Clove: Part 10 - Encounters
Masterlist
Part 9
With this one part, I have tripled the length of this story. We love.
Content: Werewolf whumpee, vampire caretaker, human whumper, social anxiety, mentions of the long term affects of Hyrum's abuse, cut across the chest
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Hyrum dashed around the side of the cart and pressed his back against the wood, knees shaking. He slid down to sit against one of the wheels, glad to be out of sight. He tipped the bird back and forth, imagining it flying, the ball rolling inside softly. He shook it and smiled at the soft rattle.
The sound of voices faded out of his mind as he stared at the bird. He could…. He could almost imagine painted lines on the bird, little spots speckling its wings. He wondered if there was a way to draw those lines on the wooden wings himself. He could see it so clearly in his mind.
He rocked the bird gently back and forth, murmuring to himself unintelligibly.
Hyrum was enveloped in a strange, though familiar scent and he looked up to see 4 werewolves, two in human form, the other two in wolf form. He shot back up to his feet with a small yelp, stumbling as he did so, back pressed to the cart as his bird fell from his hands to the dirt by his feet.
The two in wolf form pressed forward, sniffing at his face and he closed his eyes, turning his head away from them. They were huge even in their wolf form, taller than him at the shoulder. His wolf form was nothing like that. It was tiny and fragile.
“What’s your deal?” one of the werewolves asked.
Hyrum opened his eyes to see the one with grey hair staring at him, arms folded. The two in wolfs form transformed back to their human forms, staring at him as well.
They were waiting for him to answer and he slowly shrugged. The four of them were very different colors from him. All in grey or black tones.
He tucked his tail against his leg, tilting his head up in submission, baring his throat.
He could feel their eyes on him and he could smell their confusion.
“Lionel,” the oldest said, “Go get mum.”
Hyrum didn’t know what a mum was, but he really didn’t want to find out, he cracked an eye open nervously and, as one of the younger wolves took off distracting the others, he crumpled to the dirt and rolled under the cart, unconsciously transforming into a wolf to hide and defend himself if needed.
The wolves all barked in surprise and the three left behind transformed to crouch down and see where he went. He growled lowly, eyes flicking to his bird toy on the ground. He didn’t dare dash forward and grab it. That would put him in range of their teeth.
He whined, eyes pinned back.
“Goldenrod! Sweetheart, we’re leaving!” Ephraim called.
Hyrum gave one last longing look at his toy and then turned and left the cart on the other side, taking human form again and burying himself under Ephraim’s arm.
“Woah,” Ephraim said, a bit startled. “Let’s get you home then.”
Hyrum just nodded, tears in his eyes as they went back up to the cottage. Ephraim asked him some questions, but Hyrum didn’t answer, just willing one foot in front of the other until he could collapse and curl up in bed.
……………………………………
Something was wrong with Hyrum and Ephraim didn’t know what it was. His little wolf just drooped on the couch, staring at the window and only vaguely listening to what Ephaim had to say. Ephraim had, at first, been worried that his stories were annoying Hyrum, but there was something else. He wasn’t very excited about dinner the next day and he didn’t even ask for a bath like he usually did each morning. Had something happened when they were down in the village? Ephraim thought it had just been social anxiety that colored him with fear, but maybe there was something else.
It was as Ephraim was coming back from delivering a small present to Mr. Herring that he remembered the wooden bird he’d bought for Ephraim. Most notably was the fact that he didn’t remember Hyrum having it when they left the village to go to bed.
Ephraim made his way up to his cottage and opened his door, sliding off his boots and stepping inside. He put down the wrapped lamb chops Mr. Herring had given him to use and went to Hyrum’s room. The door was closed and Ephraim could smell sadness and loneliness even through the door.
He knocked gently and called, “Hyrum? Can I come in?”
Hyrum sighed loudly, and Ephraim took that as a yes and opened the door.
The werewolf was curled up in his wolf form on the bed.
Ephraim came to sit next to him, gently reaching over and stroking his head. Hyrum leaned into it, like he always did, and Ephraim stroked down his shoulder and along his back to make sure the mange was clearing up like it was supposed to.
“Hey sweetheart,” Ephraim said very softly. “You alright?”
The werewolf huffed.
“Is…. is it something to do with the bird?”
Hyrum transformed back to his human form, his head coming up so fast and it nearly startled Ephraim off the bed. Hyrum’s eyes were wide and full of unshed tears.
“What’s wrong?” Ephraim asked, gathering the boy up in his arms. Not unlike another boy he’d held so long ago.
Hyrum pressed his face into Ephraim’s chest and just wailed. Ephraim held him there and rocked him slowly back and forth until Hyrum stirred to look up at him. Ephraim waited and the werewolf, with tears streaming down his face, said, “I can’t do it. I’m sorry, I can’t do it!”
“Do what, sweetheart?”
“I can’t be your weapon,” he sobbed, hiding his face again. “I’m too s-scared!”
Ephraim crooned, a sound that would have had a vampire fledgling limp in his arms in moments, but the werewolf just kept crying.
“Hyrum, Goldenrod, listen to me. Can you hear me?”
Hyrum, still trembling and hiccuping with sobs, looked up to meet Ephraim’s eyes.
“I don’t need you to be my weapon. You’re my Goldenrod, and that’s even better than a weapon ever could be, okay?”
“I… I don’t understand,” Hyrum said, sounding defeated.
“You don’t have to be brave, you don’t have to fight for me, you don’t have to do any of that. I am going to take care of you, and you can decide what you want to be later. You are not my weapon. You’re my Goldenrod.”
Hyrum pressed his face into Ephraim’s chest again and just stayed there, trembling. Ephraim let him stay, looking over the details of the room. Maybe he and Hyrum should decorate, make it feel more like Hyrum’s own home. Ephraim would need to clear out the rest of the boxes he’d had in here as storage before Hyrum got here, and then maybe they could decorate it with little banners. Ephraim would have to make a quilt for him and maybe get a proper photograph. He’d seen one the last time he’d been to the cities and it would be nice to have one, even if it was expensive and took ages.
Hyrum seemed to calm down, his shivering toning down to the general vibrations his damaged body could never really escape.
“What caused this, sweetheart?” Ephraim asked. “Did someone take your bird when I wasn’t looking?”
Hyrum’s shoulders rose and fell quickly. “They were wolves. I got scared and dropped it.”
“Oh, that’s easily dealt with. I’ll go over and see if they know where it went, okay? Will you be okay if I leave you here?”
Hyrum shook his head against Ephraim’s chest.
“Okay. Up we go.”
He draped Hyrum’s arms over his shoulders and held him close easily as he walked to the living room. He set Hyrum on the couch and slipped on his boots and grabbed his coat. He slid Hyrum’s cloak around the werewolf’s shoulders and held out a hand for him.
Hyrum took it and Ephraim waved his hand, using what vague abilities he had to blow out the candles in the house before closing the door behind them.
“You probably met the Blackwell family,” Ephraim said, carefully leading Hyrum down the hill. “They’re a rowdy lot, but good enough people.”
Hyrum nodded and, after walking around the edge of town, they came to a house on the edge of the woods. Ephraim didn’t even get to knock on the door as it opened and a large woman stood looking down at them.
Hyrum wilted into Ephraim’s side, tail tucked between his legs, but, unphased as ever, Ephraim smiled.
“Hello, Tory. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and said, “Depends on what you’re here for, vamp.”
“My Hyrum here got startled by your children the other day and I think he may have dropped a toy and left it behind. It’s a wooden bird. Rattles when you shake it.”
She huffed and turned back into the house. After a few minutes, one of the darker colored wolf children came to the door, the bird in hand and Ephraim felt Hyrum shift against his side, ears pitched forward when he saw it.”
“Sorry, I wanted it,” she said, holding it out.
Ephraim glanced down at Hyrum, who hesitantly reached out and took the toy.
He nodded quietly and pressed up against Ephraim again.
“Sorry about that,” Tory said, putting her hands down on her daughter’s shoulders. “She’s been nicking things here and there. Hard to stay on top of it.”
“I completely understand,” Ephraim said, inclining his head. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thank you.”
He turned to leave when Tory huffed and said, “Are you sure you should be taking care of the pup, there, Vamp?”
Ephraim turned back. “I think so,” he said with a smile.
“He should be with a pack,” she replied, folding her arms.
Ephraim felt Hyrum tremble at his side and he looked down at Hyrum, who’s wide begging eyes let him know all he needed without Hyrum having to say anything.
“No, I’m afraid he’s not ready for it now,” Ephraim replied. “Thank you for asking though.”
She hummed, sounding annoyed and closed the door before Ephraim could wish her good night.
“She, uh, she didn’t seem very nice,” Hyrum muttered.
“Oh, she’s fine. There’s…. Well, there’s been a long history of fighting between Vampires and werewolves and it’s still kind of going on from what I understand. I haven’t been a part of it for 7 generations now, but she’s not from around here so I think she had to actually deal with it… it doesn’t really matter, sweetheart. Do you want a bath when we get home.”
“Yes, please.”
………………………………….
Jack couldn’t believe his weapon failed. Not exactly failed. He had sent his werewolf to find a vampire, and he was meant to run into Jack’s friend, who would have had a small meal off the boy and then Jack could say he’d saved the boy’s life. He had been seeing a look in the werewolf’s eyes, like he was starting to doubt what Jack told him, and this was supposed to reinforce Jack’s hold over him, but instead the boy had blundered off in the wrong direction and stumbled into… him.
Jack stared at the cottage on the hill, hands clenched hard enough that his nails were stabbing into his palms. He needed that wolf back now before the sentimental fool ruined years of effort.
He walked out across the wild grasses, spellbook in hand as he threw open the cottage door hard enough wood splintered. He stepped in, ready to cast spells at whatever came at him.
“Ephraim! I know you’re in here! Tell me where the boy is and I’ll-” he stopped as the life search spell turned up as empty.
With a growl Jack turned, snarling and snapping to himself. He closed the door and stalked deeper into the cottage. He would wait for them, then. He set up magical traps in the front room, glancing out the window angrily. He waited and waited, and finally he saw two figures come up the hill through the window. He smiled when the taller of the two slowed down.
He looked down at what had to be Jack’s wolf. The stupid thing was clinging to Ephraim’s side, but after a moment, the small creature went running back down the hill.
Jack shrieked in anger, opening the door and running to try and catch him, but a dark shape plowed into him. Jack fought and struggled, reaching out to try and find his spell book, but Ephraim soon had him pinned against the ground, broken fang showing in a snarl.
“Who are you?” he hissed.
Jack laughed, sounding strange to himself as his head was pointed down the hill and blood was beginning to rush to his head. “You have something of mine.”
The vampire froze, and then his powerful fingers dug into Jack’s flesh and the warlock yelped.
“You,” Ephraim said darkly. “You, foolish, evil freak of nature.”
He slammed Jack into the ground and it took him a moment to catch his breath.”Look who’s calling the kettle black,” he choked out.
Ephraim hissed, his fingers going to Jack’s throat and the sorcerer realized that the most sentimental and gentle of all of the vampires was about to kill him.
“Wait!” he yelped as Ephraim’s fingers touched his throat. “Don’t you want to know where Ben is!?”
Ephraim froze, confusion flashing in his glowing eyes. “Ben? Ben is dead.”
“No! He’s in the Fae courts! The Queen has him! I can take you there!”
Ephraim struggled to comprehend what the sorcerer was saying, but that gave Jack just enough time to locate his silver stake in the ground not that far away.
He shouted the spell that would activate and it came flying across the grass.
Jack caught it and slashed at Ephraim, who fell back with a cry of pain and blood dripping across his chest, but Jack did not stay to finish him off. He picked up his book and ran for his life back to the forest to hide.
He wouldn’t get his wolf back today, but he would soon enough.
Part 11
Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff @honeycollectswhump
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Whumpcember2023 Day 18 - Cronic pain
@whumpcember
His leg was stiff, like every morning. He only just woke up and it already bothered him much more than usual.
He wanted to turn in bed, but it wouldn't follow. Instead it stayed stubbornly stiff and started shooting spikes of pain upwards, which manifested in his hip.
A moan escaped him as he ceased the effort and turned back the little he had managed.
His desperate look to the bedside table confirmed the additional uneasy feeling in his guts. No painkillers in his proximity.
He needed to get up and to the bathroom cabinet now, if he wanted to stay ahead off the rising pain and keep sane enough to get through this day.
If he wouldn't move in the next few minutes, he wouldn't be able to crawl shortly after. And then, he had to call his ex-wife and ask for her help. An actually, but only brief smile formed around his lips, as he thought about the question which cronic pain was worse, his leg or his ex-wife.
The blanket was thrown away, exposing his body to the cold of the dim bedroom. The sun was just coming up and sneaking through the curtains.
Begrudgingly and slowly he came into a sitting position against the headboard, pulling his leg just with, trying not the move it sideways. Leaning his head back against the hard surface, he already know, the next part was going to suck.
The naked good left foot pedaled the blanket completely away from his legs. He inhaled deeply grabbed his stiff useless right leg with both hands and lifted it, while his body moved to the right.
Even biting his own lip couldn't muffle the cry of pain, that needed to get out.
The next time he opened his eyes, he apparently had pressed close to deal with the agony, his feet were on the ground.
He wanted to give up, just let himself fall back down and sleep it off. From experience he unfortunately knew, that this wasn't an option.
So he moved, pulling his ass from the bed with the help of the bedside table. It felt like the very first day, he was pulled to his feet by the nursus. Blood shot into the worst hurting parts through gravity and his vision turned black for a second. He was standing now, most of his weight on his good left foot, the rest being held by his hands against the wall now. He was swaying dangerously. Heavily breathing to tried to make the blackness and flickering dots go away. His heart was trying to jump out of his chest, by how hard and fast it was pounding against his ribs, shaking his whole upper body additionally.
After a few seconds only the edges of his vision were still gray. His head was pounding as bad as his leg.
He grabbed for his walking stick, leaning onto it a bit releaved, that the worst part was over.
Agonisingly slowly he shuffled the short distance to his ensuit bathroom. He was biting on his own lip again, occacional grunts accompanied his way.
His hands were shaking heavily, he realised, when his left lifted to open the cabinet. A pale face was looking pathetically tired back at him from the mirrow. His whole body was thrembling, he recognised.
He leaned against the sink with the left side of his hip, feeling utterly weak and in just too much pain.
His fingers clumpsy reached for the bottle of pain relief, but he couldn't operate his own motor functions properly right now. It turned, rolled over and fell out of the cabinet.
The cap opened and all the white little dots, that would ease his torture, spilled over the tilted bathroom floor.
He wanted to yell a 'fuck', but all that came was a forceful outcry of pain, as he had unconsciously shifted his weight to look after the falling bottle. His cane slipped out of his right hand and fell, as he reached for the sink to hold himself upright.
Having no other chance, butto get down to the floor, with his stiff, burning, throbbing, fucked-up leg, his knuckles turned white, when he eased himself between sink and bathtube down, grunting in pain.
Heavily breathing he leaned his back against the side of the tube. His eyes pressed some tears out as he closed them in utter despair to deal with the agony.
Weakly a hand slid over the tilts by his right hip to find a pill, while stars danced before his still closed eyes. His fingertips found one, he picked it up and swalloped it dry. Instandly searching for another one. He swallowed it like the first, a bitter taste stayed on his tongue, but his breathing finally slowed. His heart was hammering in his chest. He would just stay like this the rest of the day, never moving that damn leg again, he thought, as the biting started to ease.
whumpcember masterlist
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