Stone Circle Because you are the only one for me and to you I am one of many

backdated to Jan 20 @Arlette

Nearly two weeks passed since his arrival there and Alexander was still worse for wear. Whilst his fever broke and he was able to eat regularly again, the wounds left untreated refused to heal; it was his own doing, he knew, but there were some things in life more difficult to get past than others. Any herbal recommendations or offerings made by others were refused, the northerner insistent that everything would heal well enough on its own—all he needed was a little more time. But that time taken, the prolonged healing, resulted in him confining himself to the den his sister left him in. And it was just outside that den, body still partially within whilst his frontal half hung out the opening, that his niece would find him that day; thin still, several of the lacerations scattering his side oozing.

Arlette wondered where that smell came from. It almost scented like infection. She wasn't sure if she was right. The female decided to follow the wind that brought the scent. She noticed that it was getting stronger and mingling with the scent of a wolf. She got closer and then saw a pale male half out of one of the unused dens. Or well, it was occupied now. The female frowned, as she got closer she realized she knew the male that was lying there.

This was the male who had been rude to her at the plains. He was not looking so good at the moment. Arlette stepped closer, her eyes hardened a bit, readying herself to having to defend herself verbally again. "I thought you didn't belong at Easthollow," she commented, remembering how he had not been wanting to join Easthollow. This was probably her mom wanting to take care of him. Arlette studied his wounds, they were bad. [b]"Those wounds need to be cleaned otherwise you will die of infection."[b]

Exhaustion followed him like a hound on a trail, dragging him down. His eyes fluttered shut and he was drifting off to sleep when a voice startled him back into consciousness, the tone vaguely familiar. Before even glancing her way, he worked to push himself up into a sitting position, wincing as he did so. “I don’t,” he said, looking towards his niece. “But… I have a reason to be here.” Whilst his wounds gained him access, they were not the reason he stayed; Alexander hardly cared if he died at this point, his life has no way of getting better, as far as he could see. But Laurel asked him to stay, asked him to protect her—he stayed for her.

“I have been cleaning them,” he shot back, frustrated. He knew how to take care of himself—he made it this far in life living how he wanted, why should he change now? His methods worked, usually. But the sting and pull of his wounds were not so easily ignored—when he really thought about it, they were probably the worst he has ever had. Perhaps his methods would not work this time around.

Alexander let out a long sigh. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he said, eyes flicking from her to the ground, then back again. “For before, for now.” Perhaps the infection was warping his mind—or perhaps, at the bottom of his heart, he truly sought to better himself and make things right; not only with Laurel but for everyone he’s ever wronged.

Arlette felt skeptical about her uncle as he was here and still didn't feel like he belonged here. The female disliked the idea of someone being in their pack and not even doing any effort for it. But apparently he had a reason to be here. "Why are you here then?,' she questioned. The female looked at the wounds and then raised her brows questioningly at the male. "Really you call this clean?," she questioned him.

The female let out a soft sigh when the male eventually apologized. She softened a bit. She realized that the male was probably hurting and that was why he was acting out. "Will you let me clean your wounds at least?," she asked then, wanting to at least convince him that he needed a good clean of his wounds.

When questioned, he was silenced; he couldn’t answer her. The reason was his and his alone, held close and kept under watch. He could not tell his sister why he was there, let alone his niece—or, rather, he did not want to. Shaking his head, he eventually said, “I can’t answer that.” His tongue refused to create the words and his lips simply wouldn’t open to grant them passage; to answer would be to paint himself a fool. To answer without knowing if it even mattered… he preferred to let others assume whatever they may.

Attention was drawn back to his wounds, offering relief—with a touch of irritation, which he did his best to shove back down. “If you want to clean them, go ahead,” he said, able to accept at least that little bit of help. Cleaning was simple, after all. It didn’t require much from him, nor would it put him in any compromising positions; he could endure it.

Arlette looked at the male skeptically. Of course, he was not going to tell her. It annoyed her really. She realized that this was one of the first wolves that truly annoyed her. It was just his whole demeanor that she was always met with. She decided that she was not a fan of her uncle at all. However, she was not the one to force him to talk.

Arlette let out a tiny growl when the male so nonchalantly told her to clean his wounds. "Not sure if you deserve clean wounds," she dared to say, feeling herself stiffen with anger. She really wanted this medical trade though. "Did you even try to keep them clean?"

When she continued to speak, it took all the willpower he could muster to not snap at her. He accepted her offer—was that not good enough? Did she want him to beg for her assistance? The thought alone nearly made him sneer, a reminder from his dwindling conscious the only thing preventing his inner feelings from affecting his expression. “If I don’t deserve it, then don’t clean them,” he returned, fixing her with a leveled stare. “No one’s forcing you to do anything to help me.” He sure as hell wasn’t and he highly doubted his sister would. If she thought so little of him as to take back her offer, then so be it.

“I kept them clean the only way I could,” he told her. “Things like this aren’t easy when you’re on your own.” A lot of things aren’t easy when out on your own—Alexander learned this long ago and it was one lesson in life that he would never forget.

Arlette wanted to tell him to stop being so dramatic but she refrained herself. He was part of this pack now and even though she was not his biggest fan she would try and help him for the sake of her medical trade. The girl just stared back at him, not feeling so shy and timid towards Xan since he was not a family member of status or someone she wanted to be polite to.

"I can understand that is difficult," she commented. "You are in a pack now and you are my uncle hence why I think I should clean your wounds. If not for the sake of others since you might be a walking disease soon," she ended in a mutter. "Come follow me to the stream."

She claimed to understand but he wondered if she truly did—would she ever? Born into a pack like Easthollow with a mother like Valette and family all around… would she ever be able to truly understand the difficulties of being alone? He wondered but said nothing, trying his best to refrain from starting another argument. “Do you actually consider me your uncle?” he asked instead, curious and doubtful. Thus far, it wasn’t as if he’d done very much to be a good uncle, so why consider him as such? Why not declare any relation void?

Drawing in a breath, he moved to follow after her, albeit slowly. Each tug and pull shot another wave of pain through his body and, although he pushed through it and kept walking, he was not very quick.

Arlette looked at him for a moment, and also because she needed to wait since he was not so quick as she thought he would be. She dipped her head in answer. "I do. I was taught family is important and one to take care of. You are part of the family, even though you aren't a nice uncle," she returned to him. He had never been kind or friendly to her so she didn't feel the need to return that favor to him. However, she was not so unkind that she wouldn't help him. "Besides you are my only uncle, so technically that would make you my favorite uncle," she reasoned and scrunched her nose up at the thought. "There is always a reason why someone is bitter and angry, at least that is what I've learned. So I'd like to think you will be nice one day once you resolved your issues." She really hoped that it would, so he wouldn't be so angry all the time.

The importance of family. Wasn’t that something his mother always spoke of, too? Perhaps the ideal was passed on to Desna and, by extension, her children, also. He wasn’t so sure he believed the same—family could be important, they could be everything someone wanted or needed in life, but they could also be the opposite. Family could be cold and cruel, family could leave you like trash on the side of the street. Family… family was not always what one might expect it to be. “You’d be better off with a different uncle,” he muttered, gaze averted. They would all be better off without him as a relative, he was certain.

“Not everyone can resolve their issues,” he said, glancing her way again. “Not everyone deserves to be able to. Some issues… some things will never leave you.” Some things could never be forgotten or resolved, some things would always live on, eating away at the one harbouring those memories.

Arlette started to take care of his wound and then noded. "I totally deserve a nicer uncle," she commented back to him, but when she looked at him it showed that she wasn't too hard felt about it. She was getting a bit friendlier with him by joking. She listened to him. Xan's words felt sad to her. Like he truly believed them. She felt bad for him. "Some things are not meant to be forgotten but perhaps they should be forgiven for your own peace of mind," she responded quietly now. "But that is not for me to decide of course," she then responded.

can wrap up with your next since this is older? o:

When she spoke, his body tensed up; perhaps she was right, although he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. After so long, Xan was still punishing himself for things beyond his control—and that alone kept him from finding a way to fully accept her words. Instead, he fell silent—thoughtful, perhaps—and let her do her thing, unable to speak anymore for fear of letting something slip that shouldn’t.

Yes totally fine!

Arlette noticed that he was silent in response. She decided to be silent as well, perhaps the male had something to think about or to process. She just continued to clean his wounds to the best of her knowledge. Hopefully, it would soothe the pain the male had and would fight any infection going on. Perhaps her uncle wasn't so bad. Maybe he was just damaged. Something she didn't understand since her life had been pretty sheltered.

-end-