Dead Empress Backwater hokey-pokey

Oleander dropped the quills he had pulled, watching what happened next in slow motion. The quills landed in an X formation, and Anatole remained still until Asmund appeared. Growls filled the air, jolting the medic once more. Immediate recognition was his only saving grace. Anatole fled altogether, not far if Oleander's ears could discern, leaving them in a flurry of snow. He let out a sigh and a shrug of his shoulders as he regained his bearings and shifted his weight.

Asmund's adrenaline-filled stance relaxed as the Valle eyed him. Oleander's lips pursed at first. The other youth had not been wrong to assume the worst. For all he knew, Oleander and Anatole could have been murdered by that thing... stabbed in the hearts, pierced in the undersides, bitten to death, and left like a pile of sticks to bleed...

"Not bad," his tone was nonchalant after he cleared his throat. "Would've scared me off if I wasn't s'posed to be here. Not bad at all..."

they say pray it away, i swear,
OLEANDER VALLE
that I'll never be a saint, no way

I'M STILL BREATHING, I'M STILL BREATHING

---

(I knew what I wanted, I went in and got it, did all of the things that you said that I wouldn't)

The other yearling rapidly made himself scarce, reminding him not just of himself but now Little Fox as well. Further proof that the world beyond a pack's protective borders brought nothing but bad. Why else would all the orphans be so skittish while the Backwater's young thrived in arrogance, as though they were invincible?

'Not bad.'

Asmund's ears lifted, and he glanced briefly into Oleander's molten eyes before focusing on his own dark paws again. The heat remained in his cheeks, but now it spread to his chest. Praise was something he only really got from @Viorel, and he knew it was partially his own fault; he barely let the others in the pack be around him, never did anything worthy of reward. Just the bare minimum, just what was expected of a broken orphan. Moments like this helped him to continue believing he might become more.

He had to become more. Asmund was months away from adulthood, from losing all excuses and exceptions.

"Thanks."

He'd wanted the word to come out smoothly, but instead it was practically a squeak. A soft sound told the world he was clearing his throat, but that alone was so anxiety-inducing that he barely managed it at all. Az had no idea how to navigate the situation now, and much of him wanted to turn tail and run as he most often did.

"Do you, um," practice gave his voice gradual strength, "do you need help?"

(I told you that I would never be forgotten, and all in spite of you I'm alive, you took it all but)

---

I'M STILL BREATHING, I'M STILL BREATHING

(This post was last modified: Feb 08, 2024, 01:33 AM by Asmund.)

In an almost comical way, Anatole covered his face with his paws. He winced, teeth clenching, as his nails brushed against the quills that remained. Merde, that hurt... Rust-colored ears stood on end, listening hard as Oleander and the other youth began to talk.

"Not bad. Would've scared me off if I wasn't s'posed to be here. Not bad at all..."

"Thanks," Asmund replied, though to Anatole this sounded like nothing more than a squeak. "Do you, um, do you need help?"

Anatole's paws slid down from over his eyes. Fear and embarrassment seemed to go hand in hand. Both gripped him by the shoulders and raked their sharp-nailed digits down his spine. It was taking everything to not let the whimper in his throat free. He could taste the blood in his mouth now that the adrenaline was starting to edge away. A variety of scenarios began to play out in his head. Being humiliated in front of his budding crush was the very last thing he needed right now. If only the bâtard hadn't come from the underbrush and ruined everything between them... The quills would have been gone, he could have tried to help Oleander with his quills, and they could have talked... alone, together... So much for that.

there used to be a greying tower
ANATOLE GERAU
alone on the sea

Much like a proud parent, Oleander beamed at Asmund. Boy, both of them had come a long way in almost a year. His tail wagged, but then he remembered the injury he had in his flank.

"Do you, um, do you need help?" the youth asked.

"Heh," Oleander tried to not let hubris raise or rear its pristine, flawless head. He gave a sheepish smile, "Yeahhh... Ya think you could do me a favor? If ya 'ave a decent grip, take these—" He shuffled to one side, presenting Asmund a clear view of his upper thigh, "—out of my leg 'ere?" Moving sent a twinge of pain down the muscle to his knee and his muzzle wrinkled. His tail hung down behind his limbs. He had to admit to himself that turning his back to the intruder had been a stupid idea. His parents had taught him better than that. "Then, maybe help me wrangle my patient back o'er here so I could finish taking care of 'im? He's skittish, if ya gotta pin him down, you 'ave my permission to do so."

(This post was last modified: Feb 08, 2024, 07:15 AM by Oleander.)

they say pray it away, i swear,
OLEANDER VALLE
that I'll never be a saint, no way

I'M STILL BREATHING, I'M STILL BREATHING

---

(I knew what I wanted, I went in and got it, did all of the things that you said that I wouldn't)

Asmund had honestly expected a 'no,' given an opening to be excused and the opportunity to flee companionship in favor for solitude once more. Instead, the older wolf gifted him with another surprise, one that meant more than Oleander would likely ever know. He said 'yeah'. He said that Az could, that he was capable, that he had a use, a purpose for existing in this particular moment instead of just happening upon it. The yearling's chest lifted and he gave a firm nod. Ollie would not be failed.

Az strode forward, sizing the spines up on the way. He had seen a porcupine with his mother once, though it had been at enough off a distance that the critter had not paid them any mind. She had told him of their quills and how they did more damage on the way out, and that there was no way to avoid it, and so it was best to always avoid them. He wondered how the two had gotten themselves into this mess as he closed his teeth down around all three as tightly as he could before giving a solid yank.

(I told you that I would never be forgotten, and all in spite of you I'm alive, you took it all but)

---

I'M STILL BREATHING, I'M STILL BREATHING