Kintla Flatlands for here i lie in wait; hush little heart

wanted to get this up, leaving it vague tho

He retraces his steps guiltily, moving quickly to avoid wasting daylight. The whole thing makes him feel a little shaky, a little more vulnerable than he'd like — but now that the idea is in his head, he can't stop himself. The thought of leaving @Taikon to worry has slowly eaten away at him since their conversation. He still doesn't want Takiyok along, but he can't let Taikon stew in his fears the whole time. It feels cruel.
By the time he picks up Taikon's scent he's found himself carrying a flower; a familiar gold hue. He doesn't remember picking it up, but as soon as he notices it, he knows why he'd done it. The realization brings a fair amount of nausea with it, so he tries not to think about it, or what excuse he'll give Taikon for bringing a flower along with his apology.

also vague!

Whatever tension had been between Takiyok and him had felt heavy and real. He knew that long term, it was just a movement of colour. It was just how things would be, always. Each of them were designed to deal with what would come, but so far this had been the first of their real hardships.
He knew there would be more to come. He hoped they could deal with them well. And so, he tried to treat this threat of Zephyr being and idiot and dying on him to be one of these "basic" hardships. He could not though. The very idea of Zephyr leaving without an escort after Taikon had left him crying and running away made him feel ill. He worried constantly that Zephyr's scent would be gone forever, and that he would never hear about him again.
It terrified him. Like Taktuq, but... worse.
But as Taikon went, Zephyr came. Like magic. A gold flower was in his jaws. Taikon saw it and didn't say anything.

Seeing Taikon sends his emotions into disarray once again, a mix of bitterness and guilt and a painful desire to be comforted by him. Zephyr swallows all of it down, and drops the flower in front of the cream-furred wolf without acknowledging it in the slightest. I came here to tell you I'm not going alone, He says, unable to meet Taikon's gaze. I — I don't want to make you worry. He swallows. I should... go now. He makes no move to leave.

Taikon felt ready to shun his leader boy, to somehow de-privilege his position as he lived his life with his semi-happy wife and life. The fact that she had not yet come into heat was bothering him, but he refused to reveal it to anyone.
The flower drifted to the ground. He stared at it, and its beauty and the sadness of its imminent demise held him for a moment. Flowers. So impermanent and wonderful.
Please don't go, he answered suddenly, having listened and not responded until pertinent. Not now. He said. He moved toward his friend, having no care what had been said or happened, and wanting only to comfort.

The wraith tastes only bitterness for a moment, and reminds himself with some effort that he's supposed to be accepting of this. Part of living and all that. It doesn't feel quite as profound or comforting in this moment, but maybe that's part of it too. All Zephyr knows is that he can't think about it right now; he's having a hard time thinking at all. Taikon's plea baffles him so thoroughly that all he can do is stand there and blink for a moment, a silvered statue with canted ears and a deafening pulse. When he finds the presence of mind to react, all he can manage is a faint, slightly halting Why?

Taikon did not wait for him to stop. He did anyway, and when he asked why, the prince pulled in Zephyr close, throwing his head over the boy's shoulder so that at the very least, he might smell the icy stone once again.
Because if you die out there, I want to make sure I remember this, and not a flower. The illness had fucked with his mind, but if there was one thing he had learned, it was that these hours on earth were precious. Taikon would not let him go without at least one moment without guilt and tension and pain.

The touch feels abrupt and scathing, scars blooming everywhere Taikon touches; consuming, the way a bruise blossoms from a spider-bite and wilts to fleshrot. A trembling intake of breath is the icewraith's only response at first, just for a breath, a single beat of the heart. Then his hesitation melts under the heat and falls away, forgotten. I want you to remember the flower, he thinks, yielding to the embrace and then, in the next moment, returning it fiercely. I'm not going to die, Is what comes out, soft, meant to reassure. I'll come back. I promise. Surviving is, after all, the only thing he truly knows how to do. Everything else in his life feels more like an educated guess at best, brimming with uncertainty and inexperience and a lack of any true education. Yet the Glister Witch has learned, at least, how to claw his way back from the brink; the Wilds, the only teacher he'd had in his youth, taught him well. Through all the tragedy of his life, Zephyr has always come out on top in the end, no matter how winding the path. Surely Taikon can see at least some of that in him. Surely he doesn't really think he's stupid.
The memory stings, and instead of withdrawing, the wraith presses closer.

Zephyr promised that he wouldn't die, and Taikon remembered himself saying the exact same thing to Takiyok right before he'd left. He also remembered having to drag himself back to the dark woods with a terrible injury and admit to her that he had been wrong to go without someone. That had also been when Taktuq was still around, and he wondered if the stress of his care had somehow pushed her away.
You better, he said firmly. Or I'll murder you, he joked, chuckling and snuggling the boy against him. He was certain that Takiyok wouldn't approve of such closeness, but affection was important to him. He held Zephyr for likely longer than he should have before finally pulling back away. His eyes were watery by the time they'd stopped.