Whitefish River i never went to prom, now i’m stuck on the dance floor just holding your hand

@Ronnie
nts: 4w 6d

Every day is worse than the last. Cramps and aches always crush his abdomen in the morning and continue to do so throughout the day. Medicine helped, but no herb in Rusalka's supplies were strong enough to keep the nausea away forever.

Cupid felt just as trapped on the plateau as he did on the mountain. But it was worse now. He could not run to the heavens to escape lingering eyes.

And his belly, oh that was the worst part. It was at the first stages of preparing for his future children. It began to swell. It looked so gross.
This was gross.
He was gross. He wanted it to stop.

Cupid fled from the plateau at dusk in search of some solitude. He spent all morning and the afternoon at the flooded river. It was strange of him; he hated this place. He hated the water and the mud and the silence. But he stayed, pacing along the bank for hours.

After about the thousandth trip around the river, he spotted something different in the snow. A flower, it's petals perfectly blended into the surroundings. That was strange; flowers were not supposed to bloom this early.

Cupid approached it slowly, sniffed it, stared at it. No fuckin' way. It looked like a poppy. A strange gift from the winter. He shouldn't be consuming the seeds, but he is. One seed, then another. Maybe they'd make him feel better. Maybe they'd kill him. 

What's the difference?

idk if ronnie is gonna get fucked up in his other thread so im staying vague

his own high hadn't lasted long. he's too accustomed to the shit, he knows. needs to get off it for awhile. but he won't, he never does. so he searches instead, searches high and low and in places poppies should logically never be found. it's winter, and he'd found one, so the possibilities seem endless now. they could be anywhere. anywhere.
he's panting by the time he spots his prize, rendered breathless by the blinding pain settling into his skull and all his joints. he doesn't even see the wolf, nor does he feel himself crashing into the other as he bolts for it, attempting to shoulder the stranger aside roughly. a growl slips from him, short and breathy, and he grabs for it clumsily. he needs it, he needs it now, he needs it to make him better, to make him forget what he is and who he is and how he feels. and he'll kill anyone who tries to stop him from taking it.

He doesn't realize he's about to be bulldozed until it already happens. Cupid stumbled off to the side. He had been completely dazed, and it took him a moment to see things clearly. What he saw was some bedraggled creature trying to make off with his seeds.

Ay! he yelled, stepping closer to the male. It's a bold move, considering the guy practically looks rabid. It's definetly not something he'd do in a clear headspace. You stupid fucking dick. You better not eat all that shit. Wouldn't have said that either.