The Wellspring [m] dream recalled on waking

"You've got one on me if you've ever felt it," he murmured. He had lived many years, seen many wolves, wandered many places- and he did not understand them. They settled, they made their kingdoms and their holy places, surrounding themselves with others and those they created. And they seemed .. content. Malien is a gaping void, an insatiable hunger; the ravenous beast, always needing m o r e.

Family life doesn't appeal to him. Holding the regard of a pack doesn't appeal to him. Chaos, per se, doesn't appeal to him either, but at least it's some form of entertainment.

So he gazes up at Artyom, and he wonders what all of this is for.

What all of that had been for.

Just memory? Entertainment? (Then why was it the closest he had felt to peaceful?) ".. no," he says after a moment, feeling as if his expression becomes clouded with something else; pain, perhaps. Wonder and pain. He wouldn't trade it. He just.. wishes he knew what he wants to do? Maybe?

And he wishes his heart would not skip a beat like that, part some weird form of elation, part fear - is he going to leave me now? Malien doesn't want him to go. Malien enjoys the warmth and solidity, and though his brain is doing backflips throughout the entire conversation it's.. pleasant?? Somehow??? Witchcraft. "You don't have to get rid of me," he mutters gruffly, enjoying the nose pressing into his neck and hoping it means Artyom can't see whatever emotions might be chasing themselves across Malien's normally so stoic face.

He let himself smile a little at the softly spoken words, although the expression was likely hidden from the other. It had been fun. All of it. That, the conversations, the banter, learning a little more about Malien with all of it. Just not being alone for the first time in days a wonderful change of pace. A part of him regretted that he’d probably just end up repeating that cycle all over again, soon.

That was the life he’d chosen, though. Arty wouldn’t trade or change it - and it did not sound like his present company would either. Although his response sounded a little weak. A simple no, absent any explanation or elaboration where Arty had at least expected something.

But then there was something else. You don’t have to get rid of me, Malien spoke. A somewhat surprising declaration, though maybe not all that surprising. Arty allowed a soft breath to escape him and then turned, rolling onto one side and eventually his back too - so that he was shoulder-to-shoulder and tucked up against his companion, though his gaze was focused up, on the sky and mountains.

”I don’t want to, a part of me would like to stay like this forever if I could,” Arty admitted quietly, the teasing tone gone with these words. ”But we can’t. We have to go our separate ways eventually.” The admission hurt more than he liked to admit, and he didn’t make an effort to hide that.  

”Doesn’t mean we can’t meet again, though. Plan something. A private getaway for ourselves somewhere, maybe you pick where, this time,” and there came that playful tone again. Planning a repeat outing like this would be a first for him, but for special individuals, he could make exceptions.

For a moment he fears the other is already leaving. His body shifts, Malien's head raising in concern - a thousand thoughts chasing themselves, shapeless desire and fear tearing his mind in half; habit urges to command yet the unfamiliar words almost upon his tongue are a plea - but in the end he does not need to find a way through that. Indecision saves him, for Arty merely rolls over to prop himself up against Malien. Paws to their chests, eyes.. well. Malien lowers his head, finding that he can't keep a straight thought in his head while watching Arty's face. Eyes to the sky.

The quiet admission is... Everything Malien wants to say, too. "Why can't we?" he says, states; he is not challenging Artyom's words. He agrees with them, that much is obvious. It's just.. painful, mournsome longing. He looks up. The lightening sky holds no answers, just a radiance that doesn't fit anymore. The deep shadows cradling the Wellspring feel more fitting. The warmth and the light never finding its way to his heart. Perhaps he doesn't have one.

He considers the offer to meet again - takes a moment, because he needs to get himself back in order. Something about it - planning, knowing it'll happen, is exhilarating, and he's afraid he'll say something stupid. And part of him is stuck thinking of being in the shadows, cold and alone. Malien raises a pale paw skyward. "I kind of like this place," and he wiggles the paw a little, "but where's the excitement and adventure in that?" He thinks (or rather, tries to) for a moment. Loops back through the past few days, to the fall... Ah. "There's a nice lake east of these mountains. Very.. scenic. Calm, with many secluded coves. Perhaps that would be a nice spot for a rendezvous." And he glances to the side, to see what Arty thinks of this suggestion.

As he watched the sky grow lighter, the shadows fade, and the sun begin to rise.. it once more struck Arty how he’d usually have been long gone by now. Yet, here he was. They were, still next to one another. And though each of them knew it would have to end, it was as if they were both reluctant to initiate that.

He’d always hated long goodbyes. This was why. It was supposed to have been nothing more than fun, but now they were getting into touchy things. Like feelings, or attachments. Artyom had always told himself he didn’t want any of those, but one look at that face and.. those thoughts just seemed to melt away.

He’d have been all too content to just stay here forever. ”Because.. I’ve heard even too much of a pleasant, or good thing can lead to something bad. I don’t want that to be us.” He answered the statement Malien had offered, though.. he wasn’t sure the other had been seeking one. Whatever they were now, he’d prefer it stay like this, rather than tempt fate.

They could meet up elsewhere, planned, see how things went. Maybe by then Arty’d have a better idea of if these feelings were actual feelings.., or just.. a spur-of-the-moment thing.

Speaking of, Malien revealed that he liked this place, but that there was another lake east of these mountains. Scenic and calm, with many secluded spots..

A wry smile crossed his countenance just imagining it, and Arty turned his head to face the other. ”It sounds just perfect. Though I think anywhere would be, with you,” he admitted a bit teasingly. ”I’ll be there, whenever you say. I’ll count the days.”

He's not looking for an answer, but he gets one anyway. And to him, heartless as he is, he accepts it as the truth: the rational for why, for two lost souls colliding in such a way, there can be no them. There can be no future, just these whimsical moments in the present and the past.

"A good thing," he murmurs, trying the unfamiliar words out in his sharp, wicked mouth. It's a place of violence and lies, not used to tender things. Is Artyom a good thing? Or is he merely confusing? Malien sighs after a moment, as if admitting defeat to the reasons given. "I suppose we deserve only the best, so the bad must be avoided." Don't trust definitions from a narcissist.

So if too much of Artyom becomes bad, Malien will consume Artyom in more moderate quantities, and it'll stay good. Right? Right.

Anywhere would be perfect- because of Malien? Man, he's more used to being told he's the biggest asshole in the vicinity, that they're better off without him, all of these things, and here someone is saying Malien brings perfection. He likes it more than he should, and again, it's a two-faced coin. He loves the flattery, but it's not all wholesome and pure. "I know," he says with a little bit of cheek, before he's confronted with a much more difficult problem: when?

How long is suitable? How long is too short? Too long? What's long enough to pine for the other, without losing interest? He needs time to wander, time for the Artyom consumption meter to go down to safe levels, and he, frankly, has no idea how it works.

Time to Not Admit he has no experience with this, and to try to gather more data by outsourcing the decision making to Arty. "I picked the place," he counters, "you pick the time. How long do you want to keep me waiting?" The last offered with a teasing tone and a rare eye-smile.

A good thing, the other spoke, as though contemplating the reasoning provided. It seemed to be accepted, too. Better safe than sorry, better not to indulge in too much of something lest it become tiresome. At least at first. Although the idea of having someone older, wiser, at his side on a more permanent basis was not an unappealing one.

Once he got to know said someone a little better, anyways.

I know, Malien returned. Boldly admitting his presence made a place better, and earning an amused chuckle from Arty. He turned a little, enough to bat a lazy forepaw at or across Malien’s shoulder in faux protest. But he had no qualms with it, and the airy grin that spread across his countenance suggested as much. It was nice to be appreciated, complimented, even flattered, sometimes. Arty wasn’t going to try to take that away from anyone.

If anything, he had a tendency to overdo it. As he’d learned earlier..

His expression shifted to something more contemplative as Malien suggested Arty pick the time. How long did he want to keep him waiting?

”Perhaps.. a few days more than one full cycle of the moon,” he answered without hesitation. Thirty or so days, perhaps. That should be enough to explore, think, consider, and then find one another again. But not so far as to lose track of time. ”I’ll be there waiting for you after that.”

Well, this time he did think he was a bit funny, so it's nice that Arty agrees. But even though he had been expecting (hoping for?) it, the amused little chuckle still makes his heart skip a beat, his blood race; he can't tell whether it's elation at his own success, or just because it's a precious sound.

Maybe it's both. Maybe they're not really two separate things. Maybe.. Maybe he doesn't have an answer. Just gives Arty a fake scowl as he paws at him, does his best to catch that paw in his mouth to .. lick it. He can't bite it, after all.

But-

You can't have a conversation with somebody's paw in your mouth, so if Malien caught it he'd spit it out again for some more serious talk. First: a few days-- and something in Malien's body manages to have a reaction to just that, his heart and stomach swapping places for a moment as he thinks a few days but then Arty goes on and he says a whole lotta more days than just a few. It feels like a really long time. And Malien is very glad he asked, because his suggestion would've been like, a week or something. Seems like it would've been way off the mark. "A full cycle of the moon," he repeats, shaving a few days off and he doesn't know if he sounds resigned, or somewhat.. not exactly disappointed or put out, but something in that direction. It seems such a long time, but if it's what Arty thinks is suitable and proper, well, then that's how long Malien will wait. "I-" and he stops, because what he had been about to say is I like the idea of you waiting for me: not as a power thing, just, the notion of Arty .. being .. there for him, at all. But the words just become weird in his mouth, so he doesn't say them. Looks for others. "I will be there," he ends up saying, which feels lame even though there's conviction in his voice.

Not going isn't even an option he's considered.

The little fake scowl was endearing, moreso the very gentle bite lick of the lazy paw he’d batted at Malien. Lazily he tugged at the limb a few times before the other released it, and once he’d done so Arty turned a little, back to being on one side.

A full cycle of the moon, the other repeated his chosen timeframe, slowly, as though contemplating whether such an amount of time were satisfactory. To Arty, it felt good. But for Malien, was it.. too much time, too little? If it was either of those, he suppose he hoped it was the former. Absence made the heart grow fonder, and all of that.

But then the other confirmed that he would be there. Artyom believed him. And again he wriggled a little closer, moving to drape the paw he’d batted at Malien across the other’s chest, and then to rest his face in that neck fur one more time if permitted. One more touch, one more embrace.. he’d miss it. And he’d surely be longing for it again before too long.

Maybe even before the end of today.

”You’d better be,” was all he spoke before pulling himself away and sitting up. As much as he hated to do it, somebody had to be the one.

-feel we could possibly fade here if you're ready. it's been fun c:

To hug when he has just declared they won't see each other for some thirty days feels almost cruel. Malien is helpless to resists, he wants it, turning his head to press it against Arty's. He wishes they could just forget the conversation they had just had. Go back to sleep this way, right here, right now.

But they'd have to wake up again regardless.

Arty pulls away and sits up, leaving Malien alone on the ground. Some habitual and spiteful part of his mind says that this is wrong, that it should be Malien leaving, because the one who leaves first is the one in control, right? But does it matter, if either is leaving regardless? He's surprised, and slightly bothered, by how alright he is with being the one left behind.

"Be careful, Sky-Eyes," he says, gazing up at those enchanting eyes, "I will be disappointed if you are not there."

Malien is used to being alone. He's not used to being the one still laying upside down on the ground, head and nose stretched out flat along it, watching somebody whose company he actually desires walk away from him. He's not used to the faint, painful throb of his too-fast heart, or the idea of genuinely looking forward to seeing someone again, and worrying something will happen to them while he's not there to watch their back.

There's.. a lot about this entire thing he's not used to. A lot he's confused by. And as Artyom walks away with pretty much the entirety of Malien's small, secret heart, Malien briefly wonders if it wouldn't be better to just run away and never look back.