Hush Meadow somewhere in your dreams

Probably subterritory creation, keeping it a bit vague at first pending admin approval. <3
Tucked away where the Daybreak Peaks fade into Hush Meadow is a tranquil stream, fed by a spring further up the mountains. It descends in a series of small falls and still pools, weaving down the rocky slopes among the trees. Isolated as it is it is devoid of fish, but amphibian wildlife is plentiful. Shortly before reaching the Meadow its brief journey aboveground ends in a rocky puddle.
-64.47279, 21.62109 / https://unsplash.com/photos/oUpqkzswEcI
For @Artyom

He had made a resolution, of sorts: to just focus on Artyom when they're together, and not let his bewildered mind drag him into the pits of analyzing the bizarreness of his behaviors. To think less of how unfamiliar and unusual the situation is, and instead just remain in the moment. Embrace it.

He struggles a little with it, but does his best. It's still tempting to criticize himself for being so swayed by the other, but.. also something novel and exciting about, instead, just studying Arty, as he walks along. The outline of his shoulders, the swaying movement of his tail, how his ears play to the sound of forest and wind-

It's a shift of focus, and he knows that. Instead of being about me it's suddenly about him, and it's.. frightening, in some way, or just straight up upsetting to that acerbic voice in the back of his head. What can Malien do for Artyom, instead of the other way around.

They've wandered south from the lagoon for a bit, treading among the the trees on the sharply sloping foothills of the Peaks. Truly, the mountains seem both impassable and inaccessible from this side, jagged ridges and sheer cliffs rising almost straight up. Malien stops in a small clearing to peer up towards the sun-bathed peaks far above, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

The more time he spent with Malien, the more he’d taken note of the changes which had taken place within the other. Most of them subtle, but intriguing nonetheless. Primarily, he seemed just a little more open, and secondly, he seemed to enjoy touch far more than Arty’d expected. But that was not bad. If anything, it had him all the more intrigued.

Wanting to know what other thoughts were roaming about in that mind and what other stories, ideas, or memories were stored away there. Which - speaking of change, was unusual for Artyom to wonder about. It was rare for him to be this captivated by someone else. But for now, he decided not to question it. To just keep going, and enjoy this for however long it lasted.

They’d headed south from where they’d first met. Closer to the mountains, to where the trees and forest thinned, and the land began to slope. So sharply and steeply in areas that it would be impossible to pass from here.

As Malien stopped, so too did he, to observe this clearing. First the mountains, then the trees, and then he took note of an odd sort of.. divet in the snow-covered ground. A frozen-over stream, he discovered, upon sauntering forth.

”I bet this’ll be pretty come the spring thaw,” he commented to himself, but also for his company if Mally was close enough to hear. He’d have to make a note to come back here, if he could.

The sun glistens on caps of snow and ice far above, bright counterpoints to the dark, naked rock too sheer for anything to stay on. Some lonely bird of prey circles on the tricky currents, its piercing cries too distant for even a wolf's ears to catch. And down here, a few smaller birds chirp and sing among the trees, splashes of bright colors among green pine needles and bare branches.

Has the world ever felt this peaceful before?

Artyom says something, and one of Malien's ears flick backwards. "It's pretty even now," he mumbles, not really conscious of what the other had said, or what he'd responded- too lost in that blue sky and the sun and the raptor.

Then he blinks those cold gold eyes and returns to the present. Looking down he spots Artyom by some little dip or irregularity in the snow cover. A gully? He turns around and saunters down to join him, experimentally pushing both his nose and paws into the cover of snow until they touch hard ice below. A stream, shallow and mild enough to freeze. He raises his head again, snow capping his nose. "Not as pretty as you though," he says bluntly, unashamed, peering along the direction the stream seems to have come from. Without thinking much about it he begins to follow it upstream, stopping every once in a while to scout out its breadth.

Mally said something in return, a soft sort of mumble, but it sounded like he agreed. He'd wandered off a bit, but not for very long. The frozen stream appeared to have caught Malien's attention as well, and Arty observed him bemusedly. A soft laugh escaped him as the other stuck his nose into the snow and then reappeared with it now coated in the fluff.

The comment warranted a smile, and then an attempt at a playful shoulder bump before the other was turning about to investigate something else. It didn't stop Artyom from feeling momentarily flattered, though. Such commentary had been rare to nonexistent from the other, so far. "Aw, Mally. That's kind of you.."

It didn't sound like an attempt to be silly, or to flirt. But it was still nice to hear. What was not so nice though, was being left behind. Hurriedly Arty scrambled forth to catch up to his companion, forgetting one important and convenient detail. He was currently standing on ice. As such, when his paws slipped and he gained no traction, he went nowhere except down. A full-on faceplant into the snow. Not particularly painful, but really embarrassing.

(This post was last modified: Mar 04, 2023, 07:13 PM by Artyom.)

faceplant creek faceplant creek faceplant creek

And there it is again: that point of contact, simple, easy, and so .. inoffensive. Wanted, even: he never knows he seeks it, but whenever he receives it it is like something falls into place. It makes him feel something, but he's not sure what, barely even aware of it- a subtle change, somewhere in his chest.

Kind? No, it's just the truth, and he wants Artyom to know the truth. The words feel better in his mouth when they're honest, and as he weaves up the creek he rolls his tongue around his teeth, about to deep-dive into some rumination on the subject when a noise from behind has him turn around.

And witness Artyom, face dug into the snow, limbs splayed, snow heaped up and glittering in the sunlight. Malien is too surprised, cannot stop himself, the noise escaping his maw inelegant in every single way: a bark of laughter, because Arty does look ever so silly like that, but threaded with concern because he does not know what happened. "Are you alright?" he asks, brows furrowing, once his brain catches up and he begins to jog back.

Worried. Concerned. And not about himself, his own image, how it would reflect upon him if anyone had seen that: worried and concerned that Artyom had hurt himself when slipping on the ice. Gently, he noses the russet shoulder.

Cold flooded his senses. That powdery puff of snow kicked up by his fall tickled his nose and face, but also conveniently covered it. Because somewhere out there, he swore he heard a laugh. Malien was laughing at him. Deservedly so, likely. As Artyom would have probably laughed at himself too, had he been able to see what’d just happened.

But that realization did not stop him from scowling and pouting into the snow. In the end, though, it morphed into the tiniest of laughs, too. And as Malien approached him with a question that sounded genuinely concerned, he managed to gather his limbs enough to pull his face out of the snowbank. He didn’t need to concern the other, but didn’t bother to try to stand, though, as a nose pressed against his shoulder.

”No,” he answered the question with a soft and mostly playful huff. ”My pride is done for. You might as well go on without me, Mally. I’ll never make it.” Because of course, he couldn’t help himself.

After all, who in their right mind would want to stick around with someone that’d laughed at them, when they could’ve severely hurt themselves?

--don't get too attached, Mally...

Too late xD

He is full of worry, a foreign feeling, an anxious energy running rampant through him and clogging up his throat. It makes him want to work his jaws and keen, or snarl, or scream, just to get it out. Artyom lingers too long in the snow, and the desperate edge to his heartbeat grows even more frantic: had he hurt himself badly? Lost consciousness? A thousand helpless thoughts drift through his head, useless and half-formed, until the smallest of laughs break through the cover of snow.

Alive, then. Presumably unhurt. Malien has never before felt so blessed and relieved by such a tiny sound, a sigh escaping him in a long, drawn-out cloud. And that handsome face, those eyes like a pale winter dawn, emerge from the snow.

But-

”No,” is the word Malien's inquiry is greeted with, and his brows furrow again in concern. It takes his anxiety-addled mind a few more seconds to truly understand what Artyom is saying, that he is indeed unhurt, if you don't count his pride.

"Oh," is what he says first. It just slips out, holding most of his relief and concern in it, before he blinks and peers down at Artyom. ".. maybe there's still time to save you," and he leans down to gently lick the base of an ear. He feels a bit too rattled still to properly get into the playful mood, snatches for things to say but draws blanks. "I won't give up on you." He folds himself down next to Artyom, curling up around him as best as he can and draping his head over his neck. "Ali wouldn't be anything without his Yom-Yom, after all."

Oh, Malien breathed at first. Artyom observed him with bated breath, staring upward at the face of the man he’d become so familiar with. Observing as his countenance shifted through various emotions, and eventually settled into a.. mostly playful, but still possibly a little bit concerned mood.

He wouldn’t give up, maybe there was still time, the other spoke, settling down. Curling himself around Arty in a familiar and intimate way that still sent shivers - in a good way, through the younger wolf’s body. He couldn’t help a smile and soft laugh at the last statement.

And, playing along, Arty leaned into the embrace. Rolling onto his back with a defeated sort of huff. ”He’s going to have to figure it out. Cause I’m done for..”

He let his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes close, and his body go limp against Malien’s as if he were dying. But there was still a faint hint of a smile upon his countenance, as he relaxed and simply enjoyed the closeness.

Well- maybe Arty's spirit, if not his pride, is healing. The soft laugh is a balm on Malien's soul at least, a ray of warm sunshine further easing the worry from his body. His tail thumps a few times into the snow, and as the other wriggles in his embrace he raises his head to give him room.

And, to watch, because he enjoys the sight. The tragic drama goes on, complete with a death sigh and all, but Malien takes his time. That small smile, those pale paws up against a cream chest, the way the sunlight finds and enhances the reddest of the hairs, gleaming like copper...

Hesitantly - heart beating hard in his chest - he leans forward, to press his nose against Arty's, the gentlest of kisses.

Perhaps that would be enough to bring him back from fake death.

Moments passed, and he stayed quiet. Motionless, and almost unbreathing. Enjoying the warmth of this closeness and that of the sun. Although.. because he couldn’t resist, Arty parted one eyelid in the slightest, to peek at and observe what his company was doing. Just in time to witness him leaning in close, and then to feel a gentle touch. Nose to nose.

Both eyes part in surprise, at that. However, he wouldn’t pull away from the gesture. Instead, he moved slightly, resting the bridge of his nose under Mally’s chin. Held it there to the count of five before moving away as a soft, airy laugh once more escaped him.

”Alright, alright, I give,” Arty murmured, rolling, shifting slightly, gathering his limbs beneath him again, though he didn’t part from the embrace he’d originally been pulled into. ”You win. You’ve saved me.” He huffed, though his eyes still gleamed with something mischievous. ”For now.” He’d let that little threat hang out there.

(This post was last modified: Mar 15, 2023, 04:09 PM by Artyom.)