Noctisardor Bypass I think I’m doing alright.

Have you met the new guy? Anselm rounded upon @Etienne as the healer bent to tend one of the many dried leaves in his medicinal cache. 

Even though it’d been a day since he interacted with Amadeo, Anselm was still incensed. But let’s be real. It didn’t take much to get on Anselm’s bad side.

Etienne heard him before he saw him. His sensitive ears swiveled and he was already picking his head up as Anselm arrived. His paw settled on the leaf he had been moving about. He needed to find a way to plant some things. But he was unsure if they were staying here long term. He longingly thought of the plants he had been tending in the Hollow. He would need to move them someday.

Etienne shook his head. No I be stayin' away from most unless dey be needin' me. 'e bad news?

Etienne met the sunrise eyes with his own golden gems and waited quietly. His nose twitching gently. Taking in the smell of Heda and the children. That Anselm probably knew were his. Etienne had seen them. There was no denying that parentage. That was a sharp pain to his heart. But he pressed it down, down. Anselm was not his.

Anselm hoped for Etienne’s perspective - maybe it was him being sensitive. Or maybe he was just so on edge lately that the dude got under his skin. 

Etienne met his gaze for a moment, presenting a level demeanor that Anselm was sorely lacking. I don’t know. You tell me, vhen you meet him. His shoulders sagged, some of the anger dissipating since it hadn’t found a place to land. Vhat you doing vith that leaf?

Etienne wished he'd have met the man. Just to be able to give him an answer
But he hadn't and he honestly wasn't sure if he wanted too.

I will if I meet 'im.

Etienne smiled down at it. I was just tinking about growin' some. I need to eider start looking for more or build a garden. Or I won't 'ave wut I need.

Feeling the last flicker of anger for the man dissolve, Anselm turned his attention to the leaves on the ground. Etienne had smiled to himself, looking down at the bundle and explaining his purpose. 

It went without saying that things had been tumultuous in Rivenwood. Anselm wanted to believe this was a permanent arrangement, but his relationship with Heda was strained at best and it wasn’t as if Druid cared if they left (in Anselm’s opinion). Glaukos could return any day now. 

Are there things back at the hollow you need? How hard is it to build a garden?

Etienne hadn't had much time to cultivate his learning. To build on what he knew. It had been work hard just to keep them all alive.

Etienne had never know much about anything other than chaos. He wasn't sure if he knew how to be peaceful.

Etienne shook his head. Dere be a few tings. But I 'ave not 'ad a 'uge c'ance to grow muc'.

He shifted. Kinda 'ard. You juat need make sure water, lite and no weeds be killin' dem.

There was much to healing and gardening Anselm did not understand. He’d watched Etienne, of course, during his many ministrations — but his gaze had been on Etienne, not the subject of his work. 

Anselm quickly pushed that notion deep inside. 

Vell, I could help. He announced, an unusual gesture of goodwill that he would rescind in two seconds if Etienne made a big deal about it. 

He looked about for a suitable spot, keeping in mind the three things Etienne had said. Vhat about down by the creek?

Etienne had usually been so focused on his subject. He had not even noticed that he had been watched.

Etienne smiled brightly and glanced up. Golden eyes flashing in silent delight.

Okay.

Etienne wrinkled his brow in thought. It would work, but far enuff dat if creek floods it won't drown dem.

He turned away quickly, as to not appear too vulnerable — altogether missing the way Etienne’s eyes flashed. 

Anselm studied the creek. The northern bank was shadowed and studded heavily by trees. There was a place, not so far from the eastern embankment where the soil was exposed in a patch of sunlight. 

Tell me vhat you need done. The tracker’s gaze swung back to Etienne.

Etienne shifted realizing Amselm had already looked away. He scuffed his paw against the leaf again. Gemtle touch.

Etienne did finally follow his gaze and noticed the small patch. A smile lit up his face.

Dat would work well. I need furrows dig. Den i be needing to bring de 'erbs gently gently and put in de esrt'

Anselm already rose, nosing along the ground.

From scent alone, he could tell the earth here was perhaps too damp for soil. Water clung to the scent molecules, transporting the rich aroma of decaying matter.

Behind him Etienne smiled and touched the leaf gently. The noise caused Anselm's ear to turn back, but he did not look up from sampling the earth's sundry scents.

He kept walking, nose to the ground until there was a raised patch of soil that did not seem so heady with dampness. Vhat about here? He dug carefully, exposing somewhat dry loam. Also, vhat is a furrows?

Etienne was distracted by the small leaf. And knowing that Anselm didn't belong to him. He was vastly trying to avoid looking at the male. And taking in all that was him.

He finally turned with a small smile and shifted, walking over. Light steps. Golden gaze on the patch. He sniffed and nodded.

Dat would work well. O' dis is furrows.

he took a sandy colored paw and ran it through the dirt making almost a tunnel in the dirt.

Anselm glanced back to the healer as he stepped lightly forward, confirming the rich spot of loam Anselm selected would do. 

He stepped back as Etienne raked a deep score in the earth; a new scar for seeds to grow. 

He sniffed carefully at the earth. The memory of decaying matter clung to the loamy soil, the sour scent of grubs and beetle larvae sprung from the earth. 

Anselm began to make another score, pausing for Etienne to direct him.

The ground was rich and dark here.  Proof that the plants would grow well. Etienne could see scars from where plants had grown before. Someone had tended this land well and he adored whoever it was for it.

Anselm looked to Etienne for direction. And without a thought Eti reached over to press on Anselm's paw. Make it a little deeper and wider.

He did not expect the jolt of awareness that shot through him. But he did his best to ignore it. As he quickly brought his paw back once it was clear what he wanted.

Anselm could not put into words the firebrand of sensation that jolted through him; a mixture of burning electricity and sulfur that left his fur ablaze and skin crawling upwards from where Etienne had touched him. 

The scents around them were forgotten as a spark burned its way upside his leg like a long, unpleasant fuse — Etienne redirecting the deepness of the furrow and authoring a hidden sense of starved longing all with a single touch. 

It was so alien — so desired — Anselm could not contest with the firestorm of emotions that followed. He pulled his paw away with a sharp breath; guilt soon replacing the molten sense of awoken desire that coursed in his blood. Following in guilt’s wake was a festering sense of revulsion — not for Etienne, but for himself. 

He must be sick — he must be disgusting and wrong and stained some irredeemable color to want the unthinkable — to even look at Etienne in such a way.  Filth! Slime! No better than the grubs he ripped apart with each swing of his claws. 

 Anselm abruptly turned from Etienne with a choked noise. He placed his entire weight into his claws and then ripped earth from beneath him, flinging back each spray of dark matter with dark grunts that drowned out the unwanted urges in him, until his claws were blunted and bloody, and his breath came in heaving gasps that robbed him of any cognizance. If he could not catch his breath to think, he could not admit to himself what he knew was true.

Etienne was unaware what was going on with Anselm. His own emotions leaving his chest heavy and the edges of his vulnerability feeling raw. Gods how long could he keept this up, truly. Hiding himself from Anselm. There would be a day, when it would grow to much and he was certain it would either kill him from the inside out or Anselm would kill him emotionally, mentally possibly even physically if he found out Etienne was gay.

But his storm of emotions werr forgotten as Anselm attacked the ground with a visciousness bordering on manic. Etienne stared with fear and worry and then suddenly he called.

Aneselm! Sispann!

He rushed forward to try and wrap paws around the other male. Push him away from the ground that had done nothing wrong. His golden eyes stormy with cautious wariness and fear. A gasp left his mouth at the damage to the paws of the man he loved.

His breath ragged. O' Anselm, Wut did you do? Look at dis, Mon Fou

A tick was in Etienne's jaw. He wanted to scream at the male for being so reckless with himself. For hurting him like this in front of Etienne no less. But more than that. Etienne was so worried. What had caused a switch to flip? Was Rivenwood too much for him as well? Was this place going to be the death of them both?

Who, gods. He wanted to take it away. His heart physically hurt at the blood and mangled paws.

Dyab ti gason. Kisa ou te fe?

Etienne looked all around. Spying some river reeds nearby. Don't move i get some reeds. Just stay put.

I’m fine. Anselm grit through his teeth, burying the tips of his toes in the loam so Etienne might not see the damage. He resisted being touched again, moving away as Etienne reached for him. His heart pounded in his ears as he replayed that moment over and over — how Etienne’s paw had touched him in a gesture almost too intimate to bear. 

Another storm of emotions threatened to break the bulwark that was his composure. He steeled himself as Etienne cursed, hiding a smile at the old epithet — he could play willing patient. But he could not mask his feelings. 

Go get the reeds then, He said more coldly than he wanted — waiting until Etienne was turned. 

Rather than stay, Anselm began to walk away — carefully at first, so that Etienne would not hear him — but then once he was on flat ground he opened into a gallop, ignoring the stabs of pain as his exposed claws slapped the earth, ignoring everything except for the angry pulse of his blood that beat in ruthless staccato against his skull.

Etienne cursed quietly in Haitian creole. He was not in fact fine. But it would do no good to argue with Anselm. He was irritated at the other males blatant resistance.

Etienne flinched at the cold tone, but chalked it up to the other male hurting. So he turned to do what tasked. Muttering to himself. He would love to have something a little better for his claws.

When Etienne moved back he saw the tail end of Anselm. And like a steel trap a stabbing pain hit him in the chest. He hit his knees. So Anselm didn't trust his healing anymore either? Was he now worthless.

A soft whine and he dropped the reeds to the ground. Perhaps maybe it was time to go home.

He didn't chase, didn't call out. He turned battered heart to the borders and beyond.