The Wellspring [m] dream recalled on waking

For @Artyom! Set the morning after alone {m}. M tag just in case, because it's a bit unavoidable to not acknowledge the fact they just spent the night together... :)

Mornings come late in the winter, as always, and even later here. The eastern sky is rosy, stretching into a pale blue, but cradled by the mountains the shadows still linger, deep and cold. It is somehow fitting that the western view is still star-studded, though they disappear by the minute.

There's no thoughts yet. There's just the slow return of awareness and sense: the sound of chirping birds, the slow thrum of his own heart, a solid warmth pressed against his back. Branches and trees creaking in the wind, the murmur of the rivers- the turning of the world.

You know this moment, just after waking, when your thoughts and memories are not quite yet in fully functional order? That moment when for a blissful moment there is nothing, and then that sense of something monumental having happened, and then, the active memory of it.

So he starts to feel like something's changed. Something's happened...

And then it's like opening the newspaper and reading it and thinking: oh. Right. That solid warmth against his back is Artyom. A pleasant thing on a pleasant morning. Is he still asleep? Malien's nearest ear flicks. Maybe? Probably?

Uh.. good. And even if he isn't, he can keep pretending for a bit, thanks. Malien stretches as subtly as he can, pressing into the fluffy warmth, and closes his eyes again: not to sleep, but to think. Relive. Consider.

(This post was last modified: Jan 19, 2023, 01:32 PM by Malien.)

It was a stirring, a small bit of movement - possibly a stretch? - that finally tugged Arty’s consciousness out of the dream world and back into the land of the living. Yesterday this time, when he’d first awakened, he’d been cold, tired, hungry, and alone. This morning contrasted starkly with that. Only one of those things remained even remotely a concern, but even then..

All he could really think about, while still half-asleep, was how he didn’t want this to end. Unusual.. since he was typically the take off early the next morning type. Not always, but everything had an end, eventually, and he typically preferred it to be as quick and drama free as possible. However, a stubborn refusal to acknowledge that simple truth this time left him largely unmoving and if anything, pressing further into the warmth his company offered, desperate to extend this bliss for as long as possible.

Initially, only a deep breath and a soft hum would alert Malien, if he was awake - for aside from this, only Arty’s eyes and ears moved. It was a beautiful morning; barely a cloud in the sky, the sun beginning to rise but not quite cresting the mountains to the east, yet. He could hear the birds beginning to sing their early morning tunes, the soft babble of the river. Even the somewhat forlorn, but peaceful tune the wind had to offer as it moved through the lands like the unseen spectre it was.

But none of it was as captivating or alluring as…

He didn’t know how long he’d been there when he finally moved. But when he did, it was only enough to prop himself up on one elbow, to turn a little so he could see.

It’d been a risky move. Bold. But worth it. Especially to wake up and have that face be one of the first things he saw.

Gently he leaned in, pressing his nose to Malien’s neck. ”G’morning.”

His conclusion is: ???

There's just static in the part of his brain responsible for figuring things out. The lights are turned off, nobody's home, but somewhere, a screen is playing a recording of last night.

It's not that he minds having given in to the temptation of discovering what that was all about - it's that he doesn't know how to feel about it. What does it mean? For him, with Arty? Does it have to mean anything? (You don't like attached strings.) And waking up like this - cuddled up together. How's he feel about that? Is it nice? Annoying? Convenient?

All of these things which needed decisions and categorization and filing away in the storage of his mind, and none of the damn job gets done. ?????

But this would not go on forever. Artyom would wake at some point, and.. things.. consequences? He just knows that it is stressful to not know what he wants, and feeling like he's racing the clock to make a decision before Arty wakes up fully. His breathing has changed. Malien agonizes.

By the time Arty decides to embrace consciousness Malien has still not reached a decision. A nose presses against his neck, a tender kiss, a fond greeting.

It..dispels some of the doubt. Special creatures deserve special treatment. Why not enjoy it? (Are you developing a conscience, or what?) He tries to release some of that pent-up tension with a yawn before rolling over, wriggling to force himself onto his back, propped up against Arty. "Morning," he responds, tucking his paws neatly against his chest and daring himself to study Arty's face.

"Your eyes are like the sky."

It is a thought he had not meant to give voice to, but there he is, saying it anyway as it popped into his head.

So, he was awake. A very small portion of Arty was curious how long, while the other half was.. kind of touched that Malien had decided not to do what he’d half expected, and leave without so much as a word.

The other moves, rolling, wriggling, but not moving away. Artyom observed, intrigued, his mind only barely processing the morning offered in return. The other is on his back after a few seconds, leaning against Arty, forepaws tucked against his chest - and making himself look goddamn fine again.

But before any of that can take root or go further, Malien offers a comment. Perhaps the closest thing to a compliment he’d spoken yet. Not that he was vain - well, maybe a little - but Arty was accustomed to hearing that. Using it to his advantage, sometimes. But here, with Malien.. that did something it normally didn’t.

His heart skipped a beat. He forgot to breathe for a moment.

Malien didn’t seem the sort for compliments, or for regular.. indulgence in even innocent flirting. He seemed rather stoic. In fact, Arty had a suspicion that he didn’t very often make himself vulnerable like this to others, whether that be physically or emotionally. It was like.. he was getting to see a side of the wolf that was not very often seen. Something about that feels special.

Huh. Or perhaps it was all just his imagination and he was really just overthinking it.

Either way, Arty let a smile cross his features, as he pressed his nose further into that warm neck fur. ”And your face is like.. a mountain. Rugged, a little worn... but beautiful because of that, too.” Hopefully that was good, because it was the best he could come up with at the moment. There is certainly no mistaking the age difference between them. But there was something about that, which made Malien more intriguing. What things must he have seen and done? Were there any stories?

How many hearts had he broken?

(This post was last modified: Jan 19, 2023, 06:33 AM by Artyom.)

Well, they can be buddies in overthinking. The entire situation is like a slippery fish he can't grasp, because... He can't decide if enjoying this treatment is a sign of weakness or not; if he's given up control, or if he's taken it. And what is the purpose? The goal?

(And also, because as he looks up at Artyom, he thinks he doesn't want to hurt him.)

(And thirdly because he's saying things without really thinking them through, or knowing what he wants out of it.)

The reaction he is given is not massive and dazzling, "just" a smile and a nuzzle. But see, there's that thing again- the smile, the positive reaction, to something Malien hadn't purposefully said just to evoke it. It's a little baffling that you can just say whatever pops into your head and someone smiles. Sorry to break it to you but you're a scheming, manipulative asshole and most others aren't, this is called normal social interaction

And his face is like .. a mountain. Are you kidding me? A mountain? He expects to be annoyed, but he's just - bewildered. A mountain? "A mountain?" he huffs, somewhat displeased but far from angry. "Rugged and worn?" How about- ethereal and angelic? True, he's older, he's got a fair few scars here and there and his face is not exempt from that, but gosh, really. It's only belated his brain catches up and he realizes Arty also called him - plain and simple - beautiful. "Gee, you sure know how to make a man feel confident in his looks," he mutters. It's still plain from his tone that he's not actually offended, just- a mountain? Really?

(Maybe you'll warm up to the thought eventually.)

There was also some part of him that really enjoyed how scandalous this all felt. Back home this sort of behavior would’ve never been allowed from an heir apparent to the almighty throne. Not only because of the age difference, but.. the fact that Malien was not a female. It’d been alright for him to want and claim as many women as he’d wanted, but things like this had always had to be secret. So much as one wrong look at another guy openly and –

He stopped himself. He wasn’t there anymore. That was a big part of the reason why he’d left. Out here, in this blissful moment, Arty was not going to let that cloud his memory or ruin whatever time he had left with Malien.

A mountain, Malien huffed. Sounding uncertain, and certainly not pleased, but at least not outright angry. The last comment had him frowning slightly, and blinking a couple of times in thought.

Did Mally not prefer analogies then? Did he prefer just direct compliments - you’re handsome and pretty, without an analogy? Perhaps. If so, Arty would be sure to note this. But hopefully, he could still save face.

”Yes. Standing strong and proud for everyone to see. Weathering every storm the world throws at you, without ever flinching.” That was the picture Artyom had in his mind, of the wolf before him, though. That was his impression, perhaps it was all wrong.

”Besides,” he added, in a softer tone, now, ”you don’t really strike me as the type that needs any affirmation from others. You know who you are. But for the record - you are very attractive. I mean… you lured me in without even trying.” There. Hopefully, that would smooth things over. Or at least, Malien would have a better idea of what he saw and understand what he’d been intending with the analogy.

It's a good thing Artyom has a fluffy neck Malien can sort of hide his face in and under. Something about it - complaining about it, being confused by it - makes him feel.. bad? And he doesn't like feeling bad. He doesn't like feeling like he's wrong. Bad Arty for making him feel like that He's been told most of his life to not be greedy and what-not, and mostly he's thought this advice to be pretty terrible, yet here he is feeling like he's been scolded by the distant spirit of his mom.

The idea Arty expands upon is.. nice, and flattering, but even Malien is self-aware enough to know that it is not entirely true. It makes him sound like some bastion of goodness and virtue, shelter for any storm, dauntless, proud. If the choice is between risk and safety, he'll pick safety (as long as it doesn't come with demeaning himself). He will absolutely throw you to the metaphorical wolves to save his own ass.

And that is not very flattering. While the idea of being some sort of mountainous paladin is sweet, it feels very alien.

But it gets better, which is good for you, you greedy bastard. (Do you need affirmation? No, probably not; you ignore criticism, but enjoy praise.) He grunts into that creamy fur, raising a paw to bat gently at Arty's shoulder. "You made some very convincing arguments," he says, because what else can he say? Arty's 1000% right that he hadn't been trying, he'd just come along for the ride when it was suggested. Slowly, he lets his head fall back again. No need to keep hiding. But.. "Where are you from? Why did you come here?" Where are you going?

Well.. it seemed kind of, maybe like that little elaboration of thoughts had helped to smooth things over? Because Malien was back to pressing close, tucking his face into Arty’s neck, something the younger wolf returned. After just a few more cuddles though, Malien did indeed confirm what he’d hoped aloud, permitting him to breathe a silent sigh of relief.

”I try,” he spoke airily, with a wink and a soft nudge. But Arty would consider this a lesson learned though, no more analogies and odd kinds of compliments for the other. He’d keep things simpler and to the point from now on. Or at least until they knew one another better. If they ever got to that point, anyway.

The next two inquiries though, were questions Artyom absolutely could have done without. Questions that prompted a faltering in his demeanor, and an aversion of his gaze to someplace else. Especially given where his thoughts had been wandering not too long ago.

”I came here.. to escape. To be free to do whatever I want, go wherever I want.. when I want to,” he offered after several quiet moments of thought. It was primarily an answer to the second inquiry, but with the conclusions Malien could draw from that.. it, in a way answered the first as well.

”You?” Arty returned the inquiry, bringing his focus back to the other for it. He was curious. And didn’t want this to be the last time he saw Malien, oddly.

That's.. hmm.

That's something else to mull over. Again, it's that weird aspect of guilt, an uncertainty if he wants to twist Arty into saying what he wants to hear. He'd been mildly offended; he had let that be known, consciously or subconsciously fishing for more praise; he had received more praise. Sure, it feels good to be told you're pretty and all, but.. (Why is there even a but? there shouldn't be a but, just taking what he's owed--)

But there's a but and what feels like a faint flush creeping across his face at the response, the wink and the nudge. What, you want more? he wants to ask, but he's- ah, he's not like that. It's still uncharted territory, and Malien's a coward.

It seems this time it is he who missteps in the conversation, but it's- ah, it's alright. Malien doesn't mind the sudden change, the abrupt introduction of cold, because Arty doesn't move away and though his gaze is distant he still obeys humors him with a response. And it is .. relatable. Isn't it why Malien had left, too? Partially to get away from all the scolding of his "bad behavior", but to be free? To live? To take what he wanted when he wanted it? To reach for what he saw?

"Something similar," he says after a moment, peering up at the other wolf and his cold-sky blue eyes. He doesn't say, but it's written on his face, a quiet wonder: does anyone have the right to be this beautiful? "No place held my attention for more than a year or so. There just wasn't anything for me, anywhere, so I'm just.. chasing the horizon." He shrugs, awkwardly, as he's laying on the ground. "Looking for fulfillment." He scoffs. Fulfillment, bah. He's never felt fulfilled, just "not bored" on occasion.

Then bored. Then, away, gone with the wind. Or, a few times, run off by wolves who grew sick and tired of him and the dark rot he brought into their packs.

It was something of a shame that their conversation had taken a bit of a sour turn, though Arty supposed it also served as a reminder that the bliss was only temporary. It always was. But perhaps a topic like this would serve to make that transition back to wandering alone a little easier. That seemed even more likely as Malien spoke.

Something similar, he answered. No place could hold his attention and nothing for him. The two of them had that in common, then, as well it appeared. ”I feel that. Fulfillment is.. incredibly hard to find. And usually only temporary, at best,” Artyom murmured as something of an agreement, or maybe it was a touch of empathy. He wasn’t completely sure which he intended, himself.

”But there’s something innately satisfying in living for only yourself, too. That liberty, the freedom.. I wouldn’t trade it. My guess is.. you wouldn’t either?” He added on after a moment, a small smile returning to his countenance at that, and head tipping a little at the inquiry. Which, perhaps hinted at the inevitable parting of ways that was sure to come. Sure, there were times it was challenging, or lonely, or even downright maddening. But the freedom to go wherever one wanted with no obligations made it worthwhile.

”I am going to miss you though,” he couldn’t help but say as he pressed his nose into that wonderful neck again, half sincerely and half teasingly. ”It’s been fun.”