Whitefish River Vote correctly or never see your loved ones again

Referencing this. For @Vercingetorix.

When Aurëwen had shared the news that she was leaving, Dragomir had remained utterly silent. When she brushed her soft nose against his cheek in farewell, he had remained still and stony, much like he was when his mind felt separate from his body and nothing else felt real. Perhaps that's why he got away with it. But Dragomir was completely lucid as his mother turned to leave for Moonspear. He watched her go from his place in the thicket, lips tightly sealed, face unreadable.

Only when she was out of sight did his expression morph into an ugly glare while his tail rapped against the ground twice in quick succession. His ears were pinned forward with something a little more rigid than interest. His eyes were darkened with something a little more fearsome than disappointment.

She was leaving again. That was all Dragomir took from this. She was leaving him again, pursuing her own desires again. For Kaistleoki failed to register as an appropriate reason. Her departure wore another fracture into the fragile surface of Dragomir's heart. The moonstone she had gifted him, which he often kept close, was sent tumbling into the undergrowth with a snarl and a moody swipe of his paw. With his lips quivering against a mixture of anguish and rage while he tried valiantly not to cry, the door to his trust, his faith and his respect slammed shut.

For all he was pretty apathetic about Aure's departure, Verx knew Drago and Isi probably wouldn't feel the same way. She was their mother, and they loved her (at least, he assumed so). He sought one or both of them out and ended up finding his son first, coming across the boy as he sent a gleaming object sailing into the bushes with a kick.

Yeah, that's what he thought.

Hei, Verx greeted tentatively, tail slowly moving behind him in ingratiating fashion. Wanna talk about it? Probably not, but it was worth a try. He'd fucked up just as much as Aure (perhaps more, depending on who you asked) and wasn't the most noble of sounding boards for this kind of situation.

But fuck, he was the kid's dad. If he wasn't here for him even in the worst of times, then what was he good for?

Dragomir regretted kicking the moonstone away the second he heard it thump into the bushes. He didn't truly want to lose it, but it was too late now. Not like he could get up and go fetch it. He turned his ire to his useless legs, fixing the full force of his glower on those spindly atrophied limbs. Stupid legs. If not for his stupid broken legs, Dragomir could have chased after his mother when he found his tongue again and told her if she left him again he would never, ever forgive her.

Hei, said Vercingetorix as he entered the thicket, drawing Dragomir's glare on to him instead of his pathetic, stiff, broken chicken legs. Wanna talk about it? No, said Dragomir's expression, but the film of tears in his eyes said the opposite. The wobble of his lips was telling, but he did his best to hide it. He was five months old now. Too old for being a crybaby, even if he felt like he had a pretty good reason for all of it.

Why does she always leave? he wondered, words clipped with a fierce clack of his teeth at the end. Why didn't you stop her?

He couldn't answer the first question, but boy howdy, he could at least try to tackle the second. I couldn't even if I tried, Drago, he said ruefully, shaking his head. Verx sat back on his rump with a small thud, a sigh escaping his lips. He cast his eyes toward his son, a small, sad smile curving his mouth. It'd be like trying to stop your sister. Have you ever been able to do that? Has anyone?

He'd once thought his willful daughter resembled him more out of the two parents, but he was starting to realize just how very wrong he was.

I'm sorry you're hurting, goufa, Vercingetorix murmured, heart truly aching at the tears he found in the boy's hazel eyes. I don't really know why she went to that other pack. She loves you, but. . . Another sigh, this one tinged somewhat with anger. I don't think she knows how to stay put, he guessed, shrugging. Neither did he. But he was trying.

The boy misinterpreted Vercingetorix's smile for humor and thwacked his tail against the ground with a sharp, it's not funny! Maybe a man who willingly left his family behind could find something to laugh about in Aurë's pathological need to leave on personal excursions while her children suffered her absence, but there was nothing humorous about it to Dragomir. He'd had quite enough of his parents' irresponsible, selfish attitudes and was of half of mind to up and leave them both the second his legs were better.

Except Vercingetorix was actively trying to do better, not that that was saying much for a father who walked out on you when you were a baby. Wasn't hard to do better than that. Dragomir, who ordinarily boasted a pretty long fuse for his anger, fought to control his temper when Vercingetorix made his next wild claim. She doesn't love us, the boy snapped with a ferocity that Vercingetorix might recognize as his own Trikru fire. If she loved us she wouldn't keep leaving us and acting so sad when she's around us. Because boy oh boy, had he noticed that lately. With little else to do but lie around and observe, Dragomir had noticed a lot of things that ordinarily may have bypassed his attention.

By now his ears were slicked back against his scalp and his eyes burned on Verx, but his anger was directed primarily at Aurëwen—more specifically, her wanderlust and the impossibility of containing such a thing. Perhaps one day when he was older and had roaming paws of his own, Dragomir might understand better. That's why you don't talk anymore, he quietly suggested, 'cause she doesn't love us or you enough, so you're mad at her. He was completely wrong, but that's what he thought.

Thus reprimanded, Verx's smile withered away, not even a grimace taking its place. You're right, he said solemnly. It's not. He heard out Drago's reckoning of events, mouth twisting almost painfully in an effort to stifle the words that desperately wanted to come out. His son wasn't right, he wasn't wrong, it was complicated --

We don't talk because we don't get along, he explained, once the boy had quit speaking. We see the world differently. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't love you -- that I don't love you. Things are just. . .strange.

Weak. Lame-ass response. It didn't even come close to a satisfactory explanation. But it was all he had.

And he could sit here and shit-talk Aure along with Dragomir, but what good would it do? It would be childish of Vercingetorix to stoop to that level. Now more than ever, he needed to be a good example. He needed to be present. He needed to be the peacemaker, however boring and shitty that job sounded to him.

Vercingetorix was right: for Dragomir, that wasn't a satisfactory explanation at all. In fact, it only stoked the flames of his grief higher. It was bad enough for him that his mother was leaving him when he needed her the most, but it was worse to hear that his parents didn't get along. That was self evident, but to hear it from Vercingetorix's own mouth was like a crippling blow.

(It truly had nothing to do with him, but his upset at the instability of his life was boiling over and infecting every part of him with a selfishness befitting a much younger wolf than Dragomir.)

Why'd you even have us then? the boy demanded, glaring at his feet as the tears began to fall. If they didn't get along then why did they have kids? Didn't they realize how fucked up that was? Didn't they think they might be better off without kids if they didn't even like each other? (and do they regret us? his mind whispered darkly, convincing him that they did and that was why Aurë was always sad).

That was even more difficult to answer. In fact, really nothing he could say here would be quite right. Vercingetorix gritted his teeth and decided to jump right into the shit, rather than trying to parse words or spare feelings. There wasn't a reason, he explained. We just did. Drago. . .

Fucking hell. The man sighed, and shook his head. Dragomir, I love you and your sister more than anything else in the world. More than anything I've ever loved before. The way I feel about your mom. . .that doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter, anyway. A pause, then he continued. But I know it's caused problems, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry if my attitude toward her drove her away. . .drove her away from you. That definitely wasn't what I ever wanted.

Things aren't easy, Verx stressed, staring at his son. And they're sure as hell not simple. I wish I could explain better, but I can't. It's complicated. I can't tell you what your mom is thinking, or why she does what she does. All I can do is explain what I'm thinking and feeling -- and be there for you. I'm gonna be there for you, buddy.

But he knew that no matter how fervently he said it, there would always be a part of Dragomir's trust that he'd never gain back. And Vercingetorix fucking detested himself for that.

There wasn't a reason was the last thing that Dragomir was expecting to hear, but he should have known. Several things clicked into place in his head and the fiery light went out of his eyes, replaced by extinguished coals of disappointment. Everything suddenly made a lot more sense.

They didn't even want you, said Dragomir's mind, slicing into his already fragile heart and leaving his feelings to bleed out into his eyes. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, try as he might to hide it. You were a mistake, they wouldn't have had you if they could go back in time. That was why Vercingetorix had left them, pretending he was seeking a better life for them, but in reality probably trying to get away, or so he thought. That was why his mother's eyes were always heavy with sorrow. That was why she wandered, perhaps seeking the freedom that he and his sister had snatched from her. Of course. He should have known.

For the time being, Vercingetorix's assurances that he loved them more than anything fell on deaf ears. The little child in Dragomir's heart that cried for his mother clung to the notion that his parents loved him truly as they said, but the heavier, darker emotions that were smothering that child blocked it from reaching him. You love us because you have to, he thought, but he couldn't say it. All the fight was gone from him now. The most he could muster was an awkward shifting of his posture so that he was faced away from Vercingetorix with his ears pinned back, and all he could offer after that was a quiet, okay.

He would wait for his mother to return, as she said she would, believing despondently now that he was just a ball and chain tied to her paws and detaching himself from his emotions as best he could, and hoped in the meantime these new feelings of inadequacy would not eat him alive.

Just as he'd expected, it wasn't a satisfactory answer. Vercingetorix winced as his son turned away, offering only two flat syllables in response. They were quiet for a few moments more, the father cursing his tongue, his brainless dick, and his myriad failures.

Someday, you might like a girl enough to want to make babies with her, he said finally, looking ahead, rather than at Dragomir. Things might change. Y'all could grow apart. But that doesn't mean the parents love the kids any less. If anything, it makes you even more precious. I know it's so. . .fucked up. I'm really sorry for it.

Verx turned his duo-toned eyes toward Drago, frowning. When your mom comes back, I'll try to be more civil, he vowed. Even if we don't get along, you and Isi don't deserve to get dragged into it. Not this much, anyway.

It would be difficult, seeing as Aure and he were (had always been!) on two very different pages. But if it would make his children more content, then damn it, he was willing to give it a go. There weren't many other options for him at this point.

Someday, you might like a girl enough to make babies with her. The following shake of his head was so sudden and violent that Dragomir felt his bones pop in his shoulders. No. No. I'll never have babies with someone I don't get along with, I'll never do this to kids. Never. He was never going to have kids, period, he fervently thought, because that was just so gross. Liking girls? Grody. He would never want babies with anyone, thank you very much. But more importantly, he would never harm any kids of his as deeply as his parents had harmed him and Isilmë by being so irresponsible as to have them in the first place. Not trying to guilt trip you dad, but seriously, you guys have been some seriously garbage parents.

At least Verx was trying, so that deflated a little of Dragomir's anger. It remained simmering in his breast though, threatening to flare briefly when Vercingetorix started talking again, but he kept it under control. He wanted nothing more than to tear a strip off his father just because he was projecting the hurt from his mother going away on another trip … but even he knew that wasn't really fair. Swallowing his anguish and frustration and doubt down, he thickly said, okay, do what you want.

Did he care if they got along now? Not really. The damage was already done. But the small little child inside of him cried for his parents to get along, if only so Aurëwen would stay, if only so Vercingetorix would, too, so their family could be whole and he could stop feeling so horrible.

It was a slap in the face, but what was new? He deserved each and every blow -- all of it. He hadn't gone into this with the intention of hurting the kids; hell, he hadn't known if he'd wanted them before they were born (but he'd never say that). Yet the cards had fallen the way they did, and now Verx and Aure were stuck having to clean up the mess they'd made.

Well, give Vercingetorix a fucking mop, because he was bound and determined to scrub all this shit away.

I want you to be happy, he said quietly in response, shrugging. It's not about what I want anymore. It never should have been. I'm sorry, goufa.

Sorry. That was all he could say. Sorry, sorry, sorry. No excuses, no justifications. Those just wasted valuable time for the thousand apologies he owed.

Can probably fade here, I think Drago will remain unresponsive now!

I want you to be happy. For once they agreed on something. Dragomir wanted to be happy, too, but given the circumstances, that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon. He had choice words on his tongue for his mother when she returned. She'd promised to do so soon, but when she did, he was going to ask her never to leave him for so long again unless it was absolutely, completely, impossibly necessary. Send someone else on scouting trips. He couldn't handle the continued heartbreak of not being good enough for her to stay. It wasn't a healthy thing to ask, but Dragomir wasn't a healthy kid.

Little did Dragomir know that she would never return for him to make this request.

Okay, was all he had to say in response to his father. From that point on, the boy had nothing more to say. His anger with Vercingetorix was more of a projection of his hurt and self-doubt, and would fade quickly enough when the wound was less raw, but he was exhausted. He dropped his eyes to the place in the bushes where he'd kicked the moonstone, and that was where they would remain until sleep came to claim him some time much later.