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?

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[ 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.

[ He'd try harder to stop Vash, but... he pants seem to be taking care of it, to be honest. Thanks, pants. ]

Didn't seem like that dude considered this a one-and-done deal. I'd need to be able to give him a real good excuse if I was gonna leave.

Anyway, I like it here. The lake and the woods. The way it makes me feel calm for the first time in my goddamn life. And I like you, tree or man. Doesn't seem like you like me too much, but it'd be polite to at least let me know why before you kick me out of the only place that's felt like home for longer than I can remember.

It's not you! [ there's an edge of frustration in his voice, but it's hard to say if it's directed at wolfwood or the pants. which... aha! finally managing to get one leg free, and then shake them off his other foot. ] I don't want a human here, risking his life for me, just because my brother paid him to.

[ ... okay, he doesn't want someone risking their life for him at all, but! something about it had felt different when the act seemed like devotion instead of obligation, even though it's been ages since any human seemed to remember the gods of woods and mountains and rivers.

and now he's wrestling open the door, striding back outside. ]

[ Confirmation that they're brothers, at least. It's mildly embarrassing that Wolfwood didn't notice as soon as he saw Vash as a human, but as alike as their faces are everything about their bearing and attitude is totally different, so... Wolfwood's gonna cut himself a break.

Not Vash, though. He left the door open with that little it's not you, so he doesn't get a break at all. Wolfwood just trots after him, leaving those pants right where they are. ]

Finally admitting you're the tree, huh? You've been quiet, but I've been here pouring my heart out to you for damn near a year and you don't know enough to know I wouldn't risk my life just for money? A guy could get offended.

[ maybe that's a fair point! but it's also pretty hard not to see it as an attempt at pacifying him, especially in light of the fact that wolfwood stands to lose his gig.

it's always been harder to keep a proper lid on his magic when he's upset, and now is no exception. it's the reason for the little blooms of greenery left in his footsteps, the faint stir of something like wind in the leaves of the trees around them. (although it's just as likely that the trees are gossiping about the two of them, rare as it is for their little grove to see any proper drama.) ]

If you're offended, then stop chasing me. [ with a huff! ]

I said a guy could get offended. Not me. Lucky for you, I'm real mature about that stuff.

[ It's honest, at least. Some of the things Wolfwood's had directed at him in his time, it takes a lot - or a very specific little - to offend him. So he stays dogging Vash's steps, taking in the verdant growth in his trail with a low whistle and trying to avoid standing on any of it. ]

Didn't see any ears on ya when you were a tree, after all. Even if it felt like you were listening.

[ ugh!!!

maybe if vash really wanted wolfwood to stop chasing him, it'd be obvious enough in his magic. roots tugging up from the ground to trip him, vines trying to snag a limb and hold him in place. but there's... none of that, which just means vash is even more embarrassed with himself.

he turns sharply on his heel to face wolfwood again. ] Why're you following me?

[ That's enough to stop Wolfwood dead in his tracks, and there's a moment of consternation on his face because...

well, he hasn't really thought about it. ]

'cause you're upset. You don't just let your friends pitch a fit and run away when they're upset, you try to help 'em.

I think. [ He huffs a laugh. ] Been a while since I had one.

[ that makes his expression twist, something achingly vulnerable and lonely making itself known before vash turns his head away. ] You can't be my friend.

[ he just sounds tired, wrapping his arms around himself like they'll offer up some sort of protection. ] Not if someone paid you to be here.

Hn.

[ He pauses a moment, considering. ]

Is that some kinda nymph rule? 'cause by human standards, it's stupid. No offense.

Your brother didn't tell me to come out here and chill with the tree and get all attached to it. He just told me make sure no harm comes to it. Didn't even tell me it was anything other than a tree. I headed out here plannin' to spend a lot of time drinking away the money he gave me and just hollerin' at anyone who came by with a choppy look in their eye. I decided I liked you all on my own. Seems like tellin' the baker he can't be friends with the miller just 'cause he needs her flour.

Edited 2024-01-05 01:03 (UTC)

[ that's...

vash hesitates over that one, turning the idea over in his mind. does it make sense? or does he just want it to make sense? ] I don't want you to --

[ he pauses again. if only because he might be realizing that wolfwood is more bullheaded than he is. ] ... what you did today, putting yourself in harm's way because of me. I don't want you to do it again.

[ finally looking at wolfwood again. ] Please.

[ Aha! Progress. Wolfwood shoves his hands in his pockets, makes a face like he's contemplating these terms. He's not, not really - he might be iffy on whether you're supposed to run after your friends when they're upset, but he's pretty solid on the rules about letting them be chopped up. ]

S'pose I was pretty reckless about it. Coulda done a lot more talking and a lot less sword-waving.

'course, it'd be easier if you were shaped like this more often. How much time do you have to spend as a tree, anyway?

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