show me your teeth

To say Wess was not used to visitors was an understatement. People didn't even try to hunt him much anymore and that someone had found his cavern wasn't surprising, it had plenty of entrances (and exits). Wess might have compared it to a snake's hole, that was, that one should not follow him into it.

Wesley had just woken up, that happened when the night was still young, but he heard the man's echoes. For a moment, the Wendigo was confused and blurry with sleep. His cave was pitch black to most (though Wess has no trouble seeing in such darkness) and it smelled of death. Death, rot, and blood. Blood painted so many of the walls, like it was a design choice (it wasn't).

Now, Wesley was always hungry, but he hadn't been hunting. His mind was much clearer than it could have been, at least where the animal in him was concerned. So the rush of primal rage he felt wasn't about food, but someone stepping into his territory. Not just his territory (which was quite vast) but his den. His place of slumber.

Wess stood and shook off, peering around. He was quiet as could be, having stopped breathing to silence his constant hissing. He knew his tunnels well enough to know how echo effected them, and he narrowed which entrance the man had come down to two.

I'm being hunted, was Wesley's first human thought as he moved forward. He was debating using a voice. Maybe a child's or just the scream of a woman, but something told him it wouldn't work. He also considered channeling a series of thoughts to whoever it was, but again, his instincts suggested whoever came for him would be prepared for something like that.

Instead, Wess exited the cave via the entrance nearest to where Mikh was and circled around to get a view of the situation from the trees. He did catch a glimpse of Mikh, yes, but it was the man his eyes were trained on.

The man who had been tied up made a hectic sound and then silence. There was a sickening snap that followed, and when Mikh turned, he'd see Wess sitting atop the tree he had set the man against, said man hung over beside him, neck bent at an odd angel that had his bone jutting free of the skin.

Normally, Wesley might have left his prey alive as he ate them, but he didn't want to focus on two forces.

"Who're you?" Wess asked, voice soft and scratchy from disuse. The Wendigo sized Mikh up; muscles tense in preparation for something.

Wess was at a bit of a conflict here, he felt. On one hand, the animal in him desperately wanted to teach this man a lesson, but Wess, at his heart, wasn't a dominant person. Mentally, he wasn't weak in the least, but he sure as hell wasn't dominant. Even the animal in Wess knew that people only acted that comfortable when they were powerful or didn't care about death. Here, it was very likely both. In the end, no, Wess didn't mind Mikh's attitude, but Wess didn't mind a whole lot of things from people. When it came to him, he was hard to anger.

"Well, I'm not a businessman," Wess said with the barest hint of humor as he looked down at himself. He glanced at Mikh, eyes sweeping over the man, "and now I'm feeling a lil' underdressed."

Wess had the hint of an accent, something with the tang of a countryman, but it wasn't heard well, for he rarely spoke and when he did the sentences were concise.

Because Wess wasn't much into domination games -- and make no mistake, he thought what Mikh was doing was clear domination -- he said, "my name is Wess. Nowadays, Wendigo works just as well, I suppose."

Wesley paused before he twisted off the corpses head with one, swift jerk and played with it like it was a ball, ignoring the spill of blood that splattered along his torso. He tossed the head from hand to hand, trying to contain himself from just digging in. He brought the head near his face and sniffed the blood to get a feel for the race of this man because almost no one on Manta Carlos was purely human.

Wess waited for Mikh to offer him up a name in turn. It didn't have to be a real one, but he wanted something other than the businessman to call him.

Wess still didn't eat. His hair was on end and someone so confidently strolling into his territory, finding his den, and bringing him live food was disconcerting. Had that ever happened?

When Gabriel approached him, Wess stared. Just stared at first, guarded curiosity in his eyes. But when Gabriel took just one step too close, he bore his teeth in silent protest. Don't get too near an animal's food.

This close, Wesley though Gabriel smelled divine, and how terrible that was? Wess hadn't thought he was hunting Gabriel, but that proved it, hadn't it?

As a method of distraction, Wess yanked the dead man's arm until it came loose from his body in a bloody, gory mess. Still watching Gabriel the whole time, the Wendigo ate. It wasn't a pleasant sight in the least. Blood was everywhere, and there was a terrible wet sound. But, it kept Wess from lunging at Gabe, so there was that.

When he had finished a few large mouthfuls, Wess said, "you want to be my friend?" He didn't bother hiding the incredulous undercut to his question. "What do you do with your friends?"

Wess was content with his meal, and content was all he had ever been after stuffing himself. He slumped back against the tree and lazily looked Gabriel over. He narrowed his eyes and licked the blood from his lips. Again, Wess noticed how lovely Gabriel's eyes were. He liked golden eyes. Gold was the color of a predator's eyes.

"I'm sorry. I think I'mma missin' something here. What exactly are you gettin' out of this friendship?" Now that Wesley was finished with his food. He shot over to Gabriel, closing the distance between them to inspect the other man at proximity.

Wess wasn't big on physical contact, so he didn't touch Gabriel, but he didn't trust the feel of this man. No one searched for Wess and even less wanted to befriend him. He was grotesque. He was a monster. Only other monsters liked creatures like him.