[ ✸ ] you're not dreaming.

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Running, running, running.

In his dreams and in reality.

The detonation of heavens thrusting a fearful body from its slumber; leaving the area beside his beloved cold and abandoned. Pliable limbs flew this way, that way. Scaling up their cavern home, floor after floor, slamming his body into damp walls all the while his legs shook wildly. Although it was unknown to most, the pale prince was appalled by thunder, by the godly cracks of gold lashed upon the blackened sky. The terror had been narrowly hidden, but still away from public eyes, a horror not yet dilated by proper training.

Whereas his emotions typically stayed soothed by that of his mate, the crackling echo that plummeted throughout their winding cabin throttled the young chap past her absent words of comfort. This, however, didn't stop him from pleading out her name.

“M-MEISSA! W-WHERE... I CAN'T...”

Scrambling through the darkness of night, the stag barreled onward. Through sharp-cut grass, through steep waters; he ran.

—

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 The storm woke her and she lay in silence for a moment, processing. Beside her was cold, too cold, and she struggled up to her feet, searching out in the dim light for her mate. Nowhere. Where had he gone? She knew his fear of storms, she knew the dangers that their camp provided. She stepped out, off of soft pelt rug to hard stone and soft moss, following his scent, following the noise he was making as he scrambled up.

 Was he in a waking dream? Her teeth clipped the air as she hurried on after him. The lighting above marked him in the distance and she heard his pleading call, his voice rising up and calling her to him.

 She charged towards him, a bull moose to his buck.

 The storm did not frighten her - wolves did. If he ran, who would he find?

 Would he return?

 Her claws cut into the soft earth atop the plains, leaving the sinkhold behind her even as his own had left their mark within the hill. Her voice rose up, a howl to cut above the wind. “Stop running, I'm here!” She wanted to add "You Idiot" but didn't want to waste breath that could be used to try - and fail - to catch up with him.

 After all, he had all the experience in the world running while she was simply a bulldozer. A motorcycle versus a tank, moving through difficult terrain.

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+1 Discovery Point

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He moved frantically, hearing a voice mingled in with the thrashing wind above his ears. Everything was screaming at him, making it difficult to pinpoint any true direction as he fumbled around in the darkness. But oh boy had he fumbled and fumbled hard.

“M...Mei? I... Where are you?!” He panicked, turning around to find her only to slip upon the base of their home. He found his footing lost within the skies, a striking screech leaving his airways as he clung to the stone wall with might not of his own. “M-Meissa!” Rain pelted his vision, tail pinned between his legs as he scrambled to pull himself atop the mound. 

Yet his panic only made matters worse. Rocks, chunks of earth, falling to the waters below creating another bust of noise that sent his grip astray. Silence fell over him, muffled whimpers clogging his throat. He held himself steady, calming his breath the best he could. 

He waited.

—

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 He moved as if his tail were on fire, twisting and turning and then falling. She let out a howl of worry and leaped forward, barreling towards him and skidding to a stop steps away from the edge he had plummeted over. Here he was, holding on tightly though his grip could not last for long. Was he close enough to reach? She lowered herself, inching forward, gripping against the earth with claws and pads, tails whipping to keep her balance as the storm raged on around them, soaking deep into her fur.

 She had to come over the edge to reach him, claws digging into the side of the stone wall, pulling up moss that had thought it was safe of canine intervention.

 Meissa's jaws opened wide and found their way around his scruff, snapping and attempting to get a serious grip on his scruff so she could pull upwards and backwards, scrabbling on the wet earth to bring them both onto solid ground. “Stay with me, Flynn,” she snarled, voice muffled by fur and saliva.

 Maybe living in a giant hole in the ground wasn't such a good idea.

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+1 Discovery Point

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He hadn't said a word, even as he began to fly upward, even as her teeth sunk deep into empty skin. Perhaps he slipped a peep of a whimper, but his throat remained too mortified to inch open. Eventually, his eyes caught a glimpse of light—a splatter of copper thrown against the black portrait they danced upon. It provided him with a split-second picture of their flat-slopped kingdom. Winding hills, small streams, the entrance to the house.

Bursting out from her grasp, the silly stag bucked, clearing straight over her head and galloping directly back into the cavern he left a few moments prior. The loud clacks his nails made as he rolled downstairs to their bedroom were almost comical, and despite it being dark outside, the lovely glow of mushrooms that lined their walls aided him so at least he likely wasn't knocking anything over.

If Meissa got there in time to witness, she'd probably lay into his ass considering he was rubbing his body all along their furniture.

—

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+1 Discovery Point

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 She hoisted him up, bringing him to safety, until lighting shone upon them and suddenly her jaws were empty. A hiss of surprise escaped her lips as she heard more than saw him lift up from before her and leap over, charging downhill. She let out a grunt and followed, tails stiff behind her as she followed his clumsy descent into their house. She saw the dim green, the mushrooms that covered the walls and lit their private escape, even as water pouring outside threatened its contents. It brought a small smile to her face.

 She entered the cave and paused upon the mossy stone of their entrance way, shaking off the excess water before following the sounds of his madness into the depths of their den.

 There, she saw him rolling about on the rugs and blankets of pelt-sort and gave a huff that was some sort of mix between a sigh and a laugh. “Did you shake off?” she asked, knowing the answer already as she trudged over to him and, at the last moment, running-tackled him into the blankets, where she would wrap her paws around him and hold him tight. “Storms are no place for kings,” she'd mutter softly into his ear before lapping at it, working on trying to cool the poor idiot down.

 Oh well.

 At least he was her poor idiot.

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+1 Discovery Point

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He'd finished—rolling around like a buffon, that was. Clouds of golden plumage floating from atop the world, sluggishly drifting in the current created by their bustling bodies. He spotted a large bit of his puppylike fluff as it kissed his lovers' nose, bringing a childlike glee to his affectionate eyes. She was perfect. He'd thought it so many times and it always found a way back to his foggy, confused brain. It was a constant comfort that he understood it, even when he couldn't see it at times, he knew she loved him... and God, did he love her.

His nether-half brought itself to wag, tapping wet paws excitedly. It had dawned on him right then and there that he was unsure if he'd ever said it. The words he was feeling inside his chest as she stood there all cute and angry. “I love y--” Okay, well, guess he wasn't about to get them out anyway.

She'd tackled him to the ground, rolling his body rapidly in the blankets in attempts to get free of his favourite prison, buuut quickly submitting to get smothered by his own personal weighted blanket. “I happen to think I look rather dashing with wet hair, thank you.” He didn't, actually; a big cowlick lifting upon his head.

—

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 She gazed down at him, heart drumming in her ears, both from chasing him down and seeing him gazing up at her with such adoration. She had never guessed that anyone might look at her that way, had lost hope of ever being loved. To have him was a dream come true, though that dream be filled with terrors and worries that riddled her mind on a constant basis.

 As she drew him to herself, his fur soaking into hers while she worked as a glorified swimming towel, she realized what he had been trying to say.

 A smile lifted onto her lips and she washed his face, tender kisses smoothing down the fur that was oh so messy. She found his messy, curly fur absolutely adorable at times and one of those times were now, though she wanted to make sure he didn't end up sick from his run in the rain. “I think you look better when you're nice and warm and in my arms,” she replied, giving his nose a playful nip - teeth only gently holding the plush tissue before releasing into a smile.

 “And Flynn? I love you too.”

 Ha, she said it first.

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The young King pressed into her embrace, finding his way to a favourite spot of his—directly underneath her. He wouldn't admit it, but her weight combined with the feeling of her constant heartbeat helped him feel secure, and in their new, developing environment it was really all he needed.

Nuzzling his head over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her back to grab gently at her furs for that extra sensory relaxation, he'd begin to snooze. “Goodnight, love.” And with his lips now close to her ear, it was only a matter of time until he held onto that, too.

—

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