Grayell shakes his head. He looks pained, upset. He struggles, sits straight.
No. No, not that. The... the wolves. The others. They don't... I can't speak to them. It's taken away. It's... sad but they like it this way.
Shit my head. This isn't right.
Grayell looks at his hand, studies it a while. It is entirely possible he's been drugged. His alcohol tolerance was much higher than this and usually ended in him laughing at silly crap and fighting. This was different.
It doesn't work no more. Something else happens. You know... one of em tore my leg really bad. And it didn't work. It can't work.
Heh. Serenity. Geeez I like her. It hurts here.
He slips a hand on to his chest, wobbles and then looks at her as seriously as he can muster, which isn't saying much.
You... heh. Kitten. You hurt me here ya know? But you can fix it I think. Make it better.
Shh...shh. She rubbed his head and face soothingly.
Of course I can.
She faltered. He was not himself. She wanted this to be a decision he made; realistically if he woke up as a wolf and regretted it he could probably tear her apart, or get the other wolves to do it, given that he would be Alpha. She put her hands on his face gently, under his jaw.
Do you want me to? For sure. In your heart. You won't have to worry about Serenity or hurting yourself ever again.
Grayell sighed, a sound caught in his throat that was like a cry but it stopped. He looked up, to the stars. He grunted and suddenly was very determined to stand. He rolled, hands walked up the tree and his shoulder met it firmly, him leaning on it. He looked at her with a smile and for a moment seemed quite lucid. Happy. But then he looked down and frowned.
You .. you don't like me like this huh? Just me. Who I always was.
That sucks. But I can do this...
Grayell stretched out his hand and looked at it. His jaw were grinding, his eyes locked onto something she didn't see. His arm trembled a little. His other hand reached across and gripped it.
Grayell's skin writhed, rippled and then began to shift. It was odd though, irregular, no fur but instead a thick blood that bubbled through the skin. It wound it's way up his forearm which stretched beyond human proportion; and as it passed his wrist and rode up to cover his hand, his fingers grew longer, elongated. His thumb dislocated, moved into a new position and his knuckles sank. fingers arcing back. His nails grew into savage claws, but the entire change was smothered in blood, some strange anomaly that looked so much like a Garou's arm but was not nearly the same.
A froth gathered, sputtered from the corner of his mouth and his eyes welled, rolled with blood before clearing, pupils much smaller, iris much larger. His canine grew enough to pierce his lip and he started to growl, a gutteral, primal rumbling in his throat.
But it stopped suddenly, retracting much faster than it came - a gasp for air from him as his eyes rolled back. His chest was rising and falling frantically and he pulled at his collar, needed air. His eyes rolled side to side, his pulse increased to unsafe levels.
A hand clutched his head and he murmured in some pain, but stumbled from the tree he leaned on toward his house.
She found his eyes and could tell he was lost and confused. He wasn't firing on all cylinders and whilst Grayell has always stayed in control - which might have meant hitting people with furniture - that wasn't the case and Liseth knew that Grayell hated not being in control. He was one animal you didn't corner or lock away because it always brought out the worst in him.
He stepped a couple of times and shook his head, growling. He stumbled then and fell to his knees, then sat on his haunches, hands slack at his sides. He shook his head, his face contorted and trying to find reason, then looked up past her and at the night sky.
No... no that's not it at all.
Grayell's left arm, the one that had changed reached out. He'd raked it open on his palm and blood trickled slowly from the gash, warm and hot on the air. Liseth could smell it of course, all Garou could smell blood old or new but it wasn't right. It smelled like Grayell, but something in it was intoxicating, powerful and sinister.
He yelled as he swung his arm forward and the blood whipped off his fingers, cut through the air like spinning scythes and impacted with the woods around the. A tree splintered and groaned, then fell, severed.
Grayell looked at it, snarling and smiling but fell forward, hands holding him from going face first in the dirt.
I... I want this out. My head....
Grayell shoved his right hand into his mouth, pushed the back of his throat. He heaved, coughed a foul alcoholic mess onto the forest floor and heaved again.... but his face stretched, muscles gagging and his maw, for but a moment grew. His teeth were sharp, canine as he dispelled the contents of his gut and his ear pointed, grew in length. His eyes were forcibly closed and he sunk hands into the dirt, again spilling the liquor onto the dirt.
It stopped. He panted, drool of his chin that was halfway to shifting. His teeth snapped as he breathed, ragged heavy breaths. His eyes opened, red and welled with blood but so much closer to a wolves and he looked around, a savage intensity on his face.
He said nothing, but was growling. There was no human in it.
Liseth didn't know what to do. On one hand, the change was already happening. On the other hand, it was happening strangely, not like she'd ever seen before, and more importantly, she wasn't the one to do it. The blood thing she'd seen before, of course, on Verick.
Grayell, you're not well. She put a hand on his shoulder.
You need to see someone about that.
She realized she sounded like she was talking about a rash or something and rolled her eyes.
Grayell snapped, slumped and the change dragged back in suddenly. It went faster than it came and seemed to cause far less discomfort. He stayed there though. silent, his breathing trying to slow, his heart rate quietening in his ears. The growl died in his throat and after a minute or two, he slowly rocked back onto his haunches. He hadn't said anything but his hand came up and rested on hers. His head titled, rested on her wrist and he sighed. He sounded far more lucid than before, but the calm in his voice may well just be exhaustion.
Well? That's a funny way of looking at it. You... you don't have to fight it. You get to control it. You've embraced the murder and rage and you have control. I remember what that's like. Until you're pushed to far and... it all just goes red. You're not even there then.
This is nothing like that. It's not me. It's in me and it wants out. This is... harder.
Grayell bit his lip, hard and clenched his teeth. His eyes welled, just enough to indicate complete frustration, but he shrugged it off. His tone got drier, the words quieter.
I'm not pure if that makes any sense. And right now.... I want to be. I want that so very badly. Make the hurt stop.
She exhaled and moved to in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders near his neck.
Grayell, listen to me. I don't know what the change will do to you when you're like this. You're sick, very sick, and not with a normal illness. This is magical. I don't want to mix magic. She put her forehead against his, talking softly.
Grayell leaned into her gently, his hands lifted and came to rest on her neck. He looked down though, breathing with a tightness in his throat.
I'm... I'm just so tired. I can't be human anymore. That was... it was taken from me. I'm not like the rest Liseth. For all the frailty you see in them, there so much stronger than me. I...
I don't want to cope with this anymore. It's so much. I want to run free.
He sat there a moment and chewed his lip, then coughed a single laugh. It was him reaching for humor. Coping. Bottling it. He nodded, stood up and took a deep breath. He turned, walked to his dead fire on the ground and nudged it with his boot.
Yeah magic. It's funny. You tell me I'm the 'source blood' and all that but I can't be helped right? I mean what do I do - ask Verick to fix me up? Make me whole?
No. This is beyond him. It's new. And it means I'm alone.
He looks at her, then back to the fire.
Shit. Not even wolf enough for you Kitten. Too much wolf for anyone else.
He lingered on that for a moment. His hands unclasped his armor, took off his cloak and bracers and he dropped them to the ground, leaving his upper body bare.
The moon still lights me up. My eyes, senses my skin... it brings me to life Liseth. I get that much. But I'm not sick. Sick is having no purpose. Wanting to kill. I don't want that. I need it at times, I need to let it loose. I take it out on my... extended family. It.... it's confusing. I don't know where it begins and I end. Shit, I want you to change me, make me something I understand. I don't know that you can.
He laughed. It wasn't joyful, but it was strange to hear himself tell her that.
But I'm not sick. Not like them. I'm... I'm f***ked up. But you know what Kitten?
Grayell tuned his head and gave her a cold stare. There was no comfort in it, like he'd flipped a switch and crossed over to something dark, desolate and entirely lost.