Shallows Edge the space between

// @Askan - set January 11th, evening.

Pietro could give many excuses as to why he hadn’t approached the alpha sooner. For one, he was constantly tired. Constantly working. For another, he was sore and achy, likely from overwork and cold combined. He wasn’t an old wolf by any means, but he certainly did feel it. And lastly, he simply didn’t want to be chewed out for no reason.

He understood Askan was angry. Hell, Pete probably would be as well, if he had someone he cared so deeply for disappear like Reyes did. But he did not, and the very least the small wolf could do was seek out his leader and friend. Console him, perhaps, if he was allowed.

The shadow slinked through the territory in search of the larger man, only to find him settled down by the water’s glassy, icy surface. It looked beautiful like that, he thought, in a fleeting mindset that was no longer set on business.

Brazenly, the younger wolf padded over and sat down beside the leader, overlooking the Shallows.

He sighed, steam billowing from his maw, before speaking. ”I’ve always liked winter. There’s something so pretty about everything coated in ice and snow.” Even if it killed off many herbs, Pete had a lot in stock. ”It’s paving the way for a new, fresh spring. What do you think?” the healer asked, looking over at him with calm mercury eyes.

Askan sat by the ice, glaring down at it as though he hoped his sight alone was hot enough to melt it. It wasn't a problem nor did he really care how cold it was, he simply needed something to set his sights on, an inanimate object he could direct his ire at. It was just so easy to be angry, a stronger man would have tried to fight it off; to resist the urge to cave in on himself and become hallow inside but...Askan idly wondered whether he'd been destined for this path all along. He'd always been so kinetic, full of energy and frustration, but he'd thought he'd risen above that and was now more than a sum of his parts. But it seemed as though fate had a way of putting him in his place, reminding him of the true order of things. There was no escaping it, Askan was not a good man, nor was he particularly strong. He just was... Askan didn't know anymore, the truth was lost to him now.

Askan said nothing as Pietro approached. The flick of his ear was the only acknowledgement Askan offered as the Archer sat down beside him. Whatever he had to say Askan would listen, he supposed.

The pair sat in silence as Pietro's words lingered between them, thin like mountain air. Small talk. Askan couldn't decide if he liked it more or less these days. On one paw he hated lukewarm attempts at pity, there there I know you feel bullshit, but on the other he'd much prefer to keep conversations concise and to the point. Pietro no doubt had something profound up his sleeve, he was merely working up up to it. Askan would tolerate it, even if only to kill some time.

"I suppose. It brings it's own problems though..." Ones he wasn't looking forward to dealing with. Not alone at least.

Well, he hadn’t been snapped at or told to leave, so the second male decided to count his blessings... and push his luck. He curled his tail around his haunches and turned silver eyes toward Askan, inquisitive and (slightly) concerned. Reyes and Askan had been very close, and while Pete wasn’t quite sure how romantic feelings worked and how being mates felt, he was sympathetic. Or at least trying to be.

”Everything has... problems,” he murmured, placing a paw against the icy surface of the water. ”But overcoming those problems and adjusting to them are a part of life. It works toward good in the end.”

He stretched and got to his feet again, white-tipped tail brushing lightly against the older wolf’s shoulder. ”Talk with me,” he invited with a small smile. ”How have you been sleeping lately?” It was his job to figure out how to help his pack mates in whatever way he could, and he had some solomon’s seal that would help with insomnia, which he was willing to bet Askan was suffering from.

Problems problems problems. Askan had plenty of those, arguably too many but he supposed it came with the job title. As a leader he'd always been aware of the risk of becoming complacent so he supposed in a sense it was good to have a lot of shit on his plate, but how much was too much? It was a question he found himself pondering often these days. Pietro's statement felt empty, like he was recalling the lyrics of a song that had long since gone out of fashion. Askan's brows creased together as he huffed, indignant. Work towards good in the end huh? Askan didn't even try to deny the sneer that twisted his features. His mother always used to lament that he looked so much more handsome when he smiled but that hardly mattered to the Selwyn. She was dead; being pretty hadn't helped her in the end.

Askan said nothing but his Medic continued nonetheless, stretching out his tangent till he finally posed the Edge Lord a question. Not the one Askan had assumed he'd ask but it was close enough. The Archer clearly had the to wits not to ask him how he was doing, it was such a loaded question that Askan would have snapped regardless of who had asked it. Had Askan been human it would have been obvious enough, but was a wolf and so his fur masked most of his secrets.

"Fine." Came his curt response. His words were sort of true, when he blinked his eyelids only felt a little heavier than they should have. "But if @Lae kicks me again in her sleep I'll have her paw." It was an empty threat, he'd do no such thing.

Pete had to admit, he did feel sorry for the older wolf. He knew Askan likely wouldn’t want pity or concern, but here he was anyway, feeling pity and concern. Trivial emotions, really, and he hated himself for experiencing them. But he supposed he had always liked Askan. Considered him a friend, even if the alpha didn’t think of him in the same way. In all honesty, Askan was the only reason he had stayed in the pack for as long as he did.

He’d gotten good at tiptoeing around the things that would make the larger man angry and snappy with him. And in fact, what he said after almost sounded like some sort of attempt at a joke.

“Lies,” he accused, mercury eyes alight with mischief. “You’d take her entire leg. And that is why I do not sleep in the communal den.” He waved his tail once and licked at the fur on his chest to mask his embarrassment at what he was about to say. “If you want, you’re welcome to come and stay in my den. It’s much quieter - you’d be more likely to get an actual full night’s rest.”

It wouldn't be hard, she was a frail old thing, but then of course he never intended to murder or maim her. The mere thought was abhorrent, so impalpable that the thought clearly didn't belong in his mind. He was in a tough spot, no doubt, but had he sunk this low? No fucking way. Askan shot his medic a pointed look when he finally got around to extending his offer. The inclination to shoot him down without even mulling it over was so very tempting, a sharp no bounced on the end of his tongue but he swallowed it down and pretended to consider the Archer's words. Then again he'd never been a good actor.

Regardless, he had his own place. Sort of. It had been for him and Reyes but he was gone now so it was his now, funny how it had all worked out. Not for the best.

"Nah." It was casually dismissive, like he'd been offered the scraps of a half eaten meal. "I don't need a spooning buddy." His tone grew sharper then, abhorrent almost. It was rude, no doubt, but so very Askan.

Pietro was grateful that Askan at the very least tried to pretend to think about his response. It would’ve been kinder than just shooting him down, and the man wasn’t a good enough actor to give Pete any false hope - thank god - but still. It wouldn’t have been so bad to sleep in his den, he thought. Not the worst thing in the entire world.

He felt his ears burn a bit when Askan’s voice grew sharper and he mentioned a spooning buddy. And if he had been a wolf more ruled by emotion, perhaps the younger of the two would’ve sputtered. After all, no one liked being shot down like that. But he kept composure, only pressing his ears back for a brief moment.

“Nobody said you’d be getting that close,” he responded dismissively, his fur fluffed out just so in embarrassment. “You stink, anyway. I don’t want that all over my pelt, thanks.” It was said in a teasing way, not serious or angry or upset. Even though he was a little miffed. “Maybe freshen up a bit before you talk about spooning me.”

Did Askan really stink? No, but Pete didn’t have to let him know that.

Askan was all for spitting out acidic words but he'd never been good at receiving them in turn. He stood then, his movements stiff and robotic as he cast Pietro a scathing look. It was no doubt banter, but Askan clearly wasn't in the mood for pesky jibes. He'd sooner eat his own vomit. His demeanour was remarkably cold for a man who burned so hot, his hackles remained flat and his tail hung limp between his legs. Maybe he was taking a page from Pietro's calm and collected book, only that his execution was far more rugged and rough around the edges.

"Is that all?" Askan rumbled, his voice taut and tense.

There was more to this than mere annoyance; all of it was too much, teetering dangerously close to territory that was best left alone. In many ways Askan was like the frozen over Shallows, a little too much pressure and- crack.

(This post was last modified: Jan 28, 2019, 10:01 PM by Askan.)