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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[ Maybe it's even ruder to laugh at that, but since Vash seems like cursing people is probably at the very bottom of his to-do list, Wolfwood's not too worried. ]

Oh yeah? What kind of curse can I expect for that?

[ And with the food set to cook, he can wash his hands and return his full attention to the conversation.

And looking at Vash.

Hardly a trial. ]

[ hmmm. that’s a good question, especially since vash has never exactly cursed anyone before! so he takes a moment or two to think about it, chewing on the inside corner of his lip.

… and then, almost like he thinks he’s getting away with something: ]

Maybe… getting cursed to get trapped in this forest forever? [ … wait, is that mean? ] I mean, uh, at least until you really decide you want to leave!

[ That's quite the threat! Wolfwood ponder for a moment, the process of thinking this through clear on his face. Then he levels a broad smile at Vash. ]

So about as old as rocks?

Wh —?!

[ having your voice crack isn’t a very majestic or regal occurrence, but. ] Rocks?! That’s way older than just a thousand!

[ Oh, right. Whoops. ]

Damn, that's even ruder than I planned. Guess you better curse me to hang around extra, huh?

[ Moving to a cupboard, peering in. He'll have to make anther run to stock up on some essentials soon, but there's at least set for booze. ]

So the whiskey was a bust. You drink wine? I could rustle up some tea. Or... water, I guess.

[ oh! right! extra cursing means wolfwood would get stuck staying here even longer, right? which… is a very selfish thought, but!

wait! the last bit makes him perk up, and there’s an excited arm wave that sends the sleeves of his robe fluttering. ] Wait! Hang on! Just… stay right there, don’t move!

[ which is all the warning wolfwood gets before vash bolts right out the door.

… at least it only takes him a few minutes to return, arms cradling a stoppered earthenware jug and expression bright with excitement. ] Guests are supposed to bring something to dinner, right? So… here! It’s berry wine!

[ That was... sudden! And a few minutes is all it takes for Wolfwood to wonder if he's been had and this was all just a cunning ploy to run away and re-tree, but luckily he doesn't actually make it to the door before Vash reappears. He doesn't look out of breath, which is... probably to be expected, given he's a forest spirit, but he does look a little flustered and proud. It's a killer combo, and Wolfwood's smile is warm as he raises an eyebrow and brings two cups to the table. ]

Perfect. Means I don't have to spoil the whole forest theme by servin' you somethin I bought in town.

You make this?

Uh-huh! Well… sort of?

[ since he’s mostly just gathering up the fruit from his sisters, it always feels a bit like they do all the work, but! he can’t resist the opportunity to show off just a little bit in front of wolfwood. ]

I always keep some buried down in my roots, just in case!

[ because it’s been a long time since he’s had any company, but that doesn’t mean he’s ever stopped hoping.

and now there’s a little grunt of effort as he tugs that stopper free, setting it aside and then pouring some into both their glasses. and then… he’s leaning forward a little, almost bouncing on his toes, very obviously waiting for wolfwood to try some. ]

[ It's probably just down to how much Wolfwood enjoys being around Vash, but even the noise of that stopper coming free is refreshing. And god help him, but he's far enough into this that i keep some buried down in my roots sounds like a totally normal and reasonable thing to say. So he picks up a glass, raises it in Vash's direction - ]

To good company.

[ - and takes a sip.

And listen, Wolfwood isn't a wine connoisseur. He's not an expert able to pick out notes of almond or tobacco or whatever the fuck, probably wouldn't know the difference between expensive shit and cheap plonk if it bit him on the ass. But this is good. It's smooth, rich without being heavy, carrying the bright, sweet flavor of berries without being cloying. He pulls the cup back from his mouth to blink at it a moment, eyebrows rising, and then grins at Vash. ]

Holy shit, Blondie.

[ the grin is instant, and it’s the kind that lights up every inch of his face and ends up sparkling in his eyes. ]

You like it? It’s good?

It's fuckin' incredible.

[ Good thing, too, because the way Vash's face lights up at the compliment is just as worth savoring as the wine. Maybe more. ]

You ever decide to give up the forest spirit gig, you'd make a killing as a winemaker.

[ the praise just makes him beat even more, finally taking his own glass for a sip.

but… ah, there’s a thought. it’s not the first time vash has wondered what it might be like if this was something he could just give up, if it was possible do just move away and settle down somewhere like any other human. ]

You think so? Maybe find a cottage out in the middle of nowhere to share with somebody, hehe.

Wonder where you'd find something like that.

[ Teasing, sure of it as if they've been together for years rather than having had their first out-loud conversation today. It should be worrying - or at least embarrassing - how quickly he can picture it, the two of them settled down here, making a little business out of Vash's apparent gift for winemaking to pay for whatever they can't raise for themselves on the land. ]

No clue!

[ peeking at wolfwood over the rim of his glass, the edges of his smile just visible. ] Especially since my list of requirements is so big!

He’d have to have broad shoulders and strong arms… [ for burying the wine deep enough to store, obviously! ] … and kind eyes and gentle hands, for sure.

[ That sounds a lot like flirting, especially with the way Vash is looking at him. Wolfwood hopes it is, but nobody's ever accused him of having kind eyes before. Hmmm. ]

He'd be one lucky guy. How's a man go about applyin' for a job like that?

Hmmm…

I guess they’d have to move themselves right on in to the cabin, maybe try cooking a meal or two to impress? [ his tone is innocent enough, but there’s a little pink flush creeping into his cheeks that betrays him. ] But they might have to try something to really stand out, y’know?

Huh.

[ Vash sounds like he doesn't mean anything by it, but he's blushing. And the blush is both a sign and no help at all as far as Wolfwood's goal of being chill about this is concerned. So he moves, walking closer to Vash - steady, but slow enough for Vash to... dart out of the way or something if he's not feeling it. ]

And we already know you're more likely to be pissed off than pleased by some big action that gets them injured trying to protect you, so that's off the table. I guess he'd just have to be pretty obvious about it, huh?

[ And he wraps one arm around Vash's waist, and pulls him in for a kiss. ]

[ wolfwood steps closer, and vash has just a moment to feel the way his heart rate ticks up in response.

and then he’s pressing their mouths together, and oh.

vash has always thought his berry wine was delicious, but it’s never tasted better than it does on wolfwood’s mouth. and he’s perfectly willing to blame that for the greedy little sound he makes in response, fisting a hand in the fabric of wolfwood’s shirt and licking eagerly into his mouth for more. ]

[ Oh, hell yeah. Listen, it's not like Wolfwood goes aroud kissing people if he doesn't at least suspect they're into the idea, but the way Vash responds is incredible. That little sound, the way Vash opens to him immediately, the slide of his tongue -

makes him wonder why he didn't lead with that, really. Well, regret is a fool's game. Wolfwood just decides to go with it, lifting a hand to bury in Vash's hair, meeting the slip of Vash's tongue with the press of his own. ]

Edited 2024-01-08 01:02 (UTC)

[ that slide of wolfwood’s tongue earns him a moan, and a little arch of vash’s body as he tries to press himself up against wolfwood more fully. it’s been a long time since he’s done anything like this, but still! he doesn’t remember there ever being this sort of thrill just from a first kiss, the delicious little curl of heat that’s like a full sip of wine but somehow better.

[ Well okay. If this is what it's like, Wolfwood can see why Vash was getting sought out by people who wanna sleep with a nymph. He's pretty surprised here weren't more of them, really. This kiss itself is amazing - Vash's mouth soft and warm and needy, the press of his cool body delicious - but the way he reacts to everything makes it a step beyond anything Wolfwood's had before. All the charge he feels from it, the want welling up in him with every second they're pressed close, is sharpened and warmed by the way Vash presses into it and makes it clear that he wants it just as much. Definitely the kind of thing worth a trek into the woods. ]

[ eventually — and reluctantly! — vash is forced to break the kiss just to see if he can remember the trick of breathing again.

and once he does? his gaze is caught by the sight of a little vine that’s managed to wriggle its way in through the roof, and… sometime in between wolfwood kissing him and now, flower into a handful of tiny, brightly colored blooms.

vash opens his mouth. shuts it again almost as quickly. and now that blush is making a triumphant return. ]

[ Wolfwood, on the other hand, has forgotten he needs to breathe at all and is a little put out when Vash pulls away. The sight of him looking at something and blushing catches Wolfwood's attention though, so he turns to follow Vash's line of sight and -

that definitely wasn't there before. He knows because just yesterday he was up there planning to patch the tiny hole in the roof before the weather got cold again, and deciding to count it as ventilation for now. He turns back to Vash with a grin. ]

Friend of yours?

[ it should be impossible for vash’s cheeks to get any pinker, but never say never! ]

… I think he’s trying to tell you that you got the job. [ embarrassing! this is sapling behavior! ]

'preciate the vote of confidence, little guy.

[ He winks at the little frond, and then turns back to Vash - not pulling him into another kiss, not yet, but settling his hands on Vash's hips in a loose, warm hold. ]

Don't let him boss you around, though. Still might change your mind after you try my cooking.

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