The days that had marked the approach to the full moon had been filled with bustle and work at Marissa's private little cabin. The combined efforts of Marissa, Emrys, and the Mallorys had made the root cellar as secure as it was going to get. Everything that might even remotely cause injury had been removed, and Mara had even gone so far as to pad out the walls, door, and floor with thick layers of cloth to try and minimize the risk of fingernail damage over the worrying night to come. Emrys had worked with Duncan on the locks and the door to make them as sturdy as was humanly possible, fully invested in making sure there was absolutely no way he could possibly hurt Marissa when he turned. He'd lost the argument over leaving a small window in the door, however - Mara had been firmly on Marissa's side when it came to making sure that her friend could check on him with ease, and that had meant that Duncan wasn't going to back him up.
But finally, all the preparations were done, and the cabin was quiet once again. Acutely aware of the tug deep inside as the night of the full moon came closer, Emrys began to pace, agitated and worried. "Whatever I say, whatever I do, do not open that door," he told Marissa for the umpteenth time as the afternoon wore quickly on toward dusk. "Promise me."
"I'm expecting to hear a lot of growling behind that door," Marissa remarked, turning briefly to watch him pace the floor, a faint smile on her face, though this situation was far from amusing. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep doing that," she warned him as she turned back to the bowl in front of her, where she was adding various ingredients and grinding them together to make some sort of paste.
"The human throat isn't made for growling," he said, calm on the outside despite his pacing. "I may not have much of a voice tomorrow, but I'd rather be mute than have your blood on my hands." He swallowed, incredibly nervous about the whole adventure. If left to his own devices, he would have been several miles away by now and in the process of burying himself up to the neck to make it hard for his wolf brain to get out and go anywhere. "What's that you're doing?" he asked, a curious frown on his face.
"Taking precautions," she told him, without explanation. "Whether the human throat is made for growling or not, if your mind shifts to that of a wolf, you're going to behave like a wolf." She picked up the bowl and started down the stairs toward the door that would be locked and secured from the outside. It was doubtful he'd have any chance of getting through that door, but one could never be too careful.
"What do you mean by precautions?" he asked, following her down the stairs. "What is in that?" He wasn't intentionally being difficult, but he was nervous and worried, and Marissa had just given him an answer that answered nothing.
"Just some mojo my grandma taught me," she replied, as she went about painting sigils made of the stuff in the bowl onto the door. They didn't look like much, but were some kind of protective wards that would hopefully help keep him inside the room and away from the door. "It's tribal magic. Long story," she told him, without much of an explanation again.
"Magic," he repeated. Emrys did not have the best track record when it came to magic, but he trusted Marissa. If she believed it would work, then he would accept that what she was doing was the right thing in the circumstances. "You do realize I'm going to be completely naked, yes?" he asked suddenly, realizing that he hadn't shared this part. "I learned that one the hard way. It is not pleasant to wake up with parts of your own clothing embedded in your flesh."
"It's a hard trick to teach," she told him, presumably having a little more experience at that than he did. Though she was young, all her alter egos' memories were stored somewhere inside her mind. There were times when she thought they might drive her mad, but at times like this, she was grateful for their combined knowledge and experience. A tiny smirk flickered across her face as she turned to him momentarily. "You think I've never seen a naked man before?"
He blushed, despite his nervous agitation. "You've never seen me naked," he pointed out. "Unless you've been spying on me in the bath." He hadn't admitted it yet, but he had quickly come around to the simple pleasure of being able to clean himself on a regular basis. He could almost have been spoiled, were it not for the fact that he was still insisting on sleeping by the fire on his bear pelt.
"How do you know?" she asked, unable to stop herself from teasing him, despite the gravity of their situation. She turned back to painting the sigils on the door. It was quick work, but she had to be precise, and she was relying on memory alone.
"You've been taking advantage of me when I'm asleep, have you?" Emrys snorted with laughter, glad he could at least see something funny right now, despite the looming night ahead of them. It would only be for a few hours, but he had no idea what he looked like when he was turned. He didn't want to distress her. "You know, you should just lock me in and go and spend the night with your friends or your family," he told her yet again. "You don't need to see this, kitten."
She echoed his laughter, but it didn't last, sighing as he turned the subject back around to the night that was looming in front of them - a night that was going to be terrifying for them both, but she hadn't gone this far to turn back now. "I'm not leaving you alone here," she insisted, just as she had each time he'd brought it up for discussion.
He was quiet for a long moment, his arms crossed at his chest as he considered the sigils she had painted on the door in her interesting herby mush. "I'm frightened, Marissa," he confessed with a low sigh. It took a lot to even admit to being nervous, much less afraid, but they had spent almost every waking hour together for a couple of weeks now. He felt safe to tell her about such a vulnerability.
She sighed again to hear him say it, though she supposed it was good he trusted her enough to admit it. She was scared, too, but not exactly for the same reasons. Finished with this last bit of preparation, she moved over to him and pressed a hand against his stubbled cheek. "Do you trust me, Emrys?" she asked him quietly, eyes searching his. She already knew the answer to her question, but she needed to hear him say it, or maybe she just wanted him to admit it to himself.
He looked into her eyes, unwinding one arm to curl his hand about hers against his cheek. "Aye, I trust you, kitten," he promised her solemnly. "I care more for you than I have for anyone in my lifetime. And I'm frightened that once you've seen me like this, you will not want me in your home or in your life any longer. I would not blame you for it, but I fear it."
"You forget again that my father was a werewolf, Emrys. He was not so different from you. I have seen things in my life ....terrible, horrible things ....and I am sure you are not one of them." She offered him a soft, reassuring smile, hoping he would believe her for once, without her having to explain further. "There's a few hours yet before sunset. Let me make you a cup of tea."
"Wait." Before she could move away, he reached for her, drawing her close into his arms as he buried his face against her neck, breathing her in. She didn't seem to understand that his fear was based entirely on the fact that it hurt to watch someone you care for in pain, something he knew she would have to do if she insisted on looking through that little window tonight. He needed her to know that he would be the same man when the shift was done, regardless of anything that he might do tonight.
But finally, all the preparations were done, and the cabin was quiet once again. Acutely aware of the tug deep inside as the night of the full moon came closer, Emrys began to pace, agitated and worried. "Whatever I say, whatever I do, do not open that door," he told Marissa for the umpteenth time as the afternoon wore quickly on toward dusk. "Promise me."
"I'm expecting to hear a lot of growling behind that door," Marissa remarked, turning briefly to watch him pace the floor, a faint smile on her face, though this situation was far from amusing. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep doing that," she warned him as she turned back to the bowl in front of her, where she was adding various ingredients and grinding them together to make some sort of paste.
"The human throat isn't made for growling," he said, calm on the outside despite his pacing. "I may not have much of a voice tomorrow, but I'd rather be mute than have your blood on my hands." He swallowed, incredibly nervous about the whole adventure. If left to his own devices, he would have been several miles away by now and in the process of burying himself up to the neck to make it hard for his wolf brain to get out and go anywhere. "What's that you're doing?" he asked, a curious frown on his face.
"Taking precautions," she told him, without explanation. "Whether the human throat is made for growling or not, if your mind shifts to that of a wolf, you're going to behave like a wolf." She picked up the bowl and started down the stairs toward the door that would be locked and secured from the outside. It was doubtful he'd have any chance of getting through that door, but one could never be too careful.
"What do you mean by precautions?" he asked, following her down the stairs. "What is in that?" He wasn't intentionally being difficult, but he was nervous and worried, and Marissa had just given him an answer that answered nothing.
"Just some mojo my grandma taught me," she replied, as she went about painting sigils made of the stuff in the bowl onto the door. They didn't look like much, but were some kind of protective wards that would hopefully help keep him inside the room and away from the door. "It's tribal magic. Long story," she told him, without much of an explanation again.
"Magic," he repeated. Emrys did not have the best track record when it came to magic, but he trusted Marissa. If she believed it would work, then he would accept that what she was doing was the right thing in the circumstances. "You do realize I'm going to be completely naked, yes?" he asked suddenly, realizing that he hadn't shared this part. "I learned that one the hard way. It is not pleasant to wake up with parts of your own clothing embedded in your flesh."
"It's a hard trick to teach," she told him, presumably having a little more experience at that than he did. Though she was young, all her alter egos' memories were stored somewhere inside her mind. There were times when she thought they might drive her mad, but at times like this, she was grateful for their combined knowledge and experience. A tiny smirk flickered across her face as she turned to him momentarily. "You think I've never seen a naked man before?"
He blushed, despite his nervous agitation. "You've never seen me naked," he pointed out. "Unless you've been spying on me in the bath." He hadn't admitted it yet, but he had quickly come around to the simple pleasure of being able to clean himself on a regular basis. He could almost have been spoiled, were it not for the fact that he was still insisting on sleeping by the fire on his bear pelt.
"How do you know?" she asked, unable to stop herself from teasing him, despite the gravity of their situation. She turned back to painting the sigils on the door. It was quick work, but she had to be precise, and she was relying on memory alone.
"You've been taking advantage of me when I'm asleep, have you?" Emrys snorted with laughter, glad he could at least see something funny right now, despite the looming night ahead of them. It would only be for a few hours, but he had no idea what he looked like when he was turned. He didn't want to distress her. "You know, you should just lock me in and go and spend the night with your friends or your family," he told her yet again. "You don't need to see this, kitten."
She echoed his laughter, but it didn't last, sighing as he turned the subject back around to the night that was looming in front of them - a night that was going to be terrifying for them both, but she hadn't gone this far to turn back now. "I'm not leaving you alone here," she insisted, just as she had each time he'd brought it up for discussion.
He was quiet for a long moment, his arms crossed at his chest as he considered the sigils she had painted on the door in her interesting herby mush. "I'm frightened, Marissa," he confessed with a low sigh. It took a lot to even admit to being nervous, much less afraid, but they had spent almost every waking hour together for a couple of weeks now. He felt safe to tell her about such a vulnerability.
She sighed again to hear him say it, though she supposed it was good he trusted her enough to admit it. She was scared, too, but not exactly for the same reasons. Finished with this last bit of preparation, she moved over to him and pressed a hand against his stubbled cheek. "Do you trust me, Emrys?" she asked him quietly, eyes searching his. She already knew the answer to her question, but she needed to hear him say it, or maybe she just wanted him to admit it to himself.
He looked into her eyes, unwinding one arm to curl his hand about hers against his cheek. "Aye, I trust you, kitten," he promised her solemnly. "I care more for you than I have for anyone in my lifetime. And I'm frightened that once you've seen me like this, you will not want me in your home or in your life any longer. I would not blame you for it, but I fear it."
"You forget again that my father was a werewolf, Emrys. He was not so different from you. I have seen things in my life ....terrible, horrible things ....and I am sure you are not one of them." She offered him a soft, reassuring smile, hoping he would believe her for once, without her having to explain further. "There's a few hours yet before sunset. Let me make you a cup of tea."
"Wait." Before she could move away, he reached for her, drawing her close into his arms as he buried his face against her neck, breathing her in. She didn't seem to understand that his fear was based entirely on the fact that it hurt to watch someone you care for in pain, something he knew she would have to do if she insisted on looking through that little window tonight. He needed her to know that he would be the same man when the shift was done, regardless of anything that he might do tonight.