potosi | we're bigger than we've ever dreamed

[ The job of a faoladh is just as simple: protect.

So it's no wonder that Derek has stormed to every loud cry or crash to hit the village since the damned puka started stirring up trouble. Their harvests haven't been the best in the past year, so he can't exactly say he's surprised that the sidhe is deciding to terrorizing the villagers, since they haven't been able to really give the trickster its share, but that doesn't change anything for him.

A faoladh protects, and the havoc a puka raises is something that he should protect his villagers from. Especially after they accepted him into their lives, even if it was only as a service.

His red eyes turn in the direction of chaos, loud and not-so-foreign in what should have been a quiet night. Growling low, his ears swivel back and he makes his way towards the pub, knowing exactly what's causing the trouble without having to check. Not after the game that the fae has started up. With little to no preamble, he just slams a massive shoulder into the back door, taking up the entire doorway as he glowers into the building. ]

[ Well, he probably should have seen that coming.

The puka's midway through gleefully ramming a wine cask on his antlers when he jerks his head to the side and gets a look at the monstrous faoladh. But instead of making a frightened noise like he did the first time, Stiles practically grins at him and shakes the cask off his head so it barrels towards the faoladh.

And then, he's gone, jerking around and kicking his feet up to upend another table before sailing through the window in a shattering of glass and thundering out in the crop fields, towards the forest that rings the edge of the village. It doesn't really matter what the faoladh was trying to protect today, because Stiles totally succeeded in trashing that place, and he's feeling a little victorious for it as he lets his long limbs carry him into the trees, using his short head start to his full advantage but not quite shifting out of his buck form. ]

Edited 2013-07-18 05:48 (UTC)

[ Bowing his head so that the arch of his neck and his shoulders takes the brunt of the hit, the faoladh growls again and glowers at the puka in annoyance. But there isn't quite the same aggression as he had in the previous weeks, neither in his eyes nor his bared teeth. They're still sharp, and quite threatening, but Derek has long since given up wanting to rip the black-furred shapeshifter to bits for terrorizing the people who took him in.

He pads forwards across broken glass, not in the least bit caring about whether the sharp fragments cut into his pawpads. Instead, he leaps out the window after him, ignoring the scrape of what shards remain in the window as he barrels along on the trail of the stag.

While the puka may have a head start, the faoladh will always-- always-- find him again. ]

[ He's practically laughing as he makes his way into the trees, the wolf hot on his heels, and the puka gallops into the forest, kicking up a trail of dust behind him. He's not really trying to hide from the faoladh, not lately, but he is darting around anyway, slamming through the trees and breaking branches only to stutter step towards the river, leading down all kinds of false trails and tamping his way through the forest.

But that wolf really is right behind him; he's prey right now, exactly what a wolf was meant to hobble and take down and kill, but he's unafraid as he headbutts a branch to drop it in Derek's path, flying through the forests. He's going to get caught no matter what--might as well make it fun. ]

[ Though the dust obscures his vision, he pushes forward after Stiles in what's become a scripted game of tag. Puka enters village; puka begins breaking things and/or terrorizing person(s); faoladh hears; faoladh comes to snap after puka's heels. He's still irritated, of course, but no longer really angry. It's a pain and a chore to pick up after the other shapeshifter, but he's...

Derek doesn't want to say attached. Just that the puka's given him something to almost look forward to.

Rather than let the branch stop him, he just leaps over it, never quite falling for the false trails for long. He's drawn to follow, a gravitational pull that will lead him to his 'prey.' ]

[ Said prey is probably about caught, all things considered--despite being fleet of foot as a deer, he will never actually be as fast as the faoladh, who was literally trained to hunt down things like him. But he's not afraid, not by any means, even when he hits a dead end, a thicket of trees that end in the river; Stiles whips around and turns to face the faoladh when he arrives, lowering his head down, antlers pointed at him.

There's a brief second of silence between them as he stares down the wolf, then Stiles promptly kicks up dust in his face, just to be an asshole. ]

[ There's also the added advantage of size-- he's seen how big the puka can get as a horse, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still bigger, still practically monstrous in his height and weight. While you'd think that would slow him down, it gives him longer strides, greater power to back up long limbs. And though he's spent much of the race storming after the stag, Derek begins to slow to a stop as he sees that the puka is cornered for the time being.

Head bowed in return, he stares back at him, bright red on gold.

And then he closes his eyes and sneezes in the dust, annoyed. ]

Thank you for that. [ Dry as a desert. ]

Anytime.

[ And then he's running at him, although it's not really with any intent except to be a total ass. Stiles is a puka, after all, that's what he does. And if the faoladh doesn't expect to be irritated and annoyed by his every action at this point, well, he has another thing coming. ]

[ Grumbling his discontent, Derek lifts up his eyes again while pawing at his nose to try and snort the dust away. But then he catches Stiles running at him, and he bows down further to get his head underneath his chest and between his forelegs.

Mostly so that he can upend the deer in a single, quick toss of his giant head.

If he doesn't expect retribution for his every action, he has another thing coming. ]

[ Stiles makes a noise that's definitely more deer than human as Derek's head slams into his chest, and he goes flying into a nearby tree head over heels, so much so that his antlers that he's pretty damn proud of?

Get stuck in the branches.

He snorts and tries to back out for a couple seconds, feet scrabbling at the forest floor underneath the black hooves. Are you freaking kidding him right now?! ]

[ Coming over to where Stiles winds up, Derek circles both puka and tree almost absently on giant paws. He has a feeling there's glass imbedded in pawpads, a chance of blood being drawn, but it's an absent though as he examines how tangled up the antlers are with the branches.

Overall he's fairly amused, though he knows that in a blink of the eye Stiles could free himself by shifting.

He's pretty sure that his pride has him trying to untangle himself first, though. ]

[ He can practically hear this asshole laughing at him, and Stiles would roll his eyes with the force of his whole head if he could. But he can't. Because he's stuck in fucking branches.

He's not staying like this, because that would be dumb when you're a shapeshifter, and instead, he waits until Derek gets close to his antlers again before abruptly shifting to the shape of a wolf, similar in size and coloring to Derek's, albeit sleeker and more similar to an actual wolf. And when he whips out of the tree, he pounces at Derek, to send them both rolling across the ground. ]

[ He's stuck in fucking branches because he deserved it, to be fair.

Derek expects him to launch at him at some point, but the form does take him by surprise where the sudden attack does not. There's enough momentum to knock him unsteady, and enough-- strange as it is-- trust to keep the faoladh from lashing out at the puka. He tumbles and rolls with him, mouth opened and teeth bared but so far from being displayed aggressively, as he takes the brunt of the initial impact. ]

[ He's hugely overpowered by the faoladh, actually, so changing into a wolf wasn't for Stiles to try and get away--it was more like Stiles was trying to play with him, like he was strictly doing this for the enjoyment, for the kick Derek would get out of it.

Because in return, Stiles got one too; it was part of his share, after all.

The littler wolf playfully snaps his teeth at Derek when he bares his, as they roll their way down to the bottom of a small hill, and he wiggles a little where the faoladh's massive weight is keeping him in place. ]

[ And he does get a kick out of it. Derek hasn't seen another faoladh in years, not since he lost his family, so the fact that the puka takes on a similar form is actually a little thrilling. While he's seen other wolves, they keep away from him.

But Stiles never stays away, and a part of him hopes that doesn't change.

Jaws opening wide, he presses his sharp teeth against the smaller wolf's muzzle, though never truly bites. There's no intention to draw blood, not anymore, and he's more or less simply encouraging the playfighting. Especially as Stiles wiggles under him, not quite pressing his full weight down but just enough to keep him still for the time being. ]

[ Stiles makes a noise where his jaw's trapped in between Derek's, and he lifts his front paws and bats uselessly at his face from where he's pinned down. It's not so easy to keep a sidhe still, so the fact that Stiles is staying with him says a lot.

When he does push at his nose, in a very unwolflike move, he decides that he's had quite enough of this being pinned business, and the puka suddenly shifts into the form of a small snake, slithering out from underneath Derek, only to pop up as a wolf again, and let his tongue loll out of his mouth. It's half a known gesture of submission, and half a "nyeh nyeh can't get me" gesture, because even if he's pretending to be a wolf, he's still Stiles. ]

[ There's boundless meaning behind Stiles letting himself be "trapped" the way he has. But Derek tries to ignore the feeling it leaves in his chest, constricting as he chuffs in response to the paws batting at his face, eyes closing to avoid getting hit in the eye. (Because it would happen, knowing both of them.)

When he takes the form of a snake, he reminds himself swiftly to not close his teeth down on the lithe form that slips through and free. Instead he rights himself to all fours, shaking out dust and dirt and whatever glass lingers in his fur. His red eyes refocus on gold, on the half-teasing, half-submissive gesture. Head bowing forward a little, he looks intently at him before he goes bounding right at him. ]

we're bigger than we've ever dreamed

WELP.

PUKAAAA

PAIN IN THE ASSSSSS.

Favorite pain in the ass.

For some reason.

Because he's adorable tbh

""Adorable""

Adorable as hell scuse.

Annoying as hell.

I know you are but what am I

A brat.

Favorite brat tho.

For some deranged reason.

I didn't say you couldn't question your life choices.

Consider them questioned.

8D

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