Bunnyom and Vampasha

[10:38 PM] Pavel Morozov has not had a very good week. Capture by the Realm's Silver Patrol was never a good thing, and being drained of (plausible but fake) information sucked, as did being held in a cage of splintery Hawthorne wood-- these fuckers knew their stuff, the splinters biting with unusual fervor into his hands whenever he laid them against the slats, leaving smears of dark blood wherever he touched and unhealing wounds as bad as if he'd been scraped with tiny silver knives. But, fuck, luck had smiled on him, and the next time he was dragged out for torture there was someone else there, a fair-faced and dark-haired young man with a delightful smell to him and a determination in his eyes that spoke to Pavel. The boy himself hadn't said a word, not during the desperate escape or the fight, and he had flitted in and out of Pavel's sight like a ghost, always coming back with a trail of cut-off screams and blood streaking his clothes. Pavel himself doesn't get a drop of blood on him, which is frustrating as hell, until a bullet hits his fellow escapee, and the scent of it nearly bowls him over--

It's out of instinctive hunger, his hands still raw as ground meat from the wooden cage, that he scoops up the amazing-smelling boy, an arm around his waist and the smell of his blood filling Pavel's head. It clears after a second-- he jokes, "Ahh, can't leave you behind like this, what if I need you to be my decoy later?"-- but god, the boy smells amazing, so much more amazing than the blood streaking his clothes. Pavel wants to drink from him, desperately.

It's a dizzy chase later that Pavel sees a slightly darker hole under a tree, sheltered by a bush overgrown with leafy vines, all but completely hidden, and he shoves the boy into it, with a soft shush, and crawls in after him, pressing close as he carefully nudges the vines to cover them even more completely with his booted toes, plunging them into a darkness without even starlight, so dark even his vampire eyes have trouble seeing.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, very softly, right near the boy's ear, so there's no chance of any human pursuer overhearing.

[10:53 PM] Artyom Alexovich is really unsure how he keeps getting thrust into such messes. It's been a little more than a year since the first time he'd left home, and already he's had far too many overblown situations exactly like this. At least there's been nearly a year's lull after he'd settled in somewhat uneasily among the Ranger Order, but of course his bad luck had to catch up with him eventually. And it always does revolve around the Dark Ones, doesn't it? First to eradicate them, then to seek out rumors of a survivor...

He'd been captured by the Silver Patrol, definitely not the first time he's been a captive, but he still doesn't like it. There were other prisoners in the 'interrogation' cell he was taken to, all but one other beside him killed, one after the other. They came to almost a silent understanding, and then... and then everything happened so fast, but the guards were dead by their hands, and they were escaping, flitting about in the dark, until they were nearly caught and had to make a violent run for it- Artyom had even started to shift right there, to aid their escape, but he took a bullet that knocked the wind out of him, only for his new companion to come to his aid, pulling him to safety.


He has no idea how much time has even passed since he was first captured by the time he's shoved into some foxhole- it could've been hours, or just mere minutes. Following the shove, he crawls obediently into the hole, making room for the other man, though it's a bit of a tight fit, his skinnyness balanced by the other man being a bit heavyset, the hole barely big enough to accommodate two men... and not very comfortably.

"Mh." He nods a quiet affirmative at Pavel's query, his own green eyes glowing gently from the darkness. He shifts about in the small space between them, in order to unbelt his clothing so he can tug up his coat and shirts, to check his wound, the bullet that had hit right under his ribs... already it's closing up, healing rapidly, and he quickly covers back up with a soft sigh of relief. At least it hadn't been silver, somehow...

[10:59 PM] Pavel Morozov supposes that every bullet being silver would get the price up pretty fast-- he's glad his little delicious-smelling friend doesn't seem too hurt, though he blinks a little at the glowing eyes. He doesn't get eyes that glow like that! They just turn from blue to red when he's freshly fed.

Right now, they're very, very blue...

"So, uh, you don't smell like you're bleeding so much anymore," he says, carefully adjusting himself to lay a little more comfortably along his new friend's body. "Are you already healing? It's been a while since I was human, but I definitely don't remember healing that fast."

[11:05 PM] Artyom Alexovich gives Pavel a rather funny look- partly confusion, part... something like shame, maybe, his cheeks going slightly red, though it's hard to see in the dark. He clears his throat slightly, because how would he even explain without words, in the dark, trying to stay quiet and unseen? He... kinda thought it should've been obvious by now- why else would he have been captured, have glowing eyes, heal so fast, all at once?

But then he gets an idea...

In the dark, Pavel might see that something about the young man before him his changing, the shape and line of his hard-to-see silhouette, long shapes upon his head, the shape and size of his glowing eyes, becoming almost entirely green. There's fur where there wasn't before, in the closeness of the foxhole, that Pavel might even notice here and there, if the change is too difficult to make out in the dark. The boy had become an unseen beast so quickly, and just as quickly, he goes back to normal, small and skinny and not nearly as hairy (even if he's a little proud of the natural patchy growth of hair on his chest under all those clothes).

He looks to Pavel again- does that explain it?

[11:08 PM] Pavel Morozov lets out a little breath, and holds back a nervous giggle, and goes, "Ah, right, that explains it. I'm in a foxhole with a fuzzball, am I?" He lays his head down, a little too exhausted and hungry to be too worried about being killed and eaten by this werewolf. "I, uh, I hear that our people aren't real friendly with each other, but I think we can agree: fuck the Silver Patrol, right, p-priyatel? Fuck them, and worry about other things later. Let's, uh, let's not kill each other until we have finished fucking them."

[11:11 PM] Artyom Alexovich is not planning on killing and eating Pavel! Firstly, he has no tangible beef with him- the Rangers are fine enough to leave Vampires well enough alone if they don't cause trouble(even if, unfortunately, the vampires frequently cause trouble). And also, vampires taste like shit.

At the joking about it, though, instead of a glare or derision or hostility, Pavel just gets a soft, playful chuckle from the 'fuzzball', before he nods in agreement. And then he tilts his head slightly, reaching out to give a soft nudge to Pavel, those glowing green eyes looking him over with mild concern.

[11:15 PM] Pavel Morozov is very, very slowly leaking blood from his splinter-scratched hands-- still-- he doesn't clot up, so when a wound is magic it just doesn't heal-- and he just barely can read the concerned look in the darkness, breathing in and out (he doesn't need to, but he finds the feel of it soothing, like tapping a foot or rubbing a coin between your fingers). "Ah," he breathes out, softly, at the nudge, and says, "shit, this is too much to ask-- but-- fuck, priyatel, they didn't feed me, and I'm so hungry..."

[11:17 PM] Artyom Alexovich pauses, first to figure out what he means, and then his eyes go wide with realization- and then he pauses again, actually considering it, before... before he tugs off a glove, and rolls up his sleeve, before reaching out his arm, offering a pale, thin wrist to the other man, without question.

[11:20 PM] Pavel Morozov nearly whimpers, and says, "Ah, priyatel, thank you--", and very carefully cups a hand around the back of Artyom's wrist, to hold it steady as his teeth cut in between the muscles and tendons, careful not to sever anything, and his tongue darts out, to lap up the first swelling sweetness of blood-- oh, god, it's so good. Fuck, it's so amazing. He could drink this blood forever.

[10:17 AM] Artyom Alexovich smiles at the thanks, even if the vampire might not see, and as Pavel takes careful hold of his wrist, he braces himself... still, he winces with a soft noise of pain at having sharp teeth cut through his flesh, even if theyre so terribly careful. But the initial pierce is worse than the rest, and even if it stings slightly, he's able to... arguably relax a bit, though it feels terribly weird to have another man licking at him. (Not too foreign, though- some of the Rangers still a little new to their place as werecreatures tend to have a harder time resisting the strange new instincts and impulses, and Artyom may have had his hair and ears groomed a couple times before either he pulled away or the other man realized what he was doing. Still, weird, though.)

He just tries to hold still and stay quiet, though he can't help but maybe... watch quietly at the way the vampire laps up his blood, definitely curious rather than disturbed.

[10:25 AM] Pavel Morozov's eyes flutter closed, his habitual breath stuttering to a stop as he's distracted by the sweetness in his mouth-- fuck, is this what all fuzzballs taste like? And he can feel the pain ebbing away, feel the flesh of his hands knitting back together-- Artyom might just be able to feel it, the way his hand heals against the back of his wrist-- and his stomach starting to fill up, eyes starting to turn violet-red instead of blue...

He stays there, lapping at Artyom's blood, until the tiny puncture marks stop bleeding; then he lets go of his wrist and croaks out, "Thank you," barely any air in it until he remembers to start breathing again-- then he murmurs "thank you" in a more normal voice, rubbing Artyom's wrist with a thumb to wipe away the gross vampire saliva, then letting go of it to rub his hands together, with a little sigh of happiness that it doesn't hurt anymore. He doesn't hurt anymore! "Ahhh, not being in pain is so much nicer than the alternative," he whispers, with a little grin at his... new friend?

[10:31 AM] Artyom Alexovich finds his curiosity moving on from the drinking of his blood, which is very much an odd sensation, to the cessation of breathing from the other man- he'd heard vampires were odd, in a strange state of semi-life, but he didn't expect them to not need to breath!... How interesting!!

Just as interesting is how he can feel the previously mutilated flesh of the vampire's hand healing, pulling itself back together, clean and whole, even faster than the average healing speed of a were. Well, that makes sense, he supposes- weres can heal all the time, so long as they're not infected with silver, and vampires can only heal when fed, so of course it'd balance out.

Speaking of healing, the punctures in his wrist heal rather quickly, but not before the other man has had his fill. He smiles softly at the thanks, again, nodding with agreement because YEAH, not-pain is way better than pain, and he gives a low, soft chuckle and a friendly nudge to the vampire's arm.

[10:31 AM] Artyom Alexovich has made a friend!! c:

[11:10 AM] Pavel Morozov grins into the darkness at the nudge, and nudges back, gently, before patting the were's, uh-- well they're pressed pretty close together, he just kind of ends up patting his thigh. Mmm, warm. Come to think of it, the were is warm all over, and Pavel had forgotten how nice warm feels-- they don't lay a lot of fires-- too big a fear of one getting out of control, of it seeking out vampire flesh and reducing them all to ashes--

His mind is wandering, and he pulls it back to their actual situation. "We should wait here an hour or two." he whispers, "let them think we've gotten away so they pull back to their camp. Then we can actually get away, yeah? It's clever!"

[11:17 AM] Artyom Alexovich makes a funny little noise at his thigh being patted, but he writes it off as the dark and forced closeness, the vampire probably just patted wherever he could reach most comfortably.

At the plan, Artyom nods along, thinking that sounds perfectly reasonable, and he even smiles! Just stay low and quiet in the foxhole, hope no one notices it and figures it'd be a good fugitive hiding place, and run away in a few hours... they should all have moved on to search in a different area, or given up entirely, by then, right?? Yeah. He nods again, and shifts slightly, against Pavel and the dirt and old decaying plant matter. Time to get comfortable, then...

[11:21 AM] Pavel Morozov listens carefully for any noise more human than a bird or bug or beastie, and he hears someone yelling in the distance-- but that's no worry, yelling in the distance isn't close enough to hear it if he shifts a little, too, very casually pressing his cool body closer against Artyom's warm one with a soft sigh of happiness. "Warm," he murmurs, unthinking, and doesn't lay his head on a warm shoulder or wrap his arm around a warm waist, but he definitely thinks about it, red eyes closing as he lays alongside his new fuzzy friend, breathing softly.

[11:26 AM] Artyom Alexovich makes a rather quizzical face at Pavel's comment on his warmth- and it just occurs to him how cool the other man's body is. Right! Vampires would be cool-blooded, wouldn't they... Does that make them kinda like reptiles? Heh, that's a funny thought. Reptiles are probably lazier than vampires, though. Probably.

He's not entirely bothered by the other man pressing closer, if the warmth is so drawing. Artyom can't blame him. In fact, he shifts again, and his clothes fill with bulk, not of flesh or muscle but of a thick layer of fur. Most of it under his clothes, but it probably makes him even warmer, a little space heater for this enclosed place.

Maybe sometime Pavel will get to have a proper look at the shifted creature, but for now, all he gets is a vague impression of beastliness and fur and warmth.

[11:31 AM] Pavel Morozov makes a muffled noise, almost drawing back at the shift-- but, oh, the fuzzball isn't offended by his snuggling, he's making himself [b]more snuggleable[/b]. How did Pavel manage to find the nicest fuzzball in the world? He snuggles in more, then, with a soft noise of happiness, amazed at how right the night is suddenly going. Sure, he's not home yet, but he's got this warm, friendly friend, who fed him and who's keeping him warm, warm, warm...

Vampires, strictly speaking, don't need to sleep, but Pavel has had a pretty tough time of it recently. Why not take a little nap right here, cheek cushioned on a bicep, lips parting and body habitually carrying on his breathing as his limbs go lax, huddled close to the warmth his furry friend provides?

[11:37 AM] Artyom Alexovich lets himself relax, which is much easier this time when he doesn't have teeth buried in his wrist, and when he's all toasty in a small space. Sure, he's sharing that space with a strange vampire he's just met, but the guy isn't too bad! He seems rather decent, even, not to mention terribly interesting, even before considering the fact that he's pretty funny and admittedly kind of charming. Artyom finds himself listening to the soft, unnecessary breathing from the vampire, and the way he goes lax with his equally unnecessary sleep. Interesting, that vampires don't totally need these things, but can still engage in them to a degree of comfort and convenience...

Artyom finds himself yawning, beastly mouth opening wide with many sharp teeth and two pairs of flat, powerful incisors. And then he, too, goes lax, to enjoy a quiet, short nap for a few hours... and hey, with the silence and immobility of sleep, it'll make them even less noticeable, won't it?

[11:47 AM] Pavel Morozov sleeps like a dead thing, totally immobile, which is a shame, because waking up wrapped around his friend's warmth would be wonderful-- but he wakes up how he fell asleep, huddled close but with only his cheek on his friend's body, drowsily opening his eyes and checking his feeling of how close the sun is to rising. Mmmm, they've been asleep maybe three hours, he thinks, so they have a few hours more to get away before Pavel will need to seek shelter from the burning sun...

He realizes after a moment that his friend is asleep, too, and he hesitates, then rests one hand on his fur-softened skinny belly, warm and moving with the fuzzball's breaths. Fuck, he smells so good, Pavel isn't hungry but he could go for another sip-- or a hundred sips-- cut into his throat and drain him dry, pin him down with hands on his shoulders and sitting across his belly and mouth at his neck, cutting him open again and again and again until Pavel's fat with his blood, so full his head is pounding--

He bites his lip, and then swears softly when he cuts his own face open on his fangs, pulling his hand back to cover his mouth. Ow! Fuck.

[11:56 AM] Artyom Alexovich sleeps like a fucking rock, and like Pavel, he doesn't even move in those three hours of rest. He's apparently a rather deep sleeper, too, as he doesn't wake right away to movement or noise from the other occupant of the foxhole... at least, not right away. It takes a minute before it registers enough to him that he starts to stir, squirming slightly with a little curl here, a little stretch there, a few soft, strange animal sounds, some sort of quiet, chirpy-hiccupy sound (a chirrup!)...

And then the bulk of fur melts away as he returns to being human and skinny and painfully unaware of the violent (and strangely erotic) blood-drinking fantasy the vampire was just having about him as he yawns and stretches.

[12:03 PM] Pavel Morozov keeps his hand over his mouth, sucking at the blood he's leaking as it slooowly heals back up-- he's still fresh-fed, but not as freshly-fed-- as his friend makes soft noises, including... shit, that has to be the cutest noise Pavel has ever heard out of another man.

"Cute," he whispers, amused, and smiles at his friend in the dark. "You waking up, friend?"

[12:05 PM] Artyom Alexovich answers first with a quiet noise that may be an affirmative. "Mmhhh..." And he yawns again, stretching his limbs as best he can in the confined space he's sharing with the other man. He's apparently missed that Pavel called him cute. He rubs at his face, snuffling a bit, and then finally those glowing, bottle-green eyes open up, a pair of low-lit torches in the dark. Hello! He is awake!

[12:08 PM] Pavel Morozov HELLO AWAKE HE'S PAVEL--

Pavel grins a little wider, and asks, joking, "What are you doing, sleeping at a time like this? Don't you know our lives are in danger?" Here, cute fuzzfriend, have a hairruffle.

[12:09 PM] Artyom Alexovich gives a soft grunt, eyes rolling, OH WHATEVER, YOU WERE ASLEEP FIRST.... but the ruffle to his short hair makes him chuckle softly. He does his best to sit up in the small space, shifting to face more to the exit, to try and peek out maybe...

[12:10 PM] Pavel Morozov muffles his snickers into his fist, and shuffles back and away, to give Artyom room to move around and look out. If the coast is clear, he'll happily follow his friend!

[12:12 PM] Artyom Alexovich pokes his head out, and it's just out of Pavel's sight that he shifts just enough to give himself a pair of big rabbit ears, the left one swiveling about as he listens for signs of the enemy, the lamps of his eyes glancing about for any movement... and he hears and sees nothing but the wind and the way it sways the trees and shrubbery.

His ears disappear, and he gives Pavel an O.K. handsign, before climbing out of the hole. Still, he keeps low to the ground, as it doesn't hurt to be careful.

[12:16 PM] Pavel Morozov crawls out after him, and follows his lead, staying low and following behind, keeping his ears and eyes open.

[12:18 PM] Artyom Alexovich has no idea which direction they should be going, though- he's entirely unfamiliar with the area, mainly because they're still deep in Silver Patrol territory, surrounded by their forts and camps and settlements. He looks warily at Pavel, some unsureness in his eyes, before he just... picks a direction and goes. He's at least terribly, almost uncomfortably good at moving silently, even the goods and equipment he carries on him hardly making a sound.

[12:20 PM] Pavel Morozov hesitates, then suggests, "Eh, maybe bear a little more to the left, priyatel? That'll take us east, the Silver Patrol stretches longer south than east--" though Artyom might know that east is also the Blood Line, where the vampires have their strongest hold. Still, clearly there's some vampires who would never even dream of hurting him! Right?

[12:23 PM] Artyom Alexovich nods, and trustingly takes Pavel's advice, bearing left. They'd already made their agreements to help each other out of Silver Patrol territory, before they take their separate ways and go home... why would he doubt that? Artyom is eager to follow directions the vampire gives him, or even follow his lead if he would prefer, seeing nothing wrong or suspicious about their temporary partnership.

[12:26 PM] Pavel Morozov will fall in beside him, then trot ahead, squinting through the starlight and the darkness of the forest and underbrush to try and find his way. He came in by a path in this direction, where could it have gone-- "Ahhh," he breathes, and holds up a hand to give Artyom pause. "Careful," he murmurs, and hops across from the rock he's standing on to one a couple feet away, then crouches and drops over the side of the one he'd moved to, into a narrow, rocky crevice. This runs long and deep, and while it branches this way and that, it should carry them a good quarter mile unseen towards the east...

[12:28 PM] Artyom Alexovich pauses when he's signaled to like a good soldier, watching Pavel carefully- only for the vampire to practically vanish into a crevice. Clever!! Artyom follows suit, slipping quietly and unseen into the narrow space behind Pavel, giving the vampire a smile should he glance back. This is excellent! What a great way for them to sneak on, there's no way this can go badly...

[12:29 PM] Pavel Morozov does glance back, and grins back, murmuring, "By the way-- my name's Pavel-- I don't think I gave it before, eh? Too busy with everything else. You know how trying not to die is, eh, friend?"

[12:34 PM] Artyom Alexovich gives a soft chuckle because, yeah, trying not to die is a pretty good excuse to have forgotten introductions. Pavel introduces himself, and Artyom gives him a bright, friendly smile. And then he hustles to Pavel's side, and then stops, silently holding out a hand expectantly.

[12:37 PM] Pavel Morozov hesitates, confused, but-- that warmth-- he offers his hand in return. Hey, if the fuzzball wants to hold hands, it'll keep them from being separated, right?

[12:39 PM] Artyom Alexovich takes Pavel's hand, and then promptly turns it over, palm up, Artyom's hand against the back of Pavel's. He then brings his other hand to Pavel's palm, in order to press a finger to it, and... he starts tracing out the shapes of cyrillic letters.

А. р. т. ё. м.

A name, Artyom.

[12:44 PM] Pavel Morozov takes half a moment to catch on, but-- ah! "Artyom, eh? What a handsome name!" he murmurs, and grins sunnily at his no-longer-nameless friend, turning his hand over and squeezing Artyom's in friendship. "We'll get through this together, Artyomik, promise you that." Then he... doesn't let go as he turns away, holding Artyom's warm little hand in his cool, soft one, the newly-healed flesh as flawless as that of a child's. Gotta stay together if they're gonna get through this together, right?

[12:47 PM] Artyom Alexovich smiles so very brightly at the compliment, his cheeks even going faintly pink. Partly because it's terribly nice to have someone tell him he has a handsome name, but even more because Pavel didn't even miss a beat and hasn't commented at all on his muteness. Which is great!!

And then Pavel just... casually holds onto Artyom's hand, pulling him along beside him, and Artyom doesn't entirely mind. It'll help keep the both of them together, in enemy territory, and he easily keeps up with his quick little legs.

[12:53 PM] Pavel Morozov's path is a little twisty, the rocky ravine cutting back and forth, and near the end of it Pavel hesitates at a fork, trying to remember-- "This way, I think," he murmurs, after pondering for a moment, and turns around the sharp corner--

He yelps, "Shit!" and lets go of Artyom's hand before Artyom can follow him, throwing his hands in the air. Turn back, Artyom, turn back, he practically fucking walked into a Silver Patrol, and an arrow sprouts from his shoulder as he steps back against the far rocky wall, giving Artyom a look of desperate pleading. Get out of here, Artyom!

[12:57 PM] Artyom Alexovich follows Pavel easily, quick and light on his feet and ever silent in voice and body. Everything was going so well, they covered a lot of ground, but then- well, their luck just had to run out. Artyom goes stock still hearing Pavel's yelp, taking his hand back the moment it's released. His eyes go wide at the sight of the arrow thudding into his companion's shoulder, that look he gives him, no no no no, not again, not another person dying to pave his way forward like he's so fucking important-

Artyom skitters away unseen, bounding out of sight with speed and stealth, and it's like that the Silver Patrol might never even realize Pavel wasn't alone. But he doesn't leave. Not really. He finds a small divot in the rock wall to hide in, blending into the dark, and he narrows his lamplike green eyes. Watching, and waiting. If he can help it, he won't let someone die for him this time.

[01:03 PM] Pavel Morozov is pinned down with arrows-- none through the heart, he thinks, and he also thinks, how fucking lucky is that? before the patrol places a silver knife to his throat and demands to know where the werebeast had gotten to. Pavel laughs, and coughs up a little blood from a collapsing lung-- ugh, ugh, the fucking arrows are hawthorne, too?-- and declares, "What, that little bitch? I ate him, needed to heal up after what you fuckers had done to me. Fuck those beasts anyways-- what good are they for?--" and is interrupted by having one of the arrow shafts twisted inside his body. Fuck, that stings, and he whimpers. But, hey, at least his friend is safe, there's no reason for the silver patrol to think Artyom is still alive, just around a corner somewhere as they clap silver-plated manacles around Pavel's wrists and drag him, slowly, back to their side-camp, a new, freshly cleared little site, the bushes and saplings they cut down for space still green-leaved where they're piled to one side. Shit, no one knew about this-- or maybe it's new since he was captured-- shit, shit, shit...

[01:12 PM] Artyom Alexovich doesn't hurt, hearing those words from Pavel's mouth- he knows full well it's an act, defending Artyom's supposed getaway, covering for him. They'll think he's dead... so won't it be a surprise when a werebeast tears through their ranks?

Artyom has no plan. Just a goal, and a drive to see it through, a fire lit behind bottle-green eyes. A few minutes after Pavel is taken away, a couple men are sent down the path to double check, just in case... needless to say, they don't make it back to camp, and one after the other, they're turned into a bloody tangle of gore to be forgotten in the dark. And then, Artyom pushes forward. Pavel's already long gone even as Artyom approaches the side-camp, but that's fine. He'll find him.

He sticks to the edges of the camp, in dark patches and shadows, so patient as he waits for the men to venture into the darkness, unaware that something has made every patch of black into a predatory substance from which no one survives. Sometimes they manage a grunt or even a muffled yelp, but no one really notices among the mild hubbub of early morning activity and conversation. One by one, he picks men off as he moves deeper into their camp, using their own structures to his advantage.

Now where the hell have they put Pavel...

[01:18 PM] Pavel Morozov is right dead-center of the camp, chained to a hawthorne stake driven into the earth, the arrows left in him and an open line of sight between him and the lightening sky. They're going to let him fry, and he's helpless to stop them, though at least he can torment them before he goes-- maybe one of them will take anger and take it out on him, kill him fast instead of letting him smoulder from the outside in, singing bawdy songs about fucking their mothers and them fucking pigs, telling them that it's not beastiality if they fuck a pig, since they're the same kind of animal-- he's making a hell of a lot of noise, honestly, and Artyom should have no trouble tracking him down.

[08:52 PM] Artyom Alexovich has no trouble tracking Pavel down, from that racket he's making, goofy, insulting singing, and possibly the occasional sound of a beating if he manages to piss someone off enough. He sneaks ever closer to the center of the camp, following the sound of his companion, until he finds the man chained up right in the middle, where pretty much anyone nearby can see him...

Artyom sticks to the shadows, but if Pavel is looking, he might notice the pair of green glints in the dark... Artyom takes some time to sit in the darkness and ruminate on his next course of action- but then a shifting of the ambient colors around him start to alert him to something rather important and time-limiting- the dawn is approaching, and the sky is just starting to lighten, even though the light of the sun has yet to reach the horizon. Shit!! Is that their plan?? To let him immolate in the sun? The bastards! Not to mention, it'll severely cut down his ability to blend in...

Artyom knows he has time constraints, but still, he waits a bit longer, to get a better idea of who has their eyes on Pavel. There's a pair of officers that seem to be the ones overseeing Pavel's upcoming demise, and the rest are just other Silver Patrolmen wandering about, or already disposed of by Artyom. So, he waits. Waits just long enough, for the pair of officers to have their attention on Pavel- maybe they're being smug, boasting of their victory, it doesn't matter what. Their backs are to Artyom.

As the horizon in the distance starts to tint pink, Pavel might notice something dark and beastly, with long ears, emerge from the shadows, leaping to pounce on one of the men, dragging him back into the dark with a cut-off scream. The other turns about, fumbling with his weapon, but someone, this time a humanoid shape, skitters back out from the dark, ducking under the man's expected eye height, in order to drive a knife deep into the man's abdomen, twisting it before yanking it out. He gurgles, and falls, and the still living human-shape that is now obviously that short, skinny, dark-haired boy with the glowing green eyes is the only one left standing. At least, until he kneels down to rummage through the dying man's pockets, until he finds the key to Pavel's chains.

His front and hands are covered in blood, some even splattered on his face, and yet he turns to Pavel with such a sweet, delighted smile, as if to say 'look what I did!' or 'here I am!'. He looks so proud, as he steps forward to free his friend from the chains and hawthorne stake.

[10:28 PM] Pavel Morozov isn't bothered by the blood, not at all-- he'd missed Artyom's approach, keeping his eyes shut against the rising of the sun, as if he couldn't feel its approach, the planet turning toward it, uncaring of the vampire that was turning with it. But at least he didn't have to look at the pinking dawn as he sang, exhausting his creativity with insults and his drinking songs from when he was alive, and his other songs-- he's down to children's songs, by the time he hears someone scream, smells the fresh burst of blood of death, and he opens his eyes, to see a dawn much too bright for comfort and a dark shape with long ears disappearing with its prey-- and then Artyom returns, human again, covered in blood and looking so beautiful, and Pavel laugh-sobs, his skin just starting to smoke-- faint white curls, barely noticeable as they seep out under his hat and gloves-- as Artyom frees him. "Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, I thought-- thought-- thought I was--" he gasps, and then wraps his arms around his bloody savior, then says, "I need to get inside, I'm going to start frying soon, or a cave or something--"

[10:39 PM] Artyom Alexovich didn't notice the smoking right away, but after freeing Pavel, and turning to smile so brightly at him again, his smile falters when it finally hits him, his vampire companion begging to find someplace to hide from the sun. Without thinking, and despite the cold air, Artyom shucks off his coat and throws it over Pavel's head, to shield him from the coming dawn, give him just that much more time before he burns.

And then Artyom takes hold of the man's arm, slings it over his shoulders in case he's weak enough to have trouble, and pushes forward. They manage not to run into anyone- mostly because more than half the camp is dead, and Pavel might see mangled limbs or leaking blood from various dark patches (growing less dark with every moment) as Artyom rushes them through. The tents and temporary and half-built buildings start to thin out, and end entirely, Artyom helping Pavel over a small barrier, and then they're off into the wilderness.

The sky grows pinker and pinker, and he's pulling them along away from the dawn, the horizon turning golden behind them. Artyom's getting a bit frantic now, terrified that they won't make it, that despite his best efforts, he'll have failed to save the other man at the last second... until finally salvation meets his eyes, a wilting, divoted outcropping of dirt and rock, spilling over with bushes and tree roots and long grasses and ferns, making a small, earthy cave beneath like someone had scooped it out with a spoon.

He unceremoniously shoves Pavel past the dirt and rock and roots and plants, and into the dark space beneath, and it's not much bigger than the foxhole from before, but it's certainly as well-hidden and protected, especially when Artyom tugs down more long fronds of fern and vine, and piles fallen piles of leaves and branches around their burrow as Pavel is hopefully making himself comfortable inside. And then finally, satisfied that it's both camouflaged and that any light-leaking holes are covered and filled, Artyom finally crawls into the burrow, breathing a bit quickly, worry in those lamplike green eyes.

[10:48 PM] Pavel Morozov has his head covered, and Artyom's bloody coat-- well, it helps, a little, the darkness of its blood-soaked cloth keeping the sun at bay, though Pavel stumbles and makes weak noises, coughing up blood from his arrow-pierced lung (and of course all the arrows are still stuck in him, they probably prodded Artyom most uncomfortably when Pavel embraced him) but trusting his new, wonderful, life-saving friend-- he might die still, but at least Artyom will have helped him do it out of the hands of the Patrol.

That's before he's shoved into a tiny cave, and the burn of the lightening sky on his skin vanishes, the last few traces of smoke drifting away; he's red, everywhere his skin wasn't covered, and pink where he was, but the shield of leaves and roots and bushes is enough to veil them in darkness, as surely as a roof and walls, and he collapses against the back wall with a relieved noise, pushing Artyom's coat away from his burned face and spitting up another glob of cold vampire blood. Ugh. Ugh, he thought today was going to be better than the day before, not worse...

... But at least he still has a friend, and he offers a dizzy, pained grin at Artyom. "Shit, does this mean I owe my life to a fucking furball?" he complains, and touches the wooden arrow in his shoulder before pulling his hand away with a hiss. Fucking splinters, why do they never SAND their hawthorne, just leave it raw and splintery to claw at his hand...

[11:00 PM] Artyom Alexovich gives a soft huff of a laugh at the comment about owing his life to a furball, but it's half-hearted, his eyes still full of concern. He moves in close to Pavel, settling beside him, looking him over... He's got pretty bad burns, but that can be taken care of in a bit. The most pressing concern Artyom has is these arrows... Jesus.

He very carefully, lightly, runs a finger along one of the arrows, down to where it pierces through Pavel's flesh. And then, his hands change against the other man, growing furred and, more importantly, clawed. He lays the tips of his clawed fingers near one of the arrow-wounds, and then glances up to give Pavel a terribly apologetic glance... before he promptly digs his claws into the flesh with the arrow, seeking out the arrow head. It'll be fine, it'll be fine, he just has to pry the wound open a bit further so he can tug the arrowhead out without totally ripping Pavel open on the back-facing points. It'll be fine, they can take care of his wounds after this, it'll be fine, Pavel just has to hold on until the arrows are out...

He grunts as he tugs the first arrow from Pavel's body, arrowhead and all. He looks at Pavel apologetically again as he throws the arrow aside, and moves on to the next... Sure, it's probably a terribly painful process for the poor guy, but soon enough, all the arrows have been removed from the vampire's flesh. Hurriedly, now that the issue of the arrows has been taken care of, Artyom's hands return to unfurred, human shapes, and he pauses to take a breath, before... looking at Pavel expectantly. Well? He's ready to offer blood, should the vampire ask, so all those wounds can finally heal.

[11:10 PM] Pavel Morozov does nOT ENJOY THIS AT ALL but, ugh, ugh, he gets what Artyom is doing-- and he lets the boy cut into him with his wereclaws. Who knew that werecreatures could transform their claws alone? Boy, wouldn't that be nice, being able to choose what parts of you change, instead of an all-or-nothing deal like being a vampire-- of course, Pavel wouldn't give up being a vampire for all the world, but he does think there might be some positive aspects to being a fuzzball, a delicious, warm, pretty fuzzball-- he bets Artyom never bites his own lip open absentmindedly--

He sends his mind anywhere but to the pain, but he can't help the whimpering noises he makes as Artyom cuts him open, blue eyes unfocused and fangs digging in to his own lower lip, sending trickles of blood down his chin, and clasps his hands tightly together in his lap, and endures, and when Artyom is done, he gasps, tears leaking slowly down his face. "May I--" he asks, breathlessly, and grabs Artyom loosely by the wrist, "-- I know I already-- but-- please--"

[11:15 PM] Artyom Alexovich does bite his own lip absentmindedly, especially when he's feeling bashful, but never has he bitten it open, that's true... The newly turned weres he's met among the rangers often aren't able to only change parts of themselves, at least not in fine-tuned ways... maybe it's a benefit of being born a werecreature? A more natural, life-long control over ones shifting.

Artyom's wrist is taken, and he gives Pavel an almost pitying look- oh, Pavel, he was technically already offering, it's fine that you already drank earlier, but you're injured even worse now... Artyom smiles softly, worriedly, and nods a couple times in consent, and he doesn't bother to move, expecting Pavel to drink from the wrist he's already holding onto.

[11:20 PM] Pavel Morozov probably ought to, but, god-- he tugs Artyom closer by that wrist, and instead wraps his arms around him-- god, so warm, and Pavel feels so much colder than usual right now, so cold he can notice it, sharp, biting cold in comparison to the searing pain of his burns and wounds-- and sinks his teeth into Artyom's neck, no where near so delicately as he had his wrist earlier, though his aim is luckily perfect; blood fills his mouth, and he whines softly as he gulps it down, sealing his lips around the wound and sucking desperately, pressing Artyom's chest to his and bunching his hands in the back of his shirt.

He hurts so much that he can't even appreciate the taste of the blood he's sucking down, but at least the pinkness of his burns recedes, and the wounds start to slowly close up, much more slowly than his damaged hands-- there's so much more to heal, and partway through he pulls back and hacks up an ugly glob of blood as his lung heals, forcing the damage out.

[11:28 PM] Artyom Alexovich yelps in surprise (and hopes that there were no patrols nearby to hear...) as he's yanked forward, and then a surprised grunt of pain as sharp teeth sink into the exposed part of his neck- oh, that's a terribly weird feeling, isn't it? Someone's mouth, lips closed around a spot on his neck, sucking hungrily... It makes him shiver, his face going red in embarrassment and a bit of shame. But he doesn't struggle or try to pull away- Pavel's just not thinking, his injuries making him desperate, and Artyom can't fault him for that, not even when the vampire holds him close, chest to chest, clinging to him, the boy practically on Pavel's lap.

He just stays still as best he can, his own hands planted against the dirt and rock behind Pavel's sides, to keep him balanced, while Pavel feeds away at his blood. Artyom doesn't even realize anything is different about his blood- that it does so much more than a human's. It doesn't just taste good, but it's like it's supercharged, filling the vampire with so much more energy than a human's blood ever could, and with much less blood.

Artyom grimaces when Pavel pulls away to hock up a nasty glob of vampire blood right onto him, but whatever, it's fine, it's not like he didn't have gore on him already anyways. It's not like Pavel could help it either, poor guy. And while he's having his moment of coughing, Artyom takes his own moment to reach up and- and pause for a moment, a bit bashful- and undo the top couple buttons of his shirt, and unfasten the collar of his undershirt, so he can push them away from his neck, further exposing it down to where neck meets shoulder, pale collarbone peeking out from his bloodied clothing.

[11:37 PM] Pavel Morozov is panting-- even though he doesn't need to- as his lung fills itself back out, but then Artyom is helping-- oh. Oh, that's--

"Fuck, you're just the sweetest thing, aren't you, Artyomuchka?" Pavel says, and laughs, a little unsteadily. His eyes are very, very red as he gives Artyom a shaky smile, and he absently rubs his hands up and down his back, still bleeding from his wounds but not so hard as he had been, before ducking his head back in-- he's clearly being invited-- and lapping up the blood more delicately from the first bite as it heals up, and lays his teeth back in at the junction of Artyom's neck and shoulder instead of riiight at the jugular, nipping more delicately as he tops up, his wounds finishing their healing and his pain ebbing away, fading away to memory as he drinks.

And then he gently sips a little extra, because god it tastes good, and Artyom is so warm in his arms...

[11:46 PM] Artyom Alexovich gives a soft, bashful laugh, his cheeks going a bit pink from the compliment. Hey!! He's just... trying to do what a decent person should, isn't he? That doesn't really need such praise, does it? The rubbing at his back is terribly nice, though, as nice as Pavel's toothy, bloody smile, and Artyom matches it with a bright, friendly smile of his own.

And then Pavel's face is buried in his neck again, tongue lapping at his skin, the pricks from the previous bite already healing away to nothing. He takes a sharp breath of mild pain through his nose when Pavel bites him again, this time at the junction of neck and shoulder. And that then makes him shiver because, oh, that was a lot more sensitive a spot than he was expecting, and he makes a low, soft noise in his throat that he doesn't even notice. His eyes shut tight as Pavel drinks away at his blood, Artyom biting his lower lip. And not once does he experience the dizziness of bloodloss, the healing factor of the werecreature replenishing his blood at roughly the same rate as Pavel can drink it.

[12:24 AM] Pavel Morozov notices the noise, distantly, but-- mmmnh, his focus is on the sweet blood in his mouth, the sweet warmth in his arms, and the sweet growing satisfaction of having a belly full of amazing blood, nibbling and drinking and licking and sucking, hands soft as he keeps Artyom close...

This is exceptionally gay, to be honest, but if Artyom doesn't stop him, Pavel might just keep drinking from him forever, hands going gentle and stroking and soothing as he soaks up his warmth, desperation softening to mere desire for more of that taste...

[12:27 AM] Artyom Alexovich hardly even feels any pain from the bite anymore, even when Pavel keeps it open by aggravating it. He's maybe a little distracted by how oddly soothing this all is, the sucking and licking at his neck, the hands stroking at him, practically petting.

He also doesn't quite realize that this is pretty gay, though he does find that there's something weird about how comfortable and oddly enjoyable it is. It's when he realizes that Pavel's been drinking for quite a bit now, that he thinks to stop him. He brings up his hands, placing them against Pavel's shoulders, and moves to push himself away before the vampire overfeeds too much.

[12:36 AM] Pavel Morozov pulls away with a soft gasp, eyes so red they're nearly neon, color in his pale cheeks-- flushed under the skin, not the redness of burned skin-- and absolutely whole again, his expression softly distant as he licks traces of Artyom's blood from his lips and marvels at the taste...

"B-blin," he mumbles, as his eyes start to focus again, hands still laid loosely on Artyom's torso, "you taste damn good, Artyomik." He raises one of his hands to gently wipe any lingering blood off of Artyom's neck and shoulder, hand gentle, and then licks his hand clean, and smiles a smile that's almost dizzily peaceful. "I, uh, didn't take too much, did I?"

[12:40 AM] Artyom Alexovich can't help but flush slightly at the compliment, even if it's to his... flavor? And looks on curiously as the vampire licks his lips and his own fingers after wiping away a little bit of blood from his healing neck. Artyom looks over Pavel worriedly, and while Pavel's wondering if he'd taken too much from Artyom, Artyom is more concerned that Pavel may have overeaten. Don't pop, friend! He just saved you! Still, though, he smiles at the question, and shakes his head, waving a hand. He feels fine! Not even a little dizzy! Which is funny, he's the one who should be dizzy from bloodloss, but he's not, and meanwhile Pavel is over here dizzy from overfeeding.

He laughs softly, all easygoing smiles, and his neck already shows no signs of the bites that were there before.

[12:42 AM] Pavel Morozov says, "Ah, good," and leans back against the wall of the cave, slumping a little and smiling. "Shit. I'm gonna-- gonna-- get, uh, whiplash, today has been so back and forth, Artyom. But all the good bits have been with you. Thanks." He hasn't bothered to pull away more than he has by leaning, a hand still on Artyom's side and a soft smile on Pavel's face.

[12:46 AM] Artyom Alexovich is still pretty much sitting on Pavel's lap, and that fact is only just starting to occur to him. Well!!! That is certainly a thing and also an accident! He chuckles low and quiet, partly out of embarrassment and bashfulness, but also in part from the compliments, that he's been the only good in Pavel's day.

In an attempt to be smooth and stealthy about it, Artyom sssliiiiiides off of Pavel's lap, in order to plop his butt down next to his new friend, the sides of their legs against each other since there's still not really a lot of space in this hidey hole. It's not uncomfortable, though, and personally Artyom finds it rather cozy, and he looks over at the vampire with a friendly smile, terribly glad to see him free of all those injuries.

[12:49 AM] Pavel Morozov is terribly glad to be free of the injuries! And he smiles back, and cuddles up to the warm little werebeastie, and lays his fuzzy shorn head on his shoulder.

PAVEL THAT'S GAY.

Artyom will have to forgive him the clinging; he's had a rough time of it, but Artyom comes off as Safe, and he's nice to be close to...

"Thank you for saving my life, too," he murmurs. "I-- if it comes up, maybe I'll return the favor, eh?"

[12:59 AM] Artyom Alexovich forgives him- he really doesn't mind the clinging, especially not in wake of everything Pavel's apparently been through. And there's a bit of selfishness in it, too- Artyom certainly takes a certain enjoyment from the contact with another, the soft, subtle affection. It's awfully nice.

He smiles, and nudges Pavel with an elbow, because he doesn't need to thank him. Artyom was just doing what he thought was the good thing to do. He shouldn't be thanked for that. Pavel was the one ready to die and give Artyom a means to run away... he probably didn't even consider that the werebeast would've come back to save him.

Artyom shivers slightly, the chill in the air finally getting to him without all the excitement and movement and adrenaline keeping him warm. Not to mention the blood of the Silver Patrol finally cooling on his skin and clothing, leaving it damp and chilled. He grabs at his bloodied coat, which Pavel had left aside, and pulls the slightly oversized coat over the both of them.

And then, in the soft hint of light peeking through the leaves and ferns shading their hidey hole, dark fur sprouts all over Artyom, filling out his clothes, his ears growing long atop his head, eyes big and doe-like and so terribly, overwhelmingly green, twitchy whiskers and nose, a pair of incisors just visible past cleft lips... He's now extra toasty, and also a great big gangly rabbit, mostly a cool, dark, blackish color, with patches of white here and there, most visibly tipping his long ears and twitchy snout. The creature turns its fuzzy whiskery face to rest its chin against Pavel's shaved head.

[01:05 AM] Pavel Morozov definitely didn't consider the idea that the werebeast would come back to save him-- he'd just figured, no point in both of them dying, eh? But then Artyom had come back, risked his hide for this weird vampire he'd just met, and fed him and healed him and...

Pavel takes a moment before he notices the extra warmth, and then there's a whiskery face turned towards him, and he barely catches a peek before his head has another head atop it, everyone resting on this shoulder, dark fur covering almost every inch of Artyom Pavel can see and, presumably, most of the inches he can't. He hums, and rubs his fingers over Artyom's, feeling the fur, and murmurs, "Yo-moyo, that's nice. I bet you stay real toasty in the winter, priyatel?"

[08:33 AM] Artyom Alexovich's fingers are covered in fluff, especially the pads of his fingers, with sharp, short claws at the ends of his digits. He kicks off his boots, which were pretty much just hanging off his toes, to reveal long, fuzzy, four-toed feet. Though most of his hands and feet are covered in fur the same color as the regular Artyom's hair, the toes and fingers themselves are white. There also seems to be a tuft of white peeking out from the top Artyom's still partially undone shirts...

Artyom snorts through his nose at Pavel's question, and nods against Pavel's head. Yeah, it comes VERY handy, especially since Russian winters are especially harsh. (At least they're not in Siberia!) He follows the snort with a soft, quiet sigh as he relaxes- though his whiskers twitch about, maybe tickling Pavel's scalp.

[08:38 AM] Pavel Morozov can't help but smile a bit, his scalp indeed tickled by the twitching whiskers, and turns Artyom's hand over in his, rubbing his fingers through the fur and in between Artyom's, caressing his palm-- no pads? Do rabbits not have pads? He can't say he's ever paid attention to rabbit feet, but he supposes they must not, if his sweet friend here doesn't have them-- and he certainly can't complain about the soft fur, the warmth of Artyom's body, the sweetness of being close to someone soft and delicious and kind...

"Ahhh," he sighs, happily, and curls his fingers with Artyom's, and thinks about what they'll do when night falls. And what they'll do during the day, honestly...

[08:46 AM] Artyom Alexovich lets Pavel play with and look over his hand, one large green eye watching with mild interest. Rabbits don't have pawpads like dogs and cats, no, but they do have thick fur, especially on the bottoms of their feet, where its thick and springy to aid in their hopping around.

When Pavel's fingers curl with his, Artyom turns his head, nudging his nose forward as it twitches and sniffs curiously. And then he settles his chin back atop Pavel's head, and... starts to grind his teeth, tooth purring atop Pavel's head. It's funny, he thinks, how quickly he came to feel comfortable and trusting with this vampire. But, it's pleasant.

[08:56 AM] Pavel Morozov probably shouldn't be so comfortable himself, but-- god-- he really likes Artyom already, he's been saved by him, he's been cared for by him-- it's hard not to get to like a guy after things like that, eh? And the sweetness of blood sitting in his belly doesn't hurt, either... mmm, he feels good and sleepy and comfortable, honestly, trusting that Artyom has his well-being in mind.

He yawns a little, and turns his body towards Artyom, and asks, drowsily, "Do you need to hunt or anything, chuvak? I've been feeding off you, if you need to fill your belly, you should..."

[09:03 AM] Artyom Alexovich does have Pavel's well-being in mind!! Why wouldn't he? The man's been really decent to him so far. Sure, he normally doesn't care for vampires with the trouble they cause, but... Pavel is special, already. Charming and funny and helpful. Artyom already likes him.

When Pavel turns to him, Artyom pulls back, so that they can actually look at each other. Which might be a little odd for Pavel, looking right into a big rabbit face. His nose and whiskers twitch as he ponders, and then... his tummy growls softly. Well. That... answers at least the question of if he's hungry, but... He looks at the space he crawled into the hidey hole from, and then back at Pavel... He doesn't really want to leave Pavel alone. :(

[09:05 AM] Pavel Morozov looks back, and-- shit-- "You should go eat, my fuzzball friend!" Pavel encourages, but his eyes are drawn up to those soft-looking ears-- pardon him, Artyom, he's really incapable of resisting your fuzzy charms, and he reaches up to touch one, sleepy but desperately interested. Pet. Petpet. Petpetpet GOSH how SOFT...

[09:06 AM] Artyom Alexovich is DEFINITELY not going to go out to get a bite to eat now, not when someone with soft hands is petting his ears, which are OBSCENELY velvety and silky soft. How could he leave this? He starts tooth purring again, clearly enjoying this, big green eyes slipping shut.

[09:10 AM] Pavel Morozov kind of snuggles in closer, getting up on a knee so he can rub his hands and fingers all over those velvety ears. Shit, these are so... mmmm... so warm and fuzzy, like-- like petting happiness. And there's fluff on Artyom's face, too--

He lowers one hand to Artyom's cheek, petting it softly with the backs of his fingers, brushing fur and whiskers and making soft, pleased noises, the nails of his other hand digging into artyom's-- hair? Headfluff? and scratching gently at the bases of his ears.

[09:13 AM] Artyom Alexovich's fur looks a little mangy, but only in appearance- it's really just ruffled and slightly tangled, but still terribly silky soft. On his head, the fluff sticking out of his ears, and the puffy fluff on his cheeks is the thickest, the rest rather short and velvety, at most, as long as his cropped short hair when he's human. He's certainly enjoying this, at least, tooth purring occasionally interrupting with a chirrup or two as he tilts his bunny face into Pavel's hands this way and that, unsure which one to favor.

[09:15 AM] Pavel Morozov can maybe pet both his cheeks equally, then! Just to help! Here, he'll kneel across one of Artyom's legs and cup his face and stroke his cheeks with his thumbs, which, surely, is the most heterosexual action Pavel has ever taken. God, he feels so warm and satisfied like this-- no wonder Korbut wants to keep weres, if they all make you feel like this-- Pavel already wants to keep Artyom...

[09:18 AM] Artyom Alexovich is going to die!!! Pavel thinks HE'S enjoying this, imagine how Artyom feels!! Aaaahhhh, no one ever gets affectionate with him like this, and he practically melts, leaning his head forward heavily into Pavel's hands, eyes shut and ears drooping, lax, tooth purring and chirrupping incessantly. Aaahhhh, this is so nice, he's gonna die...

[09:21 AM] Pavel Morozov has the weirdest urge to lean in and put his mouth back on Artyom's neck, which is silly. He's not even hungry anymore! But he looks so appealing like this, like a beautiful banquet all laid out for Pavel to enjoy, steaming warm and delicious on the tongue...

Somehow Pavel resists, though he leans in a little more, hands sliding back to pet the back of Artyom's neck, ruby red eyes half-closed and a smile on his face. What a good fuzzball this is.

[09:24 AM] Artyom Alexovich is a very good fuzzball, yes he is, and he dips his head down as Pavel pets down his neck, temporarily dead to the world except for receiving such very, very good pettings. Much tooth-purring to be had. Much chirruping. The happiest bunn, all melty and relaxed and delighted.

[09:27 AM] Pavel Morozov has completely forgotten anything but Artyom, his soft fur and his soft warmth, and he cuddles in closer, gently finger-combing all his ruffled and tangled fur into slightly less disarray, hands cool and gentle and affectionate. This is normal!!

[09:28 AM] Artyom Alexovich was SUPPOSED to be being encouraged to go get himself something to eat! But SOMEone, namely the SAME someone insisting Artyom feed himself, decided to promptly start petting and scritching the bunny... Artyom totally isn't caring about what is or isn't normal right now, he's got pettings to enjoy.

... And then his stomach growls again.

[09:31 AM] Pavel Morozov blinks, and then he laughs a little, patting Artyom's belly. "What are you still doing here, you hungry beast!" he says, despite being the one practically pinning Artyom down, all but sitting in his lap. "That grumbling noise is going to give us away if you don't fill your belly up." Here, he'll slide off of Artyom, and pet his cheek in passing while he does so, like a normal person.

[09:40 AM] Artyom Alexovich snorts, and gives an irritated little rabbitgrowl, glowering at Pavel with those big bunny eyes. But, well, the pettings are over now, he supposes he should go out and feed himself, then... With a sigh, Artyom fastens up his undershirt and buttons up his overshirt, grabs his gun, and pushes it out of the hole first, before climbing out after it, leaving behind only his boots and his coat. Looks like he's planning on staying shifted like this. Not to mention, Pavel gets to use Artyom's coat to try and keep warm, maybe...

Artyom is almost completely silent as he leaves, only a soft rustling of undergrowth and thumping of rabbit feet to be heard before he's gone.

[10:29 AM] Pavel Morozov watches him go, smiling and suffused with satisfaction-- his belly is full and his body is surprisingly warm, and he finds a comfortable divot to plant himself into, pulling the coat over him like a blanket and closing his eyes with a happy sigh. Fuck, unless they get caught again-- which he's not counting as impossible, with the luck he's been having-- today is a good day.

[10:40 AM] Artyom Alexovich sticks to being shifted, mostly because he's already barefoot, and rabbit feet are quieter than boots anyways. Plus, he's got his long, sensitive ears, one of which can hear far better than his human ones. Human or rabbit, though, the right one can't hear for shit. So, he's able to slink silently through the underbrush, occasionally going down on all fours, nose and ears twitching, both to seek out a meal, and to make sure he doesn't run into a Patrol.

He lucks out in finding a plant that, when dug up, revealed some wild tubers! Which he then ate raw because it's better than nothing, he doesn't exactly have a pot of hot water on him. It's filling enough. And further, he finds a fox, which he pounces after and devours after rending its fur from its flesh. Meat and potatoes, what a good meal! That should keep him for a bit. A bit messy, but he was already a mess following that bullshit with the Patrol.

Satisfied, Artyom starts to retrace his footsteps, to head back to the burrow he'd left Pavel behind in. He really did have a bad feeling about leaving Pavel there alone, and that never really went away...

[10:44 AM] Pavel Morozov wakes up from his-- well, it's not really a slumber, more of a well-fed doze, to the sound of voices wandering along the face of the cliff the cave is hidden in. Voices that are discussing the bloody murder at the camp-- how many people did his little Artyom kill?-- and getting closer, shit--

Pavel stops breathing, and judges the angle of the light that he can see through the leaves-- it's late enough in the morning that he'd just burst into flames the moment he stepped outside to kill them, and he doesn't have any ranged weapons, shiiiiiiit, shit, shit--

Well, maybe they'll pass him by! Maybe his luck is changing!

[10:47 AM] Artyom Alexovich's bad feeling was apparently confirmed, because as he approaches their burrow, he overhears the sound of voices, voices discussing what he'd done at the Patrol camp... those fuckers, why can't they just leave them alone?!? Like this, though, Artyom can't just approach the hidey hole straight on, he'd be spotted immediately... So he sticks to the underbrush and thickets around, circling about, trying to find the right angle and position to strike from, so that he can slaughter these bastards before they can do anything...

God, he hopes he and Pavel hadn't left any sort of trail pointing to their hiding place. (But what if they had?)

[10:55 AM] Pavel Morozov hopes they haven't, too, but he has no idea-- he'd been stumbling with pain, skin burning, pierced with arrows--

He slowly untangles himself from the coat, and crouches low in the hideout, on his toes and balancing on his fingertips, ready to spring on anyone who pushed the leaves aside and rend them open in the seconds before he burned to death-- damn it, damn it, he should have kept Artyom with him until nightfall, not fallen back into his comfort and told him to go, what an idiot he is-- but why is the Patrol so far away from their main camp? Damn, damn, shit, fucking hell--

And the voices get closer... there's only four of them, Pavel thinks, but that's twice as many as people he can probably kill before the sun gets him.

[11:01 AM] Artyom Alexovich moves closer, closer, behind the group... He's able to pounce out, grab the one at the back that's lagging slightly behind, cover his mouth with a furred hand, pull him into a thicket, snap his neck, leave him behind, the disturbingly quiet sounds of his death disguised by the voices of his fellows. Three more. Artyom leaves the corpse behind, intending to either eat or bury it or SOMETHING later, once these men are taken care of. But for now, he creeps along behind them like a shadow, sticking to hard to see places, waiting for his next chance to strike. So far, so good.

[11:03 AM] Pavel Morozov One of the men glances behind them, and hesitates, and then says, "Did Ivan say he was going to take a piss or something?"

One of the other men says, "Awww, you know him, he never says anything if he can help it," and they both shrug and keep going, because no one ever claimed the Silver Patrol was full of clever people.

[11:07 AM] Artyom Alexovich freezes when one of the men looks behind, suspicious at the murdered man's absence- but then they explain it away all on their own, and Artyom would breathe a sigh of relief if it were safe to let his guard down. Which it most decidedly isn't. The remaining three men are terribly close together, though, unlike the first man to die... If he tries to take any of them down here, it'll likely alert the remaining two.

But they're too close, now. Way too close. They're just steps away from the camouflaged burrow, and Artyom's not a hundred percent confident in his camouflaging skills. He hopes Pavel's still safe, as he takes a risk, darting out to repeat his procedure, grabbing the man closest to the back, a hand over his mouth, yanking him into the plantlife to snap his neck and leave him silently dead. But this time, at least one of the other two could see their companion get dragged away out of the corner of their eye.

[11:14 AM] Pavel Morozov Pavel is still safe-- for now-- but one of the men blinks, head jerking around at the flash of movement, and he says, nervously, "Mark?" as he grabs his remaining companion's arm. "Mark, where's Igor...?"

Mark turns his own head, and swears, swallowing thickly. "Igor?" he calls, just as nervous, and then adds, "... Ivan?" a little louder. And they both back up against the wall, Mark drawing a knife and the other bringing his gun up.

They're about a yard from Pavel's hiding place, as it happens, the bushes and vines close at hand.

[11:19 AM] Artyom Alexovich cringes at the men backing up against the outcropping- dammit, with as close as they are to the hiding place, one of them might accidentally wind up putting his foot through it at this rate! And now they have their backs to a wall, there's no sneaking around now. Artyom psyches himself up, before he comes bursting out of the underbrush, rushing the two men, swiping at the gun held in one's hands to knock it aside hopefully before they fire at him. He'd rather not get shot, but it probably won't end him if he does.

Snarling, he doesn't wait for a reaction, snatching the man that had the gun and lunging into him. Two pairs of sharp-edged incisors tear straight into the man's neck like spades in soft earth, tearing his throat from his body with a shake of Artyom's head.

[11:23 AM] Pavel Morozov Mark screams, and turns to make a run for it, which is probably not going to work out so well for him, because one of Pavel's hands strikes out viper-fast and drags him into the hideaway, and he grabs the man's wrist before he can bring the knife to bear, sinking his teeth into his throat before he can even realize what's happening.

Then he says, mouth full of flesh, "Hi! Wouldn't it be ironic if I fucking turned you right now, little silverman?" and though it's muffled, the message gets through fine.

[11:28 AM] Artyom Alexovich was honestly expecting to be brutalized with the other man's knife while he tore into his friend, but the coward only ran away. Only to be promptly tripped up and dragged into the burrow by the vampire, and Artyom is confident that Pavel can handle that one all on his own. So he keeps his concentration on murdering the fuck out of this guy- that mouthful of flesh and blood may have gotten to Artyom a little, his pupils blown wide, and soon enough, he has a pile of gore under his hands and even more blood down his front than he'd had when he first rescued Pavel.

Finally, it hits him that the man is long since dead, rent limb from limb, clothing merely tattered rags, and the rabbit monstrosity kneeling over what used to be a human body as he pants quickly.

[11:32 AM] Pavel Morozov is still playing with his food a little, making a game of allllllmost letting his hand go, then grabbing it again, lapping at the hot blood flowing from the man's neck, making noises about how delicious he is-- Artyom is the one who's been getting all the kills, and Pavel could read the situation, tell that his friend had killed some of these little assholes one at a time

Eventually, though, the man passes out, and Pavel cuts his throat with his teeth and shoves him out of the shelter, to bleed out on the ground outside. "Tyoma," he calls, softly, "you all right out there?"

[11:35 AM] Artyom Alexovich maybe. needs a moment. He kinda went completely berserk on this guy, hands coated in gore, front bloodied, even the fur on his face matted with blood and chunks of person. His large eyes blink a few times as his pupils steadily shrink back to a normal size, shoulders no longer heaving with how hard he was breathing. He doesn't give Pavel an answer, but should the vampire peek out, Artyom and his gorepile are in plain view beside the outcropping.

[11:37 AM] Pavel Morozov does peek out, after a moment, carefully, and-- ah, wow. "I think he's dead, my bunny," he says, surprised but a little pleased that Artyom literally tore a man apart for him. "Yo moyo..."

[11:41 AM] Artyom Alexovich nods, slowly, and climbs back to his feet, a little shaky. Jesus.

Well, to work, then. He finds himself a hidden thicket, and starts to dig, rabbit hands making short work of the soft earth. It's a good thing there's no more frost on the ground, or this would've been a lot more difficult. It still takes him a bit, if Pavel wants to take his time and feed more on the man he'd killed, but eventually Artyom's got a pit dug out big enough for him to drag the corpses, one after the other, to the pit to pile up. It maybe takes breaking some bones to cram them in there compactly, but they're already dead, who cares. The gore pile is the easiest to stuff in there.

And then he moves to the burrow, to reach in and snatch that dead guy, if Pavel will let him. DON'T MIND HIM, JUST HIDING BODIES...

[11:43 AM] Pavel Morozov has settled back, listening to Artyom's actions, and is perfectly happy to let his friend do whatever the hell he wants. Hiding the bodies, eh... well, the blood will probably still give them away, but if it rains later that won't be such a concern. Go ahead, Tyoma!

[11:47 AM] Artyom Alexovich has plans for the blood, too, just give him a bit. He tugs the body from the burrow, and stuffs that into the shallow grave as well, before refilling the hole with the dirt, which he packs down as he buries, to make it less obvious. Once the hole is refilled, he then covers it with fallen leaves and twigs. Perfectly hidden. And he still had plenty of dirt left over... which he uses to sprinkle over the various blood splatters. At first it makes a nasty sort of mud, but then additional layers start to cover it up. And more piles of leaves help, too. He even double checks to make sure they handn't left any other blood trails, and covers those too, if he finds any.

And then, finally, work done, Artyom tiredly crawls back into the burrow with a sigh, promptly sitting on his haunches.

[11:49 AM] Pavel Morozov is settled in there, most of the blood wiped from his face, and looking kind of sleepy when Artyom returns, all bloody and muddy and covered in dirt-- "Ahhh, chuvak!" he says, and reaches out, to brush some drying gore from Artyom's furry cheek. "You need a bath, my friend."

[11:51 AM] Artyom Alexovich grimaces, as much as a rabbit-face can grimace. But he nods, and promptly starts to 'bathe'- as in, grooming himself, starting with licking at his rabbity handpaws, cleaning them of dirt and blood.

[11:57 AM] Pavel Morozov grins-- fuck, that's cute, all this rabbity stuff-- and beckons Artyom to come closer, so Pavel can help, finger-combing out his fur.

[11:59 AM] Artyom Alexovich will gladly let Pavel help, scooting closer to let Pavel assist in getting him clean. The hands actually take the most time for Artyom, with how matted they were with gore and dirt, but soon enough they're clean, if slightly damp and spitty. And with his hands clean, he can focus on washing his face, swiping at it with his paws and then cleaning off the mess from them with his tongue. Wipe wipe wipe lick lick lick...

[12:00 PM] Pavel Morozov is not anywhere as good at this as Artyom is, but he's very happy to just run his fingers through Artyom's fur-- he's not that interested in licking up dry, dirty blood, Artyom can do that himself, but petting and scratching and combing? Yeah, he can do that.

[12:02 PM] Artyom Alexovich IS PERFECTLY FINE WITH THAT, because it feels super nice, and is incredibly soothing, which is a comfort after the fact that he literally tore a man apart. His face is clean quickly enough, and then his ears, and then he bends to clean his long feet, since they were hopping about in messes.

And then Artyom is clean!... Sort of. His clothes are a mess, still. He did what he could to get the excess mess off, but... there's only so much one can do when blood sinks into cloth.

[12:16 PM] Pavel Morozov CLEARLY HE SHOULD STRIP.

[12:16 PM] Artyom Alexovich NEVER

[12:16 PM] Pavel Morozov HAS HE CONSIDERED: IMMEDIATELY? PAVEL COULD PET ALL HIS FUR THEN

[12:17 PM] Artyom Alexovich N E V E R

[12:21 PM] Artyom Alexovich instead, once he's clean (enough), Artyom finally, finally, unshifts, back to that boy that Pavel had first met, with the short, dark hair, the beauty mark on his right cheekbone, the plump lower lip, the growth of stubble, and the sleepy bottle-green eyes... which are sleepier than usual, because the poor boy looks fucking exhausted, dark circles having started to form below his tired eyes. It's probably been a whole day/night cycle since the last time he slept more than a nap...

Tiredly, Artyom plops down in the dirt of the burrow, sighing softly as he finally gets to just... stop moving.

[12:23 PM] Pavel Morozov had his hands in Artyom's hair when he shifted back, and, honestly, sees no reason to move them afterwards, settling down alongside him-- despite there not being any particular need for them to be pressed as close as before-- and winding and combing his fingertips through the soft black fluff.

[12:25 PM] Artyom Alexovich is going to allow this, because he's too tired to protest and also, it just feels damn nice. In fact, his eyes meet Pavel's, green to probably-still-red, and he gives the vampire such a friendly smile. He's glad nothing bad happened while he was out scavenging for food.

[12:28 PM] Artyom Alexovich does not realize that he is totally crushing hard on this goofy vampire.