Round Stone Crest to the life that used to be

For @Draven only.
10/25 - Clear skies, night time.
Halloween RE: Gent, one of your pack mates is acting oddly, as if they were possessed.

Night had settled upon the crest, but the break in cloud cover left the moonlight unbridled, a boon to the wolves who dwelled below. The king's routine patrol had taken longer than usual, a cache of foxes having been found to attempt and burrow just within his border. Catching their scent, the man wistfully thought of simpler times, when he and @Cessair had teamed up together to take down the rivals when before they had made the mistake to tread too close to Round Stone Crest and their young. This time, he enlisted no one to assist him, instead eliminating the small family himself. They had scattered, and it had taken time tracking each down, but it had been done, and now as he made his ascent back up to the den and its clearing, he occasionally stopped to clean fox blood from his maw and limbs.

Upon one of these instances, something moved through the night's shade, and the leviathan froze mid-action, ears standing tall, but not tremulously so. A vigilant sentry at all times, he did not fear what lurked within the dark, no matter its intent nor how many teeth it may possess. The monstrous wolf was certain that any threat which dared to rear its head within his domain could be swiftly dealt with by his own paws. After all, he had yet to be toppled (excepting that fluke involving @Naia as a yearling; damn the ice!), a fact that, looking back upon his nearly pristine record, only served to bolster the king's arrogance. Yet as he continued to stand there, silent and still as a statue, and take in all the clues the night air surrendered to him, it soon became apparent that there was no reason for alarm. It was only Draven, swimming through the brush, on his way to god knows where.

With renewed purpose, Gent fell into step some lengths behind the youth, following him curiously. There was a time where he knew the children's schedules, their favorite activities and most frequented locations. That all had been torn away by the earthquake that had been Minka's death. It still pained and confused him to know of the barricade that had been so suddenly and viciously erected between himself the ones he used to be able to call his. He had been trying to reverse it all, but found that he could not so easily control others as he'd like. Something had been broken deeper down, and it seemed to no longer matter that he had been their father just as Minka had been their mother. This urged him to recoil, and at times he did, but there was still something within him that yearned to reconnect, to reach them and help them back into the light.

The man had been about to chuff lowly in hopes of garnering Draven's attention, perhaps to ask him if the king could join whatever venture he was on, when a miserable and ethereal sound filled his ears. His pale eyes darted around their surroundings, seeking a source, but quickly he was forced to accept that it had come from Draven himself. It was now that he became aware of just how stiffly the youth was moving, as though fighting rigor mortis. Concern began to bubble up within his stomach when another low moan triggered memories of an occasion with Calanthe earlier that day. Her superstitions, as much as he wholeheartedly refuted them, threaten to drag his mind toward a similar state, casting a paranormal light upon the situation before him.

He was not a man to believe in such things, and certainly not one to be frightened, and yet he could not help but liken Draven to a walking corpse, especially with his coal coat doused in moonlight and the eerie fog of post-dusk fall settling around their paws. Retaining his silence, Gent could only follow, waiting for the boy to do anything else.

ooc: I'm sorry if this doesn't read very clearly. I'm attempting to describe advanced dehydration based on personal experience; Draven's descriptions are meant to indicate flank pain, light-headedness, drowsiness, nausea, cold flashes, and a severe drop in naturally-occurring "feel good" vitamins and chemicals. He will have broken out in a cold sweat and his skin will not snap immediately back into place if pinched up. His eyes will be heavy-lidded and unfocused no matter how close or far he turns his attention.

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To say that he was miserable would be to understate matters so thoroughly that Draven might as well say he was feeling fine. Either claim would represent the matter just as truthfully as the other - the boy felt like he was dying. His belly wouldn't stop clenching or aching, and the longer he tried to lay down and nap the pain away (which worked, sometimes, when his stomach hurt because of gas) the more his belly hurt. Even laying flat on his back hadn't worked; that had only made the pain travel back and downish, as though it had jumped from his belly to his spine. Eventually he had gotten up and wandered away from where he'd been trying to nap, stumbling and frequently stopping to catch his breath or to wait for his head to stop spinning and feeling so light. His legs shook a lot when he walked, so he had to lock up his joints or risk sprawling on his stomach. He wasn't entirely sure how long it was before he found the ache was joined by another, even less pleasant situation: nausea. Every tiny breeze was tinged with bird or mouse or frog, and eventually that all started swirling into one really smelly odor he wasn't familiar with - and it all made him want to throw up. It was impossible to tell time, either, and whenever he heard something it sounded either far away or too close and way too loud. He was really, really tired, and if he could just make his belly stop hurting he could probably sleep for a really long time. Waddling around was helping, but it made the sick feeling worse - just like stopping and trying to sit down made the pain worse the second the nausea faded. He was moaning audibly despite the fact that he wasn't aware of it for himself; he just wanted to go to sleep. It was getting really cold out, so cold that he was shivering under his fur. Had it been this cold when he got buried under the snow a couple days ago? He didn't think so - ooooohhhhh, trying to remember that made him feel worse. That was all in the past, and the past wasn't coming back because time kept moving forward forever and ever... The thought stood his legs out from under him, and the tremulous boy flopped clumsily down onto his rump with a high, garbled whine as he tried to think of anything else. That was a scary thought, he didn't want it in his head, he just wanted to stop thinking about it right now... His stomach churned and twisted painfully as he laid forward and put his paws over his head. He just wanted everything to stop being bad. He wanted to stop thinking and being scared, he wanted to stop hurting and feeling like he was going to puke at any second, he wanted to stop shaking so hard because that was making everything ache even worse and he was tired and he just wanted to go to sleep...

(This post was last modified: Oct 26, 2015, 03:25 AM by Draven.)

The further Gent watched his boy, the more evident it became that something was very wrong. Adrenaline began to leak slowly, almost hesitantly into his system, but it gave him a subtle rush all the same. He picked up his pace, aiming to now catch up to the boy, but before he could reach him the child suddenly collapsed onto the ground with a wretched whine. What had happened? his mind demanded to know, snout taking on the wrinkled shadows of a snarl. Again he tested the air for blood; had something, someone harmed him? Had he gotten sick? Another infection, even?

Coming to his side, the man promptly laid down next to his adopted son and immediately set about fussing over him, uncaring at this point about any awkwardness that might still exist between them. He nosed at his shoulders and roof, scanned his spine, even pushed a paw against his side in an attempt to get the boy to roll over so he might check his underside for hints as to what was wrong.

"Draven," he spoke firmly, hoping to both get the boy's solid attention and prove to him that he needed to take this matter seriously. "What's wrong, son? Tell me." He was not a man to fear ghosts and demons, superstitions and things that go bump in the night, but as he failed to find a solid reason for why Draven was in such miserable shape, he began to feel the first few drops of fear hit his spine. He couldn't let anything happen to him, he couldn't lose anyone else.

There are several fresh rabbit tracks in the mud. Hunt Opportunity

Draven wasn't there enough to know at first who had come upon him or to understand why they were poking and nudging at him. He was more relieved that somebody had finally found him, and that they were apparently worried about him - the prod to his side, though, and the sideways tumble that came along after it made him seriously rethink that just before his stomach gave another sickening lurch towards his mouth. Somewhere between swallowing back a mouthful of bile and trying to stop his head from spinning so much, he thought he heard his rude visitor say something. Oh. Oh, no, not him. Not Gent. Anybody but Gent; the shadowy pup groaned and dragged himself back onto his paws, trying to shuffle away from the leviathan a little as he did so. He didn't want Gent around, no matter how much @Raela and Cal told him Gent was as devastated as he was over losing Minka. He hadn't been able to save her. He was supposed to be good at helping people, so how come he couldn't have done anything to help her? "Nothin's wrong," he slurred with an irritable swipe of one paw - a swipe that missed and wasn't really meant to connect so much as demonstrate his distress. "I'm just tired. Go'way." His legs shook under him again, so he laid down again with a snort. Why couldn't he even stand up right now? He was so weak - the thought sent him spiralling down towards another dark, gloomy place, and he shook his head as if that could make the scary thoughts go away and stay away. Again in spite of the fact that he wasn't aware of it, the boy began panting slightly, his mouth and throat terribly dry. He really wanted something to drink, but how could he tell Gent that without seeming weak?

Gent's ears curved back against his skull as his slight push was enough to topple the monthling, further indication of just how weak he was. Something was very wrong, and the father couldn't help the low whine that threatened to press between his clenched teeth as he continued his search for the culprit. Yet before he could thoroughly assess Draven's situation, the boy was suddenly pulling away from him as quickly as he could despite the clear exhaustion within his muscles. The king's glacial optics snapped up to the pine green pools through which the boy saw the world, and a saddened frown etched into his maw as he withstood the rejection. Still? the leviathan couldn't help but wonder with exasperation. If he had known that the trust he had went to such great lengths to build between himself and Minka's widowed family could be so easily discarded by the children, he would have forgone the effort, he selfishly decided with a chuff.

Hoisting himself back up onto his paws, his mask hardened with determination as he stared the boy down. Whatever was broken between them would not stand in the way of Draven's well-being. He stared him down, watching the boy's tongue peek out from his mouth, and then the pieces began to fall into place.

"Draven, something is wrong, and I'm not leaving until I've helped you through it," he informed the boy. "We're going to the go to a stream and get you some water, alright? There's one not far from here. Come on--you can lean on me for support." You can trust me, dammit.

Draven tried to growl at the nosy man, but the best he could manage was a garbled, barely audible whine as he turned his head away from the beast. He didn't want to get up or go anywhere. He wanted to lay here and nap for a little while before anything else. Everything still hurt - it was starting to hurt more - and he couldn't do much more than lay here anyway because moving around too much made it hurt even worse than it already did. Why didn't Gent just go away? "Jus'wanna sleep," he mumbled. "I dun'wanna go'nywhere. Go bug somebody else." He broke off into a whine as another stab of pain assaulted his flank. For a long, wild moment, he almost hoped Gent wouldn't go anywhere. He was still Gent, and he sounded like maybe he could help the hurting stop, and Draven didn't really want to be alone right now if he could help it, because he was... he was scared that something really bad was happening to him. He was scared. He was really, really scared, and Gent didn't even know why because Draven wasn't telling him. How was Gent gonna help him if he didn't know how to? And Draven was really thirsty, but he couldn't manage to get up. He tried, he really did, but his legs were starting to feel like jelly. This wasn't just annoying anymore. He wanted all of this to stop. He wanted it to stop right now and he didn't know how to make it stop. "M'sides hurt." he whined through his teeth. Sides, flank, belly, they were all the same thing anymore. They all hurt at random intervals. "Dunno'f I can geddup. 'M tired."

If it hadn't been for the extreme gravity of Draven's condition and the wealth of concern flooding his chest, Gent would've reacted aggressively to the disrespect being doled out to him by the youth. As things were, he was distracted enough to completely overlook such things, however his frustrations remained. Had their relationship truly disintegrated to this extreme point, that even when he felt as though he were dying the child still would rather suffer alone than accept Gent's presence and help? It hurt him, somewhere in his chest that wasn't quite his heart. Maybe his pride? Doing his best to discard what was currently trivial emotions, he became more firm with his dealings.

"You're not going to sleep, Draven. You're coming to the river with me," he decided for the boy, approaching him once more. He would force him if he had to, call for reinforcements even, whatever it took to help the monthling whether he wanted it or not.

Finally, with a whine, the boy began to relent, and upon hearing that Draven wasn't sure if he could use his legs, Gent promptly nestled himself down at the boy's side again. He slithered his forelimb under the boy's chest behind his legs, and then his shoulder, wedging himself partially under the other male before attempting to stand again, hopefully bringing Draven with him.

"Lean on me as much as you have to, Drave. We'll go slow, but please, you have to move."

(This post was last modified: Oct 28, 2015, 04:06 AM by Gent.)

ooc: Tiny pp here. Will change if asked.

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Draven whined again as he was lifted onto his paws; his legs shook hard under his weight, his stomach flipped dangerously, and for a wild moment the boy wondered whether he would pass out or vomit first. The next sound out of his mouth was something between a cry and another whine as he staggered hard against Gent - but somehow he kept his feet, and with Gent more or less doing most of the walking for him the boy wobblingly made his way towards the stream Gent had said was nearby. It was easier to keep pace with Gent than it was to ignore the odd ignis fatuus he kept seeing through the trees - shadowy figures that danced in the corners of his eyes, flares of far-off light where there was no reason for them to exist, an occasional distorted sound from the surrounding forest... all made the trip terrifying for the already increasingly frightened monthling, and in spite of himself he clung to Gent as well as they could until they reached the water. Draven's legs gave out the minute they reached the water's edge, and he slumped gracelessly back to the ground with a sigh of relief, his body trembling and his sides heaving with shallow, gasping breaths. Something was very, very wrong with him - even in this state, he could tell as much. Gent seemed to think drinking the water would help, but the idea of having to swallow at all made Draven ill. Only when another tremor turned his stomach to knots did he finally stretch out his neck and take a few feeble laps of the icy water, shuddering as the cold raced all the way down to his belly and seemed to settle there like a rock. That tiny drink felt good, though - it soothed his throat, soothed how thirsty he was. Before long he was drinking in earnest, his chin half-submerged in his urgency to get as much fluid down as he could physically manage. He only stopped when his stomach gave a sharp, sudden lurch; the moment he did, the wind left his lungs in a quiet huff as he drew back again and rolled onto his side to take some of the pressure off his stomach. Still, besides the sick feeling persisting, he was starting to feel a little better - but he was still bone weary, and fighting a losing battle to keep himself awake.

(This post was last modified: Oct 31, 2015, 08:26 AM by Draven.)

He was there for him every step of the way, a wealth of patience that only fatherhood could initiate within him at Draven's service. When they at last arrived at the stream, he was patient too with allowing the boy to gather himself before drinking. The king had never allowed himself to reach such extremes of dehydration before, and still wondered if perhaps there was something more to Draven's horrid state, but this would at least be the start, and he would be at his side no matter what it took to cure the boy.

He was uplifted to see Draven take that first drink, and further relieved when his son continued, but when Draven's efforts turned to guzzling Gent swiftly became alarmed.

"Woah... hey... hey hey hey! Slow down!" he instructed, but the pain that flashed across the monthling's face made it clear he'd learned the hard way. A sigh fled the king's jaws, and he laid next to Draven, stretching himself out along the flat of the boy's back. Whether he wanted him to or not, Gent was unsure at this point, he would remain here.

"You should start to feel better soon. Waters what you need, but take it easy, alright? Drinking too much at once can be bad for you... if you're tired, ago ahead and close your eyes. I'll be right here, keeping you safe."