Different Yet The Same [Gil+Ivan]

"I'll explain more about it later, for now you jus--- well, do that, really," said Gilbert with a small chuckle, smoothing his hair back as Ivan dug into his meal and sat across from him at the round table. So many questions, so many possible answers. . . And yet Gilbert could only answer one at a time, and poorly at that, for he didn't grasp the Russian language very well, and had little to no idea if his words would translate correctly.

However, Ivan, it seemed, to more or less understand him well enough. He was a silent boy, that was for sure, but smart, though seemed a bit adverse to change. Normal considering the circumstances. He watched him struggle with the name of the very town he resided in, and nodded in encouragement. "You pronounced it well -- you will have to learn English soon if you plan to survive in town."

Ivan, for the moment, proceeded to just ignore the man across the table talking at him in English. Whatever was being said, frankly, he had no idea whatsoever. Instead, he focused on continuing to devour that which had been gifted to him in front of the warm fire. He half-whimpered when he'd run out of food to eat... not because he was still but because, frankly, he'd stuffed himself stupid. The bodark leaned back in his chair, still covered with some of the blood from the uncooked meat that had once been on that table. Apparently he was now going to be a messy eater as this curse made itself at home in his veins.

English. He picked out that word as Gilbert talked, causing him to sit up in his chair. Wasn't that name of the language Gilbert was using to talk to him. "Angliskiy?" Ivan asked. "I don't want to learn that... It was the gross language of the human monsters who threatened everything his family held dear... Not that he'd be able to go back to his family anytime soon.

That really was starting to sink in now, as he hung his head slightly, eyes half-lidded as Ivan stared kind of blankly across the table at nothing in particular. "I... will not see my family again?" There was a certain hopelessness in that question that only reinforced itself as he kept talking, mostly aloud to himself. "I will never see Mama... Papa or my sisters again..."

Was the ceiling leaking? The bodark gingerly let one of his hands touch his cheek. The roof had to be leaking, there was no way that he was... crying.

(( "English?" ))

"Yes, English -- i know it'll be hard, but you'll learn it just fine," said Gilbert, giving Ivan what he thought was an encouraging smile - but really just a twisted grin with sharp canines showing - and a small hand wave.

Sure, it was odd that a community of international creatures used English, but that was because of two reasons -- one, because the founders were actually Britons themselves, and instituted the language. The second reason was because they needed a trade language of sorts, and since the majority of the shop keepers knew English, they simply with the majority. It was one of the hindrances of moving.

However, Gilbert's behavior suddenly shifted when he heard the bodark mumble for his family, and even saw tears. He froze in his seat, and then snapped up, and leaning over Ivan, wiped away his tears with a handkerchief, and without thinking, giving him a small hug. "You can visit them one last time if you'd like."

Ivan sighed after calming himself down enough to talk properly again. He really didn't want to learn English. It was gross sounding and made him want to gag every time he thought about imitating the sounds. "I still don't want to..."

What did perk him up though was mention of seeing his family again... "We can?!" he asked before his face fell. "One last... time? Only once?" He tilted his head to the side, using his clean sleeve to wipe the extra tears off of his face that Gilbert's handkerchief had missed the first time. He leaned into the hug and put his face on Gilbert's shoulder. He could only see his family one more time? Just once? Wait! Why was he questioning it? He should feel lucky that he would get to see them again at all! Ivan mentally chastised himself as he sat there, looking pitiful in the werewolf's grasp.

"Would you rather we constantly suffer from miscommunication due to my poor Russian and your poor English? If you are willing to learn English, i will strengthen my Russian, and we may speak in privately if you like," said Gilbert, growing tired of speaking in Russian himself and trying his best to make himself clear.

"Only once -- or maybe a few more times... .eh, it depends. You might end up killing them if you're too impul---- Eh, never mind. You need your sleep, yes? More talk tomorrow, bed now," said Gilbert, blurting out something that'd save Ivan some guilt and his own skin -- plus, the lad seemed so miserable... Sleep would be him so mighty good.

Ivan frowned at being told that. Well, if he had to... he guessed he had to. The bodark sighed in defeated resignation and nodded. "Da, if I must..." He would not like it, but he would do it. English was going to feel so weird coming out of his mouth. It was better not to think about that right at the moment though, as night had fallen and there were still things to discuss before he would let himself fall asleep... He kind of assumed that if this was "home" that he'd get to sleep here, probably in the bed in this room, actually.

"What? Killing the-" he was stopped in his response by the mention of sleep. That just halted any potential over-thinking of the first part of Gilbert's mention of his family. Sleep was more important and he'd hardly slept in days. "Da..." he wheezed, practically just closing his eyes then and there against Gilbert's shoulder.

"It'll be easier for you -- you're still young, the language will come eventually, said Gilbert, trying to encourage Ivan and... failing slightly. He wasn't exactly good at gushy fluffy emotions and all that jazz, so this was him trying to cheer Ivan up, when infact he might've been making him feel worse. The fact that his usually grin -- wolfish and sneering -- was plastered on his face, making it seem as if he wasn't very sincere.

However, the smile quickly melted into a bemused smirk when Ivan all but fell asleep against Gilbert, and after a moment of letting him close his eyes and . . . Seeing him making no move to get up, he quickly picked him up. Luckily, he didn't have to drag him too far this time, and settled him down on the bed, even going so far as to pull off his boots and socks and tuck him in. Mother hen? Or mama wolf. The animal analogies never get old.

The bodark did not struggle as he was moved about the room before being dropped on the bed. He groaned as he felt his body bounce as the mattress recoiled under his weight. It was... a real bed. Keeping his eyes closed, he curled and uncurled his fingers on it, trying to catch a loose patch of fabric in his hand... almost as though to make himself believe it was real. This wasn't a patch of moss in a public park. This wasn't the couch at the hair salon he'd fallen into. This wasn't even the flat bundle of furs and quilts he'd had on the floor in his family's home back in village. This was superior than anything he'd had the luxury to sleep on in his entire life.

"Ya..." Ivan started to mumble as his boots and socks were pulled away, by Gilbert he assumed. He continued to mutter out random little half-sentences about nothing before his exhausted musings transformed into soft snoring. Sleep had won, not that he was exactly fighting too terribly hard either, but still... So there he lay, limp and content... more comfortable than he'd ever been in his life: warm, soft bed, full belly, clean... not alone.

And it was only Gilbert in the room for a long while, and since this place acted as his study... well he spent most of the night, not in his own bed, but at the table, studying book after book on different sub species of his kind. And ... maybe, just maybe a book or two about forming packs and relations with your new furry neighbor.

It was only when the sun started to rise that one would fine Gilbert fast asleep at the table, piles of books covering it's polished surface, with maybe a wine bottle and a plate of half eaten meat strips. The werewolf didn't even plan to change into his clothing, and so instead he was still even in his boots by the time Ivan would've woken up. And indeed, it was noontime by the time Gilbert snapped awake, two hot plates of (poorly) cooked meat and wine waiting for him, and, eventually Ivan.

Sleep was fitful for the newly enlightened bodark. He tossed periodically as dreams came and went, switching between pastoral idyllic scenes of his home and a twisted hunter in the forests chasing helpless game. There was fear... excitement... and the unbridled urge to bite and chew. His unfortunate victim was the pillow that had the horrible luck to be within his reach as he slept. Blankets were kicked about and fell to the floor. Ivan whined and growled in his sleep until at some point, he rolled himself right off of the mattress and onto the floor, pillow still clenched in his jaws.

There was a loud yelp and Ivan sat up as quickly as he could, finding himself on the wooden floorboards next to the bed he'd presumably fallen asleep in. He couldn't quite recall... especially because now he was more concerned with his aching rear. The pillow, now covered in drool, had fallen into his lap when he yelped. "Yx..." he groaned, looking down vaguely at the pillow while he rubbed the back of his head with his hand.

After a couple minutes, he looked up to see Gilbert still in the room... still dressed and with what looked like bowls of... soup? "Geel-byert?" he asked, trying to pronounce the name.

"Ah, you're awake," was all of Gilbert's response to thhe thrashing bodark's fitful dreams and eventual crashing from slumber. No pun intended. Haa, oh wasn't Gilbert so funny? Yeah, i know, horrible joke, but let's have him pretend he's funny.

"Yes, that's my name, don't wear it out -- now please, if you haven't hurt yourself bed-diving, feel free to come and eat breakfast -- the cook made it specially for you. the meats rather fresh and bloody still," explained Gilbert, speaking between bites and humming in delight. Oh yes, meat just after a full moon always did the stomach good. Settled the juices for once and let things re-adjust, as it were.

Now all Gilbert had to do was get this kid to be well adjusted, teach him English, bring him back to the.... he shuddered to think of it.... human world for a bit, and then all would be nice and settled. ....Right?

Ivan had absolutely no idea what Gilbert was talking about. Nope, the English was essentially going right over his poor little confused head. He blinked kind of stupidly at the werewolf before absently stuffing the corner of the pillow back into his mouth and crawling across the floor on all fours towards the table. The young man mumbled into the pillow between his teeth the entire way about nothing particular other than he felt the need to talk to himself since he was the only one who was capable of regularly understanding what he was saying.

At the table, he sat up on knees, putting his hands on the edge of the surface to peer over the table at Gilbert and the bowls of soup. He assumed those were for them to have for breakfast. They smelled... well, better than it probably was, considering he was already hungry again. Was he going to eat like a pig for the rest of his long life?

Ivan attempted to speak regarding the breakfast, but then he realized he had the pillow in mouth, muffling the sounds to all hell. He spat it onto the ground before trying again. "That is... for me, right? I can... have that, yes? Please? I'm... really hungry..." It was kind of rude for him to be asking, but he was already starving again and... there looked to be plenty for both wolves.

A blink, then a rough little laugh, and he fell back into his Russian. "Of course it is! Do you think i'd eat both bowls in front of you? No, this is our main course, and well have some sweets sent up after we've finished," said Gilbert, still eating and not missing a beat or even a drop of soup.

He hoped, vaguely, that the boy would seem a little less... dazed after a good night's rest, but alas, he seemed just as confused and a bit slow. Maybe that was just his usual being, and lack of food or water didn't play a part? Or maybe he was having trouble adjusting? Oh but a good night's sleep in one of the castle's best beds would've helped that along atleast a little -- he should've calmed down, no? Was he shy? Yeesh, dealing with people was harder then he remembered. "So tell me of your life."

Ivan did not need to be told twice as he grabbed the other bowl of soup and tilted it back into his throat. It was starting to cool down, but frankly he didn't care as it all disappeared down his esophagus. Breakfast~ How he would come to love food more than before~ He wiped his mouth on his arm, without pausing to think that this was a nice new shirt... At least it may have been stain resistant? Oh well.

"Chto?" he asked, head cocked to the side a bit as he sat back on the ground with his legs crossed in front of him. "What... do you want to know about specifically?" he clarified, being sure to keep as formal as possible in hopes of not accidentally offending the man who had just taken him in off the street. "I am... from a small village outside of Moscow, from a farm with Mama, Papa, and my two sisters..." Ivan looked up at the ceiling, putting his hand under his chin in thought. Hopefully this generic background information was what Gilbert was looking for. It was also getting easier to make sense of things now that his body was starting to get back onto a regular schedule of care.

Gilbert found some entertainment in the pup's sloppy eating habits -- it reminded him of his childhood, kindof. Ahh, the times when mother cooked up human for breakfast and everyone ate like pigs and kings for days on end after raids. Oh yes, and the bread coupled with baby back ribs. So tender, so delicious, and it still had that new bread and baby smell to it! Infact, the only thing that irritated Gilbert was Ivan's wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve -- he spent money on that! It didn't matter if the shirt itself cost little compared to his wealth at the moment, it was money, and that boy better be prepared to bleach and clean his clothing if he so chose to be a slob.

Ey, if there was a difference between eating like a pig and looking like a pig ... well it was the clothing, diffidently. Gilbert shrugged it off for now. He planned on actually getting him tailored, tasteful clothing during his errands today, since all business plans had been scratched out for the week (and left to his assistants) in lu of this new ... visitor. "A bit more then just the general -- if you'd like, i'll even tell you my story as a sort of trade off, ja?"

Ivan nodded as he thought about where it would be best to start... since a whole story was apparently the appropriate thing to tell. He tapped his chin as he stared at the ceiling. "Well, I was born... I guess," he mumbled for a pathetic start, still looking straight up. Wasn't that really how everyone's story started? He reasoned that his should be no different, even if he had lived for only a relatively short period of time. At just twenty years old, he'd had a rather uneventful life.

He sighed and stretched out on the floor, laying on his stomach. It felt... more comfortable for some reason that way. Even if this was silly seeming, at least they'd know each other better. More information was always a good thing, he supposed. That was he liked books, they kept the information in a reliable place. "I was born and raised on a farm from that village... My whole life I worked there in the fields and with livestock. It really was nothing special," he said, almost as though he were sad as he rested his head on his crossed arms. It was kind of awkward being asked for a life story when, he felt at least, that his story wasn't really worth sharing. It was simple and dull until recently. It wasn't any grand tale of importance. Gilbert's was surely much more fascinating... One foot sat loosely in the air, wobbling back and forth on the bent knee supporting it.

"Alot of people begin that way, yes -- i didn't take you for the kind that hatched from an egg or split from something else," said Gilbert, chuckling gently at his own joke before nodding gently at Ivan's story. An uneventful one, to be sure, but atleast he knew more about him.

"And how you became....what you became?" he asked, moving his hand in a sweeping action, asking for more detail and nodding encouragingly. After all, the more he knew the better Gilbert would understand this boy, would be able to teach him, and become friends and packmates with him. And that was the ultimate goal, for once, instead of shoving this kid off to a friend, he might actually be able to ....not be so lonely. Or atleast feel that way -- being one of the few of your kind kinda got old after the novelty wore off.

The young bodark sighed. He hadn't particularly wanted to talk about that. It was kind of an unpleasant experience that he didn't want to share, especially not with just anybody. Ivan rolled to lay on his back, arms crossed over his chest in a weird little self-assuring hug. "I do not..." he started before taking a deep breath.

Gilbert had fed him, clothed him, bathed and given him shelter... The werewolf also was acting like they were... friends. He hadn't met any other werewolves and maybe Gilbert would understand what he'd gone through even if they were different breeds.

"Are you the only other one... like us?" he asked, using formal address. Even though Gilbert had been so kind to him, he was elder... more experienced. Ivan stared blankly at the ceiling, eyes half-closed as he lay there on the floor like a lazy child pondering what shape the clouds are making that day. If Gilbert was really the only other one, then... he'd tell him... Perhaps it would help them have some sort of solidarity?

"Like us? Not by a long shot -- there a few more in town, but none as charmingly devious as myself," said Gilbert with a smirk, leaning over so he peeked at Ivan's face as he seemed to give himself a bit of a 'cool down' hug. Ah, well, he wasn't sure if this was painful for the boy....and as much as his sympathized, he couldn't help but be slightly amused by the boy's anxiousness. As if he thought he'd be judged simply because of how he was turned.

"Ah, well, i guess before you tell me that, i'll tell you a little about myself -- far compensation, right? Well lessee -- i was born around, eh, give or take, like, what, two, three hundred years after the Roman's began their decline? Not sure how that's amount up to in human time -- they're always changing up dates at what not, you know? Anyways, i was born to a tribe, a real isolated, traditional bunch in Germania -- we'd travel alot, trade alot, and pillage alot. We were fighters, born and breed to be warriors, so we channeled that into our lively hood -- that's how we lived. Except one day. . . .I was about, like, ten, eleven at the time, we raided this decrepit Roman temple deep in the forests. We found alot of gold, herbs, cloth -- stuff we could use and sell and make us fat and happy for a good while. But one of the last priestess, oh god, she was pissed -- she set a curse on us. A curse that we'd basically turn into the beasts we really were when the moon turned full, and her goddess, Diana, was in complete power," a small shrug, "and the rest, as the saying goes, is history. We turned into wolves, we raided, ate humans, lived outside of human laws -- we eventually became so hated we just... had to break apart. To this day i have no idea where the rest of my pack is. But, alas," he said, trying to shrug off the obvious hurt in his voice for something... minor, a flimsy detail.

"And that's...well part of my story. Can't have people knowing too much about me, or else i won't be as interesting, you know?"

Ivan nodded along as he listened to the story. Gilbert was... quiet old indeed, ancient even if he had his dates right. He blinked a bit in confusion at the werewolf. "I am... only twenty years..." he muttered weakly, feeling even more like a confused newborn. That's what he essentially was in this world, wasn't he? A newborn monster? He was so lost and confused but slowly the pieces were beginning to come together, he supposed.

"I guess it's fair for me to tell you now then, huh?" he said quietly, with a chuckle. He rolled from side to side a bit, giggling as his arms stayed tightly around his body. He sighed with content for the time being as he laid on his back, mentally searching for the right way to tell his story.

"I... was tricked... into becoming this... this thing... this cursed monster," he said, face falling into a frown. No one asked if he'd wanted to be a bodark, cursed to slowly go mad in his long life until he could think little more anything beyond hunting and devouring his next meal. No one asked if it was okay. "An old man gave me a paper with instructions... with this spell... and I followed them to the letter, thinking it was a joke..." He closed his eyes tightly, hating himself and the memory of his actions. "I am so stupid... It was naive and foolish..." He chastised himself before rolling onto his side, facing away from Gilbert in his shame. "You must think I am gullible... a child..." He couldn't look at his new... friend.

Gilbert felt a pang of sadness at the look in Ivan's eyes. Something between confusion, frustration, and a bit of something he couldn't quite grasp. A shift in his gaze, and he laid back in his seat, running his fingers through his hair. "Being young doesn't make you weak, it just makes you young -- don't feel bad about it."

A sharp smile played on his lips, and he gave a light shrug. "Only if you really want to, Ivan."

Yet he listened to Ivan's small story intently, and tries his best to appear as he felt inside -- sincerely sad for his being tricked out of a life he would've peacefully, gladly lived. It was a shame, really, because Ivan seemed like such a normal, even sweet boy. If not a bit soft spoken and . . . odd. He seemed so ashamed of his naivety too, it made Gilbert want to comfort him. "Oh, don't think like that -- you thought it was all fun and games. It was just fate being a cruel bitch that landed you in this mess," he explained, leaning from his chair and softly petting Ivan's hair. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. My clan thought the woman was joking at first, we laughed and joked about it until the first full moon, even. We've all been there, but it's not something you could've avoided without being hyper paranoid."

At least... he wasn't at nearly as much fault as he thought beyond just being stupid due to inexperience. Ivan actually found that comforting, until Gilbert continued talking in English... He just laid there, staring up at Gilbert blankly. If he had to learn that stupid language, it would take a lot longer if Gilbert didn't stop to tell him what the hell he was going on about so maybe he could at least start picking up on some of the words. After a few moments of odd silence once Gilbert had finished talking, Ivan opened his mouth. "I don't understand what you're saying..." he said, remaining formal.

The young bodark pulled himself to sit upright, turning to make sure he was facing his new friend (Were they friends?) with a weak smile. "Are... the people here nice?" He rather hoped they were, considering almost everyone walking around seemed to be just as much of a freak, if not more so, than he was. Freaks rather have to stick together, don't they? Then again, he figured there were humans here too. Why wouldn't there be? There were humans everywhere where he was from... but that was obvious.

(( Odd and short ))

"Ah, sorry, sorry, i said --" he explained himself again, though this time stumbling even worse then ever through his words. Yeesh, speaking Russian all day to this guy was tiring.

Another small nod, and an uncharacteristically soft smirk. "Very nice, very generous, and very open to new comers -- you'll get along swimmingly as long as you don't get mixed up in the wrong crowd. And don't worry, i'll be with you every step of the way," he said with a wink, his smirk expanding into a sharp smile.

A small beat, and he decided it was high-time to remove his shoes, and as he did so, looked up to Ivan again. "Have any talents? Special interests that you could use? This town's always expanding, so i'm sure we could find you a translator and temporary grunt-work until we can teach you proper English."

Ivan blinked up at him and nodded. Well, at least he'd have a guide... and no reason to actually believe Gilbert would do him harm. All he'd done so far was helpful. Sure, there may have been motives or some super secret plan underneath it all that he'd didn't see, but what could he really do right now? He'd been dropped with virtually nothing into this place and could really only take Gilbert's aid at face value. The bodark smiled, a vague feeling of confidence brewing inside. It would be alright...

"I can..." he said, leaning on his fist for a moment. Ivan never really thought he was actually that good at much of anything, but then again, he never really thought about it on purpose. He could grow crops and raise animals, but who knew how farming worked in this strange place. Was the weather the same? Were the domesticated creatures the same? He sighed. "I can... farm and raise animals?" he suggested.

"I... do like books, though..." Ivan rubbed his arm awkwardly, like a teenager who'd asked a girl to the school dance and expected to be turned down any second. He looked away, down at the floor. The familiar feeling of soft white cloth found its way into his fidgeting hand... The texture of the scarf was comforting...

Gilbert nodded, and thought again about who or what was complaining about a lack of field hands and... found none. Nothing that Ivan could do that wouldn't get him killed or Gilbert in a pile of trouble. Mhm, books, however, well he could do that. Possibly a job at the local library? Or he could catalog The Inn's books. After all . . . God . . . that little place was horribly disorganized.

"Mmmm, yes, books, we could work with -- we'll have to teach you some written English to get you started, but maybe working with my Inn's books will also help with that, for a start?" asked Gilbert, tilted his head and patting Ivan's head.

Hey, atleast the kid was cute, right? "Another thing we could do is take you shopping -- on me, of course, since you obviously have no money . . . Mmm, and maybe we could take you to Buba Yaga. She's Russian, right? Hopefully you don't smell human enough or look young enough for her to eat you -- she's going a bit senile in her old age and can't always tell what's what."