Two Rivers Isle broker no argument

for Magpie de l'encrier.

Every starting was terrible - pain echoed up and down his leg regardless of if the limb touched the ground for more than a second. He had still been fuzzy; from the trauma, from the exhaustion, he didn't know - just aimlessly walking, jostled and pushed by a dark voice and shape. He had refused to move, at first. Teeth agitated his scruff, started pulling him across the swamp without care for his comfort. 

Cormorant had risen to his feet then, coaxed by honeyed words - briefly swept by a willowy frame. He didn't know where they were going; just knew the discomfort of walking across freezing gravel, and then standing there, like a wraith drifting in the wind, waiting. The river was more like slush, but it was still bubbling loud enough to make him pin his ears and grimace. He began to sink down into a morose sit, reality setting in. 

He didn't know where they were going. He was sure neither of them did. How long had they walked? There was still mud on his fur, dried and re-agitated by damp snow and cold wind. He wanted it gone, and he didn't want to move any further.

Though it wasn't planned, and far more trouble than most would say is reasonably worth, Magpie would do just about anything for Cormorant, wounded or not. This is to say, anything within reason of what he thought acceptable, and lucky for the shuddering thing, dragging him along to dryer, cleaner ground was well above that.

Magpie stopped just short of the river's edge, eyeing the water critically, as if it were able to alter itself at any moment. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but look he did, for far too long, until a pathetic sound trickling over his shoulder pulled him away. Hm? His spine twitched in an irritated rhythm, still sensing the phantom weight of his muse over sore withers. He winced, brushing it off callously — swiftly turning and taking in an eye full of the wretched lump behind him.

His agitated expression, however, quickly melted into something satisfied, a sense of warmth bleeding into his lungs. He felt needed, even better, a need without desire — a necessity. Sweet thing, you look so tired. Magpie tilted his head, eyeing Cormorant down like some frumpy squirrel. I expected a little more effort from you, Corm. I’m disappointed.

bugged double-post*

Cormorant didn't say anything, didn't even really look at Magpie before he was staring back down his nose at his front paws, his front legs stretching out before him. The only thing stopping him from laying all the way down and trying to sleep away the nightmare was the hard rocks agitating him, and the fear the river would swell and draw him away in the next thaw.

An empty breath huffed out of him, sharp enough to be a scoff if it weren't for the way he refused to look over again. There was a shame swimming in his eyes, discomfort raking up his spine in any movement towards him. A pang shot up his leg, and he drooped his head toward it, face pinching as the ache of cold and his unconscious tensing agitated it in brutal tingles.

Cormorant tried to lick through a patch of terrible amalgam, just to try and sweep warmth into it, cringing at the sensation of the gashes pulling. He mumbled to himself, licking frozen, clumsy lips, .. then leave me.

His eyes followed the other's muzzle, a ripple of anger twitching into his own at the mumbled nonsense Cormorant spilled. Magpie snarled under his breath, an assortment of unintelligible, bickering thoughts, all while advancing toward the flaxen wolf. His shoulder brushed into Cormorant's, testing his balance and all together awareness. It was a pity he'd been forced to reduce such a magnificent thing to this.

You'd like that. He snipped, bowing his head to examine the wound Cormorant fussed over. His nose attempted to wriggle in and offer his own aid, but as his tongue fought through the matted fur, it became more and more apparent to him that he was in no way equipped to deal with this. It was honestly amusing to him in some way, the idea of care had never crossed his mind.

He brushed off the thought, giving up on his fruitless efforts and instead wedging his head beneath the other's belly. Magpie did what he could to pull the other back on his feet, snapping and barking less than motivational remarks at the poor thing at every slip and stumble. If you can't pull it together I'll have to drag you. Is that what you want?

Cormorant flinched violently then, recoiling so harshly one of his front paws rose. To what affect, he had no clue. It didn't matter as Magpie almost passed him by, stopping at his side; the sensation of fur against his made his skin crawl. A travesty, that a common touch was made wrong and dangerous by one man.

Cormorant went to move his leg away — ears fearfully pinning and bottom teeth flashing in the beginning of a stressed expression. He was lucky it was fleeting, as Magpie left the wound with nothing more than a dreaded reminder; his cruel mouth was just the same as a kind word. Both for ill purpose, only ever, ever, self-serving.

His legs protested the sudden jarring as he was forced to relent against a shoving head and neck. He wanted nothing more than to collapse atop of him, maybe hope if he looked pitiful enough that the darker wolf would tire of this, or would carry him further along their path.

Instead, the thought was murdered in its crib — Magpie ensuring to close every little opportunity off like the dying of every candle in a forgotten room. Cormorant was already filthy, uncomfortable, hurting; he didn't long to let Magpie anywhere near his throat anytime soon nor to let the humiliation worsen. He didn't want more grit and pains haunting his hide. His balance was precarious, head already drooped low, tail in-line with his legs, as though he were worried the other would snap it off, given the chance. His voice was hoarse, We can't cross here. It's too wide.

A scoff curled through his teeth, setting them tighter in a sharp grimace. It'll be fine so long as you help me. Magpie's paw pads scraped over the ground behind him, pushing him up just the slightest bit more. He only needed Cormorant's sorry ass to try, just enough to get them both moving again.

We can't wait. There was an underlying urgency to his otherwise careless tone, almost like he was genuinely concerned, like he had something to lose... His eyes pinched shut, concentrating on clearing his head before the parasitic thoughts burrowed too deep. Get up.

Cormorant still hesitated, flighty. Weight traitorously leaned back, a low strangled growl curling in his chest. His voice was still high and sharp, Give me—a second.

He hated being rushed by Magpie of all people. Even worse, it was just serving to make him more anxious - which he needed none of. He wanted to knock Magpie away, swaying on his feet and bumping into him, before he seemed to come back to himself, trying to stare the river into stillness. His eyes were swirling with a loud and discomforted dread; enough so he was willing to oppose Magpie's hurried flight.

Magpie's legs wobbled awkwardly, the odd angle of his footing making it difficult to support the other. He yearned so badly to shrug off the wolf and let him topple to the floor, maybe teach him to keep his muzzle shut — but for some reason, the more he thought about it, the less he actually felt like doing it. No,

Carefully, as to not terribly upset Cormorant's wound, he nudged further under the wolf, giving him more shoulder to rest himself over. Magpie gave him all of a few seconds to adjust, gathering himself up in his pause, before beginning forward, stumbling down the bank as he growled, We go now.

Cormorant couldn't help his agitated bite at the other's abject refusal, You're making this more difficult.

His paws were scuffing through the pebbles of the riverbank in a terrible melody. It was almost worse than the sound of the river itself, and Cormorant hissed loudly as they both tipped on a strange stride, his hind paw bumping the ground in an agonizing stab. He stumbled to another stop completely, other paws digging in as he tried to wrangle down the bile fighting up his throat.

Magpie hardly seemed keen on stopping regardless, shoulder endlessly digging into his side - and he was trudging again, even as nausea twisted his stomach in knots. The water was just before them, and the icy kiss of it was too near; his fur was bristling, every nerve alight with frantic dread.

It became a lot more real when the light splash of water swirling over pebbles skimmed his paws. Magpie felt threatened, though that didn't scare him, in fact it did quite the opposite. He was sick of Cormorant thinking he had any right to request or demand, sick of feeling like it was out of his hands, and absolutely fed up with all the shit he'd planned going wrong. 

He didn't say anything, completely ignoring Cormorant and his struggles. He was an excellent swimmer, and even if his company wasn't, it was surely not as bad as it looked.

His foot slipped hesitantly over the rocks, dipping into the water gradually with a trembling step. He clicked his tongue in some sort of disapproving victory, ashamed of his previous doubts, and stepped further into the stream with Cormorant stumbling along in tandem. 

The sound and sensation of water hitting his paws was enough to elicit an audible whine; his hurt leg hiking higher like it'd stop the snapping of the water at his pawpads. He hated how he couldn't even begin to draw away from it, blindly drawn further and further until water was clawing at his ankles. Any other day, it might've been a calmer river - but today, the frost and wind had morphed it into a terrible looking creature.

Any other day, and he might have been capable of swimming on his own. The riverbed was just as uncertain as its bank, and the pebbles and sand were too eager to shift beneath his clumsy steps, and even worse, the water only climbed.

He didn't bother saying a word, given as Magpie was to shut it out like a stubborn, self-righteous—

His eyes were practically shut, as if it'd help any, only proving to make him focus on the spread of the freeze over his own body. He hoped they both drowned in the damned waters.

As Magpie crouched lower, the frigid water beat harsher and harsher against his frost nipped nose. It was an agonizing sensation, like the bite of a thousand small snakes against the sensitive tip of his muzzle. And still, he pressed on, all for the wolf so precariously perched above him.

He had the same question repeating again and again through his mind, eating at his stability like an infection. Was this worth it? It didn't feel like it at first, and he wasn't sure it did now either, but none of his apprehensive inquiries seemed to slow him down, not even the slightest bit. He began to stumble a little faster, swept away by his anger and determination — a river far more ruthless that raged through the deepest parts of him, blinding him to the recklessness of his pace. They'd gotten so close to the other side, and Magpie almost thought to assure Cormorant in hopes it'd cheer him up, but as his jaw opened to speak, it filled just as quickly with an icy flush of water. Whether from the other's pained wriggling, or by his own unfortunate luck, four grounded paws fell to two, and then none as both wolves were knocked swiftly off their feet.

Cormorant almost wondered if Magpie was beginning to breathe up water, given the way they were arranged - but the thought was there and gone with the yelp that twisted out of him. It seemed like the water was at his legs and then suddenly it leapt at his belly and it was too much. His teeth ground, a set of pained breaths eking out of his throat without his permission. It was swept by the sound of the water around them, but it still stained his ears with a dire memory.

His vision was back in smears; water and fear and pain smudging it all into dozens of terrible scenes. It felt like the air in his lungs was worthless, there and then gone. He only had half a thought to try and ease the pain with sympathetic wriggling, like if he overtaxed everything that it could take away from the burning discomfort, but there wasn't enough time.

It was with a shriek that he fell, his crutch and anchor gone in an instant. The weightless quality of water doing nothing to save him from the bite of freezing water flooding his wound as he was tossed. It sunk through his fur like teeth, and he was instantly choking on water and so lost. He couldn't see Magpie. Every leg swept out in a terrible reflex, and the ensuing cry was nothing but bubbles in a string of churning blues. His good legs kicked, paw-pads scraping the riverbed, and by some miracle, breaking his head out above the surface to spit enough water out to suck in air.

For a moment it was peaceful, dark and silent save for the churning rumble of water overhead. His eyes had instinctively snapped shut, and though his limbs felt more keen on stagnating, letting the water carry him away to an existence beyond this one, he had things far too unfinished to leave just yet. A goal.

Magpie felt a tightening in his chest as he raised his head, immediately hacking up water from his tortured lungs. The current still shoved at his face, blurring his vision as he desperately tried to find a trace of his muse, just a sliver of blonde fur anywhere in the chaos. He couldn't find the strength to cry out, lungs still stinging from the invasion, but his throat remained constricted on the precipice of a word.

He felt useless, like his purpose had gone, and he was now left with nothing. Scooped clean of all that made him, him. His eyes scanned over the river again, a nauseating burn forming in the corners of them that he breathed through like a scolded child. The dread was doing its work, eating away at him from the inside, devouring him like nothing. Magpie almost began to relax, to give up on whatever it was pulling him along all this time, until another hacked yelp besides his own cracked through his mind like lightning. But he still couldn't see. There was the ghost of Cormorant but no physical body, and he half wondered if maybe he’d hallucinated it. Though, as probable as that would’ve been, the small flash of a gasping muzzle just strides away proved he hadn’t completely lost it, yet. His legs broke their stiffness, bounding as best he could toward the spot, a prayer on his tongue that the wolf hadn’t shifted further down stream.

Magpie’s head plunged downward carelessly, jaws opened wide searching for anything, and snapping around nothing as he reared back for air. His heart squeezed in a terrible rhythm, clouding his judgment as he stepped back a few paces, and submerged again. This time, no thanks to him, he was met with a mouthful of scruff, barely moving against him yet still struggling. His teeth sank deep, perhaps deeper than necessary, and with a twist of his head he jerked the other up from the water.

He felt ridiculous, more helpless than a fledgling tumbling down a cliffside - the ground all too ready to snuff out any spark of life on impact. Only that, would have been instant. This, was just a drawn agony, repeated tugging by rough waters and icy bite; worse than drowning was the aches of his body flaring again and again, casting his world into a dizzying mosaic. His front paws would snag on solid ground, paws flat enough to shove himself steady, only for his hind to crumble, refusing to let him stand - overtaxed.

The feeling of his scruff being seized had never been comforting a day in his life, and it wasn't starting now, even as he was reeled and practically dangled. He still found it in himself to wetly snarl, snapping teeth hard enough to click, but not remotely turned enough to strike. It was just a fitful reflex before heaving coughs wracked him.

The instant he could, he was dragging himself up a gravelly shore; he didn't remember when or how he had shaken off Magpie, but he only found regret as he crumpled back down as the relief of being back on his feet fell away. Cormorant shook violently, the freezing air almost crueler than the grasp of the water - his nose sniffled, but he couldn't find it in himself to try and shake himself off, just trembling as he drew his limbs in - cold breath misting before him. He coughed again, .. told you..

It was weak, lacking anything but loathing. Save for the shivering, he was completely still, nose wrinkled in pain as his body radiated every measure of discomfort he could. He wanted for nothing more than to crawl out of his skin - it was all too much.

As much as it pained him to release his hold, it only hurt him worse to latch tighter against Cormorant's wriggling. He spit the wolf's scruff from is mouth as they both scrambled up the beach, finding himself so lost for breath he didn't even glance back to ensure his muse wasn't bolting for freedom. Like he'd get very far. Magpie licked at his lips, a faint hiss of a whine dying in his throat at the piercing pain throbbing in his jaw. A tickle in his lungs had him quickly hunched to the floor, hacking up any excess water he'd inhaled hoisting the other to shore, the agony of his opened jaws causing strings of drool to accompany any other liquid or vomit.

His ears pinned flat to his skull at Cormorant's taunt, an unrivaled anger soon after coiling up his spine, ruffling the charcoal fur along it from tail to scruff. He straightened up from his braced stance, a grimacing glare fixating on his own trembling legs. Shut up. It was hoarse and distant, almost lifeless as it fell away into a whisper. He barely turned to peek back at the wolf, his eyes half lidded with fatigue, permeated by a bone chilling menace. Cormorant's state wasn't missed by him, though it earned him no sympathy. If I hear you again, I'll throw you back in myself. 

It was pure instinct that kept him from saying anything more, pale blue eyes ghosting over to the other and his equally pitiful visage. He went back to his little ball, pressing the side of his head against the gravel, wheezing to himself. He sounded terrible, but he wasn't dying today at least - least of all to a chest-deep puddle. Regardless, Cormorant just laid there, looking more like the corpse of a fish than a living wolf. His fur was a few shades darker with the water soaked into it; and it only worsened his discomfort.

The thought of getting to his paws was unimaginable, but he needed to get somewhere sheltered, somewhere warm. They were the furthest they could be from either, traveling these strange stretches with no idea where they were crawling to. He continued to shiver, hard enough to make his teeth chatter, and his jaw ache. Another twinge in an awful painting of bruised hues.

He almost thought to say something else, but the threat still lingered in his ears. He didn't believe Magpie could even manage it, but he wouldn't try it. Not right now. He closed his eyes, tucking his head as tightly toward his chest as he could manage. Anything to try and centralize the warmth his blood was trying to filter through his body.