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esp_dragonv2Fandom: Noblesse
Summary: Frankenstein still has a lot to learn about werewolves.
Notes: Set before the split in the timeline.
Tied in with Post-Spar Effects, where Frankenstein first learns about it. :)
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word count: 1,152
Total word count: 29,001
Status: Work in progress
Frankenstein exhaled as he leaned back against the tree, Muzaka next to him, his arm around Frankenstein's shoulders. The spar had been good, better than their previous ones. Which is what he would have hoped, but it was still nice to see the progress.
Muzaka was growling low in his chest, and Frankenstein had started associating that with how content Muzaka was. He was breathing deeply as his wounds healed and Frankenstein exhaled, letting his own body heal as they relaxed together.
* * *
"Do you think we should wash up now?" Frankenstein wasn't sure how long it had been since the spar had ended, but he had cooled down enough that leaning back against the tree bark was becoming uncomfortable.
He didn't get an answer, and he glanced at Muzaka, who was still growling softly, his eyes half-lidded.
"Muzaka?"
Still nothing. Frankenstein frowned, lifting a hand to press the back of it to Muzaka's forehead. He was warm, but not much warmer than usual.
What was more worrying was that Muzaka didn't react to his touch. Well, he did, just not in the way that Frankenstein had expected, or hoped: Muzaka leaned into his hand, his growl intensifying for a breath.
But reacting to his name? No. As if he hadn't heard Frankenstein, or hadn't understood him.
Was this another part of werewolf transformations that he didn't understand yet?
Frankenstein turned his hand over, leaning in as checked Muzaka's pupils. They seemed to react normally when he covered one eye and then uncovered it again, so it didn't seem like it was a head trauma. Not that they'd had many blows to the head in the spar. Not Muzaka, anyway - Frankenstein didn't tend to aim for the head, since that left him too open most of the time.
Muzaka didn't react to that either, except to watch him as he moved in close. It was rather unnerving.
Muzaka didn't seem so inclined to actually move around at that particular moment, so while Frankenstein could reasonably hope that Muzaka wouldn't suddenly decide to do so and inadvertently walk off a cliff or into a river (neither of which would permanently harm Muzaka in any way, but it would make it harder to find him again later), he could try to gain more information in the meantime. Just to ensure Muzaka would be all right, and for his own peace of mind.
* * *
Garda turned as he approached, and before he'd opened his mouth, she sniffed deeply and then attempted to hide a smirk, her lips twitching. "Did you have a good spar?"
Of course she could smell that on him - werewolves could smell who he'd sparred with even after a wash and now, when all he'd done was pull his top back on so that he could find someone faster? "Yes, which may be the problem..."
"Oh?" She lifted her eyebrows at him in question.
"Muzaka's been...dazed since our spar ended," he said.
Garda no longer tried to hide it, her smirk coming into full view. "A great spar then."
He studied her reaction for a second. She didn't seem worried about it, and knew what he was talking about. That was a good sign. "That's normal, then?"
She nodded, then paused, the smirk slipping from her lips. "That just happened?"
"Yes?" Was that a problem? Was it supposed to happen at a different time? "That's why I'm he-"
"You left him alone?" she demanded, her eyes going wide.
"Am...I not supposed to?" Would Muzaka wander off a cliff in that state? "I had assumed he wasn't so affected that an attack-"
"An attack?" she spluttered.
Right. Who would attack a werewolf in their home territory, let alone the werewolf Lord? ...Aside from himself, of course.
"It's because he needs touch after a big spar!"
Muzaka needed what?
The confusion must have been clear on his face, because Garda shook her head, huffing. "What do humans do after a good spar?"
"...Tend to each other's wounds?" Sometimes. But that occurrence didn't happen with werewolf warriors, since the only treatment for injuries they had was 'Wait two minutes, at most'.
She narrowed her eyes at him, studying him. "Do humans not have the haze afterwards?"
"The haze?" ...Wait. A change in mental status after physical exertion, and the need for touch afterwards. It was familiar to Frankenstein, but not in this context. "You make it sound as if we were intimate with each other."
"You were," she said, shaking her head at him. "You sparred hard enough to make it happen!"
How was sparring similar to - oh. Oh, of course. Werewolves didn't experience physical attraction, but a kind of strength attraction, and their numbers were low enough they clearly weren't intimate as often as humans were. So it would make sense that werewolves experienced intense pleasure through sparring instead.
And some people needed physical contact afterwards to help ground them.
Ah.
"Talk later...?" he said sheepishly, her reaction now making sense.
"Or talk to him once he's thinking like himself again. Go."
Frankenstein ran.
* * *
It was easy to find his and Muzaka's sparring ground again, the area now familiar to Frankenstein after the time he had spent travelling to and fro.
And because he could hear a faint whimpering.
He followed the sound and when he arrived at their sparring ground, the difference between how he had left Muzaka and how he was like now was subtle, but still clear. Muzaka's expression was strained, a confused drawing in of his brow as his hands listlessly clutched at the ground. As if searching for something.
Frankenstein.
Guilt wrapped around Frankenstein's heart as the realisation of what he'd done and how Muzaka might be feeling settled in. "I'm here," Frankenstein said, hurrying towards him.
Frankenstein had never seen Muzaka like this before, which was why he'd been so concerned in the first place. But now he could see what it really was now: Muzaka was vulnerable. While Muzaka had been open with him, the role of werewolf Lord was always there, ready to slide in place if something were to happen. Now, it wasn't. It was just Muzaka, who had just wanted to hold him, and Frankenstein had left him alone instead.
Muzaka relaxed at the sound of his voice, turning towards him.
"My apologies, I didn't know what was going on." He wasn't sure if Muzaka could understand him at the moment, but his voice alone seemed to be helping. "I'm here now," he said as he sat down next to Muzaka again.
Muzaka curled an arm around him again, leaning into him with a deep sigh, and the whimper faded into nothingness.
Frankenstein stayed there as Muzaka nuzzled his shoulder, Frankenstein putting an arm around Muzaka's hip.
Clearly, he still had a lot to learn about werewolves.
Summary: Frankenstein still has a lot to learn about werewolves.
Notes: Set before the split in the timeline.
Tied in with Post-Spar Effects, where Frankenstein first learns about it. :)
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word count: 1,152
Total word count: 29,001
Status: Work in progress
Frankenstein exhaled as he leaned back against the tree, Muzaka next to him, his arm around Frankenstein's shoulders. The spar had been good, better than their previous ones. Which is what he would have hoped, but it was still nice to see the progress.
Muzaka was growling low in his chest, and Frankenstein had started associating that with how content Muzaka was. He was breathing deeply as his wounds healed and Frankenstein exhaled, letting his own body heal as they relaxed together.
"Do you think we should wash up now?" Frankenstein wasn't sure how long it had been since the spar had ended, but he had cooled down enough that leaning back against the tree bark was becoming uncomfortable.
He didn't get an answer, and he glanced at Muzaka, who was still growling softly, his eyes half-lidded.
"Muzaka?"
Still nothing. Frankenstein frowned, lifting a hand to press the back of it to Muzaka's forehead. He was warm, but not much warmer than usual.
What was more worrying was that Muzaka didn't react to his touch. Well, he did, just not in the way that Frankenstein had expected, or hoped: Muzaka leaned into his hand, his growl intensifying for a breath.
But reacting to his name? No. As if he hadn't heard Frankenstein, or hadn't understood him.
Was this another part of werewolf transformations that he didn't understand yet?
Frankenstein turned his hand over, leaning in as checked Muzaka's pupils. They seemed to react normally when he covered one eye and then uncovered it again, so it didn't seem like it was a head trauma. Not that they'd had many blows to the head in the spar. Not Muzaka, anyway - Frankenstein didn't tend to aim for the head, since that left him too open most of the time.
Muzaka didn't react to that either, except to watch him as he moved in close. It was rather unnerving.
Muzaka didn't seem so inclined to actually move around at that particular moment, so while Frankenstein could reasonably hope that Muzaka wouldn't suddenly decide to do so and inadvertently walk off a cliff or into a river (neither of which would permanently harm Muzaka in any way, but it would make it harder to find him again later), he could try to gain more information in the meantime. Just to ensure Muzaka would be all right, and for his own peace of mind.
Garda turned as he approached, and before he'd opened his mouth, she sniffed deeply and then attempted to hide a smirk, her lips twitching. "Did you have a good spar?"
Of course she could smell that on him - werewolves could smell who he'd sparred with even after a wash and now, when all he'd done was pull his top back on so that he could find someone faster? "Yes, which may be the problem..."
"Oh?" She lifted her eyebrows at him in question.
"Muzaka's been...dazed since our spar ended," he said.
Garda no longer tried to hide it, her smirk coming into full view. "A great spar then."
He studied her reaction for a second. She didn't seem worried about it, and knew what he was talking about. That was a good sign. "That's normal, then?"
She nodded, then paused, the smirk slipping from her lips. "That just happened?"
"Yes?" Was that a problem? Was it supposed to happen at a different time? "That's why I'm he-"
"You left him alone?" she demanded, her eyes going wide.
"Am...I not supposed to?" Would Muzaka wander off a cliff in that state? "I had assumed he wasn't so affected that an attack-"
"An attack?" she spluttered.
Right. Who would attack a werewolf in their home territory, let alone the werewolf Lord? ...Aside from himself, of course.
"It's because he needs touch after a big spar!"
Muzaka needed what?
The confusion must have been clear on his face, because Garda shook her head, huffing. "What do humans do after a good spar?"
"...Tend to each other's wounds?" Sometimes. But that occurrence didn't happen with werewolf warriors, since the only treatment for injuries they had was 'Wait two minutes, at most'.
She narrowed her eyes at him, studying him. "Do humans not have the haze afterwards?"
"The haze?" ...Wait. A change in mental status after physical exertion, and the need for touch afterwards. It was familiar to Frankenstein, but not in this context. "You make it sound as if we were intimate with each other."
"You were," she said, shaking her head at him. "You sparred hard enough to make it happen!"
How was sparring similar to - oh. Oh, of course. Werewolves didn't experience physical attraction, but a kind of strength attraction, and their numbers were low enough they clearly weren't intimate as often as humans were. So it would make sense that werewolves experienced intense pleasure through sparring instead.
And some people needed physical contact afterwards to help ground them.
Ah.
"Talk later...?" he said sheepishly, her reaction now making sense.
"Or talk to him once he's thinking like himself again. Go."
Frankenstein ran.
It was easy to find his and Muzaka's sparring ground again, the area now familiar to Frankenstein after the time he had spent travelling to and fro.
And because he could hear a faint whimpering.
He followed the sound and when he arrived at their sparring ground, the difference between how he had left Muzaka and how he was like now was subtle, but still clear. Muzaka's expression was strained, a confused drawing in of his brow as his hands listlessly clutched at the ground. As if searching for something.
Frankenstein.
Guilt wrapped around Frankenstein's heart as the realisation of what he'd done and how Muzaka might be feeling settled in. "I'm here," Frankenstein said, hurrying towards him.
Frankenstein had never seen Muzaka like this before, which was why he'd been so concerned in the first place. But now he could see what it really was now: Muzaka was vulnerable. While Muzaka had been open with him, the role of werewolf Lord was always there, ready to slide in place if something were to happen. Now, it wasn't. It was just Muzaka, who had just wanted to hold him, and Frankenstein had left him alone instead.
Muzaka relaxed at the sound of his voice, turning towards him.
"My apologies, I didn't know what was going on." He wasn't sure if Muzaka could understand him at the moment, but his voice alone seemed to be helping. "I'm here now," he said as he sat down next to Muzaka again.
Muzaka curled an arm around him again, leaning into him with a deep sigh, and the whimper faded into nothingness.
Frankenstein stayed there as Muzaka nuzzled his shoulder, Frankenstein putting an arm around Muzaka's hip.
Clearly, he still had a lot to learn about werewolves.