Pointy Fangs and Pointy Ears

Bane shook his head, trying to rest his worn body. His muscles burned slightly as he readjusted his body. "Oh, no. My particular pack wouldn't be that stupid. They would take me when you weren't looking, and I wasn't able to fight back. Only there." He slipped off his jacket, exposing the long scars further. Bane grabbed another herb poultice from his satchel. It was a strange white paste he placed on the wounds. "They are you and me. You because you're still technically a wandering soul. They don't care about if I claim you or not. And me because I betrayed my father, the eldest and most powerful hellhound." He looked to the side, away from Arcturus. He placed the lid back on the paste and placed it on the floor. "It's a great feeling.." He paused, "Not being defenseless." Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them to see Arcturus floating in the air. He slightly smiled. "We don't need to sleep. It's not what we're built for, but resting my wounds might be better than running around. I do have some sense."

Bane settled into the nest of leaves and moss. He let his wounds air out, closing his eyes. His body tingled with pain, his healing doing its job rather slowly. "What do I suggest? I suggest you wait for me to recover somewhat. If you try to go by yourself… good luck. You won't make it far." Bane has an aura around him, one of warmth. It was like a ball of warmth in a sense. "I also suggest you wrangle your ghostly powers before you fight… evil." He didn't have much knowledge at his dispense. He didn't know much about the physical world. It was strange to him. All he knew was to fight and escape near death. But was he that young?

Bane nodded his head, listening to the soft rustle of leaves from outside. His physical form was spent, but he didn’t want to sleep. Sleep was a waste of time. The time he could use to work on gathering things for survival. But instead, he fell asleep for the rest of the night. He twitched in his sleep as dreams of his throat being cut flooded his mind. A horrible dream indeed. Bane whimpered slightly, thrashing from the fighting in his dream. He shot up, waking from his sleep. The sun hit his face, and he squinted his eyes. He didn’t like the sun. It burned. “I fell asleep,” Bane murmured. He was amazed it was possible. Stretching, the hound looked up at Arcturus, shaking his head of fluffy hair. “Have an eventful night? We should probably go gather some supplies. And when I mean we, I mean I.”

Bane had stood up and clicked his jacket closed to protect his wounds. He would need to change into a free shirt. One that wasn’t shredded. He slung his satchel over his shoulder, tightening the strap. “Good. You needed to get things figured out.” He walked across the room, his boots heavy against the wooden floor. “I don’t tend to sleep well. I’m not a creature that needed sleep. When my body does shut down, it’s rough interrupted sleep.” Bane opened the door slowly, checking to make sure no creatures waited for him. “You can come if you want, but I’m not sure you can do much.”

Bane shrugged. He stepped outside, heading deeper into the forest. "A little sleep is better for humans, but for me, it makes me sleepier." He looked at a plant and pulled it from the ground, placing it in his bag carefully. He checked to see if Arcturus followed. "I'm looking for more herbs. Maybe you can find some of those." He went back to foraging, picking some flowers, leaves, and stems.

Bane considered what was valuable. “Any healing herbs or things that could be brewed into teas. Something that could help me survive long. My body has been beaten ruthlessly.” He pulled at some roots, wafting the scent, and decided they were no good. He shook his head. Only a few could be applicable. “Or something at can be crushed into a paste to spread on pained areas.” Bane perfected the darkness, avoiding the spots of light the Mirkwood trees let in. There was a pattern to his— collecting. He didn’t notice that Arcturus wasn’t as visible. Hellhounds hardly noticed.

Bane hummed as he collected parts of plants and other natural things that grew in the dense forest. He heard the rustle of animals, and suddenly, a hunger grew in his belly. He tried to shake it off. He last ate a few days ago. He could go longer without food. Although, fresh meat sounded amazing right now. He was caught in his thoughts by Arcturus, who had returned with more plants. To Bane, it seemed he learned to control his new form well. “Oh thank you!” The Hellhound beamed. He looked at the plants, putting names to shapes. He would figure it out later. “Do you still wish to wait to see what the moon brings? You seem like you’re getting comfortable in your new form.” The hound inquired, listening to the animals run amuck. Food sounded amazing at this point.

Bane smiled. “Good. I’m not sure what a full moon may present to you, but to me, it presents mood shifts.” He listened to the animals one more time before deciding on his next move. He took off his bag and laid it on the ground. “Stay here. I’m going to go hunt. I haven’t eaten in four days.” He ran off, shifting into his giant wolf form. His fur was long and sleek. His ears were perked for any noise that might appear. With the squeak of so creatures, Bane got ready to pounce. He wiggled his hindquarters in the air, using his hind legs like a springboard. His giant paws landed on the animal as he swiftly killed and ate it. It wasn’t hard to hunt when you were a giant wolf. He feasted on a few other creatures, satisfying his growling belly. A growl presented itself. The growl was low and snotty like a hellhound’s. Just then, another hound jumped out from the underbrush, pinning Bane. It bit into his exposed neck, and he scratched its belly with his hind legs. Bane latched onto the neck of the other hound, using his legs to push its body over him. Flesh tore, and its neck started to bleed.

Bane dashed away, shifting as he rounded the corner. Puncher holes lined his neck and he looked over to Arcturus. Grabbing his satchel, he motioned to the elf with his head. Back to the cabin. He got his fill, his herbs, and a fight. Today was going to be about how useful the elf could be because Bane needed some support. He reached the door of the cabin, opened it, and walked inside. It was a bad morning.

Bane shouldered off the bag. He let Arcturus dig around in it as he sat down on the woven leaves and moss. He unbuttoned his jacket. The large scars on his stomach had healed but still looked ominous. He didn't see any wounds on his chest or his legs. Must just be the wounds on his neck. Breaking out of his thoughts, he felt a strange liquid seep down his neck and into his wounds. Fuck. That burned. Bane scrunched up his face from the slight uncomfort. "I'm not hurt anywhere else, just around the neck." He felt he was being searched. "Thank you for checking, though." This was bound to happen quite often. The two of them were a massive target on their own. A runaway soul and a criminal.

Bane’s face was red from being checked over for wounds. He couldn’t help it, but he wanted it to go away. He leaned over and pulled out a new low-neck t-shirt from his satchel. It was a burgundy color. Folding it precariously, he set it beside him. Bane hoped the blush had gone away by then. It didn’t. “It’s fine.” He murmured, watching Arcturus squeeze the plant into his ghostly palm. To Bane, it looked sour. His face scrunched up. “You may. The pain doesn’t bother me, but I’m sad they will scar..” He looked at the ground, letting Arcturus place the liquid on his neck.

Bane tried to wrangle the hotness in his face. But it was a no-go. Being searched for wounds had set him off, and he was embarrassed by it. "I-If you say so.. But, er, hellhound wounds don't usually heal." And here Arcturus was, smearing herbs all over his wounded neck. Bane's neck was super sensitive, making him blush more. What a very awkward moment. He cleared his throat, trying to get the redness in his face to go away. He looked down at the ground, noticing his boots were untied, and laced them backup. Looking up, he was surprised to see Arcturus had more of a physical form. "I didn't do anything. That was your doing. Maybe it was the herb you spread all over your hand?"

Bane’s face tingled. Goddamn, his sensitivity. He felt awkward. A burning sensation fired in his head, and he looked at Arcturus’ form. He noticed that he had less of a fading look. The dead elf’s face gained color. What a strange phenomenon. Bane had done nothing to cause it, instead, he assumed it was the neckless— or maybe the fact he had gained control over himself. Being protected by a Hellhound would only give his soul longevity outside of the after-realms. Taking a deep breath, the blood recited back into his face, no longer making him red. “It could be, perhaps. Although, in my 27 years of life, I’ve never seen this.” Bane stood, taking off his jacket. “I’m going to change into a shirt that is not shredded, fair warning.” He wasn’t sure if the elf was comfortable around him, but he wasn’t about to step outside. Outside was dangerous. Turning around, Bane pulled off the torn red shirt. His back had multiple scars. A notable one ran from his shoulder blade around to his waist. There was almost no fat to his body, the bones in his back visible. Due to the placement of the scar, when the ligaments of his shoulder moved to pull the burgundy shirt over his figure, it seemed to hurt him. Bane left his jacket off, going over to organize his bag.

Bane played with his hair, ruffling it up. He pulled his shirt down and then went to his bag. He started to pull out herbs and small containers. He didn’t have a clean track record. After all, he had to gather these things by stealing. He opened a few jars and placed some herbs inside. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out more items he’d stolen. Ropes, knives, rags, books and maps, and other miscellaneous items. He rearranged his bag, placing items back in their specific places. One thing Bane hadn’t put away was a carved ram's horn. “We should probably get moving. There are things for us to discover, especially since your form is becoming solid. We might want to consult a demon or such.”

Bane fitted the bag over his shoulder. He wasn’t ready to deal with the dead becoming undead. It was practically unheard of. “Yes, your solidity is concerning me! I don’t even know how you're becoming— solid.” He bit his tongue. It was weird, very weird. Supernaturally impossible. “That’s why we need to leave. It’s better to consult people on it rather than freak out.”

Bane took a deep breath, staring at Arcturus, He was stressed, confused, worried, and flustered. He didn't know what on this green Earth that elf could be fighting for. "Okay, look. I'm not an expert, far from it, but I can shadow travel us to a location." But what location? Another country? That wouldn't help the elf's cause. "You can help your people. You can defend whatever you need to defend. Let's just figure this out, my ghosty friend." He slipped his hand into the others. "This is the only way I can teleport us both, as you know." Bane closed his eyes, willing his mind to bring him to a place of consulting. Opening his eyes, they were in a restaurant on the fancier side. Bane went red. "Uhh, shit." His stress must have been holding him back. Closing his eyes again, he felt the coldness of shadow. It slithered around his throat until it disappeared with a scream. Opening his eyes once more, he they were in a dark castle. More specifically, the dungeon of a dark castle. Bane nervously laughed. "Looks like we've got trouble." An invisible force hit him in the back, knocking the wind out of him.