Snowforest Taiga [m] It's such a lovely day to have to always feel this way

This can wait as long as you need <3

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Vague suicidal ideation

Covered in mud and hollow-eyed, Tybault made his way numbly back to the last place he'd seen @Wildflower. He didn't see him now — but then, he hardly saw anything but the next step ahead of him. He was still trembling all over.

Few coherent thoughts managed to cut through the fog. He wondered briefly what he had done. Pictured Wildflower's expression of disgust; hatred. Imagined, just for a moment, what it would be like to take himself to the edge of that ravine to the north and —

Selfish. The word dropped like a stone into a still pond and scattered every other thought. What would Wildflower think then? Tybault sank down to the ground, still shivering fiercely. It occurred to him that he might call for his companion. But he didn't. He only stared at his paws for what felt like a very long time.

He had been hunting. It was in his nature to hunt, and part of him as perturbed by how often Tybault tried to do it for him. Mostly, though, he was deeply, dangerously flattered by the effort, and by the frequent stares, and most of all by the constant and continued presence of the strange and broken man.

But he liked to hunt. So he hunted today, and he ate his fill before wandering back toward his companion.

His companion.

But he paused, hidden, to watch him when he drew near. There was something different — and not just his sullied scent and filthy fur. The frailty that he so often tried to hide away was on full display, and briefly, Wildflower found himself enraptured.

But something had changed. Suspicion won out over fascination, and he was wary again like he had been when they first met as he came out of hiding. His large ears swiveled, marking his escape routes as he strolled closer, casuality forced and marked. There were questions in his stormwater gaze.

It was the sight of him that finally crumbled the last of the cracked shellshards Tybault clutched around him like a shield. All at once his thoughts filled with nothing but him. Wildflower. And he hated that. He hated it.

Sunspark eyes filled with tears. Tybault hadn't cried in so long, hadn't let himself cry, but abruptly he couldn't seem to make it stop. His glassy gaze lingered on Wildflower only a few moments longer. Then it dropped to his trembling paws again. His ears fell against his skull.

He couldn't bring himself to look back up. He couldn't watch Wildflower walk away — and surely he would, if he knew at all what was good for him.