(no subject)

Bull took a deep breath and closed his eye for a moment, debating the course of action he was about to take. There was something out there getting into people's heads, making them do things they wouldn't normally do. It had happened to him, which shook him down to his bones.

But he could not take himself out of this equation, not yet. He could not hunt something down and kill it if he was dead. He couldn't leave Dorian and Krem without first giving them the chance to figure this out, to help, to end it.

All he knew was that he'd had something in his head, and he'd lost control of himself. Even if what happened was ridiculous, he couldn't let it go.

So he sat in the woods, away from home and away from Dorian's shock or horror, with an awl he used to repair leather and a length of strong cord. He did not want any more corruption coming out of him. He took another breath, and with a resolve that came from years of pure belief and knowing, he used the awl to pierce both lips and draw the cord through.

(no subject)

"Dorian!"

Bull called for him as soon as he was through their front door. It was too narrow for his liking, but the doorways and thresholds in the rest of the house made up for that. So did the ceiling height. He started hiking up the shirt he'd worn while out and about - it was the first thing to come off almost every time he came home. He'd never worn a shirt, unless it was under armor, before coming to Darrow and it was still an adjustment.

With a grunt he paused, momentarily frustrated when he got the neck and short sleeves of the t-shirt stuck on his arms and horns. He'd been in too much of a hurry.

"I found an undead kid today. He talks."