i close my eyes, then i drift away

ooc: @Keres
 

It was still bright out.

He didn't know why that entered his mind first. There were so many more important things to confront and questions that needed to be answered. But when he woke, light hit his eyes. It caused him to groan and squint, as if unaccustomed to any glow. The stillness of the area made him assume he was alone, though it probably was not terribly hard to sneak about in the shadows. He took too long to realize he was in the midst of a cave, the trickle of light coming from the canopy and the foliage all around him. Reflected naturally or luminous by nature, he didn't know.

Again, much more pressing things to worry about.

The man couldn't just lay there like a perfectly wrapped snack for any apex predators in the area. He groans again, limbs creaking and protesting at the mere thought of moving. It was perhaps too soon to do that, but he did it anyway. As if making a point, stubborn as he was, that he could push through. Thankful no one else was around to see him struggle, it took him an embarrassingly long time to sit up. With a final huff, he focused his eyes on the location. Yes, a cave. The ground looked slick in some places, and he could faintly hear water.

It stood to reason that perhaps the rest of this world could support life. There had to be more than this cave. It'd be pathetic if this was it. Stuck in a cave for all eternity, alone with his thoughts and limited supplies. So he walked - though it was more like a forceful drag than a proper strut. He was obviously exhausted, pushing himself further. Refusing to sit there and wait on anyone's help. Nobody owed him anything. They didn't need to rescue him. As the thought flickered through his mind, stubborn as usual, he saw a flash of movement ahead.

The man immediately slowed his pace to a halt, the maw of the cave before him. Even outside was bright, inviting... But something had been seen. Something was there. Something blocked his path.

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The transition from sunlight to the gloom of the cave was almost overwhelming. The valkyrie couldn't see a thing as she stepped past the threshold of the place she had found with Elke. Despite her lack of vision, Keres would still smile fondly at the recent memory, tail waving at the same time. Blinking, she tried to clear away the darkness, tried to spur her eyes into adjusting quicker, but the sun made it difficult. The clouds somewhat helped but not when the beams pierced the skies like an arrow.

Eventually though, it did happen, giving Keres a bit more mobility and freedom to move about the gorgeous cave. Elke's discovery was a boon to her soul for some reason, a blessing she didn't know she wanted or needed, especially when it was so close to home. Even from the first time being here, the silverspun creature knew she would spend a hefty amount of time exploring every inch she could.

She would have started now, too, had she not heard a sound. Quickly, the woman of the Mountain spun to face whatever it was, evergreen eyes landing on... another wolf? “Hello,” She offered evenly, cautiously. She couldn't quite pick up their scent, as it was shielded by all the scents of the cave, but she knew someone was there. Watching.

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It would appear they were both at a loss for what to do. The voice spoke, feminine and cautious. He saw no further attempts at movement, especially not toward him. Their silhouette hovered at the entrance, but the shadows crept easily around their form and obscured their features. He was still adjusting to the darkness, so it was probably his fault he couldn't make them out. He blinks, slowly and deliberately. Even that hurt. It burned as much as his legs moving if that was even possible. "Hello." He sounded less cautious than the stranger, but no less wary. Who knew what this world held in terms of threats? He had to be careful.

Mesquite hadn't done anything to anyone, though he couldn't say that was totally true. For all he knew, the fog in his head shielded him from any memory of this place. There was no telling if the stranger saw him, she wouldn't be triggered into attacking him. He'd rather have his back to the wilds than an enclosed space like this cave. He made the decision to move closer. "I'm coming out." He warned the woman as neutrally as possible before forcing his legs forward. Trying to locate her presence in the dark, he veered to the empty space at her side. He was nowhere near her, but also close enough that she could just tilt her head and see him.

He glanced to the side, deeming her unfamiliar to him at first look. The woman was no different than any other greyscale wolf. Mesquite chalked it up anything else to his exhaustion. The inward jump, as if his stomach tried to claw its way up his throat, was nerves. He hadn't encountered any others yet; a little social anxiety was probably common. He attempted to look toward the horizon, refusing to double-take despite a very annoying nagging sensation racing through his system. This may sound strange but... He forced the attempted humor from his next words. "Do... you know where I am?" Because no, that didn't sound strange at all.

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Her ears flickered at the returned greeting, swiveling to focus forwards, listening intently for... anything else. It was odd to not be able to see who she was talking to, hackles bristling in a second-nature sort of way; she was a guard, a warden of the mountain that overlooked this place. She patrolled, made sure that her family and those of Empyrean remained safe, so to be so near her home and to have someone that stood in the gloom... It was unsettling, in a way.

And yet the other wolf, the man, announced that he was going to move closer, towards her, so that he could come out into the light. Or at least closer to the entrance. “Alright. I'll move to the side so you have room,” She would answer, stepping back and to the side just as she said she would. While she did not press herself to the side so that she was as far away as could be, Keres would still give him a wide berth, watching as his form became more and more clear, more visible.

He was not at all familiar to her, not visually anyway, but now that the cave was not reverberating his voice, Keres could not deny that there was something that tickled the back of her mind. A distant memory, a forgotten dream. “I...” Evergreen eyes squinted slightly, staring at the man that created that itch. “Sorry,” She said, coming back to herself. “Yes. This place is called Druid's Dream. The Nameless Mountain to the direct West is where I call home.” And then, she figured out why he'd asked. “Did you just awaken here?”

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He was thankful for the space.

The cave had been a bit suffocating. Air had passed through, but it was heavily filtered by the mossy scent that was amplified by the water's presence. Mesquite's lungs almost burst when he first exited, struck by the cold mountain air despite it being nearly summer. Now that he could see the outside, he angled a guess at the season. Vivid greens played a part in that perception, the lush and full livelihood of the world on full display. He sighed, sounding ragged and unstable at the moment. Grateful, yes, but also exhausted. It was his stupid male pride that refused to show a stranger weakness - else he would have sat down to rest. He really should have. His legs felt as if they could not support his body weight for long.

Yes, this biome was her home. That was clear. Her coat smelt like the mountains. His mind perhaps played tricks on him, for she smelt like spearmint and pine mingled together. Two perfumes that he heavily associated with this sort of area. It could have also been because of her eye color as well. What briefness he took in, that is. Mesquite didn't want to stare, though he thought he saw her do it out of the corner of his eye. The woman caught herself. Seemed something had nagged her as well, but she was too polite to venture forward. He gave a nod, regardless, taking in her words. Druid's Dream. Nameless Mountain. At least his nose worked - the same could not be said of his recovering body.

"Home" He repeats softly. Where was his home? All he remembered were flashes of red and the phantom itch of pain. Cries of despair and howls of agony. He could not tell if they were his own or someone else's. Finally, Mesquite turned his head to look a second time at the stranger. He may be a gruff sort, but he was not rude when aware of it. "Your pack?" He twitched his good ear. She had the scent of others on her coat. Strangers to him, but sharing the same sort of perfume. Family members? If she bled, would she bleed their tears? If one of them fell, would she weep? Or was it a pack of dependence, not blood ties? Something convenient and not bonded. He didn't know, and he wouldn't if she didn't want to share.

"Mesquite" He also claimed after a beat "My name" If it wasn't obvious. She could have assumed he was crazy and started spouting the names of plant life randomly during the conversation. "Yes... I just woke up" He appeared to accept this despite some confusion "I assume that is common here?" The lackadaisical way she said it... How many others had been dragged here?

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She could almost feel the burn in her lungs as she breathed in his scent, feel the way it razed across her nerves all the way to her brain, and the spark that fired along her neurons to pull forward a memory that... seemed unreachable somehow. Hazy. Cloudy in a way that muffled any of the sounds, the words, so that she could not hear them. She remembered a grumbling voice, scars, and... and moonflowers. She could almost... smell them.

They were supposed to go flower hunting, go looking for silvered moondrops he had told her about.

They were supposed to have lessons of him teaching her more about his craft, though she remembered that he hadn't understood why.

And then...

Her eyes refocused before the violence of the memory pushed through so that she could not remember the bear attack.

“Mesquite,” She parroted, thoughtful, confused. Her mouth opened to say something else, to try and recall the name that shifted through all that haze. “I... I'm so sorry... This is such an odd question --

Have you ever had another name?”

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Of all the things to take away from his reply — she had settled on that?

What was further strange — he could not even be truly shocked.

"Not... that I am aware of." It was about as honest as he could ever hope to give. He was very aware of the time he had reached maturity; when memories not his own flashed into his mind. Childhood had been a happy, safe time. His mind did not trick him. It let him feel joy. It even let him love... Though the thought of anything else, remembering anything else, was much too painful. That was not something he wanted to even unwrap, knowing full well he had tried and given up long ago. It was not fair to ask him for any resolution. Mesquite was a gruff and distant man, but his strongest fault was he cared a bit too much about those who weaseled their way in.

And their loss stayed with him. Forever. It was almost sinful to forget about them and move on. At least, that's what he always thought. He was just unaware of how much that reached, and how much it bled and influenced him to this day. So, while he did not scoff at the woman's question, he could not give her a proper answer. If he was ever called something else, he did not remember. Something did not click. Not yet. When it did, would it be welcomed? Or would it be just too painful to deal with? Would he run away again, wandering to forget? Or worse, would he hurt himself to stop the thoughts from coming? It wouldn't be false to claim he had tried a few times, only to lose the nerve.

"And you?" He directed the question back to her "What names do you remember?" She had not even given this one to him. How was he to know if he had ever met her before, without it? Though, this name could not be her true one. For all he knew, she had been given a mask to wear. Maybe... That is why she asked him. Maybe she sought answers too.

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She could not help the way her ears fell. She had been hoping he was who she had thought — remembered? — he was. Why? Why had she hoped such a thing?

She remembered a protective soul, angry at her for a selfless decision,

a healer who somehow made the night terrors stop just by being in presence,

a prickly, tight-lipped man who had curiously found a friend in her, and she in him...

A violent flash of memory -- she stumbled paws shifting to catch herself before she fell -- razed her mind, opening wounds that had only just began to heal over and scar.

A warm morning walk, a patrol, contemplating feelings for a man who had found a trusted place in her life, quickly and without eighter of them meaning to. Talking to... someone about him...

A bear.

And just as the first impact happened in the memory, her flashback stopped, vicious and abrupt.

Keres sat up, realizing that she was somehow on the floor, dazed, confused. How had she ended here? What had happened? Evergreen eyes struggled to focus, struggled to see and find the wolf of scarred blacks and browns, only to find...

“What happened...?”

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"Ma'am —"

He was not quite sure how long they stood in silence. He had been waiting for some reply to his question, even if his own reply was utter crap. She was visibly disappointed in it, and he felt bad for that, but it didn't make the pieces click faster together. It probably would not if he forced it, so why would it when faced with feelings of guilt? He had dealt with it for years. Meeting someone vaguely familiar was not a guarantee.

But he could not help the feelings it was his fault when she started to seize up. He could not help the panic and bile rising in his throat when she took too long to speak. How much time had passed before he reacted? She was already on the ground. No... No. He had moved to her. He had turned to her and demanded his legs to do something. But the moment he moved an inch, she collapsed in front of him. 

Somehow telling himself there was nothing you could have done failed to make him feel better.

He hadn't even been aware he spoke. His lips moved but he didn't know what he said. How pathetic was that? The woman finally regained consciousness and he was standing over her, eyes bulging and body shaking. His face down, looking at her. His lips parted, trying to suck in his breath. Was he having a panic attack? Why was he so goddamn terrified? Even worse, he kept thinking she was somehow mangled and bloody.

And then - 

She went back to the ordinary. No wounds. No blood. She just looked confused. She spoke again and it flashed back. "Urk." He was going to be sick. All he kept seeing was a corpse. His jaws snapped shut, resisting the urge to vomit. Tears burned out of the corner of his eyes, obscuring his already-filtered vision. He knew it wasn't real. The blood and gore — she was intact, right in front of him. He could smell the difference.

But even then it was difficult to stop the constant smell of death, leaking from memory. It was all he smelt. Disgusting. Disgusting.

"Don't do that" How was he even able to speak? "Don't do that." He sounded pissed off, but he wasn't mad at her. He knew that much, even if his voice didn't really convey relief. If anything, he was pissed off at himself though she could probably mistake it as he was yelling at her. His jaws snapped open again, and again as if he was actually trying to bite and tear — but he didn't even touch her.

It was violent in a pathetic way. He made no contact. He just stood there, half-crazed and yelling nonsense. He just kept repeating himself, over and over, and getting more and more pissed off. All the while, switching back and forth. Enough to question his sanity. He just kept seeing her dead, then alive, then dead again. Finally, his mind decided fuck you and she remained dead. If she spoke again, he didn't hear it.

A blessing. Maybe if he had, her dead lips would be the ones moving and that would be enough to send him over the goddamn edge. Though he seemed to have found it just fine on his own. "Don't die on me" He breathed, switching from his repeated phrase into a new one "You can't die on me" He felt like he was going crazy. He wanted to laugh for some reason "Why won't you move?"

—

"Move your fucking body, Keres!"

I thought you were a fighter. Move it, move it! Fight! Survive! Just don't die. I can fix it. I can! Any cut you get, I can fix it. If you're bleeding, I can stop it.

But.

I can't fix death.

What a grim, terrible, and true realization.

Then he was back. She was back. Confused, scared probably, thinking he had gone insane and was going to hurt her in some way. "Urk..." He was going to be sick again. Mesquite backed the fuck up, his face contorted in pain and rage and confusion all mixed together. No one truly won the round for the most powerful emotion. "Why did you leave me, Keres?" And finally, hurt. Feelings of betrayal that he knew didn't make sense. Logically, no one had a choice... No one controlled it. Nobody wanted it.

But he chose it now.

He chose to leave, instead of facing it. Coward! His mind screamed, deep down. A voice not his own, but also familiar to him. Didn't you hope to see her alive again? WHY ARE YOU RUNNING NOW? But he was. Mesquite made one more pitiful strangled sort of noise, half laugh, and half whimper, before taking off. He had turned, and stumbled briefly. Paused for a few seconds then high-tailed it out. Leaving her behind, even if she needed help right now. But, he thought, she wasn't bleeding. She had no wounds. She was fine. She'd live. 

No, he was more scared he'd be the one to inflict pain.

Even if he knew he couldn't.

-exit-

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Shock.

That was what struck her, like lightning, so much so that she couldn't move. Couldn't budge from her place on the ground, couldn't even find the words to speak as he yelled at her before he was stumbling back and racing away.

It dawned on her then, the reason for her freezing like a deer that had heard the soft sound of its own killer.

She had never told him her name.

fade.

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