Dragoncrest Cliffs relaxing opposites attracting

it turns out wrestling chunks of meat from a dead whale was hardly val’s idea of a picnic. there were all manner of carrion birds there to alert him of the whale’s presence, though he scented the taste of rot on the wind long before he saw the sunken monolith in the sand. he turned his back to the ocean, pretending he was somewhere warm and dry — if he just ignored the proximity of the saltwater to his toes things would be totally fine.

the going was difficult back to the roja den. carrion birds hounded his every step, some so bold as to pluck at the hairs along his rump as they flew past. yet when he made it to the tree line, their assaults weakened and gradually they fanned their wings and took back to the open skies.

relieved that both the sea and its angry residents were behind him now, val dragged his hefty strip of meat to the den. he wasn’t sure if either @Quennell or @Swordfish were awake yet, but if they weren’t he’d no doubt wake them by the clattering of his arrival.

a haze.

whatever quennell had been given for his pain today had blurred very much of his mind. even when he woke it was with a falling stumble to promptly piss only a foot or two away from the den. for he had needed to be closely escorted even for the simplest of tasks.

now he settled in and his tongue felt dry in his mouth. too dry.

in that moment he had not realized that it was val come to keep good on his word. instead he groggily mumbled out to the smelly figure.

aye. ya...ya bring water?

when val entered the den he was met with the reek of urine and sickness. he did not remember it being so strong yesterday. had one of the boys taken a turn for the worse?

his gaze fixed on quennell, who loomed delirious in the dark. val dropped the whale steak, fumbling along the edge of the den until he found the soaked moss left by one of the others. it was not much, but he offered it to quennell. god, he really wished he was sobo right now.

had quennell spiked a fever? was it his fault? maybe that catfish had been slow because it was sick.. and now its sickness came for quennell too.

val suddenly felt queasy. i can get you more water… or bring you to the spring, if you think you can make it. it didnt really sound like a good idea, but val felt helpless in this moment.

he almost inhaled the moss in his quest to soothe the cotton mouth he had woke with.

smacked his lips in a noisy manner. then licked them. only to find that whatever water had been in the moss had most certainly not been enough. but the spring? god. he felt he could drink the whole ocean right now if it had not been so salty.

mmm. yeah. yeah. spring. not so far, yeah?

it was a horrible idea.

val placed the used mossball back on its clamshell. he frowned, reassessing the situation.

quennell’s lips smacked, their echo carrying down the den. in hindsight a spring seemed a very bad idea.

his gaze shifted to the outside, where he knew someone was watching. sapphique may have forgiven their very wayward son, but would they forgive him if he managed to get another one of their sons killed in the process?

uhh.. maybe on second thought i get more moss? or an adult? either works really.

he blinked through his haze.

not enough to fully comprehend, but enough to see the shadow was a newly familiar face.

vaaal. he droned out with a sleepy hum. bear already ate my ass, 'member? he grumbled as he shifted, an attempt to begin to stand.

whassa spring gon' do?

given the circumstances it was best not to laugh. val couldn’t help the giggle that spilled between his pressed teeth.

ye and i’ll get more than my ass eaten if i take you out while you’re high on god knows what. fermented whale spice? tangy seaweed grog? he squinted outside where a shadow briefly made an appearance in a long pylon across the den’s mouth. why had he decided to say that stupid idea aloud?

plus aren’t you gonna eat the whale? i nearly got carried off by gulls getting that. true story. his gaze earnestly conveyed the mortal peril he’d been in traipsing from the beach to the den.

he wanted to sit upright, but the dulled pain and the seaweed wrapped around his nub rendered the idea dead in the water.

and in a moment the notion of going anywhere was quickly replaced.

it was good he had not made it far in his endeavour to stand, for he flopped the few inches back down at once.

suzu dun be likin' you goin' after gulls, y'hear?

but quennell had already led the one she had loved to slaughter. another hot shame to burn with.

i t'ink dey be t'inkin' dey belong to de pack, hmm?

an accent amplified by grog, as he ripped a piece of whale into his mouth.

suzu dun be likin' you goin' after gulls, y'hear? i can tell you the gulls don't like it much either. he knew nothing of suzu or quennell's past strife, but sensed something was wrong. he breathed a sigh of relief as quennell plumped to the ground. this was not the quennell from the day before. val realized he was well beyond his depth here.

quennell was eating - one sole positive. val wrestled with whether he should call @Sobo or @Erzulie; both knew infinitely more than he about fevers and tending the sick, and val could not tell if this fever of quennell's was about to break or if it endangered him.

has maman seen you today, quennell? val asked softly, watching as the boy tore into a cut of marbled whale.

has maman seen him?

prolly. he coughed some around a chunk stuck in his throat. not enough to choke, only enough for cause discomfort. she see me everyday, nah? he humored himself warmly.

dey come an' go. you be lookin'?

he then ripped free another chunk, prepared to work it down.

god, now he was coughing? choking? val was fully prepared to do a full behind-the-back tackle when quennell managed to eek out some words between whale fat. false alarm, not choking, val didn't kill him yet.

i be looking. val confirmed with a grim plop as he sat besides quennell. you be lookin' like shit, and talking like a drunk gull. in this, val imitated erzulie's accent perfectly. but as long as you manage to keep that down, val gesticulated to the marbled fat clutched between quennell's paws: i won't tattle.

fade? <3

he barked with laughter.

no tattlin'.

he agreed. a pact between them! that they would not tell on one another for anything that transpired between them. a bond of brothers it seemed.

quen was content to keep val's company and chew the fat — literally and figuratively.

yes <3 i would love a new one soon

no tattlin’. it was a promise. val stamped his paw in the dirt, cementing their pact with a spit.

while quennell worried the whale fat, val reclined at the foot of the den. he let maman know he would watch a while — it was good to be home, and good to be fashioning relationships with the family he’d selfishly left behind.

guilt seared him then, but he smiled past it and focused on quennell. there would be time for hard emotions later, but for now he enjoyed his brother’s easy company, even if he was hallucinating.