Blackfeather Woods we would say anything just to hear what we want, right or wrong

His return to the Woods had been unceremonious, a hasty bundling of haggard flesh and beaten limbs past the borders into safety. He barely remembers any of it. Infection has settled over him like a heavy wool blanket, as it tends to do. He's used to the itchy fiery feeling now, the tenderness of inflamed wounds, the fog clouding his mind with a deeper intensity every day. It doesn't matter. He patrols sometimes, hunts less often — and he doesn't let anyone touch him, nor does he allow herbs anywhere near his wounds. He simply rots on his feet, dying in slow motion. Today it's all a little too much to bear, though. Mid-morning; the wraith is lounging, half wrapped in a haze he can't seem to find his way out of, willing himself to move his limbs for another ineffective patrol. Maybe one day he'll finally learn this lesson, but not today.

The morning he had tried to hunt was the closest to normal that life had felt in a long time. Though @Takiyok had taken up the role of primary breadwinner during his illness, he wanted to be able to assist in tending to both himself and the pack. Feeling useful to her, especially after she had worried after him and cared for him, was a primary objective.
The grouse he had found sheltering beneath a tree had caught his scent with a shift of the wind, and the hunt had failed. Even though he carried no prize, the very thrill of being able to hunt at all sent a pleasant tingle through him. The memory of his skill began to return, and he began to wander to find another target as the sun drifted behind clouds. Winters were always quiet. The song birds had long abandoned the wilds for warmer places. The trees rustled their branches, empty and without the soft wistful calls of their leaves. The only common sound that broke the silence was the crows, who had learned to ignore him as he moved through his home.
Toward the border as he searched for another promising hunt, Taikon found Zephyr looking lost and sorry. A familiar scent of infection drifted through him. Clearly, neither of them had been okay. The approach of the prince was cautious, as though moving toward an animal that might bolt at any moment. Even though Taikon's immediate reaction was to rush to the aide of the boy, he maintained distance, knowing well there was nothing he could do. Zephyr, he breathed, worry leaking into his tone. We are both excellent at getting ourselves into shit, heh, he jested, though there was no real humour in it.
He assumed, based on nothing, that Rowan had been helping tend to the boy just as the zealot had to him. He assumed that Zephyr didn't want his help. And so, Taikon offered no more than a distraction.

Zephyr's sharp edges are all softened, consciousness fuzzy and fickle and too tenuous to be counted on; he doesn't notice Taikon until the greeting cuts through the air. The wraith flinches almost imperceptibly, gaze shifting with a sluggishness that doesn't quite match the feverish mania behind silver eyes. Taikon, It comes out more sharply than he'd intended, the word a crimson slash of hurt as if the pale wolf had greeted him with contempt rather than concern. He exhales abruptly, visibly frustrated. Sorry. He shifts and pushes himself to his feet, swaying a little, hind legs unsteady and fumbling. I'm not in much of a joking mood lately. He wants to say a million things. He wants to yell at Taikon for leaving without saying anything — he wants to apologize for not checking on him — he wants to cry at him about how many things have gone wrong since that ill-fated night in the mountains. Instead, he lets out another sharp breath and looks at the ground. They're both healing right now, and silence is safest.

The sharpness from Zephyr hurt for a moment, but it passed briefly, like being hit with a piece of gravel. Taikon nodded briefly, forgiving it easily. Much had happened. Life had happened. They had both been through things, both had been angry, and he was not there to displease his friend.
For despite all of it, Taikon wanted Zephyr to be doing well, and wanted his happiness. Regardless of the doubts and rejections and anger and mess, he wanted only good things for him. Okay, he answered softly, noticing the way that the stoney, beautiful boy wavered as he rose. Taikon swallowed and looked down, breathing in for a moment and seating himself — a silent invitation for Zephyr to feel comfortable.
He wanted to stay quiet. He knew Zephyr probably didn't want him around, but Taikon was simply too pleased to be alive and able to share the same space with the boy again. So, he filled the silence. His first instinct was to joke that it was Rowan's fault that Zephyr had to deal with him nagging him, but he licked his lips and changed the language around instead. Rowan has... helped me a great deal, he said slowly, We are.. we're lucky to have him. The statements felt rather meaningless without his usual touch of jest, but it didn't matter. He hoped that Rowan would be able to do the same for Zephyr, and that, somehow, Taikon might be able to repay the favour one day.

It seems like that's the wrong thing to say, from the way Taikon hesitates over his response. Zephyr isn't sure he has the energy to care at first. It doesn't take long for the guilt to settle over him and banish all hope of maintaining his apathy. No matter how hard he tries, it's impossible to avoid caring. He sighs again, this time soft and regretful. Yeah, we are... His gaze drops. I'm sorry I didn't check on you. I wasn't... I didn't want to make you feel worse. I wasn't ready. But for once it's glaringly obvious how selfish, how ugly that statement would be; for once, he can't help but notice his own thorns, and the way they cut into those around him.

Taikon's breath was heavy. He laboured far more than he should have for normal activity, which made his failed hunt far less surprising. It's fine, he answered plainly. He wasn't offended or bothered by people 'not checking' that he was still alive. The reality was that he would either die or he wouldn't. He was sure if he died, Zephyr would have moved on just fine — Taikon couldn't have said the same for the opposite.
You couldn't make me feel worse if you tried, he admitted. It was true, if for no other reason than being inches from death feels pretty fucking awful.

The response doesn't make him feel worse about it, but it doesn't exactly make him feel better, either. He frowns slightly in response, quiet for a few moments. I'm glad you didn't die, It comes out quiet. Then he glances back up to Taikon, throat tight. My sister left. Phillip left — he was my partner... but not for very long. He hadn't planned to change the subject, but it's the only thing he can think to say. At some point the news has to be shared, and he's in no mood for small talk or beating around the bush. I can't talk about why, and... I don't know. I'm not sure why I'm telling you. No one can do anything about it. Least of all Taikon, who looks horrible. Zephyr swallows hard. Are you okay?

Taikon didn't respond to the comment about him not being dead. He was sort of thankful he was alive, sort of. Currently, though, life was fucking miserable. His mind never worked the way he wanted it to, and he could tell Taki was suffering because of it. Even though he hadn't been abusive toward her, he could tell his fuse was far shorter than it was supposed to be. It didn't make sense. To make things worse, Taktuq was strangely absent. He had risked his life to tell her father that she was okay, only to have her run off.
As he took in the new information, a frown deepened. Oh, Zephyr, he looked away, swallowing tightly. You don't have to talk about it. That.. hurts, he answered, curling over a little as he felt very real pain about it. These were people he had no real tie to, yet he cared enough about Zephyr that he cared, too about them. Me?
I'll be fine, he said. Taki is doing her best. I wish I could do more for everyone.

He isn't sure what to say after that. It doesn't seem like there's anything to be said, really; everything sucks and neither of them can do anything about it. He swallows. At least he doesn't hate me. Do you want to... sit together for awhile? He feels stupid for asking, suddenly. I mean — we can't really patrol or anything, and there's not much to talk about. But I'd like your company. Maybe it's the brain-fog getting to him — maybe things were always going to go this way. There's no room for regrets now, between the infection that's killing him and the widening hole in his heart.

Wrap here?

Something strangely selfish snapped into place just then. When Zephyr had multiple boys doting upon him, Taikon had suspected it but tried not to think much about it. He knew that Takiyok was not a woman who would ever be willing to share him, and he wanted to make sure that he was the best that he could be for her.
He wished that he could reassure himself that this avoidance of Zephyr was strictly down to Taikon's own decision, or that Zephyr's intentional distance had been the sole reason for his absence. He knew, though, that being near Zephyr was playing with fire at least a little bit. For now, it felt safe since the both of them were in a bad way.
But I'd like your company.
Taikon nodded slowly, settling down further by stretching out his front and laying down. The forest was a miserable place. He didn't like it. He wished that Rowan and Zephyr had chosen anywhere else to be. He wondered what would happen now, and he wondered if Zephyr and he would be okay. He wondered if they would ever rebuild their friendship, or if it was impossible because whatever had been hadn't strictly been friendship.
But Taikon said nothing, as requested.