a violent deed, living

"It all tracks back to Rionna. Gotta be. Knew it, too, but didn't want to think it. Not after—bloody bastard, are you listening?" How Nicharion could be, after Bastien had crept in, using the night and his knowledge of the patrol schedule to slip by undetected, silent as a specter, was unclear. The white wolf exhibited none of his usual calm; his pelt quivering uncontrollably was a glaring indication that did not need any assistance from the wrathful look he'd fixated upon the other male, as if blaming his lover for having been, quite selfishly, asleep at a time like this.

Bastien stood near the window, haloed in silver so bright and heavenly that his massive silhouette looked especially monstrous. Where the tip of his right ear would have shaded Nicharion's nose, that part of his shadow was altered—annihilated. He could feel a draft sneaking through a gap in the frame, brushing against sensitive, still-healing skin that hadn't yet become accustomed to the new sensation. This only proved to stoke his rage that much more. His, ah, updated appearance was the result of what had, after all, started in Rionna, which reminded him...

Leaving the light made him, and his new features, easier to assess. Clearly the crow had been busy in his time away; a long, swollen gash braided along his left thigh, fading bite marks riddled the side of his neck, and, of course, his ear had been torn clean in half, now missing its ebony crown. But Bastien didn't have a thought to spare for how jarring a scene he made for someone wrenched ruthlessly from sleep. Though he likely wouldn't have made a big deal regardless, even if he were in his right mind. They'd left other wolves in sorrier states than the one he was in, after all.

His eyes were slits when he arrived at the bed, his smile that normally held malice or mischief somehow wielding both as he leaned close. "I thought you'd pay more attention. Didn't you want to know why the crows disappeared?"

code // art

Nicharion had been busy the past few days. Not by the virtue of anything unusual happening at the border, no. That was still the same, uneventful workload, but in addition to it, he took it upon himself to track down an army recruiter that could be convinced to expediently take his recommendation without asking too many questions. Even though as a major he likely had enough authority to simply draft someone and that would be that, he took extra effort for the entire process to be as by the book as possible, immune to outside scrutiny. He won’t suffer anyone ruining this for him... for them.

Unsure when exactly his lover might return, he’d spent most of the first few nights lounging on his bed in a provocative pose, waiting with tireless hope until sleep caught him off guard, further contributing to his exhaustion. Nicharion wasn’t usually like this, to be so.. distracted, so easily. Maybe it was the excitement of taking things further, a promise of change and a breath of fresh air. Or, maybe he has just grown truly used to having Bastien at his side.

Summer has barely ended, and the nights have never felt colder.

Tonight, however, he was curled into a ball and in deep sleep. He woke just barely when a voice cut through the silence, not enough to fully comprehend the situation, but enough for trained old habits to tell him to be cautious. He pretended to be asleep still, preferring to keep the element of surprise, and blinked with one eye to assess his surroundings. It was dark, but the window let in enough moonlight to reveal a white-furred, large figure. That mostly put his concerns to rest, as it was rather unlikely some look-a-like assassin could flawlessly infiltrate an army outpost, instead of the one he was expecting.

The wolf skulked closer and spoke again, confirming his identity, but his behavior remained a mystery. Why wake him up in the middle of the night to mention something he didn’t care to talk about last time? “Ugh, what the hell, Crow?” The red brute groaned and stretched his legs out, trying to get himself fully awake. “You know there are more pleasant ways to wa-” His suggestive complaint came to a halt in his throat when he lifted his head and looked at the other male. The damage was obvious.. and so was his somewhat frenzied state.

In that moment, two thoughts ran their course in parallel. The first thought had him wrap his paws around Bastien’s neck to pull him into the bed, close to him. “Shut up, dumbass. I’m here.” He didn’t care for the risk that Bastien would reflexively scratch or bite him, the urge to hold him was drowning out all caution. He instinctively refused to accept that the man who has made his dull existence exciting again could be left to suffer in any way.. but Bastien had a habit of slinking away from emotional support. No matter. He will be comforted, even if it takes a chokehold to accomplish it.

“I’m with you.”

Even as Nicharion made every effort to offer a calm port in the midst of a storm, he was like magma rolling just below the earth’s surface. His eyes bore daggers into the shrouded ceiling, eerily fixated on a single point. If looks could kill, this one had enough malice for every soldier in this fortress to drop dead.

Bastien got hurt quite often. But he also knew how to handle himself. It seldom was serious, scars were superficial, and giving him first aid was entertaining in its own right. However, this... this was somehow different. Is it because an ear is a more significant change? Or because it was an integral part of the black and white pattern that he adored? Or.. simply that they are closer now? That someone dared to maim his Crow?

Nicharion couldn’t say. He only knew that he wanted to string the wolf responsible for this up on a tree. With their own intestines. And it took all of his willpower to delay inquiring after their identity.

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While the instinct arose to remain rigid, fleeting clarity intruded upon the ravaged planes of his mind and Bastien yielded. He all but collapsed into the pull and let his entirety buckle against his lover, but he wasn't seeking comfort, wasn't inching closer. For the perhaps the very first time, physical touch couldn't burn through the mangled mesosphere. The skin beneath his frayed fur still convulsed like a lake shattered by falling debris. Twitching, flinching; furled lips rippling in near constant, unmissable agony. He'd never felt pain extend so deep that it cut into his core unless he'd been wielding the blade; somehow, it was worse when the blow came by someone else's hand.

But perhaps a verbal anchor—I'm here. I'm with you.—Yes, that could do it. And there it was: That warming glow from within, expanding outward and throughout, like a salve seeping into every fracture it discovered in him.

The change was incremental at first. His shuddering dwindled, his breaths lengthening as a delicate calm gently embraced him. Only then did Bastien relent to his familiar habit, rubbing his jaw against the shoulder closest to him, crimson eyes momentarily vanishing to languish fully in the pleasure the action always evoked. When he pulled away and began to speak, his voice was more measured than before, his thoughts more cohesive and his pain more visible. "When I ventured back to Sussex, he was gone. The crows were the only way I could force him out of hiding." Truly, had things gone as intended, he'd feel quite proud at that particular stroke of genuis. Reflecting back... all he felt was betrayed, by Amoux and himself for trying to rectify a situation that he had created. "I'm sure you can already assume we didn't kiss goodbye." There was no need to expand on what had gone wrong that day; just that it had, ultimately, gone wrong. Bastien's reaction to the probe of Nicharion's curiosity the last time they were together was enough of a guarantee without wasting breath.

Abruptly, he looked away, gaze burning into the unseeable distance beyond the frosted window. "I had a traveling companion, someone that needed protection to return north. Home. She's a bitch, but she—I cared for her. I witnessed her brother fall in the war." His ragged scar was an endless reminder, a failure that could never be erased. "So I took her to my home in Tir Na Nog, let her live with Vela in my absences and recover, for what? To come back to an empty house and a half-dead messenger. For her to run off and get herself killed?"

With equal haste Bastien turned back to Nicharion and in him there raged a war between anger and sadness, hurt and vitriol in equal measure—and underneath it all: devastation, desperation. "Am I so easy to leave?"

Ultimately abandoned by everyone who once claimed to love him, when would it be Nicharion's turn? His claws threaded possessively into his lover's ruddy fur, boring into his flesh until they, too, turned red.

code // art

Crow’s weight was a familiar feeling laced with a new spice; anger was not an emotion that often had cause to spark when they were alone... cold, murderous fury much less so. Like a kid on a warpath, he Nicharion wrapped himself in vindictive stubborness to keep any notion of comfort at bay, lest it soothes him before he knows whose blood he must spill. To that end, he was glad to hear the other male finally speak more coherently, and simultaneously frustrated that it brought him no closer to an answer to the question he hadn’t asked. His tail drummed against the bed erratically, unlike the more steady rhythm of a contented wag. It’s always walking in circles with this birdbrain...

...which, even now, the red brute couldn’t fully deny being fond of. It kept him engaged, thinking and analyzing every minute detail, whereas consistent straight answers would ineavitably lead to boredom. In work he couldn’t tolerate such inefficiency, but in private affairs.. it was a luxury.

Finally, the story has moved on to so far uncharted territory without any comment on his part, introducing yet another actor. And yet, just like Crow’s former business partner, she didn’t seem to be the culprit behind the harm done to him... not the physical part of it, at the very least. Perhaps that deserved retribution in its own right, as a later consideration.

One detail stood out: Bastien mentioned his home, yet showed no concern for his daughter when recounting finding it empty... which implies she had already moved elsewhere earlier, likely somewhere that more or less ensured her safety considering how carefree the black and white wolf has been with all the time he spent on this side of the border. If that’s the case, then what would be entire timeframe of this chain of events? It was difficult to recall all of their meetings to stitch it together...

His musings were interrupted by a question he immediately recognized as important enough to necessiate an answer, followed by uncomfortable pressure of claws boring into his skin. He wasn’t in the mood for heartfelt exchanges and emotional support... but it couldn’t be helped. If this is what the other considered more important, it would be irrational to prioritize being angry about something else over addressing it. Relenting with a sigh, Nicharion placed his own paw on top of the other’s, forcing his claws to sink in deeper. He focused on stinging, throbbing pain, until it washed his anger off.

“You already know I asked myself the same question.” That chance meeting on the edge of water had them discuss it from his perspective, and.. truthfully, the question hasn’t bothered him since. “Yet here you are. Coming back to me still.” He lifted his paw, brushing it tenderly against the side of Bastien’s muzzle, leaving a diluted tint of red on his cheek. “So I don’t care if I am, not anymore. Everyone else can go fuck a beehive. And if you left.. I’d hunt you down.” Being broken is all promises are good for, they both have the experience to know that. Threats, on the other hand... which is why he led with one. Rationally, it was all that mattered.. but Nicharion couldn’t deny that his feelings for the other went beyond rationality. His paw moved to Bastien’s shoulder, steadying him as he pulled himself up so that his muzzle could seek the warmth of the monochrome male’s neck. He drew in his scent, as if it was the only air he could breathe. “Still, for what it’s worth... I’m not leaving you. Can’t imagine wanting to.”

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Despite himself, Bastien did smile, slow and serene, as the memory invaded his mind like that mist unfurled across the lagoon. That had been the first experience that tested their then-nebulous relationship to see if, within it, there was a space they both could occupy, a foundation upon which something could be built together. While he hadn't engaged in as many words as Nicharion did now to alleviate the aching in his heart, they had broken ground nonetheless, and the evidence was so plainly apparent that he couldn't identify how he had been this blind or if that blindness bled, instead, into selfishness. A trajectory that was tempting his thoughts, again, toward blind selfishness as he fixated upon it, and Bastien blinked once, then twice, clamping down on his senses until stars dazzled the darkness as if all of the night sky was imprisoned by his closed eyelids. It was now, in this singularly precious moment, that Bastien fully accepted that he had created something permanent, with someone permanent, which might outlast even the sands of time.

Opening them again to alight blood moons upon his lover's face, some of his pain and uncertainty had melted out of him, as if washed away, too, with Nicharion's anger, though he did not shy back from the pressure he was exerting into the other's skin, even as crimson beads formed around his claws, even as his head tilted into the touch, and the blood, upon his cheek.

And then he was grinning stupidly, the unexpected imagery deposited into the path of his meandering thoughts beckoning them to slow further still and appreciate the absurdity. It was a welcome derailment, but one he could not enjoy long, for he was drawn back to what had originally tormented him in Rionna. "He wanted leverage," he muttered. "Something he could use against you, if he wanted. Granted, I didn't know what that might be, but I wouldn't have told him if I did. I'm sick of threats." Threats against him, he could handle, but it was these threats leveled at the ones he loved, from wolves he once loved, that sent him spiraling and, at last, brought him to the burning question Nicharion hadn't broached and only just relinquished: "Though I did leave Savard with one, shortly after gouging his eye out. Fucker was in Saora, fae knows for why, and caught me at a bad time. He'll lose more than that if he goes after Vela, like he claims he would." That Bastien had left without her in tow was unbelievable and, perhaps, ill-advised.

But Savard had no biological identifiers to connect Vela to Bastien, and he wasn't left in much of a state to track her down at the moment anyway, which gave the mostly white male time to formulate a way to guarantee her safety.

"It'd be nice to get away from all this," he sighed, breath unfurling like trapped heat finally finding release and curling into the shell of his lover's ear. But doing so seemed infuriatingly improbable, especially with his pending enlistment.

code // art

Strange, how unfamiliar something as simple as smile could feel. This kind of smile, at the very least; not the twisted grins of predators playing games with lives of others. Stranger still how together they became something different than they were on their own, finding the capability to cherish such a simple thing. And cherish it he did, knowing that it belonged to no one but him.

Nicharion flicked his ear in momentary confusion, until he realized that Bastien circled all the way back to his disgruntled employer. “Ah. Clever.” Not dwelling on the losses and trying to gain some benefit out of that mess, the man was as business-minded as he had made himself appear, if nothing else. “I can’t imagine he’d trust you if displayed such willingness to betray, anyway. Seems to me he was just trying to play you.” It would have been entertaining to play him in turn, offer something that seemed valuable at a glance but actually wasn’t.. alas, that would have required prior preparation, which in turn would necessitate the major being informed of Crow’s plans. As compellingly reassuring as that might sound, the other male was free to do with his personal affairs as he wished.

Savard’s name being mentioned was the last thing Nicharion expected tonight, much less as an answer to his burning question. “Savard? He’s the one you fought?” The surprise prevented him from saying anything witty, but the silence was brief, interrupted by gritting of teeth as his jaws clenched in frustration. To think that one encounter could cause such a spiral of events.. needless to say, it has long since overstayed its welcome. “I should’ve tossed that bastard in jail long ago.” Now, he already made a mental note to have someone track Savard down. And then.. it’ll be time to put this charade to an end. Deliver his head on a damn platter, ought to make for a nice surprise.

But for now, it was too difficult to focus on plotting revenge with Bastien’s breath tickling his ear. Such resigned wishful thinking seemed uncharacteristic, but not surprising considering the black and white male’s mental state mere moments ago. Away from it all... perhaps... “That could be arranged.” Nicharion offered with little warning, smirking in anticipation of the other man’s surprised reaction. “You’ve heard of the Hinterlands, yes? Now, as much as I’d normally advise against boarding inexplicable ghost ships, if it’s to be part of our everyday reality regardless of my sensibilities then it’d be prudent to check it out. And it just might make for a nice vacation.” It was a good idea to let Bastien unwind before he starts his new job, they could afford to make any spectacular mistakes with that too quickly. Besides, Nicharion was growing rather weary of this border fort as well.

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Seems to me he was just trying to play you. Thinking it hadn't been easy on its own, but hearing it aloud somehow cemented the emotional havoc that notion had wreaked. Bastien tried not to fixate on it for longer than necessary. The thump of his tail in agitated motions, however, signified that that endeavor was proving entirely futile.

He turned, then, to the comfort that the damage done by Savard, at least, elicited fury on his behalf, watching the murder unfold in eyes that were red before the bloodlust entered them. "And I should have killed him when I had the chance." After all, hadn't Savard been begging him to? As the white reaper descended towards him, hadn't he pleaded for his soul to be taken? It had felt like too merciful a gesture to give in to the whims of a coward, and Bastien had wanted to exact the pain that he felt internally. It had been recompense, so why did it leave him with only a sense of regret? He grunted. "I won't make the same mistake twice, that's for sure. At least he'll be doubly disadvantaged next time." That did make him feel better.

His wistful nothing receiving more than a passing interest did render him shocked, flicking the ear still intact. "The Hinterlands, huh?" Uncharted, but unblemished... Beyond its newly established presence simplifying this transition back into the army, and bringing his and Nicharion's lives closer, Bastien hadn't put much thought into the ethereal realm at large. Now, he thought that it might just be what they needed. "Our first romantic getaway? I can't say I'd be opposed..." he trailed off with a grin, at last releasing his claws from their bloodied hold to make better use of them in turning his lover's muzzle towards his. Rhythmless tapping on the window disrupted him before their lips had a chance to connect, however, and then his ear was twitching for an entirely different reason altogether. Blasted duck.

"You, ah, may want to let him in. He'll just become more unbearable the longer he's ignored." Though he didn't share his doubts that his till-then forgotten companion wouldn't already have reached that status, knowing his master had left him behind.

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Why Bastien hadn’t killed Savard was a good question in and of itself; it would seem their fight was the kind that didn’t withold any punches. Then again, striving to make carefully calculated calls was Nicharion’s domain, and clearly not his lover’s. What’s done is done, the best he could do is focus on the silver linings. “I’ll just choose to assume you held back long enough to share.” A bit hypocritical of him to put it that way perhaps, when his first instinct was to go for the kill on his own and only show the black and white male proof of the deed... but that is something he found himself quite open to reconsidering, upon further thought.

Crow’s grin found a mirror match in one of his own. “Setting the bar high, huh?” It’s true that their trysts have been interwoven with daily business as usual, never purposefully taking a longer period of time just for them. And feeling the ever delightful heat of stoked embers within his body as he allowed Bastien’s paw to guide his muzzle, he could already picture doing... all sorts of things, in many new places. But before they could start to enact that trail of thought, a most rude interruption made Nicharion flinch and tense up like a startled cat. The complications of anyone walking in on them likely would not be devastating, but they certainly would be bothersome. It was enough to put him on edge, if only for a moment, before he processed the fact that no wolf could get up to one of his windows.

And yet, Bastien appeared to be entirely unsurprised. Let ‘him’ in...? The major frowned at the other male quizzically, but nonetheless pulled himself up from the bed and the warm embrace they shared with less than subtle reluctance. He opened the window, and... he was immediately forced to duck when a duck stormed inside, flapping its wings aggressively. And for a brief moment, Bastien would have had likely his first opportunity to see Nicharion utterly baffled, shocked even, as he started at the bird explore this new space without paying him any further mind.

“You’re being followed... by a duck.” he stated with the sort of dry tone that was only ever used to state a fact that was simultaneously undeniably apparent and completely incredulous. His gaze turned back to Bastien, and he opened his mouth to say something more... then closed it, and shook his head. “No. I don’t want to know right now.” As much as his lover might have a way of enticing his curiosity, this night has had far too many twists and turns to entertain the notion of.. whatever this is. “I’ll only say this: if this bird makes a mess here, I’ll have you clean it.. with your tongue.” He took a stern, firm step back towards the bed, making it clear he wasn’t jesting. And yet, there was a devious glint in his eyes... “Which, needles to say, would preclude any kisses for the day. As such, just to be safe...” he crept closer still, soon looming over the other male. “...I’ll have my fill now.”

Subconsciously, some part of Nicharion knew that sleep would elude him with this intruder in the room. Fortunately, the one distraction stronger than any obstacle was readily available.

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