Sea Lion Shores i want a hot dog real bad

Mallaidh continues to keep to herself, waiting for the inevitable decision between Blixen and Antumbra. She doesn’t want to be away from Drageda if she can help it so they know at least she’s there. She means well. She wants to stay. She can learn from her mistake. She’s done good for Drageda over the recent months, even when she hadn’t been part of them and before!

After a while, however, she can only take so much anxiety. Legs itch for different terrain beneath her feet and she pulls away, using the coast as her guide, and travels along what’s still familiar to her.

After the river, she’s a bit at a loss. She hasn’t gone too far south but something keeps her going, crossing the narrowest part of the river (but not without soaking her legs by the time she’s on the other side) and shakes off best she can. The air is cold and the wind doesn’t help, pushing and pulling against her and a tremble sets in. After a while, she attempts to lick her legs clear of any excess water to ease up some of the new tension but eventually she gives up and presses through the shores. Large seal bodies sit in the distance, making their own noise and existing outside of her little world a la wolf. Still, Mallaidh is curious and she sits on the cold ground and watches from afar.

Artaax blinked his eyes heavily as he finally slowed from a canter to a slow trot. The exhaustion he'd felt before was absolutely nothing compared to what he felt now. It had been two full days running (give or take) as fast as his body would allow to bring him to where he was now, which still was not near enough to where he wanted to be. He ran as though he could somehow outrun the repercussions of the blow he'd been dealt at the Plateau. Or that distance from his mother would somehow cure the nagging love and concern for her he was trying so hard not to feel. It wasn't working at all on either front.

If there was one thing Artaax was sure of, it was that getting home was absolutely paramount now. He had been gone too long and apparently for nothing. He needed to speak with his sister and let her know all that had transpired. He needed heda to come home to hear of all he had to tell her. Artaax was yet uncertain how the commander would react to his tale, and in truth, he was afraid to find out. But he knew his anxiety over not knowing would only end once Thuringwethil had made her declaration, and so he needed fate to align itself so that he could get his answers as quickly as possible. Then... They would see.

Unfortunately though for Artaax, he was not a god. His trot lasted him only about thirty seconds before he was faltering, stumbling, and collapsing onto the ground in a white, salt and earth stained heap. He shut his eyes miserably as the wind battered against his face and trembled, ignorant of the fact he had landed precariously close to a whole other mess of emotional crap he did not want to deal with. The whole other mess of emotional crap, of course, being lovingly known as Mallaidh.

Mallaidh doesn’t know a single thing about sea lions other than what she’s picked up in the mast few months. They’re big, loud, and she can only assume she doesn’t want to be caught by one. Perhaps with other wolves, and luring one away, they could take one but she can’t figure out exactly how they’d go about it. She is a decent hunter but she is a warrior first and she doesn’t claim to m me all the ends and outs of large prey. Or if they are even prey to begin with.

Her attention snaps to the left when a staggering wolf moves in her peripheral. Quickly, she stands to all fours to prepare any defense but she quickly realizes it is Artaax. She has not seen him since that day on the cliffs long ago, watching him disappear out of the territory. Since then, she’s assumes he’s been avoiding her. The last time they’d really spent time together had been... well, something she doesn’t really want to think about.

From a distance, she watches, wondering if he’s noticed her, but she doesn’t get much of an answer before he collapses on the ground. Mallaidh doesn’t even think, jerking into motion and rushing to his side.

”Artaax?” she calls, moving over cold sand as quickly as she can. She can see the slow ride and fall of his chest but he looks tired and hungry and god, they’re so far from Drageda that a simple call isn’t enough. ”Artaax?” she tries again, louder, carefully approaching his side, and as much as she wants to touch and nudge him and see what she can get, she holds back, slowly lowering to the ground so she is not seen as a threat.

A dull ringing began to sound in Artaax’s ears the moment he hit the ground with a thud. All other sound seemed muted and far away behind it. He shut his eyes wearily for a few seconds before opening them again to see a blurry, hazy world. Somewhere in his fog, he saw a figure approaching and heard his name being called. But it was like there were miles between them rather than feet, and Artaax felt too exhausted to care.

That lethargy lasted only a few more seconds. The feisripa opened his eyes once more and found the shadow suddenly sharpened in his view. His hackles prickled in alarm as it seemed to him in that moment that she had just magically appeared in front of him, and a snarl echoed warningly from his chest. But he had barely lifted his chin when recognition came upon him. His alarm disappeared and he sagged again with a low moan.

”Furi...” he muttered softly as he dragged himself into a less exposed position, lying on his stomach instead of his side. He knew there was no threat to his person now, but it still rankled to show such vulnerability to anyone. Artaax closed his eyes again and gave a heavy huff, not even noticing the absence of the thousands of questions he’d wondered about her in the past few months and thus unable to recognize their lack of appearance as not a great sign of his overall health.

Mallaidh only manages to startle him as he’s suddenly aware of her presence. Her ears fall back when he snarls at her through the sand and she takes one careful step back. All in the same moment, however, Artaax slumps back to the ground as if he’d been mistake. She’d only managed to startle him, unaware of exactly what’s going on, but worried all the same.

He doesn’t immediately try to get away from her, gently saying her old name. Carefully, she inches closer, scooting along in the sand until she’s touching him (should he allow) and gently nose into his fur and search for smells that shouldn’t be there. The redhawks have long since washed off his fur through travel but she likely wouldn’t recognize it anyway.

”It’s okay,” she murmurs, giving him a nudge. ”It’ll be okay. We need to find somewhere not in the open,” she suggests. Getting home like this likely isn’t going to happen and if she can care for him under shelter or hidden away, she’d feel much better.

Artaax didn't pull away from her touch. In fact, it actually brought him a moment of relief that he would've found strange had he stopped to analyze it. He kept his eyes closed as he laid on the sand, focusing on little else besides taking in air and letting it out again until Furi spoke again. In his state, he didn't fully grasp the need to not be in the open the way she did. But it didn't much matter. He might not have though to seek shelter due to potential threat to his person, but he did agree they needed to as a means of hiding his patheticness from other, judgmental eyes.

"Just need a minute..." Artaax breathed. His body didn't feel broken, just abused. He just needed to rest. Just a few minutes of lying on the sand with his blood pounding in his ears and his chest.

But when those minutes yielded him no further relief, the feisripa wordlessly decided to give up and just force himself to stand. Without warning, he began to struggle back up onto all fours, leaning to find Furi and allow her to help him (which is why he probably should've given some sort of warning). Once up again, he took a few seconds to catch his breath before speaking again, "Where."

He doesn’t pull away, which she takes as a good sign, but something is wrong. She doesn’t know what, other than the obvious, but she isn’t a medic. Portia isn’t even around and Rose is quiet these days but she’s not here either. There’s no obvious wounds on him but he seems thinner than normal, which is odd on his large frame, and she remains close until he speaks.

Just a minute. She takes a deep breath and waits, lowering back to the ground and pressing thick fur against his side. The air is cold, and the ocean whips an angry wind around them. Do they even have a moment? How bad off is he? Where has he even been?

Mallaidh bites back so many questions as she waits, not wanting to push him more than he can handle. He starts to move and she moves with him, carefully helping him to his feet.

”Over there,” she points with her nose, whether or not he’s leaving. The sand turns into grass and the hulking keep looms on the distance. If they get close, they can find somewhere to rest while she’s on the lookout. ”We’ll get over there and I’ll find you something to eat. Are you hungry?” she asks, starting to veer him in case he doesn’t notice the direction. ”Then we’ll go home. Heda’s back.”

The moment he found himself on all fours was just about the same moment the world began to spin. He shut his eyes against it, but that didn't seem to do him all too much good. A growl of frustration rumbled softly in his chest as he began to move forward in whatever direction Furi steered him, but he fell quiet when that seemed to make it worse.

Since growling and staring at the world around him seemed to make him feel terrible, Artaax instead focused on the sound of Furi's voice. That helped for a bit, until she got to the part about his nomi. The feisripa stumbled then, but caught himself before he was back on the ground again. He looked at Furi anxiously. "How long?" he asked, not even sure why it seemed that was the thing he most wanted to know.

Artaax struggles to keep his footing. He doesn’t answer her question but she doesn’t say anything, having laid a heavy brick on his back. He stumbles over her words, though, and she freezes to help keep him upright but she doesn’t know what to do now. They need to keep moving, at least a little ways. If they get somewhere that just looks leisurely, they can play it off as relaxing.

”A couple days, maybe a little longer,” she tells him and urges him along with a simple brush of her shoulder. She doesn’t want to push him if he really can’t make.

She always doesn’t want to tell him more bad news.

”But, um, before she arrived home, Wildfire and one of your sisters left,” she adds, sighing. ”Things are kinda weird.”

Artaax stared, unblinking, and kind of super creepy, at Furi as she answered his question. A couple of days was all. A couple of days. Maybe... Right, that was about the moment he realized how little it mattered in Thuringwethil had been home for an hour or a year, she would know Wildfire and his sisters were gone. She would be angry already. And no length of time could pass that would make her any less angry to learn what Artaax had to tell.

Furi continued, and though Artaax had never laughed out loud in front of her in his life, a dark chuckle burst from him now along with an actual smile. Both were brief, and suddenly he was staggering forward again. "You don't say," Artaax murmured wryly, shaking his head. His eyes surveyed the land ahead of him for... whatever they were looking for. Where was that again? He slowed to let Furi lead again.

The way he laughs unsettles her stomach and she looks at him with a questionable expression. His own smile doesn’t make it any better and his comment doesn’t go unnoticed. Blinking dumbly, as if she’s missed something, but she redirects her attention quickly to help him along.

”What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, finally, not sure she wants the answer.

"Later..." Artaax murmured, attempting to put off her questions. He was finding it hard enough to walk without trying to talk at the same time. Silence was better. Soon enough, he found that the world seemed to sit steadier if he just allowed it to blur before his eyes. He usually would've rebelled against giving up that much control of himself, but with Furi keeping him steady and directing his steps, he figured it was okay. And also, that he really didn't have much choice if he wanted to actually keep walking.

It felt like a millenium passed before Artaax finally slid back down onto his stomach under the shelter of.. something green, and gray, and brown. He couldn't tell. He shut his eyes as he heaved a great sigh of unconcerned relief. His body trembled as his breath came in short, ragged bursts from his chest. He was too tired to try to steady either just yet.

It doesn’t surprise her he won’t answer. She’ll get it from him sooner or later. If all the energy he has is getting from point a to point b, then she’ll give it to him. Something happened and whatever it was took a lot out of him. A wolf she’d once seen as one of the strongest is willing to be weak in front of her and she’ll take that... not so much forgiveness but as trust.

When they finally reach the keep, she urges him to a rocky overhang and a tall tree, enough out of the way of passersby but not enough to be caught lurking. As he settles on the ground, she steps back to give him space and sits down patiently.

Artaax took a few minutes (or ten or twenty, he wasn't sure) to catch his breath. Eventually, his breathing began to even out and his trembling slowed to near non-existence. He may have dozed, but it wasn't for long if that was even the case. Eventually, he opened his eyes again and found Furi seated nearby, watching him with that look she always had on her face - like she was either going to bolt or say something super awkward.

He shut his eyes again as a thought occurred to him that was something blissfully other than how terrible he felt and what had happened at the Plateau. "Where have you been," Artaax asked softly, filling the silence that had fallen between them.

However long it takes Artaax to collect himself, Mallaidh waits. Her patience surprised even her. Occasionally she looks around her surroundings but she primarily focuses on Artaax. Ears twitch in each direction a sound is made but she has to make sure he comes down and is able to relax.

Of course, when he’s ready to talk, he throws questions to her about her. That’s not what this is about. Her face twists a little and she looks away from him and down at her toes, wiggling them a little.

She can’t not answer. He deserves answers just as much as Blixen and Rose.

It’s a great time for her mother’s silence but she’s able to channel some encouraging thoughts even if Lotte’s not there.

”Furi wasn’t the real me and I... had to figure it out and find, um, myself,” she says, lowering her front feet to the ground and looking over, testing the waters. ”I was talking to Blixen one day when Wildfire showed up—she doesn’t like me—and I just. I ran. You know, like I always do,” she says, smirks. She kinda laughs.

Artaax opened his eyes and listened quietly as Furi explained. His brows furrowed as she spoke, partly out of confusion, and partly out of the usual harsh judgment he cast on everyone around him. The concept of Furi not being the real her went totally over his head, though finding herself wasn't a whole lot clearer. It was kind of nice to feel annoyance like this again... It made him feel like himself. But he sobered abruptly when Wildfire was mentioned.

"That's stupid..." he said quietly, looking beyond her now at some distant plane. He took in a deep breath and held it briefly before letting it go with a sigh and added, "Wildfire isn't worth that." Artaax winced as her name crept from his lips. He resolved then and there to never say it again if he could help it.

As much as she wanted, hoped, he’d say something supportive, he doesn’t. That’s stupid. She sighs and looks away, shrugging it off, but she looks up with a quick snap when he speaks so poorly of his mother.

Mallaidh doesn’t have much of an opinion of Wildfire to feel anything but indifference about her departure, she’s capable of feeling something for her friends when they’re hurting. Artaax’s pain is apparent but he shoves his mother off anyway. The pain of losing a parent never really goes away, she’s come to realize but she’s lost two in drastically different ways. Her mother is dead. She’ll never really get to be with her again. The ghost of her voice remains in her head most days. And her father? He’s alive. She could find him but she doesn’t want to, even if it hurts. She can’t imagine what they’re going through.

”I’m sorry,” she says, wishing to find a way to make him feel better. Nothing ever works. But maybe she can relate her pain to him. ”A little while before I left, um, I found out my mom was dead. I know it’s not really the same but...” she trails off, of course, awkwardly.

Artaax wasn’t listening as Furi attempted to sympathize with what she considered to be a shared experience. It was probably a good thing, otherwise he would’ve likely said something rude and insensitive and gotten his ass abandoned where he lay. As it was, he was distracted now with his own sob story and the worries that came with it.

He glanced at his friend and swore inwardly. Why hadn’t Blixen found him? Though really... maybe this actually was better. Maybe.

”I found Bat,” he started quietly, ”She lead me to the Redhawks. She ran away from Drageda to join them. As did... the others. They’re all there. They’re all natrona. They wouldn’t... they wouldn’t come back with me...”

Artaax found himself reliving the moment he’d asked his mother why she would rather be sentenced to death than come home with him, and she had evaded the question. The feisripa lived in a black and white world. His mother seemed to have been operating within the grey, thus Artaax simply couldn’t find a way to understand. It was die or be with him. She would rather die than be with him. It was so terribly, painfully simple.

Artaax seems to ignore what she says to say. She steels her jaws and looks away. It’s not the first time it’s happened and honestly she can’t remember what she’d said then that he’d talked over her or simply ignored her. Opening up about her mother isn’t something easy for her to do. She hadn’t even told Blixen about it, but as much as it hurts that he did not hear it, there is some part of her glad he didn’t and she can store the information away again.

She closes her eyes and fights off the hurt welling inside and listens as he explains something about… Bat, she thinks. Or someone that left—they’re all there—she shakes her head to try and listen, glancing up to see a similar pain in his eyes and she wants to be mad that he didn’t listen to her, too, but this moment isn’t about her and she tries to keep that in mind.

Mallaidh doesn’t say anything, looking at her friend as he processes it all and she pieces together what she actually heard.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, looking away at something else.

His friend murmured her sympathy, which only made him feel worse. It was a terribly thing, to be in a position where you deserved sympathy. He didn't want to have a sob story to tell that would make others look at him like Furi was now. He wanted to be normal. To feel whole, and not broken.

"I just can't understand it..." Artaax said, pushing himself up into a seated position as he stared at the ground between his paws, "I asked her. I made sure. She knows what it is to be natrona. She knows what heda might do. But still, she'd rather risk that than to be with us. To be part of our family anymore." He looked up at Furi then, not completely seeing her.

"And she let my sister follow her. She let both of my sisters stay there with her," he continuted, trembling now, not only because of his fatigue, "She's lead them to risk the same. What kind of mother does that? Why would she do these things to her family? To me?" His voice broke and he dropped his head to stare again at the ground, suddenly realizing he was losing too much control. He had to pull it back in. He couldn't do this. He could not be this broken.

He continues and she stares at something else. Every time she catches a glimpse of his gaze, she feels like she’s looking at something she shouldn’t be. She misses the dumb, oblivious Artaax that was her friend before she left but… this is hardly the same guy. The same kid. He’s been hit by the world as she has after losing a parent.

Mallaidh doesn’t know what Heda will do in regards to Wildfire and now both daughters. Maybe if she’d been around Blixen a little more since her return, she might have a clue, but her avoidance of it leaves her blind.

“I don’t know. Not a very good one,” she says, licking her lips. She tries to imagine her mother ever leaving her and she can’t even start to fathom it. Her mother died looking for her and her brother, the same woman can’t be seen abandoning them willingly. “It gets better, though. It doesn’t ever… really go away but it gets better.” It’s the best she can offer, closing her eyes and fighting off her own hurt.

Artaax shook his head slowly, in spite of agreeing with her. Wildfire had hurt him terribly. He hated her. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to believe the things he'd said to her, that she meant nothing. That she was nothing. But she wasn't. She was his mother, and no amount of pain or misery would ever change that fact. They were bound by blood, and he could no more hate her than he could stop his heart from beating.

He searched for Furi's face again, finding her looking away from him as she attempted to offer some condolence to him. Like her sympathy, it did nothing to alleviate the pain. But it did distract him. "I'm sorry for your mother," he murmured quietly, something triggering in his head. He apparently had heard it, but only now was it registering when he needed desperately to find something else to occupy his thoughts. It worked a little. Maybe something else would too.

Artaax crept towards her, leaning to brush her cheek with his nose. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but his mind was confused and hurting. He was remembering the golden nymph he'd met just before his mother destroyed his world. It had felt nice to be near her. All the fear and anxiety he'd been battling at the time had disappeared in her touch. There'd been nothing but amber and honey and sweetness. He wanted that again.

Mallaidh was nothing like his golden goddess, but she was warm and she was near, as long as she did not reject his touch. They both hurt, so they could both use each other, couldn't they?

I’m sorry for your mother, he says.

She swallows, adjusts her shoulders, and looks over at him. Her eyes struggle to focus and all the emotion she’d been holding back so suddenly bursts through in tears. A breath catches in her throat. As much as it should be Blixen across from her, hearing about her mother and offering her apologies, it isn’t. She’d been waiting for the right time to tell her, to finish sharing everything so they could… maybe make things work again.

When he leans forward, she lowers her head, closing her eyes as his nose brushes against her cheek. It would have been easier if he hadn’t heard it so she could have left it stored away. A spring opens and a locked away sob breaks free, lowering her head even more to bury into the thick of his fur.

Oh. Well. That was uh... more than he'd bargained for.

Artaax blinked in surprise as Furi suddenly unleashed a tidal wave of pent up emotion. He stiffened for only a second when he saw the tears and the sob broke free, but softened as she was suddenly against him, giving that touch he had been aiming for. Well, sort of the touch he'd been aiming for. But anyway.

The hunter scootched nearer, pulling her further into his embrace and leaning in to bury his own muzzle into her ruff. He breathed in her scent. It was nothing at all like the golden nymph's. How could it? It was Furi - all her awkwardness and her lame jokes and her obnoxious anxiety. He'd always been so annoyed with those things, but he didn't think of that now. He only thought of how somehow, through so many things, so many moments in his life, she had always been there. Awkward, anxious, rarely looking at all like she wanted to be, she always had been.

Artaax moved slowly, pulling back so that he could reach her face where he licked away a tear. His nose trailed up towards the fur behind her ear, and almost sweetly, he gently began to preen her fur - a lot, comforting growl barely whispering in his chest. He shut his eyes against the flurry of feelings that were swelling in his chest at that moment. He didn't care about them. He didn't care to look at them, inspect them, wonder at what they were and what they meant. He wanted to not feel, so he distracted himself by caring for his friend. Friend type.. thing.

Making everything suddenly about her isn’t what she’d meant to do. She’s worked on it for months, now, and he’s just feeling it for the first time. It’s not easy. It’s ugly and hard and it really doesn’t get better. She wanted to prove that it did, somehow, but she’d failed at that too.

Ragged breaths part his fur as she tries to collect herself, feeling him press closer against her. She nuzzles into his chest until he pulls away from her. Ears twitch upon her head but she doesn’t open her eyes to look, instead tightening when his tongue washes over her face. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, hardly forming the words, but the gesture is the same nonetheless.

Keeping her eyes closed, she focuses on the attention of his grooming. Occasionally she twitches an ear or adjusts a fraction to hit a certain spot. They’ve been close before but they’ve never been like this, she’s never seen this side of Artaax and quiet honestly, she never really thought he’d be like this at all. Something tells her it should be Blixen comforting her, holding her. Something even tells her it definitely shouldn’t be Artaax but she listens only to familiarity and without all the exploration and unknown, she finds it easier to mold herself to him.