Fantasy The Big Bad Wolf... (Ashen & Kafferast)

[AshenAngel]

The Big Bad Wolf

There was often chatter in the coastal towns in the northern reaches of Alaska, discussions on how to accurately gauge the severity of the storm brewing off the horizon. Should the aurora pierce through the clouds, the storm wouldn't be so bad. But on those nights where the auroras fail to appear, you could tell how bad the storm would be by the hunting cries and howls of the wolves off the Red River. People seldom went far into the Red River inlet, seeing as the silver mine there has long since closed down and the wolves there were more territorial than most. There was nothing left to be gained from the area. The Red River meanders through the wide marshy plains and enters the rougher area of the inlet, where black spruce and aspen trees cling to the rocky hills. The land was tough, large rocky cliff faces refusing to yield to the strong winds and crashing waves of the Bering Sea. There were small native communities scattered along the river, mail coming in strictly by plane and the only way to reach these villages was by the weekly water taxi or the seasonal passes that led to the larger port towns.

The village nestled right next to the inlet's cliffs and the descending Red River was home to the Red River's pack of werewolves, having called the inlet home for generations upon generations. It was tough to persist in such an unyielding environment, but the time tested traditions kept the pack firmly in place with an undisputed claim to the wide territory. In the past few days, most people would keep an eye on the thickening cloud cover, the growing swath of winter grey and the fresh dampness on the stiff winter breeze that bore all the signs of a big winter storm. True to tradition, the pack had gathered for the hunt before the storm... But one new pack member had been missing from the gathering, once again sparking the ire of the elders.

One Archaeo Grimoire, seldom ever seen letting his wolf run with the others and having been absent from every group hunt that's taken place since he moved to join the pack a few months ago.

His medical practice and home were nestled a good distance away from the village itself, in the forest along the river. It made gathering herbs and remedies for more traditional treatments easier, and should those with more contagious ailments come into the pack doctor's care, it was far easier to limit the spread to the pack itself with the more isolated location. It was a simple log cabin, larger than most with two entrances, one for the medical practice and one for the home itself. Long deserted gardening beds were in the admittedly slow process of being worked back into good order, the frozen ground bringing that one to a screeching halt. The stark line of where the rich tilled soil met the weedy compacted ground, where a somewhat rusted shovel with a wooden handle that had somehow managed to splinter right down the middle laid discarded, was almost humorous. A little stone frog statue sat on the front step of the home portion, watching over the abandoned project site in resolute sadness.

An older truck sat in the front loop of the driveway, teal blue with chromed edgings and deep metallic green stripes along the sides. Somehow it was kept pristine despite only knowing life on muddy dirt roads. A pair of reading glasses sat on the dashboard, forgotten.

Inside the medical practice, Archaeo was steadfast in unpacking one of many boxes that had fallen to the wayside since he had moved into the cabin. It was mostly just filled with older binders, sticky-noted to hell and back from his college days. They quickly filled the empty shelves of his bookcase. It was a little scuffed from the move, and he had intended on fixing those little imperfections before he loaded the damn thing up... but that was before the dread of the day kicked in and Mac's constant urges to do something with the newfound time on their hands. The earlier appointments he'd had for the day had cancelled on him when the first flakes of snow had whipped in on the breeze, but the big storm everyone was worked up about had still failed to bare its teeth. He had one appointment left for the day, one that was looming on his conscience every time he glanced at the clock. His gut was twisting with the will he or won't he show up debate.

His gaze flicks up to the calendar once more, eyeing the last name remaining on his list for today. Morgan Lonicera: the next head of their pack, having recently returned from a longer than anticipated trip according to his only reliable source of information. The bush plane pilot he'd come to make decent friends with over the years was pretty chatty. The guy made fun of him ordering plants quite often and the barbs exchanged left the two of them fairly close. He'd heard some murmurings around the pack, but he wasn't exactly privy to details. Gossipy as they were, most talk was kept away from the new doctor and he was still trying to convince himself that he didn't care.

His gaze sweeps over his office, which felt like even more of a mess than it had been before he'd even bothered with unpacking that precarious stack of boxes. There were several house plants on every open flat surface, their pots mismatched but all with various shades of green in their patterns. There was a big calendar on the wall behind his desk: birthdays, conferences, and appointment times carefully plotted out in carefully neat handwriting, though some were not so neatly crossed out with cancelled or rescheduled. He had a haphazard pile of empty boxes spilling out of the corner now, his earlier attempts at stacking them up having fallen and his patience failed at the third attempt at 'cleaning' them up. And still the clock lurked over his shoulder. He breathes out a heavy sigh and stiffly gets up from his spot on the floor. It had been easier to ignore the clock from the hiding spot behind his desk while he busied himself with making an absolute mess, but he was out of time.

He resolutely decided to avoid bringing anyone into his office until it was no longer a registered disaster area as he walks along to the waiting area, glancing outside with a small frown. There were still only a few flakes swirling in the breeze, some finding purchase on his truck but it still didn't look like the storm was going to amount to much of anything. His gaze flicks to the phone, once again wondering if there would be a cancellation.

 

[kafferast]

Distance is capable of turning even the largest mountains to nothing but the size of a push pin, and the same goes for places by and large. Spend enough time away, and what was once familiar may feel irrevocably shrunken, and the memory of what it once was as fragile as the bones of a newly hatched bird. Some may take reprieve in the levee of new perspective to hold back the overflow of what once was, others may feel constrained by the sudden ill-fitting familiarity.

A storm that was lessening its distance by the day, had the pack a hubbub of preparations. The kind before the hunt they always did when storms rolled in; people gathering in small groups to go over the latest gossip like a schooling of fish, others discussing trails and paths, and children running amuck when they remembered that before they got to play in the inevitable snow they had to listen to the lessons of pack law and traditions. A few people cast glances at a familiar face, who despite having been back for days had not been properly seen. Now, he was wandering amongst the gathered pack while as of yet offering neither greetings nor aid, merely taking in all the familiar noise that came with these gatherings.

Morgan Lonicera was yet undecided on how he felt being back home, the past few days since his arrival having been endless days of being brought up to speed with all the goings of the pack, giving his own terse rundown of his journey, sitting in on discussions with the elders and their repeated complaints about the new doctor, cleaning the mess he had left in his cabin before he left. Followed by restless nights, before the cycle repeated. The only highlight had been helping one of the older pack members, who had nabbed him on the singular excursion he had done since arriving, to fix a wobbly chair which she had gotten from him a few years prior. She had been the one to tell him about the arrival of their new doctor, one Archaeo Grimoire, along with chastising him for crushing her funkia plant as a teenager, all over lunch she had insisted on sharing. That had been two days ago.

A damp gust tickled the hairs on the back of his neck, and crawled its way up the sleeves of his shirt with a familiarity he could do well without. It caused him to shiver, hunch his shoulders up towards his ears, and had him refocus his gaze only to flick it towards the grey sky. He scrunched his nose at the cloud cover, as if it had personally offended him with its timing. As if it was something other than a bad coincidence that a storm would roll in the moment he came home. He heaved a sigh, before forcing himself to roll his shoulders to a relaxed position, and reminded himself that he was meant to make appearances.

It was only on his father’s behest that he was even there, despite the fact that he would not partake for much longer, thanks to the small mercy of a medical appointment with the very same doctor that was most likely the cause of the hushed conversation between two of the elders and his father, a few stone throws away. The looks on their faces had a small smile tug at his lips, though it quickly faded as he remembered that from what he’d heard, the doctor mostly kept to himself, and he doubted the rest of the pack had done anything to try and make him feel welcome, outsider that he was.

The pack had always taught to be cautious of outsiders, in fact it was law. Though the extent the elders were pushing it had Morgan wonder how much of it was concern for the pack and how much was just their own dislike for people they didn’t even know. By all definition their new doctor was part of the pack, but vague laws only mattered when people wanted them to matter, something he himself had been well acquainted with in his youth.

He moved his gaze across the area to distract himself from his quickly souring thoughts, the laughter of children running away from their responsible parents brought his gaze to the few pack members in charge of watching over them while the rest hunted, no doubt telling the few remaining kids all the usual warnings while trying to make the lesson of traditions they would get instead sound much more interesting than they actually were. His gaze flitted over the usual gossips whispering amongst themselves, and the few heads here and there that weren’t fast enough to look away when his gaze passed over them. Not that it was much of a surprise, but a frustration none the less.

Gaze turning back to the sky, Morgan took a deep breath of cold air in, followed by a slow exhale sifted through closed teeth. There had always been whispers, there would always continue to be whispers. A deep breath of cold air in, a sighed exhale, his breath drifting visibly through the cold air like cigarette smoke.

He reminded himself that he didn’t have to stay much longer, and just as soon as the thought passed his mind, he quickly tugged his hand out of the pocket of his brown leather jacket to check the clock face on the inside of his lefthand wrist.

Seeing the time, he quickened his steps and veered towards the woods that would lead him to the medical practise, all the while mumbling a continuous stream of swearwords. He did not bother telling his father he was leaving, all wants of adding fuel to the fire of the elder’s ire forgotten.

There was thankfully no ice on the frozen forest floor as Morgan made his way through the trees with hurried steps, though despite the lack of it, there were still a few moments where a particularly moist root threatened to make him well acquainted with the hard packed earth. He had wandered the woods for longer than he had known his wolf, and thus ignored the building intensity of Cato’s urging for caution, wanting to get to his appointment on time lest he become one more pack member to show nothing but disrespect for their good doctor.

He did eventually slow down, however, when he’d made up the few minutes he’d lost, and the slow thud of his boots against the ground, along with the ever present sound of the river, all painted a familiar calm image that contrasted vividly against what the storm had promised. The walk itself would be an hour long, perhaps fifty thanks to the speed he had at the start. It wasn’t until well into his walk that the first flakes of snow began for make an appearance, which either told for a mild storm after all, or the kind that came as swiftly as death to the prey of a pouncing wolf.

Eventually a patch of teal blue made itself known between the trees, and was the first Morgan saw of his destination, a sight which had him once again pick up speed. The colour belonged to a pristine truck, which upon closer inspection had deep metallic green stripes along its side, and was parked in front of the log cabin that housed the medical practise and home of their doctor Grimoire. Morgan paid little mind to any of it, as he made a jogging beeline for the entrance to the practise portion of the cabin.

He stopped only when he reached the entrance, and gave it two quick raps with the middle knuckles of his left hand, to give himself a chance to glance at the time—three minutes to his appointment, which meant twelve polite minutes late—before opening the door. It was hard to feel bad when he knew the curiosity he had about the resident thorn in the elder’s side would be satisfied on the other side of the door. Still, an apology was already on his lips before he had stepped fully into the warmth.

”Sorry I didn’t get here early,” he spoke over the stomp of his boots against the mat, eyes locked on the soles to make sure he didn’t drag in too big clumps of dirt into the waiting room. Cato on the other hand had none of his usual caution, instead there was just the thrum beneath his skin urging him to make sure their new pack member knew that they were not all hostile. The thought had a snort of a laugh leave him, before he continued, awfully proud of himself at his own joke ”I had to fend off some wolves on the way.”

His eyes finally glanced up from his boots, eager to know whether the joke was appreciated or whether instead of a smile there would only be a disapproving glare to meet him, both their own kind of victory. His hand was already reaching out before his gaze settled on the man who shared the waiting room with him, who could only be the good doctor himself. He took a step into the waiting room, and then another. There was something to Cato’s insistence that felt like more than just the acknowledgement that they could bond over the elder’s ire, which settled like an itch under his skin.

”Morgan Lonicera. It’s nice to meet you Archaeo, I mean that.” Despite his curiosity, and the itch beneath his skin, there was a weighted honesty to his last words, heavy with the knowledge of how the elder’s viewed Archaeo, and that it was likely the doctor may expect no better treatment from him.

 

[AshenAngel]

The minutes ticked ever closer, and still there was no call. He breathes out a small sigh, and leaned lightly against the front desk, subconsciously shifting his weight off his bad leg. If only he could make like a fainting plant and play dead until the discomfort passed. Movement in the tree line catches his eye outside the front window and he watches the man jog over to the practice’s door. Finally. Mac’s pressing urge to meet their new pack member wasn’t unusual, per-se, given his enthusiasm for their work and his ever pressing curiosity. The big lug was a glutton for punishment, seeing as most of their packmates had been terse and standoffish during their interactions... While Mac might not be deterred, the optimist had been effectively stamped out from Archaeo's mind.

There were several things that could be learned from a patient before dialogue even started. The way a person carried themselves, how they dressed, if their presence filled a room or if the room would sooner swallow them whole. Mac’s keen senses aided even further, able to sniff out cigarettes, alcohol, and a host of other conditions that could alter the scent of a patient coming in. He was able to provide deeper insights to what the doctor would be working with, and the duo had often out performed their peers- both human and werewolf alike.

All the better to get this over with quickly... but Morgan was already throwing Archaeo off his worn out beat. The cold radiates off the man as he wipes his feet off on the mat. The pack's combined scent lingered on him, but his own wolf's scent didn't fully rise above the rest. He hadn't shifted for the little journey up to Archaeo's practice, a nice little hike all in a jacket that looked too thin to keep the cold off in any significant way. The man’s breathing came easy with the little exertion, in good shape physically. The man's face was starting to get rosy from transitioning from the cold to the cozy warmth of the practice. Circulation seemed fine enough, then. The slight sunken look to his eyes and the shadowed skin there spoke of a weariness that the doctor was more inclined to credit towards settling in after whatever travels the man took.

Archaeo raises one eyebrow at the joke, his green gaze cold and impersonal... But the faintest smirk quirks the corner of his mouth. He was wearing a plain maroon button up shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "I would have figured it came with the territory." He says dryly, but there's humor buried under that detached tone. He shifts to a fully standing position and meets Morgan in the middle of the waiting room, the faintest hint of a limp could be seen. The pantleg of his jeans was falling weird around his prosthetic, something looking not quite right with it from an uninformed perspective. He could feel his wolf beaming at how well this was going compared to meeting some of the others and he just waits for the other shoe to drop. "Welcome home, Morgan. I hope you enjoyed your travels.” He says with a little more genuine note to his voice as he takes Morgan’s hand in a firm handshake.

A small shiver passes through him at how cold his hand was while his brain catalogues the rougher calloused feel. Works with his hands gets added to his list of details. He pointedly tries to tune out his wolf’s excitement, not recognizing the signs for what they truly were and wanting nothing more than to get this over with before things had a chance to go sour. “Now... You do realize it’s snowing out, right? A pair of gloves wouldn’t kill you.” He says with a little concern to his voice as he retracts his hand. Being raised outside the packs had left some significant gaps in what would be common knowledge as far as the social structure of the wolves went. His mentorship under Doc had covered a lot of ground, but, pack doctors seldom had mates and clearly that pearl of related knowledge had not been passed along from his mentor.

 

[kafferast]

The expression he finds on Archaeo’s face, and the dry tone in his voice, feels like a challenge to figure out if there was anything to make the man lose the detachment, and is overall a victory in Morgan’s book. It is, however, a short lived one, as Cato’s insistence suddenly halts with a perk of observation the moment Archaeo made his way towards him, melding into a concern that Morgan could not pinpoint a cause for.

As the other man came closer it became apparent how the scent of the rest of the pack was not as strong on him as it was on most. Nor was there any recent lingerings of pack amongst the florals and tang of the rest of the practise, which caused the frustration with the pack to bubble up again, and there’s something about it that has the pieces of a thought slowly click into place. He forced himself to focus on Archaeo’s hand in his, much warmer than his own from having remained indoors. The handshake was firm, and he smiles when he replies a courteous ”Thank you. I did.”

The way his parents had explained mates to him, was that his wolf would know, sure as the river, and he just had to let the stream lead him to his mate. How a bond would form where he’d feel them in his peripheral, the stronger the feeling the stronger the sense, and that their wolves would have an even stronger bond, sharing thoughts, emotions, and pain across it. That there was no mistaking the wolf’s instinct for deeper connection, even if the way the feeling itself presented was individual between each were and wolf. And as Archaeo’s hand retracted from his, there was no mistaking the urge to reach out again. It is only through curling his other hand into a fist in the pocket of his coat, and pointedly focusing his gaze on the other man’s shoulder, that he manages to stop himself from going through with it.

He had never expected to meet his mate, not with how the pack was, so all he can do at first is keep staring at the maroon colour of Archaeo’s shirt as he tries to wrap his head around the knowledge settling in his chest. Though he doesn’t get very far when Archaeo makes a comment on the snow that brings him to a pause. There’s concern in the other man’s voice, but other than that he makes no discernible reaction to their newfound knowledge.

”Oh, don’t start, it takes more snow than this for me to need gloves.” he says, though despite his attempt at humour, he hears the agitated edge that ends up bleeding into the words all the same. Forcing a breath of a laugh, he amends ”But I’ll try and wear them for you, when I see you, deal?”

His tone is still not as lighthearted as he wants, but he doesn’t know whether it is the realisation that he genuinely considers wearing gloves should it be that the cold hands bother Archaeo, assuming the other man is even comfortable with tactility, or because the lack of reaction is making the itch beneath his skin worse. He could understand caution in the fact of what the pack’s treatment, but surely being mates would be a clear sign that he wasn’t like them. He tries to tell himself it might just be professionalism, a ’doctor first, mate second’ mentality, but Cato’s concern makes that hard to believe.

He tries again for flippancy, despite itching to bring it up, nodding towards the rest of the clinic. ”Now, I’m guessing this doesn’t get me out of the appointment, does it? Business first, talk later?”

 

[AshenAngel]

A small frown crosses the doctor's face at Morgan's shift in demeanor, his green gaze hardening as he hears the edge to Morgan's words. He braces for the vitriol to fully come forward, forcing Mac back further into his subconscious to try and protect the big lug from any more hostility... But the bite doesn't come, leaving Archaeo confused and on edge, even as Mac keeps pushing back with an unwavering enthusiasm as he urges for more contact.

His wolf had been fairly downtrodden with their seclusion in the woods, it reminding him too much of he and his sister’s time as lone wolves and the threat of getting run off still wasn’t entirely zero despite his current position. Maybe because it was the first time things were proceeding in a halfway amicable manner, that was why his wolf was pressing so hard?

Why. Why would Morgan make an exception for him, given the initial attitude? He kept looking at him, but wasn’t meeting his gaze anymore. Was he one of those types that wouldn’t be told what to do? What was going on here? “Nature always wins. I’ve seen a couple cases of hypothermia and frostbite, it can get nasty quick.” He cautions, explaining his worries a little bit more in hopes of easing any tension. His more personal experience with the cold was on the tip of his tongue but he locks that down quickly, blaming Mac’s crowding and insistence. The wolf was being too trusting. No one wanted a hurt doctor, that’s why Doc had put him through the wringer with gait training and physical therapy before he left.

The flippant segway into the purpose of his visit had Archaeo confused and anxious all the same, starkly contrasted with Mac’s excitement that just served to add further uncertainty to the mix. He didn’t understand what was going on with his wolf and now was not the time to wrestle with him.

Morgan likely had the ears of the elders, given his position, and was just as likely to be the bearer of bad news from them. Archaeo knew he was in their bad books… He’d skipped the pack’s hunt. Probably something to do with that then. He steels himself once more, turning to guide Morgan to the exam room with a gentle hand. “That was the pretense to you showing up here, probably for the best if we get you taken care of first.” He says with a mask of indifference, despite just wanting to get the presumed worst over with.

The exam room hasn’t changed much after Archaeo took over the practice. A new digital scale sat in the corner replacing the clunkier old fashioned scale with the counterweights.

He gives a small gesture to the exam table. “Go ahead and take a seat. Do you have any questions or concerns for me before we get started?” Archaeo asks with a practiced gentle tone, his gaze ever watchful for any signs of hesitation or discomfort that would guide the doctor.

 

[kafferast]

There was a clear shift in atmosphere, one Morgan firmly had to ignore lest he lose the already weak hold he had on his flippancy. It was clear that his slip in frustration had most likely just given Archaeo evidence to believe that he was indeed just as hostile as the rest of the pack. Though that in turn made it hard to tell whether he made it even worse by acknowledging the fact they were mates despite Archaeo ignoring it. He takes a deep breath in, following Archaeo’s hand with his gaze as he makes a sweeping motion towards to exam room, and exhales slowly to ignore both that thought, and the niggling guilt at the caution he’d been given.

Hypothermia was an age old warning, between the weather, and the water. It was one of the reasons why the children where not allowed to stay behind alone, why they were told every winter over and over to not stray too far into the forest without someone knowing where they were, and to never play near the river as even if you were lucky enough not to drown, the hypothermia could kill you within an hour anyway.

He tried to make himself focus on trying to untangle Cato’s concern, instead, in the brief moment of silence they were afforded. That, at least, was something he might be able to find an answer to. It could not have been the lack of pack scent. Had it been the realisation that he would potentially get to feel just how much the pack had hurt their new packmember, and being concerned for just how bad it was? His own concern twinged at that, as did the frustration, making it one more question onto the pile of things to ignore.

The exam room they arrived at looked much the same as it always had, and it made Morgan want to make a joke on whether the pack had even cleared it out at all after the old doctor’s death, only for that thought to quickly bring another question to mind, despite his best effort to shut it down. The question of whether the lack of change meant that Archaeo had the old records as well, and what things the old doctor would have found important to make note of.

Archaeo’s voice is just as quick to pull him out of his thoughts, asking whether he has any questions or concerns. The humourless realisation that that is a terrible choice of question for Archaeo to ask given the circumstance, almost has Morgan give in to the itch. Though he manages to stop himself, forcing himself to take yet another deep breath and clenching his still loosely curled fist in his pocket, before extracting it and letting it fall by his side with his other. Reminding himself that the right thing to do was to meet Archaeo halfway, and at least wait until the end of the appointment before confronting him, especially knowing that if he did so now there would be too much bite.

He rolled his shoulders, as if it would help ease anything, but it did nothing to alleviate the restless itch, and neither does the huff of a breath that follows. ”Well, I see the rest of the pack didn’t bother clearing this place out,” he mutters instead as he made for the exam table, scrunching up his nose in a perhaps futile attempt at keeping up the flippancy, knowing he was in a sense lying through his teeth as he spoke up proper. ”but no, no questions or concerns,” he pauses, remembering that if he actually wanted to prove he was not like the rest of the pack, he had to not seemingly act like the rest of the pack. Starting with moving his gaze back to Archaeo’s face as soon as he was situated. ”not unless you have something better than herbal tea for sleep.” Which was a phrase he had said enough times in this room for a smile, albeit brief, to appear.

Being mates, it wasn’t as though Archaeo wouldn’t pick up on the bad sleep eventually, assuming he was not already aware, had the old doctor’s records remained. Whether part of it is the gentle tone in which Archaeo had asked his previous question, or the fact that his wolf’s concern had mellowed enough to not overshadow the thrum of excitement, Morgan forces himself to not let his gaze drift away all the same. Despite the way it makes it harder not to want to bring it up.

 

[AshenAngel]

Archaeo is quiet as he gives Morgan room to settle. The remark about the pack not cleaning out the place had Archie's eyes narrowing slightly before his expression smoothed. “Doctor Winters actually left most of the equipment to the practice. The old scales were donated to a pediatrician's office up in Nome.” He says evenly as he collects his stethoscope from the counter.

Archaeo’s expression is one of gentle understanding when Morgan finally gives him something to work with. ”What are your usual habits before going to bed? They can have an impact on the amount of sleep and your quality of sleep as well… For example, I had an old roommate in college that would have a cigarette before turning in for the night and then complain about not getting any good sleep. Nicotine acts as a stimulant, it’ll keep your body more active for at least two hours after it enters, making it hard to fall asleep and stay asleep.” He elaborates as he warms the end of the stethoscope with his hand. Given the edge Morgan gained when he commented on the lack of gloves, he was once again bracing for a bite back… but he suspected the previous doctor might have shied away from the behavioral aspect of the issue given what he was working with.

He gently approaches and takes the blood pressure cuff off the wall. “May I?” He asks with a small gesture to Morgan’s arm to begin the basic exam.

 

[kafferast]

It seemed not only had his comment about the practice been a bad choice, but despite knowing Archaeo would pick up on it eventually, the gentle expression on his face had Morgan wonder whether bringing up his troubled sleep had been a good idea after all. While he knew, instinctually, that he could not have expected the usual reaction, some part of him had hoped that it would still play out in the familiar pattern. But no, instead of the familiar dismissing head shake, there’s questioning. He flicks his gaze to the stethoscope in Archaeo’s hand, in order to ignore the sudden vulnerability he feels, focusing on the irony of how the example makes him want a smoke.

He sighs on the exhale in an attempt to keep the returning edge out of his voice as he answers, ”Yeah, well, unlike your roommate I know alcohol’s the way to go before bed. But I don’t really drink anymore, so I have two cups of bedtime tea.” he glances back towards Archaeo’s face as he realises he’s still looking at the stethoscope, and takes a deep breath to push away the question of whether the old doctor would have noted how many times he showed up to his appointments hungover back in the day. ”Then I work a bit, sanding, carving, nothing too active.”

He watches Archaeo approach, before falling into motion at his request; shrugging off his jacket, and pushing the sleeve of his shirt up as far as it would go, getting some of his aggression out as the fabric bunched up by his elbow, ”Go ahead.” He holds out his arm at an angle for easier access, and can’t help but briefly wiggle his fingers much like one might do when silently asking to hold someone’s hand, before curling them back into a loose fist. ”And, you know, it’s not that bad,” he lies, ”the sleep. It’s probably just stress, I mean, I’m sure you’ve gotten familiar with how the elders can be.” His voice lowers with Archaeo’s proximity, frustration laced with renewed concern.

 

[AshenAngel]

The little twitch of regret he sees right off the bat. He supposed that meant his guess was right on the money with the old doctor, which could mean he was just working through a dislike of doctors in general instead of a dislike of outsiders thing. Or it could just be both, the pessimist part of his brain supplied. The logical part doubted that it really was an outsider thing, given the better than those prior start to this appointment, and he tried to keep that thought at the forefront.

Woodworking, another of his observations is confirmed with Morgan’s nightly routine. “How long have you been having the sleep trouble?” He asks just to get an idea of what he was working with. He’d only been back for a short period of time, but it sounds like this has been going on for a while.

His hands still just for a moment as Morgan mentions the elders causing him stress, but his poker face remains intact. He breathes out a sigh. Guess they weren’t waiting until afterwards to broach the subject of him pissing off the elders. “... I've begun to recognize that. Seems like the old Goldilocks story. In my experience, it's not worth the time or effort to try and be just right for anyone.” He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. Mac was very quick to point out that glaring, repeating lie, but Archie was determined to make himself believe it. "The elder that took me under his wing in my previous pack would practically chew my ear off during my mentorship. I gave back as much as I got... But, I suppose I turned out a little bit better for it." He tacks on, not wanting to come across as too confrontational. He was still reluctant to share much of his past when it came to the more wolf adjacent parts, but there wasn’t going to be a win in the contest of wills with his overcrowding wolf.

Mac finally was content to back off as he applied the blood pressure cuff and delicately held Morgan’s forearm in the correct position, stethoscope gently rested against the skin. He’s quiet and still, keeping an eye on his watch as he takes his count. Satisfied, he releases the air on the cuff and removes it. “Seems like you’re doing just fine in the circulation department.” He shares as he jots down his numbers on his chart.

 

[kafferast]

He knew that if he answered Archaeo’s question of how long the troubles had been going on, it would only lead to an inevitable follow up, which in turn made him think of the pity on the old doctor’s face before he’d deflected and lashed out enough times for the doctor to give up asking. So he deflects by dismissing it as not that bad.

At first, he thinks the sigh might have been proof of success; both in deflecting away from himself and towards Archaeo, and showing Archaeo that he does not agree with the elders’ treatment of him. Yet something about the words that followed made it feel like a hollow victory, and it was only that feeling of wrongness that prevented him from speaking without thought. It would be easy to prod, to ask how their shared pack elders had treated him. But he turns his gaze to his own hand, thankful for the excuse of Archaeo needing to listen and keep count, to give himself a moment to turn Archaeo’s words over in his head. The knowledge that Archaeo might have tried to meet the pack halfway when they had already judged him before he even arrived, the fact that his previous pack might not have been any better.

The delicate hold on his forearm in contrast to the pressure of the cuff, provides another thing to focus on, and he closes his eyes to focus on the sensation. Though as the silence continues, the itch beneath his skin becomes hard to ignore, as his mind drifts back to Archaeo’s words about his old mentor.

He waits until Archaeo’s hand disappears to open his eyes, lowering his arm and tugging his sleeve back down as he waits for the scratch of writing to stop, before he speaks. ”That’s good. And it’s good to know you’ll chew out our elders as they deserve, though you could probably do with being worse. You’ve been here long enough that they shouldn’t still be treating you like an outsider.” He only just manages to stop himself from adding that he isn’t saying that because they’re mates, and the once again temptation to broach that subject has his next words regain the frustration he had somewhat managed to put a lid on ”You should have seen them, complaining you weren’t at the hunt as if it’s not better for you to stay in case someone gets hurt. Did they even ask?” He looks back towards Archaeo, suspecting he already knows the answer to be a resounding no.

 

[AshenAngel]

Archaeo lets the dismissal be for now and resigns to follow up on it at his next appointment. Hopefully it was just the stress from coming back after his travels and would ease off soon enough, and if not he'd prepare a few options to offer at the next appointment. Some uncertainty can be seen in his frosty green eyes as Morgan continues to discuss the pack’s treatment of him. He leans back against the counter, subconsciously shifting his weight off his bad leg. Was this some kind of test?

“... The first couple hunts, yes. This one, no.” His arms lightly fold over his chest, defensive. The benefit of the doubt he was being given here felt suffocating. The frown finally cracked through his impassive mask and he gives a small shake of his head in dismissal. "In any case… My counterpart has never been a particularly strong hunter, we would just be in the way. I’d rather be disliked for something within my control than something that isn’t." There’s a certainty in his voice that doesn’t carry all the way to his eyes, he wasn’t even sure if he should have shared that.

He shouldn’t be handing out reasons to get run off. But it was so tempting to rip off that bandaid. He could feel his wolf’s judgement, and reminds the big lug that he’s far too trusting. The wolf points out their divide in understanding and Archaeo can’t afford the gap in focus that the confusion causes. What the hell was Mac going on about?

He steels himself once more, focusing on getting this appointment wrapped up. His hands are gentle as always as he proceeds with the rest of the basic checks, listening for any points of concern as he gives the instructions to take a deep breath here and there. ”Lungs are good, didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.” He jots down his findings, ready to call an end to this appointment. ”Overall, you’ve got a clean bill of health. If those sleep troubles continue, let me know and we’ll look into some better options than herbal tea.” That little ghost of a smirk made a reappearance.

 

[kafferast]

Knowing the pack had at least asked might have been a good thing, if not for Archaeo’s shift in demeanour as he confides not being a strong hunter. Morgan wants to point out that he shouldn’t be disliked regardless, but knows the words would be hollow, what with the pack’s continued treatment of him. But between the frown, and the look in Archaeo’s eyes, he can’t help but mutter ”Yeah, well, they could at least keep it to themselves.”

He makes himself focus on the gentle hands and doing as instructed, on the professional words and the scratching of the pen. Breathing slowly in and out to push his feelings down. By the time he get’s the clean bill of health, he’s calmed down just enough that hearing his own words called back to him, causes him to let out a snort of a laugh, as he shrugs his jacket back on. ”That's good to know, and will do. I'll even make sure to try and remember my gloves.” He meets the hint of a smirk with a small but genuine smile. Standing up, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket in defiance of Cato’s nudging insistence to shake Archaeo’s hand again.

”Now, does that mean we’re done being professional and can finally talk about it?” He says, tone more joke than frustration, ”Because I gotta tell you, as impressive as it was, you not reacting at all has been getting under my skin since we found out… And being pissed off at the pack is not helping me think clearly.” It’s only Cato’s sudden caution that makes him aware that the frustration has edged back into his words. He heaves a sigh and briefly closes his eyes, before glancing away and starting back up. ”I’m on your side. Not just because we’re mates, but because you’re part of this pack, and that’s not gonna change. So will you finally tell me how you actually feel about it?” He rolls the shoulders he only just now realises are raised.