fourstrings | the woods are lovely, dark and deep

the woods are lovely, dark and deep

[ What’s so special about this tree, huh?

For Wolfwood, the answer is simple. He’d done a job that pissed off the wrong people, was going to have to move again and dreading packing up all his shit, when a man pale as moonlight and broad in the shoulders as your average wagon had walked up to him like he was trying to put his feet through the earth instead of on top of it and told him he was now a guard. And Wolfwood had laughed – guarding is a shit job, too much sitting around, the payoff too brief when someone finally tries something – until the man produced a bag of more money than Wolfwood had ever seen in one place. He'd said yes, obviously. Before he’d asked what he was to guard.

He should have asked.

He’d roared with laughter when he saw the tree, which had gone… badly. The man who was paying him told him (in a voice that sounded very like he hadn’t used it in a long time) that he had already accepted the payment, and if he wasn’t going to take his job seriously there would be more serious repercussions than paying the money back. So Wolfwood thought… fine. It was out of town, there was a little cottage for him to stay in – not right next to the tree, but close enough to see it. Tough not to, really; it was big, must have been old as hell. And it was… nice, out there. Quiet and green with a well for fresh water, a river running to a lake that would be good for fishing, plenty of game to hunt, and a few wild fruit trees scattered around if he got a sweet tooth. He could use some peace and quiet after things had gone so badly. So he settled in, and became a guard for a tree.

It's still hard to imagine why a tree is worth enough money that Wolfwood will never need to obtain more of it, but he’s grown fond of it. He’s not sure what kind of tree it is; the bark is pale and smooth but knotted and burled in ways that mean Wolfwood almost sees pictures in it when he runs his hands over the trunk. The leaves change colour with the seasons; riotously green in spring and summer, bright and cheerful gold and red in autumn. But trees like that drop their leaves in winter, and this one… doesn’t. Those leaves turn dark but they stay on, providing shelter for all manner of woodland creatures while everything is cold and wet. And he starts to imagine he understands why the moonlight man is so fond of it, too. There’s… a feeling about this tree. Wolfwood find himself returning to it often, sitting under its branches to whittle (other wood, not this one – you don’t take risks like that when you’re paid this much), sometimes talking to it because there’s not another speaking being out here since the one time a dude approached it with an axe and Wolfwood had sent him off with a promise that if he came back the axe would be going through his skull. He gets attached. He rests under it as he makes things, eats his lunch under the shade of its branches. Gets drunk one day, tells a story about his escapades as a street urchin and thinks he hears the leaves rustling on this still and breezeless day, lets himself think that the tree is laughing along with him and pours a little of his wine at its roots like sharing a drink. When summer comes and the sun beats down hot he strips off under its branches, goes for a swim in the lake, and when he returns to the tree to doze while he dries off before dressing again he could swear the branches shift until the shadow of them keeps the sun off him, safe from burning. A woodpecker lands in the branches one day, starts hammering at the bark with its beak, and Wolfwood is nuts enough out here with no company but the tree by now that he swears he feels a wave of disapproval when he pegs a stone at the bird to move it away.

Sorry, tree, he says, but some lunatic paid me good money to make sure you’re not damaged. He runs a hand over its smoothly knotted bark, and tells himself next time he’ll just shout.

It’s a quiet life, but nice. He’s been there nearly a year. Complacent. Which is why it’s the thud of an axe that wakes him, not the sound of people. He rushes out, dressed in the pants he fell asleep in but sword in hand. There’s a brief yelling match – apparently this tree is magical and the men want the wood for – some shit, Wolfwood doesn’t listen. Swings his sword instead. He doesn’t actually want to kill them, because then he’d have to deal with disposing of bodies. That’s probably what gets him, in the end. They leave, injured but not imperilled, but one of them throws an axe at him as a parting shot. Not as bad as it would be if they’d swung it, but he knows from the sick, hot pain deep in his thigh that the bone is broken. It’s some kind of mania that keeps him on his feet until they’re far gone, and only then does he allow himself to go to the ground, drag himself back under the shelter of the tree and wonder how the fuck he’s going to get back to his cabin and tend this wound. He puts a hand over the shallow gash they’d made in the tree like the one he has pressed to his own leg, and counts himself lucky that these idiots apparently didn’t know how to use axes on men or trees. ]

This is a fine fuckin’ mess we’re in, huh?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ the unfortunate side effect of not having wolfwood’s leg to worry about? it gives him more room to get flustered about himself.

which is why there’s another little wave of both hands, and a — ] It’s okay, really! It barely even hurts!

And I just wanted to make sure your leg is alright, I should really — [ already standing, like a deer prepared to bolt back into the underbrush. ] I mean! Thank you! For what you did, even though you definitely shouldn’t do it again!

Wait.

[ Rude way to treat the magical being who just fixed his leg, but he reaches out and grabs the man by his (flesh and bone) wrist. The ease with which the man had carried him to the cabin gives Wolfwood the impression he'd be able to shake him off with no effort at all - but everything else about him tells Wolfwood he won't. Not if there's a risk of hurting him to do it. So he clamps his hand down hard - not hard enough to hurt, but enough that he'd have to hurt Wolfwood to shift him. ]

I've spent a year with you and I don't even know your name.

Stay. Just for a while. Have a drink with me. I can get you clothes, if it's bein' naked that's got you in a tizzy.

[ the sudden grip on his wrist makes vash go wide-eyed all over again, staring down at wolfwood’s hand like he can’t quite figure out how it might’ve gotten there. he swallows, shifting from one foot onto the other, until — ]

… it’s Vash.

And — [ then the rest of that offer catches up to him, and he promptly flushes bright pink. maybe it seems silly for a tree to be shy about being naked, but he knows it’s not a normal state for humans!! and it’s why he makes a pitiful attempt at covering himself with his free hand, the next bit coming out an octave or two higher than normal. ] … and yes! To the clothes, I mean! Er, the clothes and the drink, but especially the clothes!

That's more like it. Alright, Vash. Wardrobe's there. I reckon everything's gonna be too short for you in the arms and legs and you'll probably need a belt to hold the pants up, but help yourself to whatever. I'll go get us some drinks and give you some privacy.

[ There's a glimmer of worried anticipation as he swings his legs off the bed and stands, but it's for nothing. His leg doesn't hurt at all. He pauses just before he leaves the room, remembering his manners (but not enough to keep him from looking back at the still-naked man standing there and flashing him a grin). ]

I'm Wolfwood.

[ And then he's off to pour those drinks - two very generous measures of that whiskey he mentioned in little ceramic cups with a speckled green-and-gold glaze. He picked them up on a whim, prettier than anything else he owns, but it feels right to bust them out for company. ]

[ wolfwood.

just knowing his name is enough to make vash feel a little dizzy! or maybe that was because of that grin that wolfwood tossed him over his shoulder?

oh! but now that he’s considering the idea of clothes, vash realizes it’d be… pretty rude to just bleed over all his things, wouldn’t it? which is why he reaches for the chest again, stealing a glance over at where wolfwood is arranging the drinks in the hopes that he won’t notice. the bandages are easy enough to find, but there’s more than one little pot of salve, and… which one was he holding up earlier?

taking the lid off one and risking a little sniff, nose immediately wrinkling up at the smell that escapes. ]

Not that one.

[ Because it does have a hell of a whiff to it - enough that Wolfwood knows almost immediately when it's opened. ]

It's for bug bites and stings and shit. Numbs 'em so you don't go crazy itchin' 'em, but it hurts like a bitch if you get it in an open wound.

You sure you don't want me to take care of it for ya? Got plenty of practice.

[ vash slaps the lid right back on the jar like it’ll try jumping into his wound on its own, color leaping back up into his face now that he’s been caught out. it’s tempting to try insisting all over again that he’s fine, that he doesn’t need wolfwood to fuss over him, but…

… well, he’s not being selfish if he’s just worried about bleeding on wolfwood’s clothes, right? ]

… maybe I could use a little help. But only if you’re sure you don’t mind!

Not gonna abandon my favourite tree just because it's a dude now. I'm gonna wash my hands. You put on some pants if you're still feelin' shy.

[ And he does indeed wash his hands, glad he bothered learning to use tallow and lye to make soap. When they're scrubbed to his satisfaction he wets a clean cloth and carts it back over, along with the drinks - thinks abotu handing one to Vash now, then sets them on the little cupboard he hauled over next to the bed to serve as a bedside table of sorts. ]

Good to go?

[ wolfwood is really taking this whole tree thing in stride, huh? or maybe he thinks it’s some kind of very vivid dream? either way, it’s working out in vash’s fav —

oh! right! pants!

there’s a scramble for the wardrobe as he remembers, and he’s got just enough time to pull a pair of them on before wolfwood comes back over. they fit well enough around the waist, but the hems end up riding high — which vash actually finds a little charming, not that he’s planning to admit it out loud! maybe it’s just nice that things are similar enough for him to still be the taller one even when he isn’t looming over wolfwood as a tree!

but once the pants are back on, he perches himself back on the edge of the bed, nodding! ]

I guess it’ll be good to see how it’s done! In case you decide to jump in front of anymore axes.

Don't plan on makin' a habit of it.

[ But he's smiling, mouth quirked up at one corner. Who's to say? If Vash goes tree again, and more folk come at him with axes, Wolfwood can't make any promises.

He can take care of this, though, and squats down next to Vash. Up close, the wound isn't as bad as Wolfwood had worried - though it's still not the nothing Vash made it out to be. He's gentle as he can be when he wipes away the blood, and the pot of salve he opens up is far less stinky than the one Vash had - lightly herbal rather than the kind of scent that makes your nose go numb along with the bites. ]

This is supposed to help keep it clean. Stings, sometimes, but not nearly as bad as what you were gonna put on it.

[ That's as much warning as Vash gets before Wolfwood carefully dabs some of the salve over the wound. Then there's a little wad of finer cloth that he puts right over the wound itself to keep the bandage itself from rubbing at it before he starts looping the bandage - wrapping it right around vash's torso makes it look more dramatic than the wound actually is, but it's the best way he can think of to keep it in place. Tucks the end back in nice and snug, and he rests his hands on his knees as he looks up at the other man. ]

How's that? Not too tight?

[ oh.

oh!

it’s… not the first time wolfwood has touched vash. but it’s the first time he’s touched him like this, and it feels like his skin tingles in every place where wolfwood’s fingers brush against him. another downside to this form, because no one can ever tell if a tree is flushed, but like this? vash knows there’s no real hope of hiding it.

and he ends up being so preoccupied with how it feels to have wolfwood touching him that he forgets he’s supposed to be watching and learning, so there’s a little jolt of surprise once he realizes wolfwood is finished and he’s managed to miss nearly all the process. instead, he reaches down to stroke his fingertips gently over the bandaging, almost awed. ]

No, it’s… [ no ones ever done this for him before. tended to one of his wounds, bandaged him up and looked after him. almost like he’s human. ] Thank you, Wolfwood.

[ Vash sound so awed in his gratitude that Wolfwood looks at his face properly now, and -

hell. He's faintly pink in the cheeks, touching the bandaging with an expression that Wolfwood doesn't exactly know what to make of, other than the fact that it makes him want to kiss Vash. Soft and slow, and then much harder. That seems like a bit much for a guy who was trying to run naked out of the house a few short minutes ago, so Wolfwood cuts his eyes away from Vash's face and reaches gently to move Vash's hand away from the bandages. ]

Don't fiddle with it.

[ Little rude, so he makes up for it by hauling himself back to his feet and grabbing the cups again, handing one off to Vash and raising the other slightly in toast. ]

Here's to neither of us getting anything important chopped off.

[ pulling his hand back obediently! mostly because it seems rude to defy someone who was just kind enough to patch you up, but also because he’s a little afraid he’ll disturb the bandages enough to make them fall off, and he wants to keep them!

but he lights up when wolfwood passes him the little cup, taking a moment to oooh at it before giving the liquid inside a curious sniff. and then… blinking at the sight of wolfwood with his own cup raised, a clear question mark in his expression.

oh, but — ]

Please don’t get something important chopped off!

Huh?

[ Oh, right. Tree. ]

No, it's - we call it a toast. It's like saying "hooray, neither of us go anything important chopped off. May we continue to not get anything important chopped off", you know? And then you drink, for luck.

[ He takes a sip, and then - well, since they're already here. He just plonks down the bed right next to Vash. ]

I'm getting the feeling you spend more time as a tree than you do as a man.

[ oh! well, that's a lot better than having wolfwood state that he fully intends to get something chopped off, isn't it? which is why vash relaxes visibly after the explanation, and then takes a sip of his own!

...

... and then promptly bursts into a fit of coughing, because why does that burn? why is it spicy?

hang on, it'll take him a second to even get the breath to respond. ] I never said I was a tree! [ he just... also never said he wasn't. ] ... and if I was, shouldn't you be making a bigger deal out of it?

[ Trees don't drink whiskey, huh? Wolfwood reaches over and rubs a little circle on Vash's back as he coughs, grinning. ]

Nah. It's a relief. I thought I was losing my mind. Sittin' under this tree gettin' all attached, feelin' like it was my friend. Crackpot behaviour. It's a lot less nuts if the tree was a hot guy all along.

[ wagh! wolfwood's hand starts rubbing little circles on vash's back, and it brings back that bright, fluttery feeling in full force all over again. enough to make vash's cheeks flush in a way that isn't just to do with the coughing, although...

... if anything, he just leans himself back into the touch a little. greedy.

the hot guy comment is enough to make him flick a Look in wolfwood's direction, playing up suspicion. ] Y'know, most people don't end up settling down here for long. Only people I've ever seen do it are hunters or trappers... or someone who's heard the myths about this place and wants to bed a nymph.

[ A nymph, huh?

Wolfwood thought nymphs were meant to be women. Then again, he also thought they were fuckin' fairytales, so it's not like a dude nymph is the weirdest thing about this situation. He grins. ]

In my defense, I didn't know you were anything but a tree. I mean, I figured you were special. Some guy wandered up outta nowhere and gave me a sackful of money to make sure this tree came to no harm, so either the tree was important or he was cracked. And the last job I did in town went bad enough I had to leave anyway, so it was one hell of a convenient offer.

[ He didn't get any bright ideas about trying to sleep with the tree until... oh, about half an hour ago. ]

[ vash blinks. ... then blinks again, then furrows his brow in confusion. ]

Someone paid you? To watch me?

Yeah. Pale dude, built like a brick shithouse. Looks like -

[ And he's about to try and affect the distant-but-disdainful facial expression the guy wore, when watching Vash's face makes wheels turn. There are differences, sure - Vash's colouring is richer, his skin less pale, his hair gold rather than near-white, his eyes a deeper blue, but... ]

He looked like you, just washed-out, buff, and cranky.

Oh.

[ almost instantly, vash's face falls. ]] Oh no.

[ and then he's curling up into himself, dragging his legs up against his chest just so that he can bury his face into his knees. this is... embarrassing! because maybe it's silly, but the woods have overheard just as many stories about men falling for creatures like vash, and...! maybe...! he'd thought...!

... that something had caught wolfwood's eye? drawn him here, to vash, made him want to stay and dote on this little patch of forest almost as if it'd been an act of worship?

but no! it was just his meddling, overprotective brother, convinced vash can't take care of himself even though vash has survived just as long as he has! not charmed by vash at all, just dutifully carrying out the tasks of a job. ]

You two not on good terms?

[ Because that's a hell of a reaction. Vash folds in on himself, tucking that beautiful face away, and Wolfwood sucks air through his teeth. It'd make sense. There has to be a catch to this, right? Even before Vash transformed, this was an insanely cushy gig. This part of the woods is beautiful, so serene it gives him a sense of peace he's never known. He's managed to make the abandoned cabin into a cosy little home, found pride and contentment in feeding himself from the land, grown to love that tree (even if it's... a guy, now). It makes sense that he wouldn't be paid so handsomely for something he'd have done for free, if he'd known to do it. ]

It's not that.

[ ... it's also complicated, but he's not going to get into that with someone here only because his brother paid them to hang around!! speaking of: ]

You don't need to stay. [ unfolding himself, but also standing up. ] You can keep whatever he paid you, call it services rendered. He won't bother you about it.

[ mostly because vash is going to go wring his trunk!!! right after he flees from his own embarrassment, which is why he's making a beeline right for wolfwood's door. ]

Where the fuck are you going?

[ With a mildness that admirably belies his panic at seeing Vash get up to leave, in Wolfwood's humble opinion. He hops off the bed, grateful Vash at least fixed his leg before this went south, and trots after him. There's a thousand little placations that pop into his head to try and get Vash to stay, and unfortunately he settles on: ]

If it was the whiskey, I can get you something else. Wine. A cup of goodamn tea.

[ wolfwood is lucky, because vash isn't all that used to clothes, which means he has to stop in the doorway for a moment or two as he tries to kick his long legs back out of those borrowed pants. ]

No! [ waving both hands in wolfwood's direction, nearly tripping over the pants that refuse to come untangled from his ankles. almost like wolfwood charmed them! ] It wasn't --

Thank you for everything you've done, but you should go. I don't need protecting.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject