Iridescent Lagoon shooting with broken arrows

RE: You catch a glimpse of a long dead friend.
@Bishop ;; Night, clear sky, 32F

Kjell did not have nightmares often, but phenomenon was not completely foreign to him.  Occasionally, his near death experience filtered through his subconscious to hunt him – he could almost feel the blood bubbling against his torn flesh and matting his dark fur – but that had been years ago, and the vision came to him less and less frequently.  Other times, they were the nightmares of an average wolf; he was trapped in the unrelenting winter of a world like Jotunheim or he was cursed to chase a deer for all eternity.  It was tiring, perhaps, left him groggy the next morning, but rarely did it bother the male enough to actually recall the dreams the next day.

On this particular night, however, the dragon prince was left twitching in his sleep.  His little paws twitched as if he were running, his tail sweeping awkwardly against the ground.  Tiny whimpers and grunts escaped the male as he shuddered and moved – it’d be quite the aggravation, if someone else was trying to sleep.  

The swarthy male awoke with a shout, flipping onto his belly with wide eyes as he panted.  “Bishop!” he gasped, turning to his side – his companion was not in their shared den.  On a normal night, he’d not find it that odd if the woman had wandered off for space or air, but only moments ago he’d seen her dead, laid flat against the ground in his place as Kjors hovered above her body, her chest and throat ripped open.  Sucking in a sharp breath, the man scrambled to his feet, knocking his head on the roof of the badger sett as he surged out of the opening, swinging his head about wildly.  “Bishop!?” he shouted again, searching for any sign of his companion.  “Bishop!”

Somehow it had just gotten too stuffy in their den. Kjell had a way of heating her up. The girl tossed and turned vaguely, trying to stay to one end of the den so as not to disturb Kjell. But he slept fitfully too, his paws scratching the ground in a way that was impossible to sleep around given the already undesirable circumstances. For many minutes Bishop simply watched him twitch and fidget, wondering what the cause was. It occurred to her that perhaps what Kjell would have wanted was to be woken up, maybe he was having a nightmare.

But Bishop did not want to believe that Kjell had nightmares. Kjell was fun and Kjell was wild and he had no past. He could not have nightmares. He could not be another broken thing to tether herself to. So motionless, she sat, watching him and hoping that this was not a mistake.

She sighed and stepped over him into the open night. It seemed she would have to sleep somewhere else for the night. She did not intend to go far. The coolness of the night soothed her, and she breathed in deeply as she sank to the ground beside a knotted, leafless tree. This seemed as good a place as any.

Now.... who was screaming her name?

The earth right outside the den was empty, and for a moment the man forgot he was a wolf at all. As his sides heaved with worry, his head swung from side to side as he searched wildly for his companion. Orange eyes were ringed with white as he huffed again, and only after half a minute did he remember he had a nose at his disposal. Inhaling deeply, he quickly recognized that familiar scent and went off like a lead ball from a musket in that direction.

As it turned out, @Bishop wasn’t even that far away – simply out of sight, and no more. She was greeted with a woof, perhaps a bit huskier than usual, and the male simply barged into the other loner’s space with little regard for any personal boundaries at that moment. The woman was given a once over before he shoved his snout into her ruff, his coriaceous nose rooting through her thick winter coat to find her throat, neck, and shoulders. He went on like this for several moments, despite any protests the woman might have offered, until he was satisfied that he could not detect the slightest hint of blood, nor the tiniest scratch on her skin.

Only then did Kjell pull away, eying the woman warily as if she’d planted the seeds of terror in his mind. “Y’wandered off,” he grumbled, wide-eyed fear slowly replaced by a furrowing brow. “Couldn’t find ya, Bishy. Tha’ ain’t th’ purpose a’ sharin’ a den, y’know?”

Shouting momentarily forgotten, the young woman had begun to dose off before a snout was rudely shoved into her neck, her shoulder, and all over her body. She grunted absently, her paws moving to drive the snout away. "Whayya waaaaaaaant," she moaned. "Rook stooooop."

However, the snout would not be denied and when her eyes opened and they gerbils in her brain began to spin the wheels again she realized it was not Rook's nose at all. Groggily she blinked. Oh. It was just Kjell, though he seemed rather unlike his usual, detached, cool self. Normally he would not comment on the fact that she had wandered off, since he very much liked to remind her that she was a free woman beholden to no one. But now he seemed quite adamant that she should have been in the den. Bishop's emotions floated somewhere between jubilation at being wanted, needed, and a dislike of being clung to. Desperately she wished she had the courage to ask him what he saw as the purpose of sharing the den. Was he getting something out of this? Did he think they were mates or something?

"You were being loud, it was too hot," she pouted. "You were goin on an on in your sleep." 

Rook.

The word rang like a gunshot in his mind, and the dragon couldn’t have stopped the hiss of anger even if he wanted to. Rook. The twin brother who’d brushed her off like a mere burr clinging to his summer coat when he was no longer interested in her company. The twin brother she often referenced as someone who’d harmed her, who’d hurt her feelings and left her to dwell, and that was who she thought would come to check on her in the middle of the night?

Ears flung back as his head reared up, and Kjell had only just managed to curb the curl of his lip as his emotions spun out of control, still fueled by the horror his mind had fed him in his sleep. “’scuse me for givin’ a shit,” he spat, taking a step away from her space now that he’d determined that she was not, in fact, bleeding all over the place. @Bishop was very much whole and alive – and apparently not happy to see him in the slightest.

It was a slap in the face, that. His tail lashed behind him as his ears continued to flex, unable to shake the terrors his dream had left him with as he grumbled underneath his breath. “Jes’ me an’ you now, huh? We keep an eye on each other, an’ y’were jes’ gone. Ah thought somethin’ happened.”

The sibilant noise that rattled in Kjell's teeth caused her ears to duck for cover. In her foggy state of mind, she had not even thought to consider how being called Rook would offend her friend. But he had listened to her rant, rage, and sigh. Obviously he had not developed a high opinion of her brother, and wished to never be in the same sentence with the man. She bit her lip, crooning softly. But he spit back more vitriol at her, and soon she was crouching on the ground. Vaguely she wondered about running away. Or fighting back. A younger Bishop would have taken up arms, but the girl prostrate on the ground before the snarling brute was much more unsure of herself, much to afraid to disturb her place in the world.

"I'm sorry," she whined, trying to slide a little close to him. Behind her, her tail was lashing against her thigh, against the ground. "I'm sorry Shelly..." Bishop hoped that the little pet name might draw out the Kjell she knew, the Kjell she liked. This one was too scary for her. "I won't do it again. I promise." What else was there to say? She could think of nothing. In the place of words she left kisses on the underside of his muzzle. 

Such gentle coos were met with some success, Kjell seeming to remember himself as the snarls dried up, eyes dropping to the female before him. She hadn’t meant it, the back of his mind whispered to him, she hadn’t meant to do such a thing. There wasn’t a nick anywhere on that impeccable pelt, and it certainly wasn’t her fault his brother was a lying, thieving, murderous snake. He gave a heavy huff and shook out his thick pelt, allowing himself a private moment of thought before stepping forward to press his nose back to Bishop’s crown.

“S’okay,” he crooned after a moment, feeling poorly for startling @Bishop. It’s okay that she had scared him so – forgiveness was at hand. And it was okay now, the nightmare had past. The world was as it should be, and Kjors was miles and miles away. With any luck, he’d also be six feet under, but the prince wasted little thought on the brother he’d not seen in years.

“C’mon, get up,” he sighed, returning the kisses two-fold. “I shouldn’a yelled.” No, that was not how a wolf was supposed to talk to a lady – to a pretty lady. “I was jes’ scared, okay? I really did think somethin’ happened. I had a dream, and it was so real…” He trailed off with a shake of his head. “I’d miss ya, if you were gone, yanno?”