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Thunder rumbled as the sky was torn open with blades of light. A torrent of rain hammered the ground, turning dust into sludge. Trees swayed like they were going to fall, the wind buffering even the greatest of them about. Storms like this were uncommon.
Vasilia’s fur was already soaked, leather armour slick and uncomfortable on wet fur and drenched cloth, but she found herself rooted to the spot. Lightning burned behind her closed eyelids, her face tilted in just the right angle that if they’d been open, she may have been blinded. This wasn’t normal.
Something in her ached, screaming that something was wrong. It was this painfully strong sense of wrongness that kept her rooted in the middle of a storm that threatened to whisk her away to who knew where. Thunder growled once more, far closer than last time, loud enough to make her ears twitch, flattening against the side of her head. Still, she stayed outside.
The thunder and rain were the only sounds. Every normal person was rugged up in their homes, in front of a fire wrapped in blankets with a warm beverage or perhaps some soup. Animals were hidden in burrows, caves and hollows, keeping out of the rain. The were-jaguar was the only being outside, and at that moment, she felt like she was the only person in the world.
It was lonely in the storm, but still she couldn’t move.
So the rains kept falling, and the sky kept rumbling, and the lightning kept burning.
- - - - - - -
Heath didn’t know what he was expecting when Tayrun told him a massive storm was coming that probably wouldn’t blow over for a few days, and Vasilia would likely be stuck in her workshop, alone, for that time.
Scratch that, he did know what he was expecting. A massive storm, a long walk to Vasilia’s cabin, then a warm greeting, a light scolding and towels and a fire and cuddles and soft kisses and love pushing away loneliness.
Well, he got the storm and long walk.
“Vasilia? Kitten?” He called, brow furrowing in confusion at the lack of light coming from his girlfriend’s home.
“Vasilia?” Still no response.
The door opened easily, unlocked, but all that greeted him was a dark, cold interior. Lightning cracked behind him, sending exaggerated shadows lurching across the floorboards. A shiver ran down Heath’s spine as he stepped back out onto the porch, and not from the cold. Stepping around the building, his eyes scanned the perimeter, searching for a flash of bright red that would signify his partner’s presence.
“Vasilia?” There. A few metres from the treeline, standing in the rain, face raised to the sky. She was too far for Heath to be able to see her expression, but regardless something felt off. She was in her other form, and was standing perfectly still. Not even her tail was moving.
With a few long strides, Heath was close enough to see the slight frown on her face. A few more, and he could see the twitching of her ears.
“Kitten?” He called softly. She didn’t respond. Concern ate away at him as he slowly reached his hand forward, cupping her face.
“Hey, Kitten, you in there?” Still nothing. He gently pressed two fingers to her jugular, and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding when he felt a solid beat pounding against his touch. He reached back and tapped her face, hoping to force some sort of reaction. Nothing. She was still eerily still.
The rain continued to pound down on them, and Heath knew if he didn’t get her out of the storm, there was a high chance she’d suffer for it. He didn’t know how long she’d been out here, and with how heavy it was raining, the fact she was drenched didn’t really tell him much. He let out a soft sigh.
“I’m going to pick you up now, okay? I’m just bringing you back inside, okay?” He gently, always gently, lifted her into his arms, bridal style, cradling her head to his chest. At the movement, a small whine escaped her throat, so quiet that if she’d been any further Heath would have missed it. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I know, but you’ll feel better once we’re inside.” He told her quietly. Experience with scared civilians taught him that even if they weren’t reacting, people generally felt safer if they knew where they were going.
“Come on, let’s get you warm and dry, ‘kay?”
- - - - - - -
Warmth.
Her eyes were still closed, but her heart ached for more contact as a warm hand cupped her jaw. Quiet words spoke to her, a deep baritone that made her heart ache more. She wanted to respond, but the thought of speaking, of moving, made her feel heavier than the rain.
The warmth reached to her throat, and instinctively she wanted to scratch at it, but her limbs were leadened, and all she could do was stand there as that deep, soothing voice continued to speak. The hand moved from her face and she held back a whine at the loss of warmth, only to be completely enveloped with it the next moment. At that, she did whine, a soft whisper that she doubted the warmth heard. To her surprise, a small spot of warmth pressed to her forehead, and despite the contact leaving, the spot remained warm even as it was pelted with ice.
They started moving, and despite the jostling she knew the uneven ground should be causing, the strong arms holding her kept her steady. Her breathing evened out as they moved, exhaustion pulling at her, anxiety fading despite seemingly nothing changing. Except something had changed.
The ice stopped hitting her, and she idly registered they must be inside. Her teeth chattered as she finally registered the cold she was feeling, a stark contrast to the warmth pressed against her. The voice spoke again, a comforting rumble even if she couldn’t understand what was being said.
She was shifted, moved to rest fully against the person’s chest, warmth spreading through her body. Her fur bristled as it was rubbed against a thick sheet, pulling water from the fluff, drawing blood to the surface of her skin, flooding her system with warmth.
The voice never stopped speaking, calm and soothing.
The emptiness was suddenly replaced with anger, sudden frustration at the floatiness she felt. The fact that she couldn’t work out who the voice belonged to. Her frustration built into a growl, pulled from deep in her throat, rumbling and vibrating her whole form. The rubbing of the towel never stopped, but she was pulled back closer to the chest of the person, and could faintly hear the words being whispered to her.
“You’re alright, kitten, you’re okay.” The growl morphed into a whimper and she finally curled closer to the person, upset at not being able to move alleviated by the slightest motion.
- - - - - - -
Heath’s concern was slightly lessened as he felt Vasilia curl into him of her own accord. Once they were both reasonably dried, he wrapped Vasilia in a blanket and placed her in front of the fireplace before searching for cushions and blankets. Vasilia whined as he left, pupils dilated to the point of her eyes appearing completely black spare the sides, but with a few gentle words, she stayed where she’d been.
After gathering as many blankets as he could find, he carried them back into the main room, dropping them on the ground. The presence of blankets seemed to trigger something in the cat-brained woman and she immediately began pawing at and kneading the soft blankets. Heath was about to step back and let her work, but she launched forward and grabbed the edge of his shirt in her teeth, pulling him down.
While he could have fought her off, he let himself be dragged and stayed still as the jaguar nuzzled the blankets, pushing and prodding until, after a few minutes, she was satisfied. She pulled a blanket over the two of them and pressed Heath’s shoulders down until he was lying on his back. He let out a soft ‘oof’ at the movement, but once Vasilia lay across his chest, pinning him in place, he couldn’t find it within himself to leave. Also whenever he moved Vasilia would growl at him. So there was that too.
Lying in the warm nest, he found himself yawning, exhaustion pulling at him. His hand found its way to Vasilia’s crown, gently petting the soft hair that flowed from there, lightly scratched at her scalp and closed his eyes. A soft, rumbling purr filled the room and only added to the lull of sleep. In less than five minutes, they were both fast asleep.
- - - - - - -
Vasilia awoke warm and sleepy to the sound of rain pattering against the roof. She yawned and stretched, only to freeze when a grumble came from beneath her. Her eyes widened as she saw Heath, fast asleep and bundled in a nest of blankets she knew he did not make. Embarrassment caused her cheeks to flush red, and she was suddenly very glad she was in her jaguar form. That and the fact that she was decidedly not wearing anything, and Heath was only in leggings, which did not help her attempts of staying calm.
As carefully as she could, she untangled herself from the nest and silently padded to her room. She grabbed the nearest shift and pulled it over her head, threading her hair through the thin material. She yawned again, blinking to clear her vision from the spots dancing around the edges. Fatigue tugged at her, making everything just a little bit harder, a little bit slower.
She looked to her bed, neatly made but cold. Her head turned back to the crack of light coming from the embers of what she vaguely recalled was a roaring fire. With a shrug, she padded back to the nest and curled up next to Heath, head resting on his shoulder, bodies pressed together. She could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. Combined with the soft rainfall, it was like music, and she felt her eyes slowly slip shut to the calming symphony.