venom tastes like sugar

@Ichor

Wings flapped viciously, a snarl caught in his throat, tail whipping and legs kicking out for purchase. Holy hands held him still, his body already weakened and exhausted - he had no chance of escape.

”An eye for an eye. A heart for a heart.”

A blade pressed to his throat, burning with angel’s fire and singing his skin. Someone was snarling - it might’ve been himself. He wouldn’t die a coward, he wouldn’t die afraid.

But he was. He was so scared.

He wanted his father. He wanted his friend. He wanted-

The blade slashed deep into his throat.

---

Radley woke choking on his own blood. He heaved and hacked, the black viscera climbing up his throat and splattering onto the stone below.

Gods above, he hurt. His throat blazed with leftover holy fire, his body sore and aching with the injuries inflicted by his own friend and their ilk. If not for them, he’d have been able to fight back against the goddess that had slaughtered him.

Rad huffed out a humorless laugh. It was what he got for trusting in angels.

He was a fool.

The demon prince lay on his side for a while, his fur drying out in the waning sunlight. It was a comfortable temperature, chilling a bit as the sun slowly sank.

Only after the sky was streaked in ribbons of red did Rad sit up, and then slowly rose to his feet. All four of them, which was… peculiar. He’d recalled having just the two before. Perhaps he’d reverted to some sort of hellhound form.

Glancing about, the prince took in his surroundings. Rocky terrain, an ocean lapping at the shore. It wasn’t like anywhere he had been used to, and there was no way he’d survived a goddess’ blade, so then what was this place? An afterlife of sorts?

For a moment - just a moment - rage ignited in Radley’s chest, indignant and righteous, before the boy snuffed it out.

It would do no one any good to be angry about it now. That could be saved for later, when it was convenient. Not now, when he’s just woken up on a rocky little island, injured and in a brand new form.

His throat ached, but was not actively pouring blood, so he considered it a small victory.

This would be fine, he decided, taking a deep breath and shaking off the last of the stress and stiffness in his bones.

He’d make sure it was fine.

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He has come to terms with the world he is now in. Whatever life he has had previously, it has not followed him here- at least, he does not think it does. There is no spark of familiarity in any of the landscapes he has seen- though there very rarely is in anything. Ichor is at times unsettled with his own appearance, as if something is not quite right with that, either. Staring at his own reflection too long might threaten to make him sick.

His dreams, too, haunt him. Visions of darkness and fire follow him even in waking days. But what use are fragmented visions and a broken face when he cannot stand either of them? Stuck like him to thorns in his thick coat, it's not as if he can escape him.

On an evening quite like any other, Ichor dives into the ocean and begins to swim. He can't outrun himself or his own mind, but he can try. If he must risk drowning to do it, then so be it. The water is cold and unforgiving, and yet a strange flame in his breast keeps him swimming. Fire, he is fire. He is the sun. He swims and swims and swims until his paws scrape against submerged sand, and then he is not swimming, but dragging his exhausted corpse onto the land.

This seems familiar. He's reminded of his meeting with those other wolves, then. Back when he'd first arrived, and when he was more lost than he was now. A tired, almost grateful smile curls against a lovely face. The grains digging into his chin are what ultimately make him heave his mass upwards, head turned upward to stare curiously at whatever lays ahead. Black, smoldering landmarks meet his gaze; his heart drops, if only for a moment.

In the night, there is a muted flame, though, and he focuses on that. Arriving upon the point of the hearth, Ichor realizes this is not fire, but a wolf. Ichor stands in strife for a moment- approach, or leave him be?

His legs carry him closer before he's fully decided on it. But he can't stop now.

"Hi?" He says, more of a guess than a genuine greeting. His voice is muted and withdrawn, but Ichor looks upon this newcomer with a gaze that burns.

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Rad was caught in a rare moment of indecision, not quite sure which direction to head in and not willing to remain stagnant on a beach, either. But it was dark, and he didn’t want to chance a swim in the black waters around him. Not because he was afraid, of course!

Okay, maybe he was a little afraid, but it was a healthy fear. Who knew what could be lurking in there, after all, and Rad had never been a fan of swimming anyway. Best wait for the tide to go out, he figured.

Ah, but staying here alone was so unappealing. Rad wasn’t used to being by himself - at home, he’d always surrounded himself with companions and acquaintances. He could be alone if necessary, but the feel of the blade pressing on his throat and the blood seeping from his veins was far too fresh for him to have no one to keep him company but his thoughts.

Discomfort had begun to sink in, anxiety cloying at his nerves, when a hesitant voice spoke up behind him.

Rad spun around, a little shocked to find that he wasn’t quite as alone as he’d thought. A wolf, it seemed, dark fur blending well with the rocky surroundings, save for a unique white splotch on his face and eyes of pure hellfire.

The stranger was large, too, and looked strong. The scars on their pelt were a testament to that.

So why had they sounded so…

Meek?

Well, now that just wouldn’t do at all! Rad plastered a crooked grin on his maw, all teeth and charm, and strode purposefully over to the other boy.

“Come now, there’s no need to be shy! A warrior should speak proudly,” he proclaimed, his own voice hoarse ad strained and nowhere near the booming tone he was accustomed to speaking with. It had to be from the injury, he figured, still burning his flesh. Still, he pressed on, ignoring the stinging sensation. “There is nothing to fear, friend! I mean you no harm,” he tacked on the reassurance at the end, just in case. He already wanted a sparring session with this boy, to test this new body against an equal opponent, but there would be no harm done.

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Ichor might have made a strange sight, on edge and sopping wet at this time of night- almost suspicious if not for the utterly clueless look in his eyes. The other male appeared no better, either, though for reasons vastly different than his own.

Ichor stared with his everbright gaze, pupils skimming the larger gait of the male quite cautiously. Scars crisscrossed a scarlet pelt, the worst of all sitting along his throat. Yet Icarus was not quite as worried as he perhaps should be. The larger male seemed vivacious for someone whom he'd previously assumed to have been injured and weak; In fact, Ichor grimaced just a bit in the face of the burly male wandering nearer to him. His fur prickled a bit, noting the physical prowess of a wolf so much more valorous, though his feet were still too sore and heavy to waste the energy of shuffling backward. Ichor tried to show his discomfort in another way, tilting his chin close to his chest and flicking his ears back- a classic I-bite-when-I'm-scared sort of thing that he wasn't sure from where he'd learned it from.

His triangular ears 'pinged' at the word warrior, something rattling inside of his brain. What it was, he did not know- and he might never know, for he did not pursue it. As quick as it slithered in, it slithered away into the darkness of the night. Still, Ichor stared at this mishappen creature. The larger male already seemed to be acting so... friendly; Ichor would be grateful if he didn't think it was too good to be true.

"I'm not really a warrior." If he ever had been, he no longer was, "And... who... are you exactly?" He questioned. "You look like you're hurt- do you need help?" Even though he himself was likely not the best option for that much.

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Fortunately for the both of them, while Rad was very forward with his intentions, he had no desire to invade others’ personal space without gauging their comfort level first. And since he didn’t know this guy all that well, he wouldn’t just throw himself at him.

Maybe later.

His own ears swiveled forward at the other boy’s next words. Not really a warrior…? Then why was he so powerfully built, and why was he so battle-scarred? It didn’t make any sense in Rad’s eyes, but hey. He wouldn’t push it if the other guy was so uncomfortable with it. “If you say so,” he acquiesced, smile not once faltering. “There’s no shame in other paths.”

“I am Radley, but you are welcome to call me Rad,” he introduced, tail swaying behind him. His voice was still so hoarse, it nearly felt as though someone had wrapped a hand around it and squeezed. Still, he laughed when the other boy pointed his injuries out. “I have had worse-” he had not, “and besides, it will make a good scar some day.”

He smirked then, tilting his head to the side. “It is kind of you to ask, though,” he huffed, clearing his throat to keep from coughing, and his tone was warm as he continued, “Can I have your name, friend?”

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Ichor quietly pondered the topic of other paths. If he were to be honest, he did not know the other paths laid out before him. He wandered down one, now, but it had not led him towards any roles other than that of 'wanderer'. Ichor had picked one road and stuck to it since his awakening and had not diverged from it since. But the 'path' the other spoke of had led him here, and so far, he didn't exactly hate it. Talking- even sparse and small- with another was something that made his heart ache. The company of someone who did not want to hurt him always seemed to endear him, in the end.

Only the man speaking once more brought Ichor's attention to him; his name was Radley, but he was welcome to call the other Rad. So it was a nickname. The thought of that made Ichor smile softly, though the way he nodded appeared strangely militant as if he was given a command rather than a suggestion. Rad it would be to him, then.

As it were currently, he traced the wound upon the other's throat and figured him lucky to even be alive. It looked angry and raw still, and when Rad laughed, Ichor winced for him, empathy striking through him despite baring no similar wounds in such a location. He wished he could offer him something. Something like... well, something. But the lands were black and barren, and he was quite powerless, now wasn't he?

The other's dismissal still did not quite ease his concerns, but he was not one to pry into the business of others. In fact, Rad saying that admittedly made him feel a bit warm- ah, right. Humor. It shined golden inside of his breast like the sun.

"Well, that sounds like something a warrior would say. Are you one?" He mused, shooting the other a kinder beam. The answer might have seemed obvious, but he was curious, still, of the other's story. "I am-" He blinked, and his head spun. But he cleared his throat and shook his head, "Ichor. It's nice to meet you, too."

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The other boy was smiling now, too, which Rad had marked a decisive victory in their conversation. If they weren’t going to fight, then the least Rad could do was make the guy feel comfortable. His new companion was a strong, powerful wolf! He should carry himself as such. A smile was a good step in the right direction.

Rad caught him staring at the freshly-healed wound and cocked his head up, a broad grin on his maw as he showed off the injury. The skin tugged at the movement, but that was to be expected. There was no shame in the wound itself, though something awful built in his chest as the memory threatened to swallow him whole.

Damned goddess and her damned sword. If he ever saw her again-

"Well, that sounds like something a warrior would say. Are you one?"

The question was accompanied by another smile, and Rad was a bit surprised to find his stomach swooping a little, cheeks warming under his fur. “Indeed, I am!” he announced, suddenly feeling the urge to show off a little. Strangely enough, his injuries felt as though they’d gotten miraculously better - though that was from boyish excitement more than any divine intervention. “I’ve trained my entire life,” he bragged, feeling his body naturally fall into a play bow, rump in the air and tail wagging. “I can teach you, if you’d like.” It might help this guy avoid more scarring in the future, if he knew how to fight.

Ichor, then! This conversation was going very well, in Rad’s mind.

“A good name,” he stated firmly. “Blood of the gods.” Something Rad had wanted to spill, not long ago. He grinned a little. “You should wear your name with pride!”

It was only then that Rad noticed how damp Ichor’s fur was. He must’ve swam over not long ago, to be so soaked. Brows knitting together, Rad tilted his head to the side. “Are you not cold?” he asked. If this was not someone to fight, then perhaps this was someone to protect.

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The strange tides that shifted from them was marked with the way Ichor was finally beginning to relax, prickling fur slowly settling against his thick, woolly pelt. This was the closest he had felt to having a friend since he got here- though he'd be a fool not to admit it was due to his own withdrawn nature. Radley's vitality carried this interaction, he was very much aware, and yet shame did not clutter against his ribs at that. It also helped that both of the boys seemed to be matching in years of life, at least at first glance. Radley certainly had the gleam to his eye of an individual who had yet to be worn from life, and this was something Ichor dearly wished he had, too.

Envy did not take place into his heart- it would be damn near admiration, really, if only he would shake the feeling of apprehension that had been with him since he'd finally woken up.The other male seemed so carefree and whimsical that he nearly felt guilty for not being able to match this energy. But then again, everyone took something in a different way; Ichor was still adjusting to the world around him, and well, he wasn't exactly sure of when the other first awoke here.

"I can tell by your body and... scars." But then Ichor trailed off and looked to his form and his smile widened slightly. It was a bit ironic that he'd say that considering his own declaration from earlier. It was not just the old wounds that had clued Ichor in, anyway. His observant eye caught the way he'd walked; the way fighters did, though how they walked was quite hard for him to describe. But rather than point it out, he listened as the other male spoke again.

"Huh?" Uttered onyx lips, bright eyes flicking across the other's face. To learn how to fight? For some reason, his heart began to thunder into his ears. Still, Ichor swallowed heavy and shook his head. "No, I uh..." He dreaded it. Fighting, that sort of thing. It was too much, the violence of it all. And besides that- "I'm pretty sure I know how to hold my own, even if I wouldn't like to." The taste of blood he dreamt of was not always his own- nor was it of anything that was prey. If he focused hard enough sometimes, he thought he could still taste the remnants of wolf copper at the back of his throat.

Though when the other praised his name, his ears flushed a bit. He was pretty sure it was not a name he chose for himself- a lot of others had parents to do that sort of thing, after all. To flush over something like a compliment towards his name which he had no say in seemed unfit, but any compliment he received was met with gratefulness and confusion in equal measure. "Thanks..." He barely even managed to whisper it, ducking his head for a few moments.

His chin lifted itself a bit after, and he contemplated the other's question. He was shivering a bit, but he'd hardly noticed. It was hard to say that he didn't mind extreme temperatures mentally, and so he hardly ever noticed them physically."Uh, kind of. You've been keeping me distracted from that, though." He said with a grateful smile, twitching his ear a bit. He'd have to go and find a warm place soon, but he didn't know this part of the territories. "Is there anywhere warm around here?"

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It pleased the demon prince to see his new companion relaxing so greatly. He’d been so tense and nervous just a handful of moments ago, and now his fur had settled and his body had relaxed, even minutely. It was true that the other boy was a little on the stiff side, but Rad didn’t mind that. He’d had plenty of friends before who were rather difficult to get to know before.

”I can tell by your body and… scars.

Rad wanted to tease, to flirt. It was a good opportunity, he figured, but he didn’t particularly want to scare his new companion away. He didn’t know what Ichor would be receptive to, after all, and if his preferences were toward the ladies, then Rad would prefer not to make him uncomfortable. Especially if they were stuck together on this island for the night.

But he seemed to have made Ichor uncomfortable in a different way. Guilt sat like a stone in his stomach at the reaction to his offer, and Rad’s brows knitted together.

“You look like you could hold your own,” he assured, trying to imbue as much confidence as possible into his statement. “I apologize if I’ve overstepped. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t.” He dipped his head, genuinely remorseful. That hadn’t been his intention at all - he’d gotten ahead of himself.

Ah, was that his imagination, or did the other boy get a little flustered at the compliment? Rad’s ears perked and twitched in interest, and he decided to file that away for later. He wouldn’t tease right now, however - not after the discomfort Ichor had shown a moment ago.

A warm laugh escaped him, and he waved his tail. “I’ve been told I’m quite a good distraction,” he rumbled, voice pitching a little lower in volume. It was admittedly getting a bit difficult to speak, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. “I don’t really know the area myself - I’ve just woken up here, actually,” he admitted with a lopsided grin. “But if you aren’t opposed, I’m certain the two of us can find a good place to stay for the night.” It was an open invitation, one that could easily be declined if Ichor wished. Rad took a few tentative steps toward what looked to be a cluster of dark trees in the distance, movements slow and deliberate to see if his friend would follow.

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Ichor blinked in surprise at the other's apology. Oh, was that how it seemed that he had taken it as? Ichor was deeply humble, perhaps insecure, but he did not at all take offense to the other's words. It was hard to draw Ichor's ire or disdain mostly, for he generally existed in shades of neutrality. But now, this male had drawn out something of a positive side in Ichor, one that was as rare as a black sun.

"No, don't worry." He assured the male, inclining his head and tipping it to the side to offer him a reassuring gaze, "I think it's very kind of you to have offered in the first place, especially to a stranger like me. Not many would. I'm just... really not built for that sort of thing- mentally, at least. I wouldn't want for you to strain yourself, anyway. Your wound still seems fresh... friend." And it was true. He could see the way the infliction on his throat warped and stretched itself, threatening to burst into rivulets of crimson if not handled with utmost care. Utmost care of which Rad had not treated it with as it were now, so Ichor did not imagine how he would act if he were fighting. Ichor secretly doubted the other should be speaking as much as he was, but could not think to confront the other about it at the moment. He was unsure if his worry would be well-received as only a stranger.

Though he soon quieted himself, noting with some surprise that he was rambling. The cold must have been getting to him more than he thought. Ichor, in a bit of a fit of nerves, kicked the sand awkwardly and stared at his own paws. But Radley spoke again, and Ichor again looked at him, shock present all along his features. An... innuendo? Was that what that was?

"Did you just-" He cut himself short with a strained sound, wheezing a bit as if he didn't quite know if he wanted to laugh at that or not. "I... okay." Quietly, he shuffled just a bit closer, he too looking at the boundary of scraggly trees, eyes seeking out a shelter in the depths of shadows. Ichor did not think to answer a confirmation as he fell in line with the other male, matching him paw-step for paw-step just slightly behind so the seemingly more dominant male could lead the way.

But as they traveled deeper, Ichor thought on what the other had said. Or rather, the other thing. "You only just woke up here? You seem really... adjusted already. How did you... find yourself here?"

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The other boy was rambling - the most words Rad had heard him string together thusfar. Another victory, the prince decided, tail wagging behind him and a smile on his face. And it seemed he hadn’t offended Ichor, either, which had Rad’s own shoulders relaxing at the acknowledgement.

“It is not kindness,” he assured. “Rather, it would be cruelty to leave someone without the knowledge necessary to defend themself.” And Radley, while certainly a demon, was not cruel. “But I won’t push. Being forced to fight is also cruelty. Sparring would not be enjoyable with an unwilling partner,” he pointed out, and grinned afterward, chin tilting upward. “Besides, if someone approached us now, I could fight for the both of us.” Wounds be damned, Rad was confident that he was capable of defending himself, and his new charge. What kind of prince would he be if he couldn’t?

His ears perked at the mention of the injury, and he huffed out a laugh that was more of a cough. “This is nothing to worry about,” he promised, puffing his chest out a bit. “An irritation at best. It shouldn’t inhibit me.” This was flawed logic and Radley was fully aware of that, but something prideful within him wouldn’t allow for him to admit anything else. It didn’t really matter, anyway, he decided. He would sleep and it would feel better in the morning.

He hoped.

His subtle double entendre was picked up on, and Ichor seemed like he couldn’t decide if it was funny or not. Rad figured the strained noise he made was near to a laugh, and he flashed the other boy a toothy grin and a wink to boot, bumping their shoulders together once he was near enough.

Pleased that the other male was following, Rad led the two of them over to the trees. It wasn’t an ideal spot, to say the least, and Radley found himself quickly missing his luxurious bed, but he wouldn’t complain. He busied himself with clearing away a few small stones and debris that littered the base of the trunk, and paused only when he was addressed again.

Huh. Maybe he should be a little less comfortable with waking here. Was it weird that he wasn’t?

“There is no point fretting over things I can’t control,” he said by way of explanation and continued cleaning the area. “What would it accomplish, if I simply laid down and gave up? This is better, I think. I’ve made a new friend, and I have at least some shelter. Everything else can be figured out later.” He cleared his sore throat and stepped back, waiting for Ichor to lay down first - he was still damp, after all, and could tuck himself closer to the tree. It was only logical.

And as for how he’d gotten here… “You’ll think I’m insane,” he chuckled, his voice reduced to a whisper from overuse. “I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.”

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Ichor is rather impressed with the valiance the other male speaks with, a do-good nature that appeases something deep down inside of him. Ichor, with no idea of who he was previous to this, hopes he would have liked Radley just as much as he did now. It's hard to say, but he supposes that so long as he likes him in the present moments, it would not matter all too much. And Radley really does leave an impression on him; the bold and charismatic ones tend to always do that to those more quiet and withdrawn.

As it is, Ichor is not fond of violence. It sends a shiver down his spine worse than any cold ever has; dread that has always sloshed in his belly tends to form into a hardened ball in his very core. Yet the other, as injured as beaten as he is, swearing to protect the both of them brings a surge of emotion within him. Ichor nods along kindly, giving a smile, but now he thinks that yes, he would fight for the injured male, too. Ichor's loyalty was easy to gain for the injured and the kind- and Radley was both in a world he had only just woken up in. To be so open when so vulnerable was an anomaly to him; Radley was frankly fascinating.

He seemed to already have accepted the way of the world here, while Ichor was just... resigned. He'd woken up defeated and had continued to live numbly; it was easier than feeling. Happiness came with melancholy, hope with despair, serenity with rage. Everything came with a price, and he was so small in such a big realm, and these emotions, when he thought of them, might consume him. Whatever had happened before haunted him still, and Ichor figured it was best not to remember. Radley did not seem anything like that, and Ichor was happy for him, if nothing else.

"Despite it all, the branches dance and the birds sing. There is much pain in the world, but not in this moment." He said without thinking, something twinkling in the cavern of what was then and what was now. Then, to Radley, he uttered, "You sound very brave." He watched male shuffle stones and debris and figured he ought to help out, if only just a little bit. Ichor leaned upwards, parting his mouth to catch a branch and shake it use his weight to tear it down. He propped it up on the trunk and repeated it until they had a small amount of coverage to protect them from the elements. Only then did he lay down and look at Radley, curious as to what the male would do.

But then curiosity took hold. Ichor did not take the other's words as a challenge, but now he wanted to now more.

"You never know. Try me." Ichor uttered gently, mouth sloping in a smile, and his head tilting to the side in invitation for the other to indeed tell him of his past.

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Perhaps it was foolish to trust someone again so soon after his own friend had turned on him, but Radley couldn’t help it. There was something about this boy that put him, and he suspected many others, at ease. Being killed in his sleep was a possibility, but Rad supposed if that was the way he was destined to go, that was fine. Perhaps there was another world to wake up in afterward. Besides, Ichor had been nothing but pleasant. There was, in the demon prince’s mind, nothing to worry about, even if they were next to strangers.

He didn’t know this boy well yet, but Radley found that he really, really wanted to.

"Despite it all, the branches dance and the birds sing. There is much pain in the world, but not in this moment."

It was a beautiful statement, and true to boot. In this moment, Rad was no prince, and had no kingdom to rule over, no father to return home to, and no familiar faces to see. He’d lost a lot more than his life - he had lost everything and everyone. If he thought too hard about it, the gravity of it all threatened to crush him.

But in the moment, he was whole, and on a beach with a beautiful, intriguing, kind boy. He had a place to stay the night, and he wasn’t alone. There wasn’t much else Rad could ask for, really.

And that beautiful, intriguing, kind boy had just said he was brave. There were fewer compliments that Rad enjoyed more.

“Having good company has helped,” he responded, offering Ichor a genuine smile. If it were earlier in the day, or if the conversation less serious, he might’ve taken the opportunity to show off for his new friend, because some silly, adolescent part of him genuinely wanted to impress the other male. But he was tired, and sore, and it was late, and perhaps he could woo Ichor later.

The dark-furred wolf had taken some branches down and stacked them, forming a shelter of sorts, and Rad rumbled in approval. “Smart,” he complimented, keeping his words shorter as his throat began to ache more. He’d almost certainly overdone it today.

Radley waited for Ichor to lay down before cautiously sidling in beside him, strategically placing himself closer to the entrance to block off any wind or perhaps any intruders. A prince was supposed to be a defender, after all.

At Ichor’s invitation, Radley offered him a small smile, head lain on his own paws. “Alright,” he agreed, keeping his voice at a whisper. “To spare the details, I was… slaughtered, as an example, I think? She’d have never beaten me if I hadn’t already been injured, of course. Their side didn’t play fair.” He shuddered a little, imagining the feeling of holy fire singing his throat, of choking on his own blood. “She drew her sword across my neck, and I remember very little afterward. Things went dark, and then I woke here.” There was no need for lengthy stories, or grand details. And then, because he couldn’t help but try and impress the other boy, he tacked on, with no small amount of pride: “I was a prince, you know.”

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He couldn't help it, the way he smiled; there was something about being called 'good company' that gave him the effect of sunshine in his chest. This was better than being alone, he figured, as much as he'd guarded his own company from the unknown grasp of others. Radley made him question why he had; but Ichor had to remind himself of his scars. They were not all from clumsy accidents or hunting failures. The clear curve of the wolf's bites were all too obvious; as were the claws. More privately, the way his heart sometimes skipped a beat when another got too close was all he needed to know; he had not lived a peaceful life.

So then brought the question: why risk it all again? Only fools and masochists sought agony- and Ichor, despite it all, knew himself to be neither.

And yet at the end of it all he was just a boy, he supposed. Young and foolish and prone to mistakes.

This mistake, if it were to be one, felt quite good.

The whipping colds of the winds could not reach him here. Solitude was banished thanks to the red sheen of a shorter coat, and a monster with teeth that had dug into his heart feasted instead on the companionship bolstered in the night air. It was pleasant; it reminded him of something; a song, a laugh. He could hear it sewn between Radley's words. The charred male himself could not help the sigh that escaped him, content in this small, blackened corner of the world.

He listened to Radley's tale, and his heart ached for him all the same. For all that he'd left behind in the world where he'd been prior.

"Oh..." And he eyed the wound on the throat in a newfound light. He had not a clue of what a sword (or a prince) was, but figured it must be horrendous if it could inflict such a heavy wound, "I'm sorry; that's awful." That was all one could say at one's despair at times. 'Sorry' was a way of hugging without touching, 'sorry' was comfort without the squeezed hands or brushing of the lips. And then he laughed gently at his next wording, eyes curling into a smile of their own. "A prince? That sounds important... People will mourn you, then, I think. Will you miss it, being a prince?"

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Rad hadn’t really given it a lot of thought beforehand, but yeah, he supposed it had been awful. He’d been in battle countless times before the goddess had pinned him, but he didn’t think he’d ever been so scared than in that moment. There was something about being totally powerless and knowing there was nothing he could’ve done to change the outcome that had his heart jackhammering in his chest, even now. Even when she wasn’t there, blade cutting into his throat and eyes blazing with righteous fury.

A shudder passed through his body without his permission, surprising him a little and sending a wash of shame coursing hot through his veins. There was hardly any use for fear now, just as there hadn’t been any use for it in the moment.

It didn’t mean he hadn’t felt it, that he wasn’t feeling it now. He just wasn’t very happy about it.

Especially not when he was safe and relatively comfortable and not alone. The last one was a particular bonus that he hadn’t been expecting. Radley would’ve figure it out on his own if he had to, of course, but Ichor’s presence alone was comforting, and it made the whole situation undoubtedly easier to cope with.

“There is no need to apologize, but thank you. You’re very kind,” he breathed, turning green eyes toward the other boy from where his head was lain across his paws. He appreciated the sentiment - it wasn’t pity, he didn’t think, but rather an expression of empathy. A smile formed on his maw - he hadn’t considered Ichor wouldn’t know what he was talking about, but he guessed that made sense. “It’s… like a second-in-command. A protector. Father was the leader.” The word “father” left him feeling both despairing and furious in equal measure, but he didn’t want to focus on that right now.

He cleared his throat, gaze softening a little at the mention of mourning. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Hopefully they won’t for too long, though.” The mental image of his father, his friends, his people feeling so miserable over him made his stomach turn.

Without a conscious decision on his part, Rad shuffled just a hair closer to his friend, lids drooping and throat aching. It had been a long, terrible day, aside from the last little while spent with Ichor, and Radley was just about ready to admit that he was exhausted and in pain. Just about, anyway. What he said in lieu of expressing any misery, however, was, “Will you tell me more about yourself tomorrow? Anything you want.” Not about his past, necessarily, but the things he liked or disliked, or perhaps a story or two. Rad couldn’t help but want to get to know the other boy, and he felt like all he’d done tonight was talk about himself. It was only fair for Ichor to get a turn, but Radley was halfway falling asleep at the moment, and he wanted to be able to listen properly.

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Second in command, huh? Something deep stirred in his chest, wind brushing over long cooled ash. Ichor blinked and his ears hummed deeply with noise. Leader? Didn't he mean a- Hm. Well, that was interesting. But as soon he thought it, he banished it; it would be investigated later, or it would not be. The workings of Ichor's own mind boggled himself more than anyone else. Confusion was the norm, and so he focused instead on the new a friend. Could he even call Radley that, yet? It had been two hours at most, and he thought that perhaps he should ask the other if that was what he waned to be before tacking it on. Manners, and all of that.

Though his tongue would not cooperate with him, refusing to spell out the words he so dearly wanted to know. Strange warmth had taken up on his ears- embarrassment, the male soon realized. Maybe he wouldn't ask that, after all. But he could draw some context clues from the aura and the way the other looked at him. If they weren't friends already, then one day soon they would be. Radley did not speak it outright, either, so perhaps he'd figured the same.

A thoughtful hum left him- Radley not wanting to be mourned for too long. He'd never thought of mourning at all until it was brought up. Was he mourned, whoever he had been before? His teeth clicked thoughtfully. Perhaps. Perhaps not.

He focused again on Radley, observing the droop in his eyes, the exhaustion brimming there. Right, right... He had to have been tired. Today had certainly been a long day, hadn't it... What he could tell the other about himself was a mystery to him. But he could try for the sake of Radley; perhaps he'd amuse him and listen to him speak of his favorite birds and animals. Some of the favorite poems that he actually remembered. But carefully, Ichor tucked this away for later, lest reality turn into fantasy which could not be fulfilled.

"In the morning." He promised to the other softly as if not to chase away Radley's dreams or disturb the moon and stars that hung above them. "Goodnight, Radley... and thank you."

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