (Lachlan had slapped his hand away, had struck him hard enough that he'd reeled back from the blow and dropped the knife.))
(Dima got excited when Faolan threatened him that day in the ruins.) (He moaned so beautifully when Faolan bit him by the fire.)
For a suspended moment, there's only Dima's artery near Faolan's parted lips, warmed by quiet, shuddering breaths; there's the scent of blood and game, of Dima's hair, sweat, subtle perfume of soap. There's the feeling of their bodies faintly moved by rising, falling breath, and a knife.
And slowly, he withdraws, ignoring the insistence of arousal and turning his attention once more to skinning his kill. (Though he makes sure Dima can see how he works now; he lingers over certain cuts, and it could be nothing, could be caution -
Or it could be, to the right onlooker, a silent expression of desire, a suggestion that he's seeing a half-elf and not a deer under the bite of the blade.
When the work is done, it's as though nothing happened at all with the knife. He cleans it carefully and sheathes it, then uses the pelt as a makeshift carrier for the meat they'll take. He's careful not to take all of the choice cuts, leaving the tongue as thanks (begrudgingly - Dima might catch him looking back longingly at it) as well as the beast's liver. Already he can hear birds circling and smell small predators lying in wait nearby; they'll eat well, and so will -
Yes. His family.
Sidebar: Make a note that as of today, Derzhena has not responded to any messages Dima has sent using Sending.
[note: .tbh dima probs would have used sending to attempt to contact derzhena's wife, lariya, after the third time derzhena didn't respond. or if that is too much after the fact saying, that will be his next attempt nod
<.>
Impossible to miss the signs in Faolan.
Unthinkable that he might veil the stagger of his own breath, the uproar of his pulse as his blood races, seethes with longing.
Let, oh let Fae see just what he does to Dima.
Let Puppy see how well his Daddy wants those hands, that knife. Hot breath and teeth so near his throat.
Let Faolan glimpse how well Dmitri wants the give of skin; the surge of rising blood. Sharpness cut across his own surface, driving gasps of blessed pain.
What nobody has given Dima. Not with fondness. Not with ferocity twined in tenderness. Dima’s known his own interest, and has known better than to ask for its infliction. (To do so would have been an opening toward weakness, to admission of predilections not worth risking on men not worth his time, not worth his trust.
He’d trust Faolan to take him to the very precipice of shadowed consciousness. Of course he trusts Fae with his life.)
Oh, what this man could do to him.
And Dima thinks, feels certain Faolan would wish it. Feels certain Fae thinks on it while he butchers his kill, that even as Fae’s eyes keep to his work, Puppy remains electrically aware of Dima’s presence, the potential of his willing, willfull blood. And he feels Fae’s presence like a gaze settled unyielding, like a promising of brilliant threat, like a blade drawn in ecstatic sharpness, its every shift a work of measured care.
Show me your fervor, my Puppy, he thinks, again and again in delicious chorus. Bring me to my blood. At times pausing in his own work to catch upon the graceful precision in Fae’s cutting, in the subtle flex of hands that can caress as easily as gift a wound. Yes, Dima needs to remind himself to breath here and there; yes, he knows a dizzy spinning of anticipation, of the promised breath of pleasure.
It isn’t an impulse to follow now. Not when Faolan is set upon this work; not when he has such cause to handle and preserve the meat that will sustain them. But it’s something to more than dream on. Something more to look ahead to. On the walk back to their camp, he clasps his hand tightly twined with Fae’s. Occasionally curling the brush of a finger, tender and appreciative. Neither pursuing the matter of the knife nor discarding its thought, though another thought, another word sings forward. Born by the form of the wolf and the blood at Faolan’s lip after, by the hover of a knife and the charge of Puppy’s presence, by the roiling within Dmitri’s own blood. He thinks, and feels a shiver in his ribs at the word, I could be your mate.
And leaning over, leaning upward, he sets a kiss to Faolan’s lip. “I’ve learned a great deal today, my Dearest. And you are remarkable.”
<.>