Look at me, I keep glitter up my sleeves! Wakka wakka!

@Olive @Archon hey fam

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more wolves. and snow. snow was always disorientating for him. flat and white and unchanging..

he wasn't cold. he rarely cared for the temperature. his fur was fluffy enough and he shared his heat readily to his companions.

he was confused by all the smells that lingered on his companions. new smells, clinging, implying interaction that he wasn't there to oversee. olive concerned him most of all, especially when he had found another male's scent on her. it hadn't been the edgelord rando from the plains, but it gave him a start.

he didn't have the social script to ask either of them about anything, instead posing his normal inane questions and comments with his slurring drawl. but doubt remained in him, buzzing in its own frequency beyond his normal brain-static.

he puffed out a breath, going slightly cross-eyed as he watched the cloud of vapor.
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Cloudrest was a interesting place to call home. It was difficult to separate this nook in the mountains from the rest; both Riannon and her kith were ephemeral creatures and sparsely populated the misted veils. Still she and her companions stayed close, guided by the comfort of one another's presence, and learning to appreciate the relative safety that packhood provided. There was no golden wraith to harm them, here. There was no one who was actively ousting them from claimed lands. It was boring, and as much as she rebelled against it inwardly, her higher mind knew this was the conduit for healing and thriving that all three of them needed.

Whenever she deigned to leave Frostchant, it seemed that she always crossed the borders and headed north. With mountains and tree-cover shielding the packlands from the greatest bouts of snow, the cold felt refreshing against her now-thick and lustrous winter coat. She fluffed herself as would a dove, glimpsing the familiar silver-tan vision of her officer, and she traipsed directly towards him wthout a thought. "Hey," she greeted, bumping his shoulder with the side of her cheek as she came up alongside him. "It's not like you to wander," she commented, not meaning anything by it other than Benry was usually the one following after her, not vice-versa.

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he curled his tail around his paws, content to let his mind wander. it felt like melting — as if his consciousness seeped out from his ears and sinuses into the world beyond, thinking of things that he could never easily describe to others. not in words or phrases, at the very least.

he was distracted enough by himself that he didn't notice her until she touched him. “huh?” he flinched slightly, her approach and shoulder-bump coming all at once for him. “oh. hi.” he responded curtly, shifting from his reverie for a moment. he looked at her, blinked once, and returned his gaze to the middle distance.
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The cougar greeted her half heartedly, as if distracted by something. The Olive of months prior might have wondered what capture his thoughts in such a deep way, but the Olive who had traveled with Benry, made decisions with Benry, and fought at his side knew better. He was not prone to overthinking things the way she was, and when he stared listlessly like this and seemed unable to engage, it was usually the opposite that plagued him: a void, rather than excess.

Olive' gaze followed his own, settling out into the horizon. "What do you think of Frostchant?" she prompted genuinely, wondering his thoughts about their newest residence. He and Archon had followed her quite blindly, and she often mused upon the responsibility she felt for her two companion's happiness and overall satisfaction. It hadn't been the easiest process of getting here and settling, but it was now the place that had adopted them, for better or for worse.

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he settled himself down into a crouch, shifting his tail to wrap around all of his limbs. the tip twitched erratically.

“'s'ok.” he winced at the press of the collar against his shoulder as he settled. “cold.” he'd said it because it was obvious, but he had no real opinion on the place as of yet. the wolves here felt more like monks than criminals.

her presence allowed him to focus, to attempt to voice what was on his mind. “olive...yyyyya, wha d'you... y'want? with me?” his eyes were wide and pleading. his tail twitched faster. he hadn't forgotten what she'd introduced herself as.
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He settled his carriage closer to the earth and, unthinkingly, Olive did the same; subconsciously influenced by the cat and everything he did, in a way that was for more consequential than she yet realized. At the mention of cold, she pressed her body against his, a silent agreement of his assessment. However, cold was no match to the nearness of a living, breathing, entropic creature, and the zest of a new land that had yet been explored.

His next question was uncharacteristic, and the nuanced nature of his tone caused the woman to reign back her head, pushing paws against the earth to turn her breastbone towards him, her eyes settling on the pleading, too-nearness of his gaze. She let a moment of silence lapse before responding with the only possible answer for this sudden truth-seeker: the truth.

“Nothing,” she vocalized with a demure smile, readjusting herself into a more settled position. “We’re friends,” If her gaze had eeked away from his in the moments that had transpired, it snapped back, sidelong, wondering what he might make of this newly-proposed title. She, for one, was more than willing to do away with the obsolete role of ‘parole officer' for one with far fewer stipulations. Neither he, nor she, needed to be policed

“Anyways, you’re the one who refuses to leave my accompaniment,” she japed gently, trusting that he knew innately that it wasn’t the truth. They both owed each other much, and if Benry had attempted to take actual leave of her, she would have had much to say about it (but, ultimately, she would support him in whatever he desired). She looked outwards, awaiting his response; clarification for his meaning.

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he curled his front paws underneath himself. his eyes blinked closed as he felt her press against him. he wasn't

he didn't like the look he was given. panic filled him for a moment, especially as she declared, without hesitation, that they were friends. “i'm not...you're not...” he didn't have the words for it. knew intrinsically what it was, why he hated it. but couldn't, for the life of him, explain it.

his tail lashed, and his ears, though flattened against his head, twitched violently. “yyyou, you said you study- learn shit. 'bout the earth.” he “you dont...do thhhhat to me?”
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Something in her told her that didn't register as Benry's truth, though it was her own. She saw this writ clearly in his face, and his eyes (which got no less big and round and swimming), and the lashing of his tail behind him. There was a harrowing moment that the sylph thought that their companionship truly was the result of a desire to police her, or keep her in some way, but she convinced herself out of it in the very next moment. Her finely honed intuition knew, whatever Benry felt, it wasn't innately bad.

because Benry wasn't innately bad. In fact, he was very, good. and Olive knew she could trust that.

The woman managed a small "Hmm?" to his stammering before the gilded mountain lion then lifted the veil on the theater of his mind. He spoke of her passions for the earth and her magic, and the Gods and their magic, and hoped that he simply wasn't an experiment for her to collect data from. Olive's lips pressed together, this having taken her somewhat by surprise — she had assumed Benry had known her better than that.

What to say came easily, but how to say it did not. After a moment's mindful pause, she turned to him. "You, while fascinating, are much more than a simple a specimen to me," she lilted while touching the black button of her nose to his neck, ruffling the smooth, short furs until she reached the cold, inorganic feel of his collar. Another moment slipped by. "Is it because of this?" she asked quietly, having never questioned it before. There was no need for him to volunteer information more than a yes or no, but she suspected the oddity played a hand in his insecurity.

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she didn't —

she didn't say he wasn't —

he was mulling this over, weighing it between the declaration of friendship she had just given when she, out of his peripheral vision touched him. then the collar.

it felt like a trigger had been set off, releasing the building potential energy in his mind into his body. benry stiffened, flinched, teeth clenched down on whatever was in its way. his eyelids fluttered rapidly. he felt warm liquid dripping from his eyes, his mouth. he could taste salt and iron. he knew what was happening, what was about to happen — hated it, didn't want it — but it still came. he could feel it. he tried to clamp down on it, to stop it before olive saw him or got in the way.

while he tried to stop it, he forgot to breathe and he did so as if surfacing from underwater. his mouth gaped. there was red circles on the snow now. he forgot to breathe again and the second time he knew he couldn't stop his body no matter what.

one of his back paws lifted and began to scratch vigorously at where she had touched it. in these moments previously, his body had gravitated elsewhere, but ever since the collar was applied he always had to scratch and hit in one spot. as if it'd get it off. he tried though. scratching, scratching, scratching first — missing, hitting elsewhere — until he twisted his body and began hitting his torso and neck on the stone.

in all this he felt like screaming but his mouth and throat were too tight and all that released was a muted, furious caterwaul reminiscent of one of his own in heat.
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A part of Olive expected Benry to respond with words, a story, or an explanation. Another part suspected he might simply accept her answer and segue the conversation. There was a small possibility that he became gruff and angry with her for broaching a topic that had clearly made him uncomfortable — but little to no part of her expected what she actually received.

For several moments she was overtaken by the shock of it; of her friend being (relatively) calm and close to her, and then in the blink of the eye prostrating himself across the earth and creating sounds the likes of which Olive had never heard before. Her heart-rate spiked and beat fast, and she nearly recoiled out of instinct, but in the next moment her energy immediately grounded itself and she, alert and poignant, rushed closer and pranced on tip-toes a foot or so away. She hastily figured that, perhaps the immediate threat to his safety could be diffused with words, before she risked injury to her own self in order to stop him — which she was preparing to do, in the next heartbeat.

"Benry, stop!" she cried loudly, green eyes big and brimming with unintentional wetness. Her tail lashed, her carriage braced itself to become physically entangled. There was only so much of Benry's blood she could see cast upon the snow, and this was his one chance to resecure his hold on reality before she did something he likely wouldn't be happy about. "I won't let you hurt yourself!"

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he knew he was still acting, alternating between slamming himself on the ground and scratching at himself. his front paws came up at one point, trying to slide between the collar and his neck. he hears a snap, but it wasn't of leather and false sinew but of his own nails. one or two. he couldn't really say even as he felt the sting of air on his nerves.

olive's voice was like a recording being played in another room. he didn't register the words of her pleas. instead he only became more desperate, her audio increasing his tension. he growled and screamed all the while, frustration channeling itself through every way it could. everything was too much.

his head slams on the ground at one point. he feels dizzy, but it wasn't enough to still him, though he knew that he was getting too much. the collar was still on and he just wanted it to stop being there. for olive to shut up, for the wind to stop howling, for everything to stop freaking him the fuck out and just leave him alone.
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As she watched her friend writhe agonizingly on the earth, Olive could feel the air catch in her lungs and a thousand thoughts fly through her head; but she repeatedly told her that this was not the time for her to feel needy and vulnerable (not that she would think upon this event profusely and even speak to her Gods later about it, mind you). This was Benry's moment to feel frustrated in its entirety, and it was not her responsibility to calm and quell his fears which, would, inevitably rise up again. This lesson (to survive, to persist, whatever lesson it held) was his to learn, not hers to reason him out of.

It was rather tantric, in Olive's mind — but gold-mining the shadows didn't have to feel this unpleasant. It was the physical harm that Olive felt responsible to stop, and her intuition told her that if she entangled herself physically, the cat's wrath and claws might be turned upon her. So, from her precarious position mere feet away from the one who struggled, the woman swallowed the ball of tension in her throat, took a deep breath, and low and steadily she attempted to give Benry a verbal lifeline to grab onto.

"Hey," she coaxed gently, not having enough time to think of the exact right thing to say. So, she repeated in a tone that was the epitome of the empathy she truly felt for her friend during his moment of despair, "Heyyy," and she paced closer, close enough for her paw pads to quiver upon the small red splatters where his blood had hollowed out the snowfall. "You're safe," was all she could say, because he was; no one here sought to hurt him, save for his own self. Her olive-hued gaze gathered upon Benry, searching him for any sight of regulation, or escalation.

This next thing; perhaps a therapist wouldn't have said it, but Olive could help but wonder if maybe two minds could solve this problem where one was unable. After all, Benry could only see his collar in the reflection of still water, but Olive could inspect it closely, and with a nuanced eye. "Is there something I can do to get it off?" she offered, not sure if Benry had ever gone down the 'seeking help from others' route before. Or, perhaps the reminder of his futile efforts set him off deeper instead of encourage his capitulation. Olive watched, and she wondered, and she waited to see what happened next.

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he feels exhausted.

the writhing stilled as the throbbing in his head overcame all else. he curls in on himself — paws over his ears and head, his breath shaky, shuddering as the adrenaline begins to disappear. he only whines in response to her soft words, his weak grasp on words failing him in this moment. his tail remains the only fast moving part of him, lashing out at random with the last stores of energy he had.

he doesn't respond at first — at least not in any coherent way. a soft velar keening — kkkkkkkkkk... — muffled through his thick fur and limbs. it built and built into a final, monosyllabular crescendo. “cut.”
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The cat curled in on himself and Olive took it upon herself to investigate the collar more closely, without having to intrude upon him. She stuck out her pointed nose and looked squarely at the device, entirely unsure what it was. The shape, the material, the smell; it all was foreign to her, and boggled her mind in many ways. The waifish druid grimace, and reigned back her head, unable to give the prognosis she desired.

"I'm sorry Benry," she whispered through a tight, tense throat. "I don't know how..." Her voice trailed off, deeply saddened that she couldn't solve this problem for her friend like he always solved all of hers. Olive wanted to help him, but alas; it was impossible. The woman settled closer to the ground where he lay, her shoulders gathering at the base of her neck, and she huffed a small sigh.

Then, a meek smile settled upon her lips, knowing there was really only one thing to say. "I can assure you, I don't see it at all." The woman blinked, and looked at the ground. "When I look at you, only see you." Her soft gaze lilted upward, wanting to look at him, even though he wasn't looking at her. "This... does not define you. Although it certainly did explain a lot about you, she thought to herself. With a hitch in her breath, the sylph reached out a paw and let it settle near him.

"Can I... touch you?" She asked, offering cuddles and wanting his consent.

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he doesn't respond to her nudging the collar, barely even responding audibly at her pronouncement. he knows that there wasn't a way for her to get it off. there was no way. it was supposed to and yet...well, of course, everything was a lie. they weren't going to let him go, even here. he was a failure but he was their failure.

there's a lot he wants to say, faint and echoing in his mind. you still think i'm odd, stupid, dumb. his body is too exhausted to move his mouth, and even his tail begins to still. you still think i'm a permanent child. he doesn't even know if he's talking about olive anymore.

he only hums, half audible as his face is buried in between his paws. he didn't care what she did now. he just wants to sleep.
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If benry heard the words she uttered, he showed no signs of it. Olive knew better than to have expectations of how her friend was to deal with his troubling reality, so she just assumed her heard & would retain whatever he needed to hear, and everything else could be considered superfluous. She bit her lip, noting how the cat began to still — and she saw that words were becoming more than this moment could bear.

When a conversation was one-sided, it was no longer a conversation. Olive didn't want to be benry's steward through this dark shadow of his life; she would rather be his friend, by his side, through the thick and the thin of it. Like he was, for her. Giving him ample room to reject her looming physicality, she waited for a response — got none — and crept in closer, curling herself against the periphery of his body, all of him looking akin to a gilded ouroboros.

Her head lay on her paws and her tail acted as an extension of her body, and she didn't press against him as much as she kept a microscopic space between them, allowing benry choose the skin-to-skin contact, should he want it.

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his exhaustion hit him like a truck.

he let out a long, unbroken sigh before he fell into unconsciousness, like he had been holding his breath. he vaguely felt that some of his body was touching hers. it wasn't unwelcome, but it wasn't intentional either.

he didn't want cuddles right now but he wouldn't protest. he would be asleep, after all.
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