Blackfeather Woods sleep is a welcome gadget in our headbondhood

He seeks @Taikon with a gift, a rabbit clutched between his jaws, shattered bones shifting between his teeth with each gentle sway of the corpse. Now that he's doing better, it only seems appropriate that he should try to provide for his packmates. He is the head of the Ivory, after all; leader of the protectors, guardian to the defenders of Blackfeather Woods. They are his responsibility now, as much as the Rose is theirs.
At least he looks the part this time, silver fur sleek and neatly groomed, head held high. The waver in his gait has faded, muscles rippling smoothly under his silken coat. He may not be able to change his size or his age, or the way the Daedra overwhelm him on occasion — the things that make him insecure — but he can make himself seem leaderly in other ways. At least, that's what he's going with, for the sake of his self-esteem and likely his sanity.

The discovery of the state of Firefly Glen and the neighbouring mountain had left something heavy in Taikon's chest. By all accounts, things in his life had become much calmer. @Takiyok had confessed that she loved him, and he had done his best to tell her the same. It did not feel as storybook romantic as he knew that she deserved, however. He wished he could give her more, and so he had spent much of his time away from the den site, hunting and filling caches the same as he had done before leaving her.
Taktuq was still nowhere to be found. Taikon hoped that she had wandered back over to Valette and her father, but knew that the chances of this were slim. He also knew that Lunaria was probably dead. He refused to torture himself with these facts.
And so when Zephyr was kind enough to bring him a rabbit while he was on the trail of a rabbit himself, Taikon was pleased to have the distraction once again. His own body was taking its damn time to recover, and he was nothing compared to the healed and ready leader boy. Is that for me? He asked gently, bowing his ears and hazarding a soft shoulder nudge.

Finding Taikon isn't difficult — but actually having to look at him, and greet him? That's difficult. He drops the rabbit and offers a rare smile, trying to ignore the painful flutter of his heart at the contact. Yeah, He swallows hard, trying to think of something else to say that isn't about how golden Taikon's eyes are. Golden like Kratos, like Phillip, but so much more intense. He tries not to think about how it could be a metaphor. You look... better. A slight pause. Sort of. Lying is hard, okay? His ears fall slightly, and his concerns and resentments finally come tumbling out. I should have gone with you. I could've — maybe things would be different if I had. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?

He thought he could feel a slightly shudder at the touch, which made him feel awkward. Taikon decided to offer a bit of space, so he bent down to take the rabbit in his jaws and walk in a light turnaround as Zephyr spoke. It was clear that the boy was hardly pleased at the sight of him — he looked like shit and he knew it. Dropping the rabbit, Taikon sat down.
I should've asked, he admitted. He was often in a dejected and thin state of mind these days. He bent easily to the thoughts and will of others. You were busy, and there were a lot of feelings, and it was time sensitive. The defence itself made some sense. Taikon and Takiyok didn't know anyone. Zephyr was still recovering from his concussion and things between them had gotten weird. Taikon had thought about finding an escort from the pack to go with Takiyok, but neither of them had been integrated into the pack before he'd left.
It was the wrong call. He placed a paw on the rabbit.

The shudder makes his skin itch a little; as if he's contaminated, and now Taikon has made him aware of it. His ears fold, and he bites back the urge to pick apart Taikon's reasoning. Instead, a wild impulse takes hold of him, an uncontrollable urge that sends words tumbling from his lips before he can stop them. It was. And I want you to come with me on another trip to make up for it, His tone leaves no room for argument, mind already made up. I have... something important I need to do. It's not dangerous, and we can take it slow. You're the only one I can take along. And there it is; words that had been meant for Rowan, mostly, now spilled out in a very untimely manner. He hasn't even spoken to his co-leader about this need, yet. He hasn't spoken to anyone about it, save Taikon — who he immediately expects to reject his demand request.

A trip? Taikon asked, but wasn't looking for an answer. Takiyok had been stuck to his side anytime he ventured beyond Blackfeather Woods. The last time he had been anywhere far from it was when they had discovered the damage done to their neighbouring packs. What could possibly be out there that was worth a journey beyond?
Takiyok would probably be furious that he was even considering going with Zephyr alone. Maybe that was why he was considering it.
Why am I the only one? He asked, unsure. He stiffened.
He wanted to go.

Nothing is ever easy with Taikon — but maybe that's why Zephyr can't help but pursue it all with such persistence. Moth to flame, he presses forward, dropping icy walls for a moment without a single thought spared for his previous intentions. It's... personal, He admits, taking in a breath. And no one else here really knew me before — His gaze drops. Before I lost the love of my life, my sister, my only living mother. Before everything I built crumbled. No one but you and Rowan. And he can't leave.

Taikon, feeling stupid, had no idea what Zephyr was talking about. But, as he thought about it, he surmised that the boy meant before the journey across the mountains. That journey had changed each of them in various ways. As he thought about it, he recalled the hard times, rainy days, and comforting moments. Takiyok and he had been through a lot together, but there had been much on that trip that he had gained separate from her. The feelings that rose made him feel guilty.
Taikon didn't bother to ask "why can't Rowan leave" because he didn't care about the answer. How far is it? Takiyok doesn't like me to go far for too long. She... is afraid, he told Zephyr, still unsure, but eying the boy's cold gaze. There was still something there. Something warm, and knowing.

He can't offer any reassurance in that regard, and the knowledge brings with it a sudden fear that he'll decline. It's... far. I need to go East, over the mountains. I need to see my sister, His eyes lift again, solemn and perhaps a touch imploring; certainly more expressive than he wants. She's the only family I have left. Everyone else is dead now. Rosalie and Lainie might not be, true — and he's heard nothing of Soter or Morena, either. But it's easier to assume they're all dead; it feels safer. It hurts less than thinking about the possibilities — and it certainly makes for a more convenient narrative right now.

Back over the mountains? Taikon looked toward the East. He frowned deeply. He did not want Zephyr to go alone. He knew that Takiyok would vehemently fight against it. He feared going back that direction, since surely Mahler's crew would be out there waiting again to murder him. He could not leave Takiyok alone in the world.
But adventure and risk pulled at him, and the chance to help his pack mate, and someone important to him, it mattered. He thought quickly about how to broach the subject with Takiyok. She would say no, immediately. He knew it. Taikon had only just recovered, and she should have been due to go into heat any day. Takiyok should come with us. She wanted to see her brother, and there's a chance Taktuq went that way too, he answered.
It was the only solution. She is stronger than either of us combined right now, he rationalized.

Zephyr immediately shakes his head, ears flattening to his skull. We can't leave the pack defenseless, He counters, mentally sorting through the members that would remain if the three of them departed. Not enough. It would be too many of the Ivory gone, and almost all of their most trusted members. And — I would rather go alone than have someone along who might make this trip harder for me. His gaze drops back to his paws. I don't know what the end result will be. I don't want anyone there who might make me feel worse if it doesn't end well. So if I have to go alone, I will. He swallows the words, dreading them, because he knows Taikon will always choose Takiyok. That was the decision he made when he chose her the first time.

Taikon thought about it, but it seemed then that Zephyr might be pulling at thin reasons so they he might not have Takiyok along. Taikon himself felt trapped. He wanted to go, and he was having a lot of trouble explaining why to himself. That alone told him that he shouldn't trust his own mind, which had never fully recovered from the fog after the infection.
So he rationalized. Rowan is perfectly capable, and we have enough for numbers to have two of our fighters along a journey, Taikon answered.
What'd'you mean if it "doesn't end well"? He broke, unable to keep himself from rising. He stepped over the rabbit and moved toward Zephyr, concerned.

He sighs softly, and starts to interrupt. It's not up for — But he doesn't get that far before Taikon starts to pry. He flinches, reacting more to the memories that the question digs up than anything. I — His voice breaks, and he swallows. I can't answer that. But he needs to set an ultimatum, doesn't he? He can't let this spin out of his control — not when it's his burden to bear, his wounds to suffer. Either you and I go, or I'll go alone. I can't — Another swallow, throat tense and losing its willingness to cooperate. I just need this to be the way I want it. Just this one thing.

As Zephyr flinched, Taikon moved forward, until he was so close that the two might have been touching. He kept several inches between them, but he could feel the warmth from Zephyr's body. It tormented his senses. Had things been different, he would have embraced the boy.
Zephyr was demanding the kind of control that was just not possible. Takiyok will never let me go with you alone. It won't happen. She has to come with us. It was a matter-of-fact statement. He would not win an argument with Takiyok, and he wasn't about to try, because what Zephyr was requesting was nonsense.
Zephyr could not go alone. He would get hurt. Taikon wouldn't allow it. But he didn't say that. Instead, he sat beside Zephyr, close enough to feel the breaht from him.

Too close — and suddenly he can think of little else. The scent of Taikon, the feel of his warmth; it fills Zephyr's head and spills over, smothering him, drowning out all else for a moment. His breathing feels shaky now, but he's barely aware of it. What does that mean? He wants to demand, and why can't you be alone with your leader?
I'll go alone, then, He hears himself saying instead, a little breathy, lacking conviction. Then, again, more firmly: I can make it by myself. I have before. He wishes Taikon would touch him again. He wishes Taikon would choose him, just this once.

Taikon resisted the urge to tell Zephyr no, even though the word bubbled in his veins. The idea that because Taikon wouldn't go without Takiyok would somehow prevent Zephyr from going with him at all annoyed him, and confused him. Why do you want me only with you? He wanted to ask, but the words dried up in his throat.
Please don't make the mistake I did. I didn't ask you to come because it was uncomfortable. If something happens, Takiyok can help. She did before. He didn't like reminding Zephyr that he would probably be dead without her. He didn't like reminding Takiyok that she would be dead without Zephyr.
I know you can go alone. But... please don't.

Finally, Taikon hits the right nerve; finally, Zephyr feels some of that cold fire he'd been yearning for, finding it in the utter unfairness of the statement. It's more than uncomfortable for me, Taikon. I don't trust Takiyok. She was cruel. She forced me to bargain for my life when I was injured and grieving the death of my mother. Maybe you can forgive things like that easily, but I can't, His teeth click together harshly when he shuts his mouth, bitterness in the lines of his face. I never did that to either of you, and I didn't hold it against you when you needed a place to stay, either. I haven't held anything against either of you, not in the ways that matter. And sometimes I sorely regret it.
But that doesn't matter now. He can't even bring himself to look at Taikon as he finishes. You can disagree with my decision, but don't pretend I'm basing it on something trivial.

He didn't trust Takiyok? Takiyok, who had risked her life to prevent Zephyr's death? Takiyok, who had seen them through the worst of things only to be injured herself? Takiyok, who had helped Taikon through some of the hardest parts of his life. Zephyr didn't fucking trust her? Was he serious?
From his expression, he was, and Taikon stepped back and looked away in disbelief. He couldn't remember any bargaining, only concern when he had brought Zephyr from the shadows and they were trying to flee the madness of Sagtannet.
It all reminded him of the way his mother used to manipulate people to do what she wanted them to do. Taikon remained quiet, letting Zephyr unleash whatever he wanted to say. And at the end of it...
You can disagree with my decision, but don't pretend I'm basing it on something trivial.
Then your decision is to go alone. Taikon said it matter of fact, dipping his head. Once more, he moved toward Zephyr, for he could not help it. He knew that this moment of anger and frustration came from somewhere that hurt. Once more, they were mere inches from each other, and Taikon kept a distance that would let Zephyr come only if he wanted to. You will see from Takiyok whatever you want to see. What I see, is she was scared. And angry. You two will likely never talk about it, but it actually shouldn't matter in this case. You need to get from point A to B, and I cannot help defend you. She can, and she will.

He feels something come loose in him, then; some tightly-wound desire for support, for companionship. There is no snap, no great undoing, nothing dramatic in the way he wants it to be. It simply falls apart; a drop in a pond, a simple realization. Oh.
He should never have reached out. He shouldn't have tried to connect with Taikon again. A breath escapes him, anguished and deflating. I didn't want protection. I can protect myself. I wanted a friend, He wants to leave, then, but he can't make himself do it. Taikon is lingering near again, and instinctively Zephyr finds himself leaning closer, wanting his touch more than anything.

If he knew all of the thoughts running through Taikon's mind just then, he would already be gone.

I wanted a friend.
And it gutted him. The way his mother used to find ways under his armour. He knew it well. But Zephyr felt different, and they were so close, and all Taikon could do was breathe in and out and try to make sense of this fucking madness.
Taikon leaned against Zephyr then, for he felt the warmth. The initial touch felt unnatural, and he almost moved backward. But he didn't. He sat there, feeling strange. The motion felt almost sexual, since he remembered what had happened before. It excited him in a strange and annoying way.
You have a friend, he said slowly. I want to come with you. But Takiyok will not be okay with any of it. She will be afraid I'll die, or she just won't want to be alone, he answered, fully revealing himself. He loved Takiyok. He wanted Takiyok to be happy and fulfilled. Maybe, if he explained, Zephyr would figure out how to make it work. How to make the impossible work.

Whatever had loosened in his chest stays limp, unresponsive even as Taikon leans into him — but that doesn't mean he isn't affected by the contact. It feels cruel, intense, like a hot knife twisting into his gut. He takes in a breath, overwhelmed by Taikon's scent now, and whatever response he'd had ready disappears from his thoughts. Instead of speaking, he finally turns, finally lets himself tuck his face against the man's pale fur. It isn't as comforting as he'd hoped; instead the barrier of remembered-lust seems echoed between them, tense and uncomfortable and full of heat. It doesn't feel wrong, but it feels dangerous — like the mounting suspense before the inevitable jump scare scene, breath held in anticipation of something terrible to come. Except it's not something terrible, not really; it's only the continued stacking of feelings Zephyr can't even begin to understand or sort through, perhaps leading up to some horrible outburst that might drive Taikon and Takiyok from the pack, or worse, lose Zephyr his position as leader.
Honestly, he's been through worse.

For a moment, Taikon remembered Lunaria. He remembered her holding him and him her, feeling away from the world for just a blip in time, and all of it without guilt or underlying feelings of sexuality. She may as well have been a younger sister to him, bright-eyed and ready to take on the world with him but away from him. Things had never been complicated with her. He'd loved her in a very different way than Takiyok, and he'd never really gotten to tell her so, even though he knew that she knew it anyway.
That she was almost certainly dead was something he hadn't talked about since venturing to Firefly Glen with Takiyok. They had gone there, seen the damage, and come back. He didn't talk about her. He didn't describe her. Doing so would make it final.
Zephyr was different. Taikon thought that the electricity and awkward tension would have left them given the time, but it was still there. It made their embrace feel raw, and not the good kind. The kind where you have a sore and rub it against something rough by accident. He felt almost like wincing.
But Taikon was not willing to give up. So, he rested his head around Zephyr, holding him there gently before pulling away when the natural length of such an embrace was at its max. There's a solution here. It will be okay, he said, even though he didn't know what that solution was. It seemed like Rowan should go with him, but Zephyr had already decided that couldn't happen.
He was not looking forward to talking to Takiyok.

Eventually Taikon pulls away; it's another harsh reminder that he isn't Phillip, and that Zephyr doesn't have anyone to hold him that way anymore. He doesn't have anyone to comfort him the way he needs anymore. And now it's time to stop grasping so desperately for it; he's already seen the only path it leads down, and it's far too painful for him.
The grief feels like it might rip him apart. He swallow and shifts away just slightly, just enough to ground himself. Taikon's promise of a solution only twists the knife further. I raised myself, you know, He says after a moment, looking away. I spent my entire childhood looking out for myself. Traveling. I almost died a few times. But I didn't. His gaze finds Taikon again, pointed. I taught myself how to survive. And I don't need you or Takiyok.

Zephyr didn't seem any calmer as he spoke. Taikon stood close to him, but had to back up a couple of steps. He danced for a moment anxiously on his paws, licking his lips. He didn't want Zephyr angry with him again.
But as the stony-faced boy went on, he struck a nerve. He talked about how he could take care of himself and seemed to proudly proclaim that he'd been stupid enough to "almost die" several times. This did the opposite of make Taikon feel better, and even though the prince knew that Zephyr was acting emotionally reactive for no good reason, he felt his entire body tense up and heat fill his ears like he was preparing for battle.
His tone turned snarky — his lack of composure a direct result of his illness. Yeah okay, so you think because you had a hard childhood you're somehow invincible? How stupid are you? He snapped.
I've lived my whole life losing people close to me. People like you. People who thought they could fucking dodge death, and people who didn't deserve it. I'm tired of losing people. Don't do that to me. Don't do that to Rowan. There was no care that this was his leader. Be smart about this. We can't lose you.
He didn't realize until far too late that his voice had progressively rose in tone and volume as he spoke, and he stood there shocked at himself. He breathed again, realizing he had forgotten to. His legs were shaking with either anger or fear, or both.
I can't lose you. He thought.

It isn't the reaction he expects; he'd thought Taikon might respond better to hearing the logic behind his decision, the reason he feels so confident in his ability to survive. Instead, he reacts as if Zephyr had intentionally provoked him; the response is so unexpected, the wraith has no time to put up walls against it. The first snap puts a crack in his icy defenses, and the rest only widens it, drives it deeper.
His ears fall flat, and he finds himself caught between fear and hurt and anger and just a little relief; guilty relief, but relief all the same, to know that Taikon cares so much. Not enough to choose him... but enough to yell at him. Finding pleasure in it feels twisted, pathetic, desperate on levels Zephyr doesn't even want to think about it. Lately it always feels like he's grasping at straws anyway.
And then Taikon is yelling, and the fear and hurt win, and it all channels into anger. His hackles rise in stages along his spine, tail flagging instinctively. A whimper-growl rises in his throat, then cuts off abruptly. You have no right — He manages, taking a step back. He thinks of when they'd first met; the night he barely remembers, then later, waking up tucked against Taikon. He thinks of the night they'd shared in the mountains, and how everything had changed after that. He thinks of Mal and Kratos and Daighre and Pheiros and Phillip.
And then he starts to cry.