The Sunspire you squandered your chances

set after this thread. @Cupid

He runs, and he does not look back. He knows he cannot stop, even as the path grows more difficult, the climb more steep. His heart beats fast in his ears, breath ragged and harsh against his burning throat, paws aching and wet with blood and pus, and his shoulder — Oh, He stumbles as the pain hits him fully, gaze lifting too late from the rocky ground under him. His paws scrabble against the ground, sliding against the blood-slicked earth, and for a moment he feels as if he's flying. His eyes snap up, past the steep path ahead, toward the sky. It's so blue. I'm flying.
Only for a moment, though. He hits the ground with a gasp and a short, breathless shriek, vision blurring as pain overwhelms his other senses. He writhes, straining for purchase, but he only succeeds in rolling himself further down the slope. The trip down is anything but smooth, and after a moment, his vision begins to flicker to black.
When the blackness fades, he blinks his eyes open and realizes he does not know where he is, or how he'd gotten here.Ow... His voice is high with pain and thick with the threat of tears as he shifts, eyes growing hot. For a moment, he forgets that he's alone. Helios... Helios, it hurts, it hurts so much — But when he turns with tear-filled eyes to plead with his brother to make it stop, he finds that he isn't there. The air leaves his lungs, and his throat closes. Alone, remember?
It all comes back to him, then: the gnawing hunger in his belly, the scent of food within the valley, those white wolves, their teeth in him. A cold feeling fills his stomach, nausea replacing the hunger, and he twists to turn his gaze first to his shoulder, then his hip. Oh — oh no, no —A sob cuts him off, and he turns away from the sight of torn flesh dark with blood, retching. He cries until he can't anymore, until the tears are all gone and the sobs fade into the occasional forlorn hiccup, and he remembers something.
I wanted to die, he thinks, gazing at the dimming horizon. They tried to kill me, and I wanted to die, but I didn't let them. He can't help but laugh at the irony of that, at the ridiculousness of botching his own death. It will only be a slower kind of death, he knows, and the thought sparks a panic deep inside of him; he does not want to die like this, covered in blood and piss and dirt. Tired as he is, though, he does not truly feel anything except a small bud of gratitude for the knowledge that he won't be alone for much longer.

That fight was a disturbing thing to witness. Well, could you even call it that? It was an unbalanced onslaught, one that ended with a broken child screaming for mercy. What a piercing call. It cut through Cupid's cold heart. The kid had trespassed into their lands and she certainly needed to pay for it. How else would she know better next time? Still, did the courtiers really need to go that far? That kid had no chance of defending herself against the two much older and skillful duo. And watch now as she leaves a trail of blood and piss, one Cupid quickly took to following. He called out from behind but he might as well not speak at all. The intruder was dead set on escaping. Slow down! You're going to-

And in the blink of an eye the child flew off the edge of the mountain. Down he tumbles and Cupid watches from above with a shocked stare. This kid was more delusional than he initially thought. After a moment the man tentatively descends to where she lies. Surely, he thought, that fall had taken her life. She was in bad enough shape as it was, further bloodied by Courtfall. This has to be the final straw. But when he approaches he hears quiet cries.

I've seen a lot of stupid shit in my life but what you did back there takes the cake. His first thoughts are spat out like poison. If she didn't know before then she hopefully knew now. And hopefully she'd never pull a stunt like that again. 

Cupid sighed and shifted in his place. Now that he was down here he wasn't sure what to do. Come to think of it he had no business being down here. Why should he care for an intruders well being, an idiotic one at that? Things would've been different if she were an adult, but she was just a child, a naive one. That was a dangerous trait to have.

Get up. Cupid sat and observed carefully, wondering if she even had the strength in her.

Someone comes for him eventually, but it is not Helios. The stranger's arrival startles him half to his feet after a moment's delay, deaf to the other's words, but he sways when the pain hits him again and his legs quickly collapse before he can fully pull himself up. His chest heaves with the effort, each breath ragged, and he stares at the stranger without truly seeing at all. It hurts, it hurts, I can't —
So he doesn't. His breathing begins to slow, gaze finally focusing on the dark wolf, and the last words register belatedly. Get up. But it hurts, and he doesn't want to hurt anymore — so he doesn't. Why don't you just kill me? He asks dully, eyes hollow as he studies the wolf. He knows from scent that this is one of the wolves from the pack he'd just fled, but the realization does not inspire fear. He's already been hurt, torn and ruined and driven from any solace he might have found in a meal or companionship; there is little more this wolf could do to him that has not already been done, he thinks. Whether he stays or leaves or brings a quicker end to the silver boy hardly matters. He is already dead anyway.

Just as suspected—the kid could barely stand. There was a pitiful attempt, but she just barely lifted from the ground before collapsing again. Cupid was at a loss for what to do. He should get help— that's what a pack wolf does right? Help others in need. Well it wasn't like he could do it even if he wanted to. The kid fucked up that chance as soon as she stepped foot in Courtfall. But despite how idiotic her actions were, he couldn't find it in his heart to leave a child to rot. He couldn't be like his mom.

An ear twitched when the girl uttered a question. It would've shocked anyone. Such a young soul shouldn't even imagine such a thing. But that will to die was nothing new to Cupid. 

He had no desire to harm the whelp. He was just curious as to why she'd ask such a thing. Why should I?

The stranger doesn't take the bait, and Zephyr finds himself so startled by the question and the tone of it that he forgets his hostility for a moment. I — I deserve it, he almost says, tasting blood and hearing Maman's scream as if from a distance. His eyes fill with tears again, and he hates that. Weak, he thinks. His head drops a little, gaze falling to the ground. Shame overwhelms him, displaced by anger so quickly it immediately leaves him breathless again. Maybe I want to die. He snaps at the ground, heart pounding so hard it hurts, though not nearly as much as his shoulder. Realizing immediately that he hadn't truly answered the question, he glances back up with defiant eyes and adds, Your packmates would have killed me. That's reason enough, isn't it? He can't imagine any wolf not standing with a packmate.

There's a moment of vulnerability. Words are caught in the kid's throat, tears sheen those eyes, and she turns her nose to the earth. And in instant that moment is gone. Those words chilled him to the bone. Never in a million years did he wish to meet a soul that mirrored his own. A mission to meet your end wasn't at all pleasant. He would not wish it on his worst enemy.

So that's why you were actin' a fool. He glanced up towards the mountain peak, briefly wondering if one of the women had followed them down here. But there was no sign of either. It was for the better.

Sorry kid, I ain't like them. You're gonna have to live another day, he paused to look down upon the injured whelp, and it won't be fun if you don't get patched up. In truth he wished to help with his knowledge, but he didn't know how to go about it or if he even should.

The reaction is not what he had expected, though if asked, he would not have been able to say what exactly he'd been expecting. He takes in a breath, shivering as the cold air fills his lungs, and something breaks within him. He turns his face away again, gaze finding the mountains. I don't want to, The words escape him in a halting whine, more desperate than defiant, and his sorrows begin to pour from him. Somewhere in the middle of it, he begins to sob. My parents are dead and my brother is gone and I'm always cold — and everything hurts, and no one likes me. Everyone thinks I'm a stupid, weak girl, so they hate me. I'm not a girl and I'm not weak. I'm not — I'm just tired. The words blend together toward the end, until his voice breaks. His head dips abruptly between his forelegs, forehead tucked against one as he dissolves into tears again. I am weak, he thinks, weak weak weak weak. The word echoes in his head endlessly, and he falls silent under the onslaught.

The similarities between the two were downright eerie at this point. Dead parents, alone in the world, hurting, hatred, and— oh. The last part spilled out so fast he could barely caught onto it, but he understood the message. Cupid could hardly believe it. As far as he was concerned he was the only one that struggled with identity. But here this boy was, broken down by how the world perceived him. For the first time in years Cupid's heart ached.

I never knew my dad. He sighed heavily as he sat down next to injured youth. So I only had my mom. When she died, I was left alone to rot in this world. And that shit- it— he paused to suck in a shaky breath. —it hurt man. I've been living alone on my own for years; trying to understand myself while dealing with the world's bullshit.

What I'm trying to say is you're not alone in this. I've been through the same things you have. Still am. There were so many things he wished to say, but Cupid was never good with words. Even still, he tried his best.

Listen kid, you are who you say you are. And go on and tell the world who you are. If they say otherwise then fuck them. They don't know shit about you. Only you do.

The dark wolf's words cut through the infinite echo of weak in his head, though it takes him several moments to calm down, even as he listens. Any other time, Zephyr might have dismissed the words entirely, but his anguish and exhaustion have left him vulnerable, and he can't help latching on to any small measure of comfort he finds. There's something soothing about the other's voice, he decides, slowly tilting his head to fix argent eyes on the stranger's dark features. Something tightens and leaps in his chest at the pause, the tremulous breath and the words that follow, and for the first time he truly sees the wolf who'd followed him past the pack's borders.
Someone like me. The thought sticks in his mind, and suddenly he feels shy as the other continues, both undeserving of the advice bestowed on him and slightly resentful of it. For some reason, the thought that this wolf views him as a child stings. But he pushes it aside, embarrassed now by how quick he is to anger and to crumble. Weak, he reminds himself. But he could be strong — he could take the advice given to him, follow the example set before him. Couldn't he?
His head lifts slowly, slightly sheepish as he blinks away the tears, though his gaze never leaves the other. He almost seeks reassurance, or more advice; surely he could use a generous helping of each right now. Questions linger at the tip of his tongue, too, a flood of them waiting to pour forth. But the tightening in his chest holds him back, so instead he mumbles shyly, What — what's your name? His gaze falls slightly, landing on the other's white-streaked throat, and he tries not to imagine how it might feel to tuck his face against the fur there and steal a bit of the stranger's warmth. It's the cold, he tells himself, and firmly slams the door in the face of that feeling. He needs none of that weakness now, especially not in front of one so much stronger than he is.

Something he had said must have gotten through to him, cause the boy finally looked him in the eye. Any malice that was present was gone now. All that was left was a broken child with misty eyes. He couldn't tell what exactly was going on through his mind. He could only hope he felt a bit of relief. God knows Cupid needed someone to tell him this when he was younger. Look at him now: fucked up beyond repair. Hopefully the kid wouldn't go down the same road he did but there was no guaranteed. Life was always terrible.

Cupid. When boy's gaze fell he leaned forward. He had forgotten about the boy's injuries but he looked over them again now. Did he even want the treatment anymore? Did it matter? What about you?

He'd forgotten his wounds as well, but as he remembers the ice settled deep in his bones he begins to remember those too. Tension grips him for a heartbeat as he waits for the sensations to hit him again, gaze drifting away from Cupid entirely as he leans forward, but the bite of agony never comes. Only a dull ache throbs in various places on his body now, and more than anything, he just feels cold.
And then the reality of the situation crashes down onto him, and he sucks in a breath, feeling the weight of it as strikingly as he'd expected to feel the pain of his wounds. For a moment he sees himself as if from a distance, bloody and starving and soiled, drenched in the scent of infection — a ruin of a boy; how could he imagine that he could be anything more? He's too damaged by now, better off dead at this point; inspiring as the other's words had been, surely they'd come too late. And how could a wretched creature like him imagine that anyone would want him near, even if he were so inclined? The thoughts all flash through his mind in the time it takes him to exhale, though it feels an eternity to him. Shamed beyond words, beyond even his own comprehension, he takes another breath — and shuts down entirely.
Zephyr, He murmurs, unable to look at the other now. The proximity prickles at him, and he shifts abruptly, breath hitching as he drags himself quickly to his feet; he knows he can't leave himself any time to think about it, or he'll give up again. His torn shoulder leaves one front leg feeling unsteady beneath him, and one of his hind legs refuses any weight at all, but he manages to stand nonetheless, jaw clenching as the throbbing intensifies.
He hates that he feels small and weak even standing, but it makes him feel a little less helpless, at least. He immediately reaches for something to say, anything that isn't about him — So you're... not a girl either? It isn't exactly what he'd wanted to say, but the question has been lingering behind the turmoil of all his other thoughts, and it is the first thing that comes to mind. He does want to confirm that part anyway; he'd never thought anyone else would feel that way too, having accepted early in life that he is rather different from other wolves.

Suddenly he moves, first a shift, then a push, and soon enough he was on his feet. Well, most of them anyways. A hind leg hovered above the ground, while his foreleg threatened to give at any moment. More to worry about. In any other situation Cupid wouldn't care, he probably wouldn't have followed Zephyr down here in the first place. But the two shared the same pain and that's something he couldn't say for anyone. Birds of a feather flock together didn't they? The least he could do was give him some advice.

But before he could say anything the boy hit him with another question. Cupid nodded. Never have been. It took me a long time to realize that. Too long, he thought. Maybe life would have been kinder if he had come to terms with it sooner. He'd be happy. Maybe. Who knows. His mind began to wander. What would've happened if he knew about it before his mother died? Cupid turned to Zephyr and wondered if his parents knew before they passed. He was tempted to ask, but he held his tongue.