nysalogs | woof sightings

Entry tags:

woof sightings — catchall.

Who: bigby wolf (

puffing) & various suckers and fools.
When: january stuff. don't make me pick out specific dates.
Where: wyver, more specifically the undergrowth. other places probably.
Warning(s): uhhh bigby goes wolf in a couple scenarios. he's naked in another. that's about all i can think of.

one — wanted dead ~~or alive~~ (wyver).

Goddamned, motherfucking assholes—

[ if you're walking by and hearing a slew of curse words, sorry. you may or may not realize it's a familiar voice, or you may just be curious as to why someone is getting so angry in an alleyway by one's lonesome. whether you just take a peek or stand and watch, you'll notice one Bigby Wolf standing at the wall, looking mighty unhappy as he studies a piece of paper on said wall. several pieces of papers, all saying the same thing. WANTED: DEADLY BEAST. 1000 SILVER DEAD, 0 SILVER ALIVE. like, first off? why add the comment about being worth nothing alive? that's low.

it might be hard to realize why he's looking especially pissed off, but it is because the wanted poster is for him. there's a drawn picture of a large wolf, purposely intimidating to instill fear to the citizens of Wyver. there's a bit of internal humor when he realizes he looks far more scary in real life, but that's neither here nor there. the assumption that he could get away with moonlighting in his wolf form has brought consequences, and now he has to deal with something he had hoped to have left back home. ]

—trying to make fucking money off of me. Dare them to fucking try—

[ riiiip, that's one poster pulled off. the next is literally shredded with a hand clawing at it. that's not making a scene at all. ]

two — prowling in the woods (the undergrowth).

[ apparently he doesn't know how to learn. even if the wanted posters should be scaring Bigby away from traversing the forest as a wolf, they don't. he's dealt with wanted posters throughout many centuries, and it is almost oddly nostalgic to deal with them again. no longer being a member of law enforcement means he has to find other ways to make a living, and considering he doesn't see himself working as a legitimate guard or serving at a cafe... he's forced to color outside the lines.

it started with a one-time errand. a neighbor of his had asked for hides of a specific animal that lived far out in the depths of the woods, too dangerous for them to travel but important enough to offer money as a reward. Bigby stubbornly accepted originally, but after dealing with the thrill of the hunt for the first time in a long time, he had an itch that couldn't quite get scratched. he pocketed the silver from the first run, declining to answer just how he got to the woods and back within a day's time. no one needed to really know just how efficient of a hunter he is.

you could be following intel on where the beast of the wanted posters has been seen, or maybe you're out in the woods for your own personal gain. or maybe you're just unfortunate enough to be stranded out there for an oversized wolf to cross paths with you. regardless, it's night and it is dark. the only lighting that is provided is from the moon(s? are there multiple moons, i forget) in the sky. there's no real indication of Bigby's presence until it's far too late. what sounds initially like twigs cracking is actually entire logs or tree trunks, and what you might think is howling wind is actually him dashing several yards at a time. some pretty creepy stuff to hear at night, man.

if your eyes are trained or you have the proper equipment, you might be able to spot him before he spots you. you can try and hunt the hunter if you'd like, or you can run like hell. there's a better possibility that he has found you first, however, and in that case? the hot temperature of the Undergrowth grows even hotter when it's his breath gusting down onto your shoulders. hi. meet Bigby Woof, with his piercing yellow eyes. at least he isn't bearing his teeth. yet. ]

three — nursing wounds (undergrowth).

[ every dog has their day, though. maybe Bigby got too cocky or comfortable in his form, scaring people out of the woods like the good old days. all it takes is an experienced trapper to take time avoiding an outright confrontation with Bigby, to learn his routes and what he is familiar with doing during his multiple tours in and out of the woods. whether the trap was activated by a complicated, multi-part trigger or something that can only be magic, it happens. Bigby is caught and he is just about as happy about it as one would expect.

the worst part is that the trap is far from large enough to fit his form as a wolf. as much as he would prefer to break out, the bars are made of silver and simply contacting them causes incredible amounts of pain and discomfort. while he could manage to suffer through back at home, the dampening of his powers makes for more inconvenience than he would like to deal with. what does this mean? well. it means he is naked, for starts. and on all fours, confined and scrunched up in a position that is all too revealing and awkward than he is normally used to. he's growling. he's upset. he's embarrassed. it might possibly be the worst time to run into Bigby if he ever, in fact, gets out.

but that booty tho. ]

four — wildcard me!

( specific starters for people will be down below if anything comes up. hit me with something different if you want Bigby in one of the various quests. or plot w/ me at sustain if you'd like! i apologize for Bigby being Bigby. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[You know what still sucks, even weeks later? Wyver's jungles.

Rosalind is, at least, in a somewhat better mood than she was all those weeks ago when she turned up on Bigby's doorstep. It helps that she chose to enter the undergrowth willingly, instead of crashing a bloody spaceship and having to hike her way back like she's starring in a Daniel-fucking-Boone story.

No, instead she's out here on her own, gathering materials for her own purposes. Sensitive nose that he has, he might just be able to smell how acidic the plants she's gathering really are. She's using gloves, storing each sample carefully in individual jars. She's got quite the collection going, all of them stacked neatly in her rucksack. She's only halfway through her journey, though the sun has long since set-- but hey, what does she care that it's dark? She's a lantern and the ability to teleport. Ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties are going to have to try a bit harder if they want to scare her off.

Though she has been hearing a persistent sort of noise. A crackling, splintering thing, racing through the undergrowth here and there. It sounds big-- or it had sounded big, anyway. It had faded off a few minutes ago, and Rosalind had let it slip from her mind. So long as the creature didn't come near her, she was content.

So. Back to finding some seriously poisonous plants, and she's humming in satisfaction to herself when she feels--

--heat, damp and hot, exhaling harshly against the back of her neck. It's rhythmic and gusting, and without moving an inch she knows there's something enormous behind her. She glances down, moving only her eyes, but she can't see anything in her peripheral vision. All she can do is hear it, breathing heavily behind her. It's likely puzzled by her; she can't imagine it meets many humans, especially not out here.

So.

So. What to do. What to do when there's a (likely) carnivorous creature behind you. Teleport? Ah, but if it's so large, it'll just chase her; she can't dart very far, after all, and she doesn't want to encourage it into a frenzy of aggression and adrenaline. Perhaps she can confuse it, though, by teleporting one way and then heading in the opposite direction . . . mm, but she doesn't want to startle it into snapping its jaws. She isn't certain about how quickly she can disappear, and she'd rather not risk it.

So. So she rises, slowly and with exaggerated care, turning to face the creature.]

Oh . . .

[Oh, boy. Oh, god, but that's big.]

[ Rosalind has no one to blame but herself for getting into these situations in jungles. Wyver's jungles, non-the-less. she didn't learn her lesson the first time, instead stubbornly diving in again as if she's got some kind if point to prove. as if she has to conquer mother nature and acclimate herself, perhaps to avoid Bigby's constant judgment if she were to arrive at his home hoping to take advantage of another much needed shower.

truth be told, he's familiar enough with her scent that he's noticed her presence for some time. there would never be an admittance from him as to why he kept distance between the both of them until this current encounter. the initial idea had been to make sure she doesn't find herself in a situation she can't just teleport out of. a situation kind of like this one.

the only reason he's decided to make an appearance is because he's a sadist. probably. Bigby knows how badly she's wanted to see his other forms, so she'll benefit from this knowledge. probably. he can only imagine that she may be the slightest bit nervous from sensing the presence of something ten times her size behind her. they'll laugh about this down the line. or maybe it'll just be him that laughs. doesn't matter. ]

Awoo.

[ yes, he's big and that's his name so don't wear it out. yes, that's Bigby's voice, faking a howl in the most deadpan voice possible. and yes, he's staring down at Rosalind with solid white eyes. at least he isn't bearing teeth. he isn't trying to send the woman into the panic. ]

--I beg your pardon.

[It's something she says automatically, a polite reaction drilled into her since childhood, coming from her hindbrain to her mouth with absolutely no input from the front of her mind. I beg your pardon, she says, because her thoughts have absolutely fled her, replaced by a white-hot feeling of confusion and shock, all underscored with the strange, unfamiliar taste of not knowing what's happening.

When was the last time she didn't instantly understand something? But perhaps she can be forgiven. After all, she's never met a talking animal before (Rocket doesn't count; Rocket is-- is unbelievably odd and strange and also as high as her knee, a distinction which is vitally important in the here and now). It's just that this one is actually saying a howl, his lips moving and his voice deep and low, and that's somehow worse than if he'd snarled and snapped and growled. It's just that he's so bloody big, so utterly enormous; forget those teeth (and boy, she wishes she hadn't seen that flash of white as his mouth had moved, because it's rather hard to forget those teeth), he could kill her with one swipe of his paw.

Forgive the lag. Even Rosalind can't connect the dots so quickly when she sees Bigby in his true form.

But eventually, it clicks. Eventually, she places that rough voice. The sarcasm helps, though it's the deadpan stare that emphasizes it.]

. . . Bigby?

[She breathes it out, her eyes wide and her heart thundering in her ears as she stares up at him. How is a wolf worse than a werewolf? she'd asked when they'd first met, and he'd brushed her off in his usual snappish fashion. He could have just said. He could have just told her, Jesus, Ros, because it's fucking enormous, that wouldn't have been so hard.

Yes, though. She knows it as soon as she says it, yes, that's him, and she takes a step forward. It's almost a stumble, but she has better control of herself than that. And just as she had when they first met, she reaches for him, eager to get her hands on this new development.

It's a bit harder this time around, of course. He is, as the narration has mentioned, enormous. But she lifts her arms, flapping her hands in a familiar gesture: come here.]

Good god, how on earth are you-- you're so big, you must be at least fifteen times your usual size. Where the hell do you store all that mass-- come here, I want to get a closer look at you.

[Here they come: the questions.]

My god . . . I can't imagine your metabolism right now, you must be burning through an enormous amount of calories if that was you I've been hearing roaming around. You must eat an enormous amount . . . or do you simply wait until you've transformed back? But that wouldn't solve the problem of burned energy . . . are your senses better-- well, they must be, I can't imagine they aren't--

[Stop her.]

[ well, that's certainly a way to process information. he watches every subtle change in her face, from fear to confusion to shock and then outright curiosity. Bigby should have expected she would get to that point as quickly as she did. she's always been intrigued with him and his... condition... his powers and what exactly makes him tick. it should be flattering if it wasn't for the fact that he likes to be left alone, preferring to keep his background as quiet as he can.

perhaps he shouldn't have been prowling the woods and making a name for himself on wanted posters. whatever. some habits die hard. ]

Rosa— Rosalind. Hey. Remember how you asked me not to tell you to shut up?

[ when he says that, he wonders if she's going to just take that as a coy way of him asking her to shut up. whatever. Rosalind is asking way too many questions for him and he's got half a mind to blow a sharp gust of wind just to push her back and let her focus on that. he's playing nice, however, instead remaining completely still even as she jumps right into a more comfortable state, so much so that she is actually waving him forward. even Snow White would hesitate to ask the Big Bad Wolf to get closer when he is like this. what the hell is wrong with this woman. ]

Why the fuck are you out here. —Again.

Edited 2018-01-14 08:46 (UTC)

two;

no subject

no subject

no subject

one;

no subject

no subject

no subject

one;

no subject

no subject

no subject

Two

no subject

no subject

no subject

three

no subject

no subject

3

no subject

no subject

one;

no subject

no subject