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 moonlit fractures., tag: Axel Frisk
Louis Whitaker
 Posted: May 3 2013, 11:38 PM
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DATE: February 14th, 2010
TIME: Late night (around 10:00 PM)
PLACE: Middle of Nowhere, Michigan


Blood.

The metallic, coppery tang of someone — or something's — blood stung against Louis' tongue, making him grimace. He should have been able to smell what he'd attacked, what he'd taken down, but it was starting to blur along the fine edges of sense with the heaviness of the blood on him. It made him feel sick for just a moment, but soon that animal instinct appeared. Glancing up now towards the moon — round and bright — he tilted his head back, standing where he could bask in the white glow. For just a moment he was at peace, the cool night air having yet to grow heavy with humidity and stickiness. Michigan wasn't an ideal place for a werewolf to live, though no city really was. The forest was a better place for him to hide, to keep himself away from all civilization, safe and sound. Hunters would be out searching for him eventually, thinking him just another wolf. He'd killed dozens in his lifetime, but the most recent had been near a year ago, around the same area. Whatever her name had been she'd been asking for it, waving the shotgun with silver pellet rounds in his face. He was no ordinary werewolf; he'd tried to tell her that. He had never eaten a human heart, never turned to the primal part of him. She wasn't as understanding as he'd hoped the hunters were in modern times. After she tried to shoot him, grazing him with only a couple of the pellets in her wide spray, he'd ripped her throat out.

Now he was left remembering what it felt like to have human blood on his taste buds, how significantly sweeter it had been compared to deer or elk. This was elk blood on him. He must have felled the beast somewhere back in the grotto he'd been sheltering himself in. A small cave attached to the canopy of thick trees to help him hide from planes and other overhead machinery. A small stream connected to it, though the frequency of hikers was rare even for the alpha to see. Once he'd had his share of nostalgia, Louis turned away from the moon and started his trek back to the alcove; a home that would never quite be a home.

From behind him the ring of gunfire alerted his senses, back on hyperactivity. How could he not have heard them coming? Louis felt his heart start to race, tempted to turn and run on all fours as the monster inside him. No, he decided he could hide from whoever was out there in human form better, even without clothing.

Quickly he moved through the trees, reaching out only twice to help him turn sharply. They didn't have hunting dogs with them, generally meaning they were supernatural hunters than those who sought out deer or other venison. Louis' heart wouldn't slow down, and he already felt the urge to change come on thicker, suffocating him with fight or flight. The hunters had not harmed him quite yet, allowing the alpha to reserve his worst tendencies for when they did corner him. Like an animal trapped in a pen; that's what they usually did, herding him around.

Another shot echoed in the darkness and pain flared along Louis' left flank, drawing a yelp from the alpha even before he hit the forest floor, wet leaves and damp soil clinging to him. One hand at his side, pulled away covered in dark black. Blood. His own blood. The burn and searing fire clawing its way up his left side alerted him to the presence of silver. Claws extended out of his fingertips, just enough to dig into the wound to pull out the small bullet. At least they hadn't used shotgun pellet rounds. The last thing he wanted was a need to hide while he pulled each one out meticulously. Wouldn't do him any good to get killed now after thousands of years of life.

The smell of another human permeated Louis' senses, but it was different. Worried? A twinge of fear, maybe at the dark? The werewolf weakly climbed to his feet, starting through the woods again as the hunters behind him closed in. He was doing the only thing he could — follow the smell. Maybe he'd find pity in this other individual who appeared on the alpha's radar; or maybe it was a hunter playing stupid. No, he'd be able to tell the different. Most hunters smelled strongly of gunpowder and oil; of blood and rot. They were all monsters, more than Louis thought he himself was. He'd never hurt anyone unless they hurt him first (except for those few times he'd lost control in the beginning, creating more "children" than he would have liked).

Someone was standing on the porch of a house, secluded and out of sight due to a thick treeline. Louis stumbled out of the underbrush, hand clinging to his side, covering the wound that was still bleeding. It would for another hour or so in small trickles, but loss of blood wouldn't kill him; he replenished it too fast. He'd had worse anyway. "Hey!" He waved with his other hand before dropping to his knees. Footsteps in the trees, snapping twigs — the hunters weren't exactly being quiet, were they?
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Axel Frisk
 Posted: May 4 2013, 02:26 PM
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Gunfire.

The unmistakeable sound was too close for comfort, as Axel Frisk pulled his 2009 BMW Z4 into his long – secluded – driveway. Usually seclusion was something that put the veterinarians mind at rest, but tonight it was different. His homes isolation from the city suddenly made him nervous: It wasn't hunting season, and clearly there was something going on in the wooded area near his home. Putting the car in park, Axel nervously claimed his business satchel with his shaking hands. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, trying to make himself believe that he was just being paranoid. It's because of the dark, he told himself as he locked up the drivers side door to his vehicle, and routinely progressed up the small path that led to his front porch. It's not gunfire, it's fireworks. He decided, his fingers white knuckling the strap to his bag, as as he fumbled to unlock the front door. Fireworks, they're Americans after all. Maybe it's a late New Years celebration. The lie wasn't going to stick, as the gunshots echoed somewhere in the distance. His keys dropped to the ground, clattering as they met the cobblestone beneath his feet. Yet, as Axel had bent down to retrieve them, he found himself being hailed by another. Please, don't have a gun... He prayed as he gingerly lifted his keys and returned to a standing position. Turning to face the direction the voice had come, Axel simply beckoned the other to come forward with a hand gesture. ”I can't see you out there! You're going to have to come here if you want to talk!” He explained, all ready grateful for the bluetooth in his ear. If he needed, he would be able to call the police. Hopefully, it wouldn't come down to that.

He was stressed out enough as it was. The day had been long and trying, and it was just his luck that now he had to come home to another conflict that he hadn't been presented with before in his life. Scared as he was, he kept his cool, forcing his body to respond with a confident ease that made him appear more at ease than he was. Ease was not something he had felt on his entire ride home, there had been something foreboding about this night. Perhaps it was just an after effect of having to put two dogs down, and tend to a very sickly cat who had a liver problem – and was refusing to eat. Or, perhaps superstition wasn't as much of a joke as it was acknowledged to be.

As Axel scouted the edge of the trees, his eyes finally adjusted enough to make out the silhouette of a man covered by the shadows. ”Are you all right? I heard gunfire.” He finally forced himself to call. ”It's not hunting season, what is going on out there?” All right, so maybe that hadn't been his finest decision ever. If the man calling out to him was the marksman, he may have just made enemies simply by stating that he had witnessed whatever was happening. This was not how he wanted to be remembered in life, as the one guy who made one bad decision after another. He hoped to god this wasn't going to develop into a hostage situation.

Morbidly his mind crossed into the darker corner of his imagination: What would Gunnar say? How would he react? Would his family even miss him if he died? Was he even in danger? Standing between the screen door and the door to the main entrance, Axel bit his lip. He was just being paranoid. There weren't other houses around for miles, and Michigan wasn't exactly known for it's crime rate. It was either hunting or fireworks, he had no reason to feel threatened. Finally relaxing his shoulders, Axel stepped back out from around the shield of his slimmer door. He would wait, and greet the visitor as he would anyone else.

Another shot was fired in the distance, yet Axel remained on his porch awaiting the arrival of the other. The cool February wind tunneled into the porch, making Axel's desire to go inside grow with every gust. Realizing that it would be impatient to rush his guest, he had held his tongue. Patience was a virtue that Axel could provide in high supply. Often, he found, that this trait alone made his clients at work feel more comfortable, although his reserved nature seemed to repel his colleagues – Save for the petite receptionist who seemed to talk to him at every given opportunity. Perhaps if he had left his work on-time, as she had suggested, he wouldn't be outside shivering in the dead of the night.


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Louis Whitaker
 Posted: May 4 2013, 03:08 PM
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For thousands of years, Louis had never been afraid. Adrenaline, fight or flight instinct — it was nothing compared to his real nature. The hunters were hot on his tail but not close enough to cause issues just yet. He focused on the man at the house, gauging whether going up closer was a good idea. He'd been hailed as such but the hesitance remained. What if this house belonged to a hunter, and he was falling into a trap? It wouldn't be the first time those bastards would try something; they were herding him in a specific direction after all. Maybe he'd gotten lucky and this house just happened to not be on their map. Louis crouched down now, assessing the situation, routes of escape. Either way he knew he had to take the chance.

Carefully he moved across the leaf-covered lawn, keeping to the shadows as best he could while drawing away from the hunters crunching across the forest floor ever closer. Louis kept his senses alert — taste, smell, sight, sound — even the cold grass underfoot was a shock to his system. He kept his hand against his side even as he crept closer, within ten feet of the other man, and he exhaled heavily. The effort wasn't too much, it wasn't from that, but rather from the need to keep his adrenaline down lest he risk changing in front of this other man and attack him.

Louis worked up the nerve a moment later to speak, not bothering to hide his accent or pretend to be someone else. He was trembling from the pain in his side. Silver bullet wounds would take longer to heal, and in the darkness the night gifted for cover the blood at his flank, steadily dripping down to his thigh, would look black. "The men in the forest," he started, giving a brief glance back. His instincts screamed at him not to take his attention off this other man though he ignored them. "They shot me." Louis removed his hand from his flank to show the injury to the other, displaying what plea of help he could on his face.

Had he been closer to the grotto he would have curled up under the shelter of caves and tress, hiding from the hunters while the water washed away his scent. The alpha knew being there was a big mistake, would maybe be the death of him, but once he got help from the hunters in the forest he would leave, disappear into the mountains, maybe head north to Canada and on into the wilderness to live. As long as he didn't meet any other supernatural monsters on the way he would be safe and sound before too long.

Shouting from beyond the treeline made Louis start, straightening up just enough to show he was not only wounded but also had a severe lack of clothing, to which he didn't really care even with the chill of the night breeze wafting around them. The mongrel wanted to make a passing comment of some kind about being out there in the nude and instead played on the facts he'd given about the hunters in the woods. "They aren't police officers; they're murders." What could he add to relish the tale just a bit more? "Took my clothes and sent me off to hunt me. Like that book The Most Dangerous Game. Please, help me."
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Axel Frisk
 Posted: May 4 2013, 06:45 PM
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Whatever possessed Axel to invite the man into his home was beyond him, and that was the naked truth. Whether it was his pathetic kicked-puppy expressions, or the fact that he had been shot, Axel didn't know. However, the man was reminiscent of a child, and he needed protection. Protection that Axel was able to provide. Somewhat mesmerized, Axel tried to keep his eyes from wandering over the physical beauty emanating from the other man. ”Come on.” He invited, ushering one arm forward into his home. ”We'll get you cleaned up, clothed, take care of the wound, and get you something to eat.” Why wasn't he just calling the authorities? Perhaps it was the fact that the man had trusted him enough to ask for help, maybe it was that Axel had instantly felt the need to protect the man from whatever crazies were out there trying to hunt him. After all, the poor darling was covered with blood (probably his own). On any other night, Axel might have thought to question the integrity of an unexpected and suspicious nightly visitor, however at that very moment his words rang true.

It took him only but a moment to recall the storyline of the famous piece of English Literature that he had been forced to read several times over the course of his academic career; and once Axel understood the implications behind the strangers statement, he frantically beckoned him forward. ”I don't want to see you get hurt, please come inside. If they find you here, I will send them away. You have my word.” The suspicious figure was skirting around the wooded border, putting Axel slightly on guard. If the man possessed a sidearm himself, he could take the shot from where he stood, as long as he had steady aim. ”Please, I'm a little afraid out here.” He begged, now through shivering teeth.

It was a strange and foreign concept to the Viking: Begging a complete and total stranger, in such a – bare condition into his home. In all honesty, he didn't know how to be a good host. He hadn't had visitors in his living space since his college days at Cornell in New York. He could remember it clearly, how his roommate – a boy by the name of Thomas – had invited over members of his American football team on a regular basis. Back then, he had been bullied by the teenagers, who felt that Scandinavian football (also known as European Football, or Soccer) was queer. He remembered how they had taunted him, and told him that American football was a manly sport that he should try out; but their opinions didn't matter then, and they didn't matter now. What mattered was that his former experience was nothing like his current one. Axel, for once, was confident that inviting this man into his house would not be the same as his former company – Which usually served as Axel's reasoning to keep others out.

"My home is your home." He stated, as he pushed the door open. "Take what you need." Everything he owned was replaceable, and he was not a man attached to anything of material value. The only thing that Axel truly appreciated was art, and most of the art he had come to love was locked away in museums somewhere.
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Louis Whitaker
 Posted: May 4 2013, 07:50 PM
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It wouldn't take the wound long to start healing — Louis could already feel the itching of his regeneration kick in — but he would have to take the moment to use it to his advantage. If this man believed he was genuinely injured he'd offer to help, but reactions after that were regrettable. Louis had learned after thousands of years of life that lying was important when you were the alpha werewolf. He had been worshiped, scorned, tortured, imprisoned, and even hanged, but he had persevered to be where he was today. The werewolf took a hesitant step forward as the door was offered, glancing again behind him to where he could see the flashlights flickering through the trees. They were getting closer; he had to make a choice. If this man was a hunter Louis would find it unpleasant to rip his throat out — especially with how handsome the other way. Swallowing with some difficulty he nodded, starting up to the house and past the man inside.

Not calling the local police force was a blessing in disguise; Louis was sure the hunters in the area were tied to the department at least temporarily. Once he found sanctuary Louis backed away from the door slowly, fingertips unconsciously digging into his side as he watched the door close. The hunters would probably approach, to which Louis cursed his inner monologue for a second. Footsteps across the lawn, crunching leaves and stray twigs. The alpha backed up, haunching his shoulders in some predatory response as his instincts started to kick in again.

"They're coming," was all he said before he disappeared into another room, trying to stay out of sight. The man had said he would throw the hounds off Louis' tail; the alpha was going to hold him to that — or kill him and run.

A knock happened on the door just as Louis had somewhat predicated, and a voice called out. "Hello? Is anyone home?" A glance out one of the windows towards the front of the house allowed Louis to see there were three of them, one holding a rifle. The others were probably sporting sidearms and knives, probably a machete strapped to one of their backs. Louis growled now, a low sound, more animal than human as he kept his gaze on them. It was all a matter of seeing what the human who let him in did. He wasn't sure he was ready for this kind of massacre, and bloodying the home of someone else had not really scheduled itself in on things Louis had to do that day.

He'd gone for a run in the woods, then hunted for elk. His stomach rumbled for just a second and the annoyance became apparent. Maybe he should have stayed in the grotto for a little longer to eat before he'd gone out. The mess he'd gotten himself into was nothing compared to the wars and violence of his long, drawn out history, but this was starting to rank up there on the list of "shit that annoyed the alpha".
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Axel Frisk
 Posted: May 5 2013, 01:02 AM
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A wave of relief crashed over him as the man finally crossed into his entrance hall; Allowing him to shut the door behind them, and lock it as a show that he had been home for a while. If what his guest was saying was true, he'd have to get rid of his pursuers in a moment. The blonde routinely removed his coat, hanging it on the wooden coat stand only a couple of feet ahead of the door, hidden in a small nook in the entrance hall. "I have some rubbing alcohol in the bathroom - First door on the left - If you'd like to clean up." Was all he had time to say, before the man began to behave even more primal than he had been. Axel watched the man with interest, examining each movement with a thirst to know more. The man, this stranger, was not like anyone he'd met before, and he knew this with only minimal interaction. Intrigued by his presence, Axel had nearly forgotten that there were other men on the way, in search of the curious man before him.

"They're coming."

Axel snapped out of his half-trance and nodded in a reassuring gesture, waiting for Louis to get safely out of the line of sight before considering answering the door. The bell had sounded twice now, and had been followed by impatient knocking. How would he normally react? He knew he had to act casual, else he would raise suspicion of these 'hunters'. Cracking the door open Axel didn't know what to expect, or who would appear on the other side. Instead of offering them his usual pleasant greeting, he cocked an eyebrow and appraised them through the crack in the door, waiting for them to speak.

"Hello, sir. We are federal agents Mitchell and Wright. May we please come in, we'd like to ask you a couple of questions."

"Let me see your badges." Axel demanded, keeping the door between them. What sort of hunters would carry F.B.I. badges on them, he had wondered. Yet, there they were. Pretty realistic looking too. Axel sighed. "Look, my wife just got the baby to sleep, this is really not a good time for me. If you wouldn't mind, maybe you could show some political decency and interrogate me at a decent hour. I can give you my work address." He bluffed. These men weren't agents, they were murderers, as the victim had said. He had seen the truth in his eyes, and what sort of federal agents hunted down naked (albeit attractive) men through a secluded area? It sounded like the beginning to a bad 70s porn, or something.

"We know it's late, but this is a pressing matter. Please, we wouldn't want to see your child get hurt as collateral. There is a dangerous man on the loose."

"My wife is a federal agent." Axel stated, staring down both of the men. "If you gentlemen are who you claim you are, you would have known that. How else would we have inherited this lodge?" He demanded. "Do you imbeciles even know who I am? I hold more jurisdiction over you, than you do over me. Don't believe me? Go call your supervisor. Which division are you from? You know what. I've entertained you long enough." He stated, his accent thick with agitation, and it's owner proud that his theater classes were finally holding a higher purpose. "I'm going out on a limb and assuming you boys don't have a warrant, so go home. You may contact me - At my work - in the morning."

And with that: He slammed the door on the imposters face, and locked it in turn. Good riddance.
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Louis Whitaker
 Posted: May 5 2013, 11:08 PM
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Breathing was difficult when one was afraid, but Louis felt the fear sliding out of him, replaced with something feral and otherworldly. Trust was hard to place in a human, especially when most of them had done nothing but hunt him for most of his recent life. He'd fought in bloody battles, thrown himself in front of spears and swords and lances to protect the men he'd loved, and still he was treated like some common vermin. An alpha werewolf was powerful beyond all compare, and if he thought one human would get the best of him after sending the pack away he was in denial. The werewolf kept his eyes focused on the blurs of shapes in the windows, tilting his head to the side in response. He could hear everything, from the words the hunters spoke to the errant beating of the man's heart as he lied for Louis.

It was strange to find someone who wanted to protect him after just meeting him. As soon as this man figured out what Louis was (if he did) there was a chance he'd respond violently anyway.

When the front door closed harshly Louis started, turning towards the hall that would lead to the same path back outside. The man was still there as Louis came around the corner, hand remaining at his side while he paced steadily close. Footsteps were careful, silent against the rugs on the floor. Bare feet made it easier, but his natural grace gave him the benefit of being the stalking predator. Once he was close enough — within two feet of the other man — he decided to speak. "They're gone." It wasn't a question but more of a statement. Louis couldn't hear the men outside the door, which meant they'd already taken off. Even if they were trying to be quiet he'd have heard their hearts, or their breathing. Louis was given the chance to actually assess just who this human was.

He smelled of animals — dogs, cats, even other more exotic animals that were natural to the surrounding wilderness. Louis may have had the stench of elk in his nostrils from the blood decorating his skin, chin, and neck, but he could pick them apart like a hunting dog did. It was difficult to control the urge to rub himself on something that smelled so good, though he would never have survived as long as he did if he followed his whims. Instinct won out and he took a step back.

The bonus was he couldn't find anything that made this man supernatural.

"You're human." It was said with an accusing tone, almost disbelieving. "Why did you help me?" He'd done more than offer; this man had all but given Louis access to everything in his home. Not that he would take anything — what did a werewolf who lived in the middle of the woods have to gain from money, or material possessions. Still he was wary, keeping his muscles taut and his body near crouched, ready to pounce at the first sign of danger. The hunters going away was too unbelievable sometimes.
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Axel Frisk
 Posted: May 6 2013, 05:41 PM
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Axel was unclear as to whether or not the men outside were actually agents or not. On whether or not he was going to be considered a fugitive of the law, for aiding a – naked man – in escaping the FBI's re-inactment of Richard Connell's traditional work. Locking the door, Axel watched the two figures until they were out of sight, his heart still pounding in his throat. He was an honest man, and usually did his best to steer clear of confrontation, but this time he had readily involved himself; not for the fear of his life, but for the well being of the injured man. Axel leaned into the door palm first, as he tried to reflect on what had just happened. For the second time that night, Axel found his train of thought briefly revisiting his work, questioning if he would have been better off working a longer shift.

He couldn't hear the other man approaching, and with his back turned, there was no warning before the other man spoke again. ”Yes.” Axel stated in agreement, slowly turning around, and hoping that his visitor remained unarmed. Again, his eyes met the beautiful stranger, reminding him that the other man had no apparel. Axel proceeded to the nearest closet, and opened it to procure a red fleece blanket. ”Here, you can use this until we find you something for you to wear. My clothes might be a bit long, but with some luck - we might be able to find something that fits.” As he held the blanket out, he had to force his eyes not to wander by reminding himself that the man was not art to be appreciated, but instead a potential fugitive running from the law – Or someone imitating the law.

”I'm Axel.” He corrected in his usual gentleness, clearly confused about the mans statement. Of course he was human, that was all anyone was, why the man would assume anything otherwise Axel was unable to understand. ”I helped you because you were in need. Helping people – well, animals really – is what I do.” He stated, pretty positive that his profession was given away by his white and sea green attire. ”You said you were shot?” His eyes wandered freely now, looking for any sign of a bullet wound with genuine concern. ”...I've never treated a gunshot.” He admitted, carefully meeting the others eyes, afraid to step closer. ”And, I've only treated scraped knees – My brother used to fall off his bike all the time.” He was too worried to call the hospital, surely if he did, those 'agents' would go looking for the victim.

”You never told me your name.” He observed. He hadn't overlooked the mans strange way of speaking, or the way that he held himself. It was intriguing to Axel, since he had observed similar traits in his usual patients: Animals. Frowning, Axel wondered what sort of background had built up such a mysterious means of presentation. ”Where are you from?” He asked, in an attempt to unearth a hint of the mans past.
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Louis Whitaker
 Posted: May 9 2013, 08:13 PM
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Wariness was the weakness of man, forcing Louis to raise himself, fixing his posture. Living in the woods had dampened his ability to socially interact. But this man appeared to mean no harm, even offering a blanket. Louis was not cold, though he took it anyway, wrapping the soft material around his shoulders and closing off all revealing of his body. Sometimes it was easy to forget humans didn't like flaunting what they had. Louis had been born at a time when humans were barely clothed, some of them freely walking around in the nude in response to their environment. Hot days meant lounging around in the sun without a shred of cloth; cold days meant bundling in warm furs. Louis remembered winter on the battlefields in the South, how soldiers would huddle together to fight the adversity of the temperature. Nostalgia led him down a dark thought, back to Hal in the fields, and he banished it a moment later.

It had been hundreds of years; there was no point in reminiscing on the painful ones.

"Axel," the werewolf repeated, rolling the name over his tongue. It tasted sweet, foreign; something not found on American soil. This one was obviously different, were the accent anything to go by.

Attention was given to his wound and Louis cocked his head to the side, turning it just slightly as he let his senses do the talking. Sight told him this man was still relatively young for a human being; they lived longer now. He was unmarred from the looks of it. Maybe small cuts and scars if Axel worked with animals. They could be rowdy (particularly when ripping their throats out). Smell told him about the animals themselves; how sick they were, the bitterness of their diseases and cancers. Blood and gore clung to this man but was such an undertone compared to the natural musk of Axel himself. A smell Louis had the urge to roll in. It was a good thing, most certainly. Touch had nothing for Louis, for he was too cautious to really let someone else touch him just yet. Most of the time they had knives to bring to him instead of a friendly handshake. But the most important sense was his hearing. Heartbeat, blood rushing, the nervousness --- Axel had lied for him and Louis was catching the calming tail-end of it. So noble; courageous. Louis thought this man was ignorant for letting a werewolf into his home.

"I have many names, but the most common to humans is Louis." As Louis answered the comment about not giving his name, the werewolf had opened the blanket again, showing the hole that was still rather prominent despite being hidden in the blood. Oh, he'd actually gotten some of it on the floors in Axel's home. He didn't apologize, instead reaching down now to touch the edges of the wound with trembling fingertips. The adrenaline was wearing off, making him realize how much pain he was actually in. Louis took a step back to lean again the nearest wall for support, exhaling slowly while trying to focus his gaze on Axel. He didn't want to let his guard down now he was seemingly in the clear. That was stupidity on his part, and lack of survival instincts.

Axel wanted to know where he'd come from. Easy enough answer. "Everywhere and nowhere. I came from Mother Eve." He didn't say anything else on the matter, his focus wholly on his wound, trying to will it to start healing faster than it was. The bullet was gone, but silver was dangerous and slowed him down. It would take a day at most to fix all the damage.
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Axel Frisk
 Posted: May 13 2013, 10:09 PM
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Nerves still racing from the event of unexpected visitors, Axel dug into his pocket and removed his cell phone, placing it in it's usual place atop the hallway table. He could sense the amount of distrust rolling off of the other man, though he reminded himself that if he found himself being hunted by the men who were supposed to be protecting his country, he'd probably be a little paranoid too. He had come from a loving family who had taught him to respect the law: not lie to it, oops. Well, what his parents didn't know couldn't kill them, and Axel had a feeling that if Gunnar ever heard of this should-be-on-HBO-programming fiasco, he would appreciate the story. Axel never had gotten the impression that Gunnar shared his love for following the law. Then again, Gunnar was 15 years younger than Axel, which had always put a great gap between them and their interests. This just proved how much time changed, even if it didn't limit Axel's love for his family. Family was important, just thinking of Gunnar made Axel want to visit his brother at MSU, maybe he would head out there sometime later in the month, when he wasn't booked by so many pets at work.

”Yes.” Axel confirmed, still curious as to what the other mans name was. The way the man interacted, even spoke, made him feel like he was in an old storybook of sorts. As though he had been locked in a Brothers Grimm novel.

Axel counted the seconds as he outstretched his hand to the stranger, those seconds turned to minutes, which felt like hours. Reluctantly, he raised his hand to rub the nape of his neck, all the while his eyes locking with the others. He felt that he was usually somewhat decent at people reading, but he had no idea where to start this time. The man was unlike anyone else that he had ever met, which was to be expected, considering the fact that nobody ever turned up on his front porch naked before. Not that Axel had much to say about that, he still couldn't quite piece together what had just happened. Instead of voicing his concerns, he lowered his hand from his neck, and instead hugged his shoulder as he watched the other man watching him. Both seemingly at a loss for words. Either that, or the man was not very used to interacting with other people, as Axel currently believed him to be.

”What do you mean to humans?” Axel asked. Was this man insane? He looked like a human. He wasn't covered in feathery down, or scales, or any other inhuman trait. Believing the man had hit his head or something, Axel reached for his phone again. ”Maybe we should call a doctor, maybe you hit your head?” He suggested, all ready searching for the hospitals number in his cell phone. As Louis now examined his wound with trembling hands, Axel abandoned his cell phone again and took a few steps forward. ”We need to take care of that.” He stated assertively, trying once again to direct his guest in the direction of the bathroom where his wound could be cared for. Or at the very least sanitized. He was not a medical practitioner – not on humans, anyway – so he couldn't be sure how to treat this properly. The man needed a hospital, Axel was convinced.

”The mother Eve?” Was that some sort of Christian belief? It had to be, surely the man meant Adam and Eve. ”What denomination are you?” He inquired curiously. He had never heard of a church treating Eve as the mother. ”And which state were you born in?” He tried again, hoping that this time his question was a little bit clearer.
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Louis Whitaker
 Posted: Jul 2 2013, 03:48 AM
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Keeping focus on this man was difficult while dealing with a gunshot wound. The werewolf knew in some way he would have to protect himself somewhere down the line, but for the moment he was starting to wonder if staying there was a bad idea. Axel had protected him from hunters who probably would have killed a human if they got in the hunters' way. Anything for an alpha, right?

Louis kept that part to himself, unwilling to reveal what kind of monster he was. If Axel was going to help him — perhaps give him food and shelter for a short time — it was best to keep himself seeming as human as possible. Though as the other man reached for the phone Louis almost growled a warning, eyes flickering up and a sneer appearing a moment later. No, he didn't want to go see a doctor. He would have to explain why he had no identification, or home residency, or anything else.

Instead he held himself together and nodded, allowing Axel to question him while simultaneously being directed into the bathroom. Louis wasn't an idiot; he knew where to go when someone wanted to avoid blood. So he took up a place on the edge of the bathtub, peering down at the stark white and cocking his head to the side, almost in thought. What was different about Axel? Why did he not seem afraid of a naked stranger running in to his home? Louis knew the man deserved at least an explanation.

"Yes, Eve. She gave birth to many things, my siblings." None of them werewolves, but all of them family. Louis hated to admit it sometimes. "I assume you have a mother as well." He looked up now, watching the human with curious eyes. Though the pain was getting worse and Louis was finding it hard to maintain control of his emotions. Mostly in regards to his shifting. He didn't want to threaten this one, not when he'd been the first kind person in several long years. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you where I came from."
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