Northstar Vale and the walls kept tumbling down

The Vale felt suffocating.
Each passing day brought further agitation to the Governor. He masked it well when @Delight was around, and could sometimes almost forget the feeling entirely in the other's presence; it festered in the background nonetheless. Lanawyn's brief appearance had only fuelled the flame. Of course he understood that she had to go back, tell the others, keep things in order, but— it hurt anyway. He couldn't shake the inexplicable feeling of abandonment.
Alarian paced anxiously, barely within Tindómë's borders and fighting a crushing jumble of emotions. He wondered bitterly about his packmates, thinking that it was much quieter here. Never again would he complain about that back home. His jaw tightened a bit. Fresh agitation coursed through him, lighting his limbs with restless energy; he needed to go home. He needed to go home. He needed to go home. Ugh!
The boy stopped suddenly, tail flicking like a pissed off cat. Had there been a cup to shove off the table, he would have done so gleefully. Unfortunately, Alarian would never experience that joy; instead, he put his nose to the ground and sullenly looked for his friend. He could use the company, he thought— well, Delight's company in particular, but shhh.

as if summoned by his healing friend's thoughts, delight materializes. the air in the vale has gone stiff and tense, lately, as if something is balanced precariously above them, on the verge of teetering off the edge. he knows queenie feels it too, but he doesn't know how to make himself care enough to act. 

at his core, he's kind of a coward.

that alarian has energy enough to be up and sulking is a good sign, he thinks, eyeing his expression. he wonders if he should be embarrassed that the other leader is seeing his pack in this state -- not that it was ever bustling -- but something heavy and passive has taken ahold of him. "hey," delight says, unbothered, and gives him a quick once over. "you look better," he says, thinking, maybe it's time for him to go. and maybe... maybe that means he needs, y'know, someone to walk him back.

Something almost like relief spread through his chest when Delight appeared; guilt, too, and the emotions warred for several beats. He hadn't meant to look so irritated when he actually found his friend. The Governor immediately softened— genuinely, to his own surprise— and moved a little closer.
Perhaps it was simply that he was the only one Alarian knew around here, but he had developed a fondness for the moon-eyed boy's company. He was struck suddenly with the thought that he wasn't Lily, though; he had realized he missed her as much as he missed Lanawyn. The boy wasn't certain yet what that meant, thinking with some panic of Korei and how that had gone (and thinking 'let's not, thanks')— but, now wasn't the time for those thoughts.
Hi, He murmured, smiling faintly. At Delight's comment, he became a little more aware of the burning-itching-sting of the healing wounds decorating his slim frame. Ali was doing better— walking didn't bother him so much, and the initial fatigue of being so injured had faded. The deepest reaches of the wounds were still healing, though, and he knew the journey ahead would be difficult. I am better— thank you. He paused, taking a breath. I would stay for awhile, to repay you for letting me heal here— but my pack needs me now. I could return soon— when I've settled things there, and I can be of use.
Alarian was many things, but he was not a boy fond of being in debt— nor was he particularly fond of being rude to those who showed him kindness. He knew Delight had not mentioned anything of that, but... well, he had to offer. For his own sake, if nothing else; if he was forced to give up his manners, too, he might just go insane.

delight can't read the mixed expressions on his friend's face -- he doesn't dwell on them, figuring, well, he got the shit kicked outta him and he's stranded away from home, it's fine. besides, the morwinyon has his own mixed bag to deal with: his conversation with queenie is fresh in his mind, the unavoidable fact that tindómë is barely a pack, that he's failed (as he always suspected he would in all honesty) at a time when there's kids on the way, a.k.a. the absolute worst time to fail.

he definitely thinks get out while you still can. his expression doesn't change. "of course," the androgyne says instead, shrugging a little uncomfortably. "you don't need to, that's fine -- not sure there'll be a pack to return to much longer anyway." 

delight could just ask outright like a normal fucking person, but let's be real. "i think queenie and i should walk you back," he says carefully, his eyes turning expectantly to alarian's face. it's a loaded offer -- delight and queenie's absence, even if temporary (ha) would essentially dissolve the pack -- but an honest one. whoever beat up alarian is still out there, an unknown threat, and he even in this fatigued state does not want to find out that his friend got straight up murdered on his way back home. the other half of the question (and then stay there?) he lets hang unsaid for now, waiting for a reaction.

There was something off about Delight, he thought; then again, maybe there wasn't. He didn't really know the other boy well enough to be able to tell, but the interaction certainly felt off. Trying not to stare too long at Delight's blank expression, he found himself studying the ground quite intently. He shifted. Not sure there'll be a pack to return to much longer anyway. The words caught him off-guard, and his glaze flitted back to his friend.
It sounded too casual to be real— or maybe just casual enough to be real. Alarian swallowed hard, guilt intensifying; he had taken advantage of a dying pack's resources, then. Before he could regain his composure and apologize, Delight metaphorically slapped him again. Open confusion, and maybe a little shock, danced across his expression before he could stop it. What?
If you— He began, then stopped; Delight wasn't an idiot. Probably. The Governor studied his friend a little more keenly, gears turning quickly. If the other leader left his crumbling pack— took one of the few wolves he scented around the territory with him— Does that mean—
Alarian paused, swallowed, eyeing Delight with an unreadable expression now. They both knew the journey was not short, and Tindómë seemed a ghost pack already. It seemed cowardly, to him, to flee under such a guise— but what was he if not a coward, himself? He had no right to judge, but the more certain he grew in his assumption, the less he knew how he felt about it. Did Delight expect to stay; was Alarian meant to offer, as repayment? Was he meant to seal the pack's fate, sign it away?
It wasn't his job; it wasn't his pack. But maybe— maybe Delight needed that. And maybe Alarian could step back and let someone other than himself be selfish, for once.
I would appreciate that— and if there won't be a pack to return to, He started again, more smoothly than he had expected; a little more detached, too. We have space at Bracken Sanctuary. Perhaps under different circumstances, the offer might have come eagerly; he was friendly, as warm as he could manage, but this didn't feel like a good thing. It felt like being used, and he ignored it only because he knew he deserved it.

delight can't read alarian's mind, watching the flickers of emotion across his face with his own expression unchanging. despite what the governor thinks, trying to take advantage is far from the androgyne's mind. but maybe that doesn't matter -- what good are intentions against actions, what matters when delight doesn't care. 

relief flickers fleetingly across his face. he owes alarian -- an awful lot, he knows. an awkward, short laugh eases out of him as he dips his head, resisting the urge to step closer to his friend. if they're still friends? he hopes so, stupidly enough. at length he murmurs, "thanks," his voice soft, "i, uh. we appreciate it. whatever i can do to.. help you out, just. let me know." it's better than nothing (he hopes).

— and even if he hadn't deserved it, he'd probably have let it happen anyway; watching Delight's relief, he decided it was worth it. Alarian would never shake a certain softness at his core, one that was ultimately selfish. The other boy really didn't need to worry about their friendship at all, though that would surely never come to light. Much as he hated to admit it to himself, he'd do a lot to preserve it. Delight's was the only friendship he had that remained untainted, thus far. Whatever he did, whoever he truly was at his core didn't matter right now— the Governor could disapprove, judge, be upset, but he would not endanger this.
He just worried it would be ruined by something out of his control, now. Of course, Alarian returned, his tone softening too. The other leader's— former?— offer normally might not have inspired any true response, but... well... leader. He paused for several beats, thinking. Maybe— you could help; you've been a leader for awhile, right?
Honestly, he was just guessing; he had no real way of knowing, but he hoped he was right. Either way, he continued. There's a position in my pack— Chancellor. It's directly below my own... well, it was supposed to be my position in the first place. He paused, glancing away for a moment; now was not the time to think about Lennon. But then the pause turned into a full stop as he realized, on top of everything else, the thought of Lennon was too much entirely and he was done speaking. He was sure Delight got the point, anyway.

WRAP UP?? HAHA SORRY

oh but there's still one last little thing that he really doesn't want to say -- and really maybe, maybe he doesn't have to, maybe alarian's already figured it out, it's not like pregnancy doesn't have a distinct scent but -- wait, 

what?

"i-i," delight stammers, knowing in that instant a) he would not be able to turn the offer down when alarian might not even know the depth of the favor he's committing to, and b) he did not want to. wasn't the whole point of this getting away from leadership --? or just a dying pack. maybe it'd be different. alarian mentioned being abandoned -- hell, he's confirming it here. he wouldn't put delight through the same thing again. he's just gotta trust that. "-- of course," the morwinyon finally manages to get out, "if that's, if you think that's best. um there is one more thing." might as well rip the bandaid off. "queenie is, uh, pregnant. if you couldn't already guess that, i mean. she and i will obviously, um, take care of... them, we wouldn't be a burden to you, but. fair you know up front." and he'll let alarian puzzle their paternity out for himself.

Of everything Delight could have said, that— that was the worst. Pregnant? It slipped out of him quietly, his eyes wide; he caught himself just in time to mask it as neutral surprise. Pups. There were going to be— he felt nauseous, but he couldn't show it. In that moment, he didn't care whose they were (though Alarian was quickly learning there was always a reason when his friend did not elaborate) because their presence would hurt all the same—
But then he had to. Um— He paused, swallowed, reaching for something to say. I have some experience— with birth, and newborns, if she... needs someone there. Queenie hadn't seemed very old, either, now that he thought about it; it was easier to think of her almost clinically. It can be difficult the first time. Too difficult, for some. He didn't bother asking if he was correct, or even questioning his assumption— he wanted to stop thinking about this as soon as possible.
I'll uhh... let you get things sorted with Tindómë, then. Alarian decided, and fled before Delight could stop him.