He had ventured from the woods again when he inevitably grew restless. Since their last encounter, Alarian had crossed his mind more often than he would ever admit. So when he found himself in the mountains, he let his feet carry them to the cavern where he first found the other man; it was empty, but he knew it would be, still he couldn't stop the shot of disappointment that moved through his chest. He grew angry with himself for even caring and eventually moved on into the valley below. His skin felt too tight, and he tried to ignore it as he wandered, but nothing seemed to help.
His travels brought him to a lake, and stopped there to drink, sitting down at the water's edge to rest a little before moving on. He wondered if finding someone to terrorize would scratch his restless itch. He wouldn't kill or anything; the dark thoughts weren't that bad yet, but he sure would like to find some unsuspecting wolf and mess with them a little--watch them squirm a little in fear.
He sighed and slid down to the ground. He supposed he could also just go home and see if there was any work to be done, but that didn't seem quite as fun. He stared absently at the lake, pondering where he might go next, leaning significantly less towards the option of going home just yet.
Though neither can know, Alarian has struggled similarly with thoughts of Midar since their first meeting. Between his absent memories and thoughts of his encounter with the dark-furred male, he's hardly been able to sleep or think properly. He finds himself wandering instead, avoiding the members of Easthollow — trying desperately to avoid himself, somehow.
He doesn't expect to find the man who has been haunting his thoughts. Not so soon, at least. Midar,
He calls out softly from a few yards off, approaching him slowly with his tail swishing. He comes up beside him, halting near the water's edge with his gaze trained out over the water. He glances to Midar only for a moment, studying his expression briefly before he looks away again.
His ears moved in the direction of the sound and he turned to watch him approach, a little surprised that he was here but pleased as well. The beast drew in Alarian's scent as he came near and was again surprised to find that it soothed the too-tight feeling of his skin. Midar met his gaze before he turned to look out over the water. He didn't move his eyes, though, instead, he studied the other's profile curious about his scars and about why he had such an affect on him. Perplexity entered his gaze as he stared, but his expression held its usual impassiveness.
He was unsure what to say next and grew irritated, finally shifting his eyes from the other man's face to look back out over the water. He wasn't sure he liked feeling this way, but didn't he? He didn't know. Finally, just to escape his inner turmoil, he asked, Wandering again?
his violet gaze still fixed on the water.
He can feel the man's eyes on him, sending a faint shiver down his spine. His heart beats a little faster, but he resists the urge to look at him again. Instead he waits for Midar to break the silence, ears perking when he finally does. Always,
He admits with a half-smile. He can't imagine being unable to travel as he pleases. He glances at Midar a moment later, finding himself unable to keep his eyes off him for long despite his best efforts. What about you?
There are still no other scents on the male, which pretty much answers his question, but he feels obligated to ask — and maybe he hopes to gain some information on the other, too.
He understood the feeling as he too felt the need to wander often. He responded with a nod, looking to the lake a little longer. He felt the other man look to him as he spoke, and Midar turned to meet his gaze before he answered. I'm afraid I get--antsy if I stay in one place for too long.
He shrugged when he spoke. It wasn't a lie; it was more of an omission. He wasn't really interested in discussing in further detail just how dark things got for him if he didn't keep busy and stimulated. Sometimes, even wandering wasn't always enough. Today, he was adequately distracted by his intriguing companion, though.
He glanced around before resting his eyes back on Alarian. Are you far from home?
he asked next. He yearned to learn more about him--maybe find out why he had starred in his thoughts so often since their last meeting.
For some reason, he doesn't quite like the way the other male says the word antsy — but it seems too trivial to stay wary over, so he's quick to let it go. His gaze is wandering anyway, and his attention with it. The actual content of Midar's question almost slips past him, caught up as he is watching the striking man as he speaks. His answer comes delayed, a distracted murmur: Kind of,
Without thinking, he gestures the direction of Stone Circle a moment later. I live about a day's journey that way. Easthollow.
He can't help but wonder where in the world they make men so intimidating and pretty, thinking he has to visit eventually wherever it is; for science, of course.
As intensely as he was studying the other man's face, it wasn't hard to notice the slight hesitation before he answered the question regarding his home. Midar wondered if he still found his presence unsettling; he honestly didn't blame him--he was right to be wary of the monster beside him, but for now, the beast was entirely too captivated with his company to want to cause him any harm. In fact, maybe he should reassure him that he was safer than most would be in his situation. Do I make you uncomfortable?
he asked with an amused raise of his dark eyebrow, no hint of offense in his tone or eyes.
He was unfamiliar with the pack name he offered, but he knew the area somewhat from the few times he had passed through. It was quite a ways from his current claim but since they both seemed to be struck with wanderlust, he felt it wouldn't make much of a difference if he wanted to see more of him, which he was fairly certain he did.
The question catches him off guard, and he pauses to consider the answer for a moment. He can't deny that part of him remains wary of the man, but is he truly uncomfortable with him? I don't know,
He admits softly, a little embarrassed by the amusement in Midar's expression. You can be a little... intimidating, but —
But I haven't been able to get you off my mind since we met. But he can't say that. He swallows hard, looking away as his heart rate picks up. He doesn't know how to finish, so he goes silent instead, feeling pretty stupid.
He watched curiously as Alarian grew increasingly unsettled trying to answer his question. He was not surprised to hear himself described as intimidating. He was an assault to the primal instincts of others and was used to that kind of reaction. He enjoyed watching others become disconcerted when near him, but he found he didn't really enjoy watching the other male react that way. When his words fell away and he turned his head, Midar's jaw tightened. He hadn't meant to make him feel embarrassed. It was frustrating and confusing to feel bad for something he had done, but still, if allowed, he lightly touched his nose to the the other man's cheek, urging him to meet his gaze. I...only meant to assure you that I have no intention of harming you,
he clarified. He just had a strange way of showing it.
There's a frantic fluttering in his stomach as Midar draws nearer, morphing quickly into heat at the touch. He sucks in a sharp breath, exhaling slowly as he tried to find his composure. The words are strangely reassuring, considering he can barely bring himself to trust the man, but his heart is still pounding. He turns slightly, bringing his own muzzle to meet the dark-furred male's jaw and tracing his nose lightly down to the other's throat if he's allowed. He leaves a trail of soft kisses, breath shallow and slightly too fast. I believe you, he wants to say, but he doesn't think he can form words now — so he hopes the touch is enough.
His didn't say anything in return, but came to him, touching his nose to his jaw before moving down to his throat, leaving kisses in his wake. Midar noticeably tensed at the the other male's proximity to such a vulnerable place; it would be easy for Alarian to rip his throat out in this position. It was the beast who swallowed hard this time, feeling slightly uncomfortable but also not wanting to push the other man away. He knew the affection was his way of accepting his assurance, and he wanted to reward him for that. So instead of discouraging any kind of touch, he slid down to the ground, attempting to nip at Alarian's shoulder, the request to lie next him apparent in the way the beast looked at him. They could just as easily converse lying next to each other, and maybe it would make him more comfortable. He felt like any wrong move would scare him away, and he knew later the confusion that accompanied that fear would torture him and make him question what the hell he was even doing. But for now, with Alarian right here, it was easy to push that all away.
He notices the way Midar tenses immediately, and for a moment he fears rejection — but it never comes. Instead the dark man nips his shoulder as he settles on the ground, and Alarian easily recognizes the invitation in his striking gaze. He lowers himself to the earth beside the other without hesitation. His pulse starts to calm slightly as he tentatively leans against Midar, grateful for the stability of the ground beneath him. He's not entirely certain why the other man affects him so deeply. Maybe he doesn't mind it, though.
That marking dyed into your fur,
He says after what feels like forever, hesitant but too curious to pass up the opportunity to ask. What does it mean?
The other man accepted his invitation, coming to the ground beside him, which pleased the beast greatly. He didn't break the silence between them, hoping Alarian would speak once he felt comfortable again. When he did finally say something, it was not what the beast wanted to hear. Anger swelled in his chest at the question, and he released a harsh breath. He knew the question would come eventually, but that didn't lessen his response to it. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself and reel in his anger. If Alarian thought him intimidating now, what would he think when he saw him lose control? He drew in a deep breath, the other man's scent pulling him back down enough to be able to finally answer. I...don't remember why I have it,
he replied, his voice not as even as he'd like it to be. No matter how much time passed, his memories continued to elude him, occasionally mocking him with hints here and there but never giving him anything substantial; the mark was a constant reminder of what he couldn't have.
He can feel the anger oozing from the man, and he winces slightly at the harsh breath. There's a pause before Midar gives an answer, and when he does it's slightly unsteady. I'm sorry,
He murmurs, feeling guilty and nervous in equal measures. He presses a little closer, hoping to offer some comfort though he can't seem to figure out how Midar feels about being touched. I understand — there are a lot of things I don't remember about my life.
He admits after several beats, suddenly wondering if this is what has drawn them together. Maybe they knew each other before — maybe this is important somehow.
He calmed a little more at the other man's words and subsequent affection, responding by leaning further into his warmth. He was surprised to hear that Alarian was plagued by a similar problem. He touched his nose to the other male's jaw, offering comfort in return and assurance that he had gotten himself back under control. It's very frustrating,
he comiserated, moving his nose along Alarians jaw. Not being able to remember.
It made him feel like he didn't have full control, something that the beast had trouble accepting; he needed control. Midar couldn't even remember how he had obtained his head injury, so he couldn't even seek anyone out to make them pay; he wondered if it was like that for the other man too.
The touch is unexpected, but far from unwelcome — even if he finds it terribly distracting. He sucks in a breath, trying to focus on the other's words. The strangeness of their encounter escapes him now, in the heat of the moment; later he'll wonder what sort of madness has come over him, chide himself for acting like an infatuated yearling in Midar's presence. None of these thoughts cross his mind now, though.
Sometimes I have — weird dreams,
What does occupy his thoughts slips from him too easily, he thinks. He doesn't mind as much as he should. About my past, I think. Does that ever happen to you?
A memory strikes him then, unbidden; a fragment of a dream, a brief flash of grey fur and fiery eyes. His chest suddenly aches fiercely.
The other man began speaking about memories invading his dreams and asked if he experienced the same. Midar shook his head a little. I don't dream much,
he answered first. His dreams were few and far between and usually consisted of flashes of scents and blurs of color. For me, it seems to be random, and only small, confusing flashes.
He hated them just as much as he craved them. He wanted to remember, but any pieces of his past he was granted never made any sense, and he didn't ever know what to make of them. It's interesting...that we share similar afflictions,
he added. It was even stranger that it furthered his attraction to the man.
It's odd to Alarian that the other doesn't dream much; he's learned to value his dreams, though he's not certain he could have said the same before... whatever happened. He nods slightly in agreement with Midar's observation. It is,
He murmurs, one ear twitching slightly as he considers what it could mean. Do you — believe in um, fate? That sounds stupid, doesn't it?
He can't help a faint, nervous laugh. But what other explanation could there be? Probably something something hormones, something something gay — whatever. This feels — important, it feels like it means something, and maybe that's enough to make it true.
Midar considered his question, unsure how to answer at first. Generally, he felt like most things followed a simple cause and effect pattern. Believing that some higher whatever could dictate things in such a way as fate was hard for him. He liked to feel in control at all times, and the idea of fate challenged that. It was also worth noting that something like him surely didn't deserve for fate to create anything positive in his life. He certainly had done nothing to deserve that. But, it was hard to not consider it in this situation; it just felt like something else was at work here maybe. It was a lot to process, and he wasn't used to being so uncertain. Not usually,
he finally answered. But this feels...
he trailed off, not sure how to explain it and hoping he wouldn't have to.
It's soothing to know Midar feels similarly, though he realizes all at once that he doesn't know what to do with this feeling, even reciprocated. He turns slightly, studying his companion's face as if he might find answers there. I feel the same way,
He says softly, attempting a playful smile. But I have no idea what it means — maybe we're both just crazy.
Or maybe there's some terrible fate ahead of them — but he doesn't say that. The situation is weird enough without a bunch of star-crossed lover nonsense.
Feeling Alarian's gaze on his face, he turned to meet it as he spoke. He stated he felt the same way, offering the beast a smile. Midar's eyes lingered on his lips and the way they moved with expression. He probably stared for too long before he slowly lifted his gaze to meet the other man's once more. He had no idea what it meant either, and he was afraid to dig too much into the reasons they were both here right now. He gave a hollow huff of laughter when Alarian suggested they were both crazy. I am certainly not sane,
he replied as darkness crept into his eyes. He was under no delusions about that at least.
He can't help but flush a little under Midar's stare, unable to decide whether he likes it or not and wondering if he'll answer at all. When he finally does, the words send a shiver down his spine. He looks away for a moment, sucking in a breath. I don't really think I am either,
He comments quietly, a little embarrassed to admit it for reasons he can't explain. I don't think you'll like me very much once you know me better.
The words slip from him before he can stop them, a rush of melancholy and insecurity. He's not entirely sure where the feeling has come from, but it's suddenly overwhelming.
So it seemed neither of them were sane, which only served to further his attraction to the scarred male, confirming that there was most definitely something a little deranged about the beast, as if he needed anymore proof. He wasn't expecting such an admission from Alarian. He wondered what he would think if he knew what his purpose was in life; maybe he wouldn't be so worried that Midar wouldn't like what he found when he dug deeper. The other man had seemed so tortured as he revealed his fear, and Midar moved his nose softly down his jaw, unsure how to even provide comfort but needing to do so. Very doubtful,
he murmured against his fur as he moved down to nuzzle his throat, inhaling deeply once there.
His breath hitches at the touch, but it's calming in a way he hadn't noticed before. He closes his eyes, soaking in the quiet reassurance Midar offers. Something in the way he says it makes him believe it. He still feels self-conscious, hyper-aware of every flaw now — but it doesn't seem as bad as it had a moment ago, at least. It's hard to find anything too terrible when Midar is touching him like this. All he can focus on is the warmth of his lover's breath against his throat and the heat spreading over him at the intimacy of the contact. It's a vulnerable position and he knows it, and part of him prickles with instinctual fear; it only makes the draw of the feeling more powerful. You have strange taste in men,
He says wryly, voice soft and a little distracted. He wants to say more, but his mouth is suddenly dry and he realizes he doesn't know what else to say, so he goes quiet.
An amused chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he pulled his head back a little to meet Alarian's gaze. I could say the same about you,
he countered, raising an eyebrow. And, strange is not the word I would use to describe you,
he added, returning to the other man's throat as he spoke. He ran his nose gently back up his neck to leave a light kiss on his jaw. The more time the beast spent with his new companion, the more he wanted to know about him--about the way his mind worked. He found himself staring again, studying the scars etched in his face. He wanted to ask about them, but he was distracted by the way the other man responded to his touches. Everything about him was intoxicating, and he knew this meeting wouldn't be enough; he was very quickly forming a dangerous addiction.