"Are you cold? the ice?" Finland asks. His fingers fly to unpin his cloak and remove it. "Here," he offers, extending the fabric out and trying not to get too close. "Here, take it."
The man takes one look at the cloak and grimaces. "Aaanh," he moans.
Finland throws the cloak in the air to settle it comfortably over the wolf-man's body but the second the material touches his skin the man pushes it away with a pained grunt. So Finland rips it off again. The man crawls over to the riverbank, his limbs so weak they barely support his weight, and covers his skin with freshly fallen snow. It appears to soothe him.
"You'll be so cold if you do that for long," Finland warns. "You'll get sick!" Wolves understand sickness, don't they? He approaches slowly, and kneels next to the man. He tries for comforting, tries to put a hand on his shoulder.
The skin is burning hot, but the man lets him lay hands on it. He even seems to enjoy the touch. Very carefully Finland strokes his thumb back and forth and for a sacred moment the man tolerates this too until he moans again and brushes Finland away with a clumsy blow.
His skin is so soft, so smooth, unblemished and unscarred, though bright red. Certainly it can't be the case that, as a wolf, he had never seen struggle. A wolf that large!
The wind picks up a bit and as the man leans into it and lets it ruffle his bangs, Finland catches the scent of fish.
That reminds him. Sweden, Norway and Denmark will be expecting him, wondering where he is... he hadn't written them a note, and he left hours ago. Sweden might hazard a guess where to find him, Sweden knows his usual fishing holes ... but what if Sweden should come across this man?
I should tell someone, thinks Finland.
But he isn't even sure if they'll understand him. They have their own customs, their own gods - do they see half-man, half-wolves as poor lost souls, to be pitied, or as demons to be slain? Finland thinks of Denmark with his axe and frets. The poor wolf can't even walk! He couldn't hope to defend himself.
Maybe Finland can just come visit while the other three are busy.
And so, after building him a small fire (which the man shies away from, but if he dislikes fire then so will other predators, and he'll be safe), Finland winds up leaving the cloak and his shirt nearby, just in case, even if the wolf-man doesn't touch them, and walks back to his place bare-chested.
"Y'traded," says Sweden when Finland returns. He is outside, smoking something from a long pipe, with Denmark. "Yer clothes fer th' fish? Must be some great fish!"
"Njord likes trades, but taking clothing's a new one," Denmark jokes.
They both laugh, and Finland gives them a weak smile despite not understanding the joke.
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Subsets of sets (2d/4)
(Anonymous) 2013-01-27 03:22 am (UTC)(link)The man takes one look at the cloak and grimaces. "Aaanh," he moans.
Finland throws the cloak in the air to settle it comfortably over the wolf-man's body but the second the material touches his skin the man pushes it away with a pained grunt. So Finland rips it off again. The man crawls over to the riverbank, his limbs so weak they barely support his weight, and covers his skin with freshly fallen snow. It appears to soothe him.
"You'll be so cold if you do that for long," Finland warns. "You'll get sick!" Wolves understand sickness, don't they? He approaches slowly, and kneels next to the man. He tries for comforting, tries to put a hand on his shoulder.
The skin is burning hot, but the man lets him lay hands on it. He even seems to enjoy the touch. Very carefully Finland strokes his thumb back and forth and for a sacred moment the man tolerates this too until he moans again and brushes Finland away with a clumsy blow.
His skin is so soft, so smooth, unblemished and unscarred, though bright red. Certainly it can't be the case that, as a wolf, he had never seen struggle. A wolf that large!
The wind picks up a bit and as the man leans into it and lets it ruffle his bangs, Finland catches the scent of fish.
That reminds him. Sweden, Norway and Denmark will be expecting him, wondering where he is... he hadn't written them a note, and he left hours ago. Sweden might hazard a guess where to find him, Sweden knows his usual fishing holes ... but what if Sweden should come across this man?
I should tell someone, thinks Finland.
But he isn't even sure if they'll understand him. They have their own customs, their own gods - do they see half-man, half-wolves as poor lost souls, to be pitied, or as demons to be slain? Finland thinks of Denmark with his axe and frets. The poor wolf can't even walk! He couldn't hope to defend himself.
Maybe Finland can just come visit while the other three are busy.
And so, after building him a small fire (which the man shies away from, but if he dislikes fire then so will other predators, and he'll be safe), Finland winds up leaving the cloak and his shirt nearby, just in case, even if the wolf-man doesn't touch them, and walks back to his place bare-chested.
"Y'traded," says Sweden when Finland returns. He is outside, smoking something from a long pipe, with Denmark. "Yer clothes fer th' fish? Must be some great fish!"
"Njord likes trades, but taking clothing's a new one," Denmark jokes.
They both laugh, and Finland gives them a weak smile despite not understanding the joke.