Neverwinter Forest i hate my last name. i hate everything it stands for

set on the 27th

Cupid could not remember how he got here. Vague details were all that he could go off of; he knew he was sick and delusional. He knew the journey was rough, that there were plenty of stops he'd take to throw up or pass out. How he'd manage to get here? That was a mystery. Why was he here? That was another story.

There was a number of reasons why he had strayed from the vale again, all nonsensical. Just lies after lies to ease his worried soul. None of them worked.

Now he was at a border, still lightheaded and barely conscious. It's a miracle he was still standing, granted he was leaning against a trunk. Him being here was an oddity; there was no reason to linger so close to another pack. He knew he should leave, but something kept him rooted to the spot.

There was an aroma that floated in the air, so thick he could choke on it. It was so familiar too. He never thought one could feel so hopeful yet dreadful at the same time, but he did now. Amist all those undectable scents was @Mal's. That's what kept him here, staring off into the distance.

Mal, on the other hand, was doing fine. It was a normal day, so he was out wandering along the borders and making sure their claim was as strong as it could be.  Swagger along, pee on something, continue along if all was well. That kind of thing.  He did feel like things were coming together. Sure, nothing was 100% perfect, but nothing ever would be. He'd learn and stuff would be better. Blah blah.

Maybe it would have been a normal day, but as he rounded a thicker patch of trees, things had a chance to change. A familiar face.  He hurried forward a few steps but slowed again once he became aware that Cupid was.. Somewhat off? He thought back to Dirge's warning about prey animals being sick. Obviously another wolf wasn't exactly prey, but if whatever it was could pass to wolves... Maybe be a bit more cautious until he figured out what was up? He sniffed, but there wasn't anything that was a major red flag -- aside from Cupid smelling different this time, but maybe that was whatever sickness or whatever accounting for it. Regardless, Mal put on his normal confident face, his cheer tainted by concern, Wasn't sure if I was going to see you again. You need to hang out, rest a bit? Slight head tilt. Seriously, he looked like he needed a break from traveling or something. How'd Cupid end up that way?

He was there, Mal, right in front of him. Speaking about something that went in one ear and out the other. Cupid couldn't focus on anything. Whether that was because of his sickness or his restless mind, he didn't know. It could very well be both.

The question was met with silence at first. Cupid turned to Mal, stared straight through him. For a moment he stayed frozen in time, wallowing in emotions, unwilling to move into the future. But time never stopped, not really. He was forced to blink, forced to smile and speak.

Yeah, he said, giving a weak nod. If you don't mind.

It wasn't like Mal had really any medical experience or anything. As weird as Cupid was right now, he didn't seem super sick smelling?  Like nothing was hitting the "omg run away" button in his mind, so that meant things were safe, right? Maybe?  He wandered closer, nose twitching once, twice, confirming. That moment of unfocused staring was a little unnerving but Mal wasn't gonna let it show it bugged him -- cool and a bit of a tough guy? Yeah right.

How bad off was he?  Well, they'd find out. Come on over. The back side of those trees, head tip to the ones Mal himself had walked around, will get you nice and out of the weather. Okay, it made him a bit of a hypocrite, but all the leaders (read: himself) agreed Cupid was an okay person, so it wasn't much of a risk. Who would go and try to tell him otherwise? It was his forest, after all (not that he'd said, but the fact he was the main marker of borders probably helped point that out). Either way, he wasn't turning to head off that way immediately, waiting instead to see if Cupid was mobile enough or if he needed help -- it wasn't far, though.

Off into the trees he went, though it was a rather slow process (slower than it needed to be anyways). He pushed himself off the trunk, stumbled a bit, stopped, stumbled forward again. If Mal decided to help, it would not be acknowledged. Cupid was robotic and his mind was set on resting. He moved like a drunkard all the way to the spot that had been pointed out.

Cupid let out a deep sigh and collapsed onto the snow. I fucked up. He stared out at nothing again, not realizing he had said anything for a few moments. When he did make the connection, he chuckled quietly to himself. 

I'm fucked up. Nice save. Like, sick kind of fucked up.

He could only watch Cupid stumble twice before he moved to stand alongside him, guiding him along 'til they got to where Mal had mentioned. What had happened?  He seemed fine at a surface level.  He wasn't bleeding everywhere and didn't smell like death.  Maybe he ate something bad recently? Either way it was pretty damn concerning.

Dirge's warning again came to mind.  Haven't eaten anything that smells really off?  Apparently there were some sick animals around here that smelled weird. I haven't seen them though. A timeframe hadn't been given. Had it been spotted ages ago? Recently?  He was unsure -- about a lot of it.  But look, man, I'm no healer. If you need something more than a place to rest to get over it, I'll need to call someone over. Mango?  That was the only one left who had any healer experience, wasn't it?  Hell. Mal sat himself nearby, ears pitched forward, as if his alertness would somehow answer his questions.

I haven't eaten anything. It was an exaggeration of course. If he thought back far enough he was sure he'd remember eating some rodent or two. Nothing too big or too sickly smelling. It could not be foul food that caused his sickness or lack thereof; he would've been sick awhile ago if that were the case. His illness came about suddenly and deep down he knew exactly what caused it. He just chose to run from the truth, a truth that was slowly catching up to him.

I'll be fine. I just.. His voice trailed off as a sharp pain ripped through his abdomen. Obviously that wasn't the case, he knew that. Does this someone have some herbs stashed away?

Okay, weight off his shoulders there -- Mal hadn't gone and contaminated himself probably. Then, do you need food? He was grasping at straws. The famine had made people act really weird -- and he was familiar with how tired and gross it had made him feel. But things were getting better now, right? Cupid didn't look like some famished twig or anything.

Pause. Honestly, don't think so. Sorry, Mango. Healer types showed up after things got all snowy and dead out.  Ceilidh had disappeared for a while and during that time, most of the stuff had gone and keeled over from frost.  But if you need something off a pine tree, we got plenty of those. From his tone it was obvious he didn't expect that it would be much use.

Mal's forte was making sure that people could have a home.  Certain other things were well beyond him.  So how did he go about helping in these cases?

Honestly, eating had slipped his mind. Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong thus far, and Cupid was too busy playing stupid to care. Besides, anything he'd eat would probably come back up later. Still, his mouth watered at the thought of a meal now. You owe me a rabbit. He recalled back to their first meeting and smirked a little.

The smirk faded as soon as it had came. I'm not surprised. Losing all the prey was tragic enough, flora dying was just another blow. It was difficult to find anything worth while, but not impossible. There won't be anything in the trees, but there may be stuff near some water. Cupid stood up and blinked away the dizziness. Is there a lake around here or something?

Now that kind of took the edge off. Mal's expression shifted from concern to a grin, I caught that one later, but I think I can dig you up another. Probably a little chewed on, but already caught. He'd have to wander all the way to the cache, which wasn't anywhere near this close to the borders, so that wasn't exactly ideal, but hell, whatever.  Mal would just mark it off what was his own share, and replace it soon as possible if so.

Then Cupid got up, and Mal hopped to his feet too. So much for resting?! Man. Was this the right decision? Bunch of small creeks and stuff. A lot are iced over.  Need one that's free-running or will any water do? Honestly to a certain point Mal hoped the answer was "any" or "need a lake" because those were the two easiest options.

Chewed up? It wasn't the most ideal lunch but it was better than nothing. Cupid wasn't picky, he never was, but his standards have drastically dipped in the last couple of weeks.

But food could wait. The biggest problem he had was the overbearing nausea. Anything will do, as long as it's close, he replied with a drowsy tone.

Sounded like food wasn't gonna be an immediate thing. He'd figure out the best way to go pick it up from the cache depending on where they ended up.

Instead, quest for water/plants/whatever, he supposed. Mal came up to Cupid's side again, C'mon. It's a few minute walk, but it's the closest.  Or it would be a few minute walk at a normal pace, but chances were this wasn't gonna be at a normal pace. He was pretty sure that offering a shoulder to lean on would get them there faster than if he waited for Cupid to stagger over without help. Hey, at least Mal wasn't a total jerk.

Either way, if the trip was unimportant and jumping direct to the creek was desired, at this point it was more of a low point in the snow decked out with a few rocks rather than a noisy creek. Sure, things had been warmer, but it wasn't the first week of winter any more.  The ice was buried under the newest half inch of snow, probably breakable, and there was the usual waterside shrubbery frozen in its wintry state.

He leaned against him, closing his eyes as he did so, kept them squinted as they walked. Cupid wanted to feel relieved, or happy, or blissful. He grasped for those feelings he had the last time they had met. Those were long gone now, erased and replaced with growing dread. It almost made him puke.

By the time they reached the creek—or lack thereof— Cupid was feeling ten times worse than before, more so emotionally than physically.

He quickly stumbled towards the edge and starts digging and digging. The speed in which he did so rampes up as time went on. He grew more and more desperate. He clenched his jaw, his breath grew heavy, his eyes began to water. Fuck, I can't find anything. I can't- I can't find anything. He spoke as if his tongue were stuck in his throat. Damnit, why did I do this? Why did I do this to myself? He felt as if he'd faint, but Cupid still dug like his life depended on it.

Mal, of course, had no idea what was going on or why his friend, for lack of a better term, was acting the way he was -- it just seemed so weird to see Cupid this way in comparison to before. There'd been a few flickers of their past conversation, but they'd burned out quick. Now, Mal didn't have comforting words on a good day, but he hoped that his actions at least showed he was trying to fix stuff. As such, other than pointing them in the right direction, he'd stayed pretty quiet, taking a few glances at Cupid as they got along.

However, it didn't seem like the destination had brought any solution as Mal initially stepped back to watch. Hell, the way Cupid seemed to be spiraling, sent a prickle up his spine -- how could he stop this? Fix it? Couldn't just let him freak out -- what was really going on? Did he really wanna know? Mal tried to cut directly in front of Cupid's digging, and tried to speak all calmly like everything would totally be fine even though he had not a damn clue what was going on, oh help, Hey, hey. C'mon, stop. If it's not here, it's not here. We can look at one of the other places -- just gimme some more specifics? No, really, how were leaders supposed to deal with this type of stuff? Whatever Cupid was looking for had to be somewhere because, well, it just had to, ok? What had happened?

He needed to find them. The herbs. This pain, this agony, he wanted it to dissipate. Just for a few moments, a few days, months, forever. The world around him did not exist anymore. It was just snow and dirt, snow and dirt, plants, relief, happiness.

Stop. The command yanked him back to earth and forced him to face everything he was running from. The sickness, the thoughts, the pain, a baby, and..

Mal! he screamed. Cupid felt anger rise up his throat. Disgust too, with someone. The blame shifted from Mal to himself, back to Mal and so on. This lack of decision made him all the more frustrated. He averted his gaze, breathed heavily. This was his fault. He got too carried away and now he had to deal with all this bullshit. There was nowhere to run now.

We shouldn't have.. I shouldn't have- He wanted to bite off his tongue, but it had a mind of its own now. Why the fuck didn't I go back sooner? Why did I even leave in the first place?! For fucks sake, now I'm- I'm- He couldn't speak without choking on sobs.

Mal jerked back a little, not expecting the sudden increase in volume. Let's be real, when he gets yelled at, he probably started it, but not this time. None of it made sense to him, but that was because he was missing a few key bits of context that Cupid had and Mal was entirely obvious to. Mal's education was awful at best. 

As such, he completely misinterpreted what Cupid was saying, What? Like I get I should have given you an invite to my pack if you wanted it but you already had one and I messed up..! I just wanna help -- tell me what we gotta find, I'm sure we can find the plants you need or whatever. Mal wasn't so much loud as he was earnest -- innocent. His ears had tilted back a little, confused, but whatever was going on totally had to be fixable, Cupid just needed to chill a bit.

He fell silent as Mal spoke, stared at him with wide, glistening eyes. And when he finished, Cupid's head fell downward. Then he started to laugh softly. He was so oblivious to this situation. Cupid envies him, but pities him even more. How would he act knowing that a one night stand had just tied them together in the worst way possible? That his life may change forever? Cupid's stomach tied in knots. This was all his fault. He was not only tearing himself down, but an innocent man as well.

That's not what I meant. he murmured, much softer than before. Mal, I think- He didn't know what to say. The plants, the food, none of that mattered anymore. All he could think of was this unknown future. And Cupid sat there wondering if he even share it. He figured Mal didn't expect a child to come out of their last encounter— neither of them did. Cupid thought nothing of it until he returned to the vale, and the truth had been consuming him ever since. Mal didn't deserve it, he never asked for any of this. But maybe it would be more unfair if he didn't know. Besides, he wasn't the one who was carrying the child. He wasn't the one who would have to care for this child for the rest of his life. He wasn't the one that would have to deal with the regret and the sadness and the self hatred. That was all on Cupid.

-I know I'm pregnant Mal. With your kid.

Um, why was he laughing now? Seriously. Sense = none. And then Cupid kept talking.

Blink

What.

Did he hear that right? Couldn't have. No. But he still felt like the world dropped out from under him. 
He took a step back, mouth gaping like a goldfish as his brain short-circuited a while longer and he finally found where his words went, N-- no that can't be right. You're joking, right? Desperately. This had to be a joke. Then he shook his head more vehemently, Nah. Can't be right. I'm not like my dad, this is some kind of freaky joke. Nah, Mal totally wasn't gonna have kids -- certainly not ones he wasn't super stoked and ready for. Obviously Delight hadn't really wanted them to exist in the end, or so he assumed by the way he drifted off to do his own thing well before he probably should. 

Now if Cupid thought he'd be alone on the self hate brigade, he certainly didn't know Mal very well. Mal did a very good job swapping between thinking he deserved better and that he must be awful. Right now? Definitely awful.  Mal was supposed to be better than his father, than the place he came from. This? Probably worse. Way worse. Congrats, Mal, on being an awful person yet again somehow, screw you wrecking lives without realizing it.

Cupid's muscles tensed when he took a step back and his heart ached when he questioned him. Right then and there he knew he should have kept his mouth shut. This baby would be nothing but a burden to him and now that burden would be shared. Whether Cupid stayed here or ran to the farthest reaches of the earth, Mal would always know his bastard was out there somewhere.

I'm sorry. Crimson eyes locked onto his paws. I didn't want any of this to happen. If I had known I wouldn't have—I wouldn't— god fucking damnit. Cupid pressed his nose into the snow, squeezed his eyes and hissed through his teeth. I'm sorry, he cried, I'm so, so sorry.

He didn't want that kind of response from Cupid, true or false. Ideally he wanted Cupid to have cracked up laughing and admitted it was some big hoax. But he didn't. He didn't say it was true with a calm face either. No, Mal was faced with this. He'd totally said the wrong thing this time. His ears folded back. Hellooooo guilt.

Mal stepped forward and back like some uncertain weirdo, not sure if he should comfort Cupid or leave him alone or what. Because believe it or not he did have a conscience. He ended up creeping forward a couple steps, leaning in a little towards Cupid, but not too far. It was one of those scenarios where Mal felt as though he'd definitely done wrong so was heavily expecting to be snapped at, so a sudden movement would probably send him skittering back with equal quickness. No-- just uh.  Stop apologizing--  Worse than Delight. He probably didn't make people cry. Mal didn't exactly like it either, and it had pretty much caused him to be able to finish a sentence completely, Stop. -- No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-- I don't know. Stop, we should just like.. Talk, yeah. I'm sorry..!  He was mentally flailing around like a 55 gallon drum of confused octopii and honestly didn't know what he was doing but if they could talk, that had to be better.

He'd messed up.

What was there to talk about? What was done was done; there was no going back to change anything. Like it or not, a baby would come, and Cupid wholeheartedly believed that there was nothing that could make this any better. He kept thinking back to his own childhood, how he was an unexpected child of an absent father and a broken mother. Now look at him; he was a fucked up individual making the same mistakes as his mother. There was no fixing this, his fate was sealed.

Cupid looked up at Mal, who had moved closer. Talk about what? he asks.

Thank goodness, a reprieve. Even if his brain was still just screaming incoherently at him. Well, again, I'm sorry. It just sounds completely nuts -- I didn't know anything-- and he still was failing at stringing a thought together. Gave up, moved on. Pretty much the only thing keeping him there was guilt from Cupid's previous response, since running off and pretending nothing happened sounded way better. 

But like, if you really are having a kid, pause, rewind, make it a hell of a lot more terrifying, we are -- then I'm sure there is some stuff to talk about. Hell if I know what, but like I'm very not cool with just ditching kids like my parents. That was the one thing Mal was sure about. Everything else was a terrified screaming gif or a gigantic shrug emoji. He pretended to be a responsible, functional adult this far, might as well fake it 'til you make it, even if he had not a clue what was supposed to be done.

Everything he said was what one would want to hear. They didn't know what they did, they don't know what they're doing, but they'd figure it out together. The perfect sentiment for a perfect story in a perfect world. Had Cupid been more naive he would've taken comfort in Mal's words. But Cupid would rather prepare for the bad times rather than hope for anything good.

My dad ditched me and my mom, he said, more to himself than Mal. He promised he wouldn't, but he ended up doing it anyway. He looked away for a moment, clenching his jaw, before looking back.

My dad loved my mom more than anything and he still left her to rot with me. So how am I supposed to believe that you—someone who barely knows me, who has no reason to care about me— won't leave too? He took in a deep, shaky breath before continuing. You say you ain't cool with ditching kids now, but that could change at a moments notice.

Mal scoffed, Man, like half my pack is kids who don't have a place to go or don't want to go back to where they came from. I think I got a head start on the whole caring for people I don't have to thing. Depending on who ends up joining or not that was maybe hyperbole, maybe pretty close to the truth.

Okay, he was a little offended that Cupid didn't take him at his word, though, But you do you -- it's not like I can force you to stay here, that'd be creepy as hell. But if you wanna just assume I'd kick you out later so no thanks, fine, that's a choice you're making, not me. He couldn't just walk off from his own pack after all, that'd be weird. Not that he knew what he was going to be getting himself into anyway, but he'd try to do the right thing. I do right by my people because I'm better than all those idiots who didn't help me. It wasn't like what Cupid asked for was something he could prove. Mal had his convictions, it was up to Cupid to take it or leave it.

His claims were promising. Anything he had said thus far was promising. No one could deny that, and deep down Cupid couldn't either. But there was so much negativity piled onto the depths of his soul, too much to dig through. So he'd rather sit and wallow in despair.

Cupid didn't want to feel pain anymore. Learning about his father was like a knife to the back, losing his mother tore a hole in his heart. He never wanted to feel like that again, so he made himself numb to all the good and bad of the world. Nothing shocked him or got his hopes up. Nothing hurt him.

In his world, you could never be better than what you were bought up in. Come from a loving home? You'll be a lovely person. Come from a shit hole? You'll be a piece of shit. Mal was surrounded by idiots? Maybe he was one himself. Just another hopeful fool that didn't know what he was getting himself into. Cupid wanted to save him from whatever may come of this, no matter how much it may hurt the child's future. But what did it matter now? Cupid was its father, so based on his theory it's destined to be fucked up.

I need to go. he stood up, wobbling a bit before beginning to stumble in the opposite direction. And he would keep moving if Mal didn't stop him.

feel free to stop him or archive <3