I know it's been for fuckin ever since I updated this. I've lost motivation period. Creative block. I'm trying to find some inspiration but for the time being I've got none. I don't know when I'll update again. On to the chapter.
When he woke he was more then confused. The surrounding area was destroyed, with little life clinging to the dying trees and grass. The birds had fled the moment they felt a shift in power, the aura around him. Prime instinct had overtaken him.
That couldn't be it. That wasn't enough of a reason as to why he went berserk. He tensed. Was that what happened? Did he truly go berserk in anthro form, unleashing all wrath on his opponents? That had to be what had happened. There was no other explanation to the pools of blood seeping into the ground in different spots. Blood decorated several broken trees and destroyed rocks. Just surveying the damage, without in depth investigation, and it seemed messy. No messy was an underrated word at this time. And to top it off...
Where the hell was the Cloaked Schemer anyways? That was when he heard the whimper, pathetic and fearful. His eyes locked onto the shuddering slate haired man who watched him with terrified eyes, backed against a half destroyed tree. What had he done to make the calm, collected Schemer so afraid?
He felt like there was a missing piece to the puzzle. Of course there was. He had entered some state and lost control. Yes that's exactly what happened. But even that wouldn't have been enough to freak the Schemer out. Not this much at least.
That was when he felt the sharp pain. Bite wounds. Why hadn't he known before? He blinked. No, not just one bite wound. But 7? Had his body gone numb during that change of state?
He could feel a migraine coming on. He needed to figure this out. And lie down. He had a limit on blood loss, not blood shed. He slowly trudged his way back to the town, not caring if Zexion was following or not. If the slate lycan wanted to stay out here in the woods, then fine. The Diviner would have none of that.
Even as he laid down on the hotel bed, discarding his boots and socks, he couldn't help but feel off. Like something was there that shouldn't be. And then there was that white wolf. Those eyes seemed familiar oddly. With all that plagued the Lunar Diviner's thoughts, he feel into a restless slumber.
Zexion had spent the next few hours pacing back and forth, trying to put this whole mess together. First there was the fact that Saix had gone berserker in shifted form. Secondly, he wondered whether or not to tell Superior. He knew if it did that though, that would lead to further questioning. Like why the hell was Saix a werewolf? Then there would be him, fitting into this crooked puzzle. Of course Lexaeus would pick up on how he knew so much and then the truth would come out. But then he'd noticed the scars and then... No. He couldn't think like that, not today. What he saw came first, his own problems secondly. "When aren't you thinking of someone else first Zexy?" He felt his lips twitch upwards. No matter how much he tried to halt the habit, his mind never failed to shift towards his ex. He had always loved her and always would. Some brunette gunblade wielder would not change that. Of course with happy memories came nightmarish ones.
He had to force the direction in his thoughts back on track. Saix first. Himself second. So it had started with the wolves, four to be exact, had attacked. Originally they had it under control but Saix had started getting frustrated in the fight. That had to be what triggered it. After that primitive instinct took over and the Schemer had hidden himself. Better to hide from an ally in blind fury then to suffer his partner's wrath. That didn't necessarily mean he escaped unharmed. If only he was that lucky but he was not Luxord.
First were the obvious changes in physique. Fur thickening, body growing taller, and some wounds healing. Then there were his eyes. That was what scared him though the sheer power he displayed didn't help. His pupils had turned a shade of an amber red color, only a small shade darker than his normal eye color. Overall, his pupil was lost in it along with his logic.
Instinct was what allowed him to fight the way he did. Every feeling in his stomach, every sound he picked up, every vibration in the earth that he felt. All that had driven him to defeat and nearly kill the four attackers. And he, himself, had stood there and watched. Backed against a tree that had been destroyed.
Majority of the pieces had been put together to get a basic idea of what happened. Saix went into berserk mode as a werewolf. And somehow he shifted back into a more normal state of mind. Which lead to where Zexion was now. He knew nothing of were the scarred nobody was. That could be a major problem in his eyes. Perhaps he was back at the inn. The slate haired man glanced up at the sky above him, sighing. The schemer turned and headed back towards the inn.
Unknown to him, as he walked, glowing amber eyes watched him, a male body pressed firmly against the tree. It seemed they and the pack had a new common enemy.