Haunted Wood whistlin' past the graveyard

Open to anyone! Maybe @Cassiopeia if she's around?

It had been tricky to escape the caldera without being noticed and even as Titmouse made his way, he thought that every little noise was a sign that someone had followed him. He couldn't look back and make sure he was alone though, not if he wanted to make good time in his excursion. He picked his way through the forest as best he could, at first just to explore the outskirts and prove to himself that it wasn't Blackfeather's forest; that he was okay, he was safe and close to home and nothing could get him here. If anything did show up he'd likely hear it coming - the forest was massive but it wasn't exactly dark because of all the snow, and the reflecting light, and the gaps throughout the place. It was beautiful in its own way (although Tit was unlikely to see that beauty right now, as he ran amok through it). When he finally felt compelled to stop for a breather, he was panting heavily and trying to slow his racing pulse. Why was he out here? Two reasons: to find Green Eyes, and to find some way to feel normal after all that had happened. He couldn't stand being stuck at the caldera anymore, not after being looked after for weeks on end.

Perhaps her role was as leader, now, but she felt anything but. She'd secluded herself, and the scent of blackfeather was light on her pelt, so often did she leave the territory. So often now, she felt as if she'd strayed from whatever path had been destined for her. She was a false queen, surely, and they hated her, she knew it. How could they not; the lowest among them turned Speaker? And how could she be leader, if she cared for none of them save the pups and Vaati?

The wind pushed cruelly through her pelt, stiff with ice. Her plunge into the creek had not been accidental, rather, the cold had her feel something besides aimlessness for a long moment. And now the cold burned like fire, burned until it didn't and she was numb again. Her head pounded, and not the pleasurable burn of the ice but instead the dull ache that had, perhaps, been caused by her plunge. Sighing, the girl stopped and haltingly stretched out in the snow, gaze blinking slowly as tiredness seemed to collapse upon her, blinking slowly as she peered up sideways at the stars, fire fading to a dull numbness.

He had just about lost all hope in finding her, when there she was. Among the grayness of the snow with its criss-crossing shadows, she was a black pit that appeared familiar and alien all at once. He knew not to confuse her for Raven now - they were so incredibly different - but even so, Titmouse picked up his pace and closed the distance without much thought. She could've been laying in wait for him here for a while. This could've been a trap, or worse, exactly what he wanted -- he wasn't sure which event would've been more startling to him.

But he slowed as he rounded upon her position, paced up to her, and stopped a good wolf-length away. He'd learned his lesson the last time he'd found her. Then, she had been a complete stranger, and he had been an idiot kid. Now... Well, they weren't much different, but his freshly healed leg didn't need another lesson in proper manners. 

Green Eyes? He spoke, his tone questioning and low. She looked tired, but was watching the stars as if nothing was amiss at all. Titmouse wondered if she had been living here the whole time or if fate had merely done what he'd asked - and he took a breath to steady his nerves, but that only gave him some sour news.

She smelled like Blackfeather. She had betrayed him.

Her head felt thick, as if stuffed with cotton. It was becoming difficult to focus on much else but the stars, but the approach of another did not go unnoticed completely - no, rather, her actions were simply a bit delayed. She lifted her head off the snow, but was not interested in doing much else besides the simple act. Recognition glinted dully in her gaze, the name sparking a bit of happiness in her, along with the oddly happy thought that the boy before her was standing. Standing was good, yes, because-

Brow furrowing, unable to quite think of an answer, she spoke after a moment. "your leg." The words felt heavy, as everything did, somehow, but worry wasn't an emotion that surface immediately. Regret swam into the muddled mess that was her mind, pain still stabbing at her head. "i'm sorry." She slurred, softly, sadly. Cassiopeia didn't recall why she felt so ashamed, and remembering seemed a chore, but the word seemed important somehow. 

He was hurt by his discovery and certainly the type of person to turn tail and leave her behind - but she spoke, and as emotional as Titmouse felt, he couldn't just leave her here. The words were quiet and drifted over the snowscape. He frowned, unable to help himself as he felt an ember of anger situate itself within his heart. But she was slurring her words and he, having learned from only the best of healers during his down time, he could at least tell that this was a bad sign.

Titmouse wanted to leave her here. Let her fade away when the springtime came, melt like the shadow that she was. When she apologized he felt a sensation run down his spine much like he had when speaking with Vaati; he felt a sudden revulsion in the pit of his stomach, but he did not leave. Rather, he stepped closer and closer until he was right next to her, and then crunched down in the snow, letting his warm body mingle with her own. 

She was.. So very cold. He didn't ask why because it didn't seem to matter. Rather than speak, he stayed close and let his body heat soak in to the girl's fur. For now he'd do his best to ignore the scent of that fucking forest all over her, but it was difficult. All he wanted to do was ask her questions - but in an uncharacteristic act of mercy, maybe, he stayed silent.

He didn't speak for a few moments, which was all the girl needed to give up her feeble pretence of alertness and allow her head to slump back onto the snow. For a while, the two were still, and Cass hoped dimly that they boy had left; she was so very tired. But just as she'd begun to sink into sleep, there came movement, something pressing against her, warm and solid. She made a small noise almost like the whistle of wind through trees, something between a whine and a sigh. 

She was greedy, soaking up the boy's warmth, skin prickling almost uncomfortably. Poking her snout at him weakly, perhaps in an effort to warm her frost-singed nose, she sank into the snow finally, closing her eyes to rest for a moment; she'd deal with the boy when she woke. The influx of emotions was disorienting enough after so much numbness, and in sleep, the pounding of her head faded, breaths evened out and strengthened.

Titmouse couldn't remember if sleeping was a good thing or a bad thing when someone was this cold, and maybe it was his desire to get some revenge upon her, but he wasn't about to let her sleep for very long. When she began to dip her head, Tit waited. He watched her trying to gather his warmth and felt a warmth spring up in places he wasn't accustomed - but he attributed that to the wintertime, and the fact they were plastered together. Then when she did drop her head and begin to drowse, he put a stop to it quickly. The boy began assailing her with his tongue - across her nose, her face, her cheeks, bringing enough heat and movement to stop her from drifting off. Maybe he should have let her go to sleep instead? Titmouse realized after a second, as he withdrew and waited for his dry tongue to rehydrate, that he didn't care. He wouldn't care. But she would stay awake and he would get answers.

After a second volley of tongue-lashings, he paused long enough to get a few words out: You aren't sleeping here, his voice was a bit louder than he intended, commanding and hasty, and he was surprised by the way it carried across the snow. You're not allowed, got that? I have -- I have questions for you. And then, as the quiet sank between them again, Titmouse realized his mind was blank. He didn't know where to start. So, he asked the first thing that came to mind just to get her talking: What do I call you? I mean, what's your actual name?

She had helped hold him hostage and question him before - now the tables were turned.

She huffed, brow furrowing and ear flicking as her face was assaulted with warmth and motion, roused from sleep quickly, blinking at the boy as he withdrew, taking the opportunity to attempt to slip back to sleep. The second assault on her face dissuaded her quickly, however, and she made another small noise that might have been angry. The sound of his voice, booming out across the cold as it did, had her lift her head, twisting slightly to get a better look at him, fur on her face spiky and twisting every which way. 

Resentment at not being allowed to succumb to the exhaustion knotted in her gut, but aware that she was powerless to simply ignore the command had her keep silent. Perhaps, had she been more aware of herself in those moments, she would have realized the irony of captive-turned captor-turned captive, but instead quietly resigned to whatever questions the boy had for her. Memories were hard to dredge up, but they came slowly now, piecing together to form a better picture of the boy before her. "cassiopeia.", came her soft answer, resigned, tired. She might have asked him the same thing, but her mind felt too heavy to form questions, let alone retain their answers.

Had he been in a better mood and the circumstances been different, he might've laughed at that look upon her face. Instead, he merely watched her with a pointed expression, expectant and impatient, until she acquiesced. 

Cassiopeia. Damn it. He'd hoped her name would be something more sinister or at the very least, something ridiculous like his own. Instead it's something almost mystical - or maybe he was biased and didn't realize it. Either way, Tit was ultimately made to feel bitter and jealous over the girl's answer.

He nudged her cheek with his nose after that, making sure she was still cognizant. Okay. Next question.. What the fuck are you doing out here? If anyone else had caught you - and noticed she stank like Blackfeather, a smell which no doubt had spread to himself by now (a putrid little thought he'd realize later), - just, I dunno, be glad it was me and not Elwood, or something. But judging by the state she was in, the poor girl probably didn't care.

He poked her cheek, once again dashing any hopes of sleep she might have had. Blinking slowly, her ears flicked back, the volume of his voice (though not truly that loud) jarring. His question had her own brow furrow; she didn't know exactly why she was here, or where here was, exactly. She'd simply walked, moved, sought something to feel. "so tired"  The girl mumbled, both an answer and a statement. Dimly wondering who Elwood was, she continued, "they hate me." The jumble of thoughts that had been heavy on her mind rose to its forefront, and suddenly she felt the urge to tell the boy who vexed her so.

She muttered softly, incoherently, something about pups. Thinking of the spineless one, of Maegi and her spotted brother; the woman that was their mother by blood; high on poppy. The raving man, the spotted skeleton. They were a dying lot, blackfeather, so hated and feared and broken. And yet there existed Ganondorf, and the twins, who scared her with their hate and their power. How foolish she'd been in thinking she'd left behind her fear when she'd joined them.

Nothing she said was making any sense. He heard bits and pieces, all slurred and useless, and it only served to infuriate him. Titmouse couldn't help that the ember had been struck, and he was selfish enough that her attempts to appease him would only fail; that ember became something greater, enough so that he pulled away from her and left her to feel broken, cold, and alone.

He was on his feet and pacing beside her, and unable to contain himself. If you're just gonna ramble shit, then fine, go to sleep! I don't care anymore. You -- he turned and glared at her there in the snow, unable to reel in his frustration at the situation or the events leading up to it. Everything just made him so angry and all she could do was ignore him and sleep? You should go back home to your precious forest. If you're not here for me -- I don't want you! The caldera doesn't want you! Just fuck off.

With that said he seemed to spiral completely out of control, and took a few bold leaps away from her through the snow, fueled by his emotions.

He pulled away, leaving the girl staring after him, cold already settling back into her pelt. He was fire and anger, but at least he offered her sleep. Was that not easiest? She wondered, dimly, what exactly was happening to her. The world had felt heavy for a long time, now, but it felt like a weight she could not hope to bear, now. Yes, easiest, maybe, to simply sleep until she felt numb all over. 

And yet he spoke still, words angry and loud, these ones hitting home. Vaati was the only one who wanted her, not even the pack she was supposed to lead did not. She'd failed, completely and utterly, all those she'd known. The boy was moving away, now, his rage tangible. She stared after him a moment before lurching to her feet, swaying as she blinked away the dizziness and the hurt. Somehow, the knowledge that her life had been reduced to fading away in a snowbank had some survival instinct spring to life, perhaps driven by the fact that she had nothing to lose, not anymore. "wait"  She breathed, sluggish mind working on just how she'd keep the boy here if he even decided to pause a moment longer.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to go home, or just get out of here and run. Titmouse didn't have many places he could go; the valley was dangerous now that they all knew what Blackfeather was capable of, and he wasn't exactly keen to get caught up with them again. Just thinking about it stung - but maybe that was because she had betrayed him. He couldn't look at her, not even when she called out to him, but the boy did stop in his tracks. He tried to turn and glance her way, but as soon as her shadow was caught in his periphery, he felt the twist in his gut and stopped. Tit would let her speak her piece, but he was already thinking about where to go next - and clearly it wasn't with her.

He paused, but did not look back. The tired memories had surfaced through her foggy mind, and she understood who the boy was, but not his name. She didn't think she'd ever known it. The brief flare of the need to survive faded again, as she remembered being chased away, leaving him behind. She'd attacked him, stood beside Vaati as they'd dragged him back to the wood. She'd failed him too, and it was then that she realized that she was a coward. She could not face Moonspear, the last piece of her shattered family. She'd slunk back to the place that had stolen her away from her pack, held her captive, because she felt wanted, needed. 

Revulsion crawled up her spine, and she was silent, unable to conjure up the words she'd been trying to muster. "I am a coward." She said softly, words clearer than they'd been. Perhaps it was easier to turn away from the heaviness of life, as she'd done before. But the thought revulsed her even more, and she swallowed, dryly, adding after a moment, "but I don't want -" She didn't want to fade here, alone, frozen in the snow. She did not want to return to the wood, ashamed of herself and what Vaati would think of her, afraid of the twisted place. "don't want to go back. don't want to die." The last few words were pitifully quiet, charged with revulsion and something akin to fear.

Titmouse did not know her well enough to cast judgement, but he would cast it nonetheless. The boy saw her as an escaped victim just like himself, but the more he lingered here with her, listened to her rambling, felt the stirrings of pity, his natural reaction was to resist. He wouldn't feel pity for this girl. Whatever had transpired to lead her to Blackfeather had been her own fault - just as it had been his own fault that he'd ended up there with a broken leg. But the way she seemed to plead with him for safety did tug at his heart strings, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. 

I am a coward, she had said. That hurt the most - he knew exactly what that felt like.

After a moment of thinking, of listening, he finally turned around and faced her in the silence. Then, advancing towards her, Titmouse came to a gradual conclusion; although his anger had not been contained yet and his voice seethed, he did the only thing he coudl think of: he made a promise. Again.

Stay with me then. Not at the caldera, not in your woods. Wherever I am -- we could stay here. Or we could go somewhere else, but it'll be safe. It was a stupid idea. Something a child would concoct before understanding the world as they ought to. Maybe Titmouse was just as much afraid, but he was still a child at heart. He couldn't resist the chance to save a damsel in distress the way he'd always wanted. We can go anywhere, Cass.

She did not expect him to turn back, retrace his anger-forged path through the snow. But that he did, advancing towards her, making a statement she had not expected. Relief coursed through her, relief that he had not left her here to fade away in the snow. Perhaps she'd know it to be an illogical plan in time to come. She knew that to agree would be selfish; had she not left him in the knowledge he'd be better off with his pack, without his attacker? Still, it was tempting. How easy it would be to cut away what had transpired up to this point, the disappointment and the failure. And she knew that in her current state, she could not do it alone. 

 "anywhere." she echoed, the thought tantalizing, inviting. they could leave the valley, move north or south or west, where she'd heard the coast stretched wide. She swayed a little, but awareness burned a little bright in her gaze as she looked at him. "what is your name?"  She was on the edge of committing to his promise, on the edge of selfish and stupid agreement. But first; she wanted to know the name of the boy who offered her her an uncertain future.

It felt like they were restarting from some uncertain point. Like his kidnapping and imprisonment had not happened. Maybe Tit was getting his own memories confused, because he could have sworn he'd given her the information she'd requested before; that, or he'd told her the name of his home. Either way, it felt strange having to repeat himself. But maybe this is what they both needed: a fresh start. To banish all that had transpired before and start anew.

I'm Titmouse, he said without thinking, only to realize how stupid he felt - that same old idiotic name, same old idiotic self. He sighed and shook his head then, and corrected: No, no.. That's what my family named me. I'm Screech. Its.. Its nice to meet you, Cassiopeia. It would take some time for him to get used to calling her that.