colors fade with the time {p}
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Mordecai thought about the same boy every day. There was this one boy from his childhood that was his age and they had so much fun. Mordecai just had no idea who that kid was now. He put a hat on as he decided to take a walk and try to clear his mind. Even if he found the boy again, how would he explain his werewolf side? He didn’t really make friends because he was scared of one of his secrets getting out. Mordecai was walking outside of his house when he saw his bike. He hadn’t been on it in a while. May as well go today.
Mordecai was steady on his bike. He enjoyed the feeling of the cool breeze on him, making himself smile. Mordecai received a memory from his child flash into his head. It was him and that boy again. He quickened his pace unconsciously, like he was trying to escape the memory. He struggled with his own feelings. He was taught a certain way growing up and it was hard for Mordecai to believe otherwise. He crashed into another bike, making Mordecai fall off and roll on the ground. His held his shoulder and growled. “I’m sorry, I should’ve looked where I was going.” He said and he sat up.
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Silas rolled into the dirt and hit his shoulder on a stump. Grunting when he hit the ground, he let the parcels in his hand fly and tried to avoid his bike as it fell. "Oi, watch out!" he managed to yelp before he crashed headfirst into the other passerby. Immediately, he realized there was blood on his bike seat-- and it wasn't his own. "Are you okay? There's blood..." Silas said immediately, meeting Mordecai's eyes with astonishment. "H-hey," he said quietly. "Lemme see your shoulder."
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Mordecai looked at the boy and nodded. He put his hand down to let him look at his shoulder. “Knock yourself out.” He said. The more he looked at the boy, the more he felt like he knew him. He just couldn’t pin point where.
Mordecai rested his back against the stump and stayed on the ground. He was angry with himself for not paying attention. He shouldn’t have let his thoughts get the best of him. Mordecai looked at the ground and thought about everything.
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Wiping the grass stains from his new trench coat, Silas gave Mordecai a curious look, narrowing his eyes not in suspicion but in sympathy. "I'm so sorry about that. Your arm, it looks painfu-" he was cut off as the wound began to heal before his eyes. Silas simply stood in shock as the blood remained on Mordecai's sleeve, but the gash magically began to close up, stitched by an invisible thread. "How did you..." he faltered, taking a step backward. "You're a... a supernatural creature," he managed at last.
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Mordecai slowly felt better as his arm healed. He just wished they were someplace else. He glanced down at his shoulder and was happy to see the wound gone. He smiled some, frowning instantly whenever the boy seemed shocked and almost scared. Mordecai bit his lip. How was he supposed to get away from that accusation? Mordecai got up and looked around. Someone knew about one of his secrets. “Y-Yes.” He responded. Mordecai thought about it. There was only one reason that made sense to Mordecai that would make the boy understand the truth. Mordecai looked around again, making sure no one seemed close. “You must be one too.” He said quietly.
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“Only one of us could heal that fast,” Silas affirmed at last, mouth still gaping. “I’m so sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that... it surprised me how quickly it healed. I’m Silas. I’m a local werewolf, from the Leeds Pack,” he explained hastily, offering a hand. “Folks like us gotta stick together, right? What’re you?”
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Mordecai took his hand and stood up. This guy seemed kind. “I’m Mordecai.” He answered. “I’m a werewolf too, but I don’t have a pack.” He said. Mordecai glanced at his shoulder again. He was kinda surprised as well how fast it healed. He figured it would take longer from how bad it seemed. “Thanks for helping me, kinda.” He said.
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“Don't have a pack?" he exclaimed, repeating Mordecai's words with a mixture of fascination and horror. "How do you survive without one? With all the rogue wolves in these parts and the gangs... I can't imagine," Silas shuddered, shaking his head. "Have you, err... you know what, never mind," he dismissed himself, trying not to pry into Mordecai's personal life too much. "What's your name? I'm Silas Rooke."
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Mordecai watched the guy. He was surprised how upset the other werewolf seemed to be that he didn’t have a pack. Mordecai never had a problem with it. He was apart of a pack when he was young, but he didn’t remember it. Mordecai tilted his head some whenever the werewolf backed off the question. It just made the male more curious to what he was going to say. Mordecai wanted to answer the other boy’s question first though. “I’m Mordecai Dickens.” He answered. “Now, what were you going to ask me? I’m not scared.” He said.
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"Here's the thing. I'm just worried, from one werewolf to another. Strange things are happening in this town. I know it's Oregon and everything's supposed to be nice and calm and sleepy. But there's hunters out there who would kill for a chance to dismantle us and cook our bones," Silas shivered, staying close to Mordecai. A slight downpour had begun, but he shook it off of his shaggy head, remaining beneath the thick cover of the heavily forested path. "I was just gonna ask... how come you don't have a pack? It's rare to see a wolf without one. Ya don't have to answer that if you don't want to though," he added sympathetically.
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Mordecai listened to him. They got this far and they hadn’t killed each other yet. Maybe he could trust Silas. Mordecai looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. He moved closer to the guy so he could talk quieter. “If I was in a pack, I don’t remember it.” He answered. “My parents died a few years ago. They raised me on their own. I’ve gone this far without being caught and I don’t mind being on my own.” He answered. Mordecai glanced down as he bit his lip. He wished it didn’t rain so goddamn much in Oregon. He was so sick of the rain. He looked back up at Silas. “Why do you have a pack? Were you born into it?”
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Without realizing it, Silas too was thinking about the Oregon rain. He grimaced as he felt the water seeping down into his hair. "It's impressive that you've made it this far without being caught by a hunter or witch or something..." he drifted off. "Of course, I'm sure you got a few lucky breaks," he added, hoping more to convince himself than to say much about Mordecai. The trees seemed to crane inward with the weight of the water, and Silas beckoned to Mordecai eagerly. "Come along, we'll be soaked in this weather. There's an old church down the road. We can take shelter there."
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Mordecai glanced at Silas as he spoke. He looked around some more, like he was fascinated by the water falling. He hated the rain, but he was alright with watching it. Mordecai looked back at Silas whenever he mentioned shelter. “Yeah, let’s go there.” Mordecai said and followed Silas to the church he was talking about. Mordecai listened to everything but the rain as much as he could on the way there. He was really trying to look out for them. He ran his hair through his wet brown hair occasionally.
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Silas nodded silently and began to hurry across the muddy path, spotting the pointed roof of the church in sight. The place was in shambles, but shelter was shelter nevertheless, and the duo could surely use some warmth before the storm truly set in. "You look familiar. Sorry if that's weird," he apologized quickly, shielding his face half out of embarrassment and half out of wanting to avoid the falling water. "I feel like I've seen you before..."
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Mordecai was happy to get to some shelter. He shook his hair as an attempt to dry it. It worked somewhat when he was a wolf, so maybe it would work now. It didn’t though. Mordecai began looking around the building some. He thought old buildings were oddly fascinating. Sometimes they had some spray paint on the walls, but this place didn’t. He was calmer in here than usual abandoned buildings. Maybe it was because of Silas.
Mordecai looked at Silas when he spoke again. What he said made Mordecai chuckle. “It’s crazy, but I thought the same thing about you too.” He said. Mordecai glanced down and bit his lip again. He usually did that when he nervous to say something. Why did he feel so different around this boy?
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"Heh, I'm glad I'm not the only one that thinks that!" He put a gentle hand on Mordecai's slender shoulder blades and led him into the yawning entrance of the abandoned church. Long-since forgotten by both God and man, the skeletal structure remained, a memento mori, a replica of past prayers and pains. There was something about the place, its ubiquitous ivy or perhaps its shattered stained glass windows, that gave it an undeniable charm. Silas was not blind to this, and he found the place somewhat comforting, if not a bit haunting at times when he was alone. But he felt safe with Mordecai. There was an unspoken level of trust between the two. "I'm the heir to the alpha of the Rooke Pack. We own most of the territories around Sutherlin, but we're not a particularly hostile pack. Our numbers have been dwindling too, as of late," he added, making a face.
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Mordecai glanced at Silas when he touched his shoulder, following the boy around. He couldn’t believe he was so quick to trust a stranger. He could be pretending, but Mordecai was still relaxed around the boy. Oh, what a mystery Mordecai couldn’t figure out.
Mordecai touched the walls of the place gently. He hadn’t been inside a church since his parents. They always tried to blend in as much as possible. Mordecai never understood why they wanted to please everyone so badly. As he grew independent on his own, he slowly figured out why his parents were like that. It was to keep themselves safe.
Mordecai looked at Silas once again when he spoke. He smiled some at the thought. He managed to convince an heir to the “throne” to trust and befriend him. He hoped his pack would be easy on him if they found out he had gotten close to an outsider. “So, what does your pack do to outsiders like me?” He asked. “Would I have been taken captive or something else?”
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"They'd probably keep you captive and interrogate you."
Although Silas hated to admit it, it was, in fact, the truth. His father was a strict man, and a man who perhaps had seen far too many battles in his own time. He was suspicious of outsiders, especially outsiders who appeared to have no connections. It was like Mordecai had popped up out of nowhere, grown and sprouted up from the ground like a stray radish in the garden. But Silas knew better. Although he could not pinpoint where he knew the other boy, there was a mutual sense of longing between them. And this was why Silas felt he was able to trust him, although they were indeed strangers. "You're lucky I'm not a member of the Osaka Pack. They kill outsiders, I've heard. We always are sure to tread lightly on their border," he said slowly, thinking of the bloodstained run-ins with the Rooke Pack's rival. "So, what pack were you a part of as a kid? Just curious, no judgement here," he said, putting up his hands as if admitting defeat or exposing himself like a wounded animal.
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Mordecai looked around the church some more. This wasn’t the church he went to, but that didn’t make it any less weird to be back inside one. Mordecai looked back at Silas when he mentioned what the pack would do to outsiders. Hopefully, Silas wouldn’t take him back there. He didn’t want to go get interrogated. Mordecai laughed at his question. “If I was ever in a pack, I have no idea which one.” He said. “My parents raided me to fit in with humans. I don’t know if they were ever apart of a pack.