#//And Lou is the BEST

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

TIMING: October 11th LOCATION: The Pines, near the border to Seven Peaks PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f and Ren (@ironheartedfae SUMMARY: When he doesn’t come home or tell anyone where he is, Ren decides to track down Gael. CONTENT WARNINGS: suicidal ideation

All things considered between the dangers of the town in general and the awful, tar-like sludge that enveloped Worm Row and Gatlin Fields, the forest was rather lovely. Sunshine sparkled through the high-reaching trees, the various greens, yellows and reds blending together and subsequently raining onto the foliated forest floor as a gentle, cooling breeze that carried just enough of a bite to it to be noticeable if one was unprepared for it swept through the branches and boughs. The grass was still soft though it started to take a more obviously autumnal shade to it as it was sprinkled with leaves of varying shapes, sizes and colors.

Nearby the small clearing with its picturesque rays of light that illuminated shimmery molecules that floated in the air was a massive, fallen tree, a hollowed out log where time and age had each and collaboratively feasted on it alongside the many insects that scoured the thriving ecosystem that was housed inside. Moss flourished and blossomed out of the crevices of the log, grateful for the increasing moisture in the air and a colony of mushrooms raised their caps high as they enjoyed the light. On the other side of the same clearing was a small, crystalline stream, glittering and quietly running water from wherever to wherever as it snaked across the ground. It was shallow and could’ve been crossed by stepping over it but it still carried miniscule fish with it, darting around in the chilly water. Next to it was a rather large rock, also coated in moss on one side, speckled several shades of gray and shaped in such a way that it could’ve been used as a surface to place things on, like a plate, basket or even a book or piece of paper. This was where Gael leaned absently. This was where Gael had been for the past four days. Or was it five? He had purposefully stopped keeping track. He hadn’t had his phone on him. He sent exactly one message through a library computer to Regan asking if she was alive but before she could answer, he abandoned it and wordlessly left town. He didn’t want to be in the Pines. He didn’t want to be at home. He didn’t want to be anywhere. He felt like he couldn’t go anywhere. Belong anywhere. The thoughts that plagued his tired mind kept biting at him whenever he would drift off to sleep, shocking him awake with yet another gasp as though he’d been stabbed in a different place on his aching body. And maybe he didn’t deserve to sleep. He really didn’t think he deserved it, actually, not after what he– what had happened that night. Part of him, a little part down in his logic and rationale told him that unless or until Regan was found or even if she made her presence known, that he was innocent until proven guilty. That part of his mind was drowned out in favor of whatever else was trampling through it. He did it. He had to have. Regan Kavangh was dead and it was by his hand. He allowed no room for error of judgment or other possibilities, not with the spiral he was so successfully going down for the first time in his life to the point where he had essentially zero methods to adjust or cope with it. So instead, he sat there, almost motionless for the past however many days it was, the only exceptions being when he would drink from the stream or to get rid of it once it had gone through his system. Sleeping was a luxury only afforded to him when primal exhaustion overrode anything else and even then, it wasn’t for more than a couple of hours at a time, if that long. Gael lay there, torso on the rock as his arms were folded and he placed his chin on them to stare blankly at the stream, gaze half-lidded and perpetually rheumy with thick dark circles around his eyes. 

He had been there for several days. And he could’ve died there in several more. Maybe that was for the best.

—

Plans had been made and forgotten. The first of the nights spent lonely in the house that was not hers without him, Ren lit the fire in the hearth and sat vigil on the couch. The same spot the pair had snuggled up on to read together. Eyes glued to the door, jumping at every notification and growing more fearful with each that was not some sign of life. The nymph knew what the full moon would bring now that she knew what Gael was. Made all the more dangerous by his unwilling denial on behalf of some stupid selfish fae. 

The idea that someone out there still had such a hold on Gael's memory burned in Ren's chest. When she wasn't waiting by the embers of the dying fire she was pacing. Going through the public messages on his page trying to scour them for clues as to his location, or a target for her anger. When time dragged on and still no answer came, Ren gathered up everything she could possibly need, and headed out into the woods. 

Tracking was nothing new. After all, she was raised for it. Sounds, temperature shifts, disturbed insects. All of them painted a picture that pointed her in a direction. It still took a few days, wherever he was, it was far out in the woods. Ren moved silently through the underbrush. It didn't appear as if there were any other tracks alongside the werewolf's, but that couldn't be right, could it? If Gael had been healthy enough to trek all the way out here surely he could have come home instead. It didn't make sense. There had to be something else at play. Maybe some fae messed with his head again, or a siren lured him off with songs of hot coffee and good books. 

By the time she found the freshest of the clues, Ren and her heart were racing. By the time she saw him across the stream… both nearly stopped. All the feelings she'd been pushing down threatened to surface, but her job wasn't over. She had to bring him home. Had to find out what went wrong. And yet, the red head stood stone still. Brows furrowed deeply as she took in the scene. No one else nearby. No obvious wounds. Still he looked disheveled and hurt all the same. Somehow smaller than himself. Stretched too thin. Similar, if she had to guess, to the state Emilio had found her in after the cu-sith. To the one she had been in when she first met Gael too. 

What she learned from both was that this needed to be approached with compassion. It wasn't a problem she could attack with a knife. Wasn't something she could subdue. So Ren moved closer, almost close enough to reach out and touch, but just shy of doing so. Fearful that it was not just sleep that had the man she'd come to care for so much in as sorry a state as he was in. 

"Gael?"

—

Once, as recently as eleven days ago, Gael would’ve curiously turned his head as he heard footsteps rapidly approaching, expression welcoming and a smile on his angled face because he was glad to see who it was, if friendly but even if they weren’t, he was still glad to see them. Once, as recently as eleven days ago, Gael almost thought he was just gifted in another way. Not a braggart, of course (that was reserved for his chemistry and physics knowledge and just about nothing else) but lucky. Blessed, even, with advanced sight, smell and hearing that could let him know how others were feeling, could recognize them as they entered the room. Once, as recently as eleven days ago, he never thought there’d ever have been an aspect to him that was capable of unjustified killing. So as those footsteps rapidly approached, only to stop dead as whoever they belonged to either recognized him or didn’t and were surprised by what they saw, Gael didn’t look at them. If it was Emilio or Kaden, he was ready for an unwanted ‘I told you so’. If it was Alan or Alex, he was ready for a well-intentioned but unrelatable speech about how they’d been doing it for years and that it gets easier. If it was a ranger, they’d have been able to recognize the wretched thing inside him, even if he couldn’t himself, and put him out of his misery. The voice belonged to none of those, as he heard his name, the two simple syllables that used to identify him as himself were called in an accent, a tone, a voice he instantly recognized. And it was one that he realized he had been perhaps avoiding most of all. A soft, yet thick exhale escaped through his nose as he blinked slowly, not turning or even moving to acknowledge her existence. He somehow knew that she’d find him; she was a master of tracking and survival, after all and that just made his stomach twist around itself even more. How selfish of him that he made her come find him. “...Hi, Ren.” Gael finally said quietly, in a voice that hadn’t been used in at least four days, and obviously so as the two syllables of his own were threadbare, raw, scraping together a semblance of sound from the bottom of a barrel. 

—

Ache weighed down the werewolf like an anchor, you didn’t have to be an expert to see it. The way it clung to his skin. Chaining him down to the rocks he lay against. Dashed there like a ship who never even intended to reach harbor. Ren inched closer. Unspeaking. An ache of her own joined from deep in her chest. She wanted to help. She didn’t know how. A mind electric and alive when things needed to be cut down, when someone needed a weapon to dash between life and death. This was— it was a different beast. One far too familiar to the nymph. She’d seen that look, known that pain. It wasn’t an easy thing to carry. 

Slowly, she made her way to his side. Just where they might have settled if this was a couch and not a wet stone in the middle of the woods. Ren gave space for him to breathe, but needed for him to know she was there to help carry whatever burdened him so much. A small hand wormed its way over to his, carefully intertwining, held gently. 

“You–” Words never came easy. Even at the best of times Ren’s voice was a fleeting, stuttering thing. Never quite as confident as the fae wanted it to be. “...do not have to do this alone, you know. Something went bad, did it not? When–” she paused, feeling the translation roll around in her mind. “When it rains, we keep each other dry. Yes?” 

—

She moved closer, but either Gael didn’t have the energy to move or he lacked the common sense to recoil from her, as things that burned should’ve. Uncharacteristic, foreign, animal, just two primal beings out in the woods, in that beautiful, scenic space where he didn’t look at her but he could visualize the way her fire-red hair blazed in the light. Her freckles kaleidoscopic as they dusted her face. Her piercing emerald eyes when they could effortlessly go from wide and intrigued to narrow with a silent judgment as they tried to discern what something unfamiliar was. Was that how she was looking at him, now? Something unfamiliar, not at all what he’d shown her and what she hopefully had grown to know about him? Something that had never once displayed any unprompted aggression towards her but now sat sulking in the forest with the weight of having presumably slaughtered one of his good friends? Did those emerald eyes regard him as what she was always told she was: a monster? Gael felt like there was something tearing him apart, shredding the fabric of his spirit as something with teeth, claws, and murderous intent thrashed wildly in his… what he thought was a human body. Something that she had gotten a glimpse of when they went camping and the cu-sith showed up. She knew what he was better than he did, now. And maybe she always knew. She was perceptive, very intelligent, and knowledgeable. He felt her small hand wriggle into his and at first, he felt that same animal instinct to pull away. It was the same sensation as when Felix offered him their jacket, a show of trust that Gael had torn apart the night before when… whatever happened to Regan happened. And again, whether that was because of the lack of energy or he’d somehow not thought about what he should’ve done, he didn’t. Gael felt her small hand in his and, trembling, he ever-so-gently squeezed it. 

The shifter - that’s what he was called, right? A shifter? - subtly turned his head, still looking out over the stream but now his head was more angled to face in her direction. Barely. “I killed someone.” He whispered, a fresh wave of tears dripping from his red-rimmed eyes, being kept open by willpower and a terror of what would happen if he closed them. “And I don’t remember doing it.” 

—

A confession. Heavy on the lips that shared them. Ren held tight, two red hands in one. She didn’t respond, not right away. Instead, her eyes followed his gaze. Found the stream and watched it flow. Noticing how quickly each fallen leaf was carried on down by the gentle current. A pair of them sat apart from the others. Still joined at the stem. They curled together and bowed apart. Twirling in a rippling eddy that captivated them as much as it did the girl’s attention. 

Fall always seemed such a morbid time. Appropriate then, that such an awful event should occur. He killed someone. But he didn’t remember it. Was that worse, or better? Ren didn’t know. She never knew these things. All she could offer was a ledger just as full of crimson, and the pen that filled the pages. 

“I cannot claim to know precisely what it is you feel. I remember the lives I have taken. But–” The dancing leaves drifted off to the side of the stream, where Ren’s free hand plucked them up and began to examine them up close. Flecks of brown on a sea of gold and orange. Far too beautiful for something that was just rotting away. Life was too fleeting, too short for things like this. For people, those that didn’t carry the burden of time the way nymphs often did. “I am still here. Even if you do not ever wish to go to house. My home… is with you.” 

—

There was another long period of silence between them, their hands intertwined. Gael felt guilt strangling him whenever he wanted to talk, threatening him for daring to make his problems hers. She was so small, so competent and she carried so much weight of her own. She was half his age, a fraction of that when one thought about how much more life she had to live and how this was really the first time she’d actually gotten to enjoy things, human things. Things with other people, enrichments in her life. Things she didn’t need but wanted. The sensation gnawed at his hollow stomach and he felt another contraction work its way up his system, nudging his shoulders forward. He shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have done anything or moved but he did. Gael knew that he was placing Ren in a difficult position, one that she shouldn’t have been in and one that he shouldn’t have forced onto her. It felt unreal, both the interaction with Felix and right now with Ren. He was a dead weight, a useless thing that could never go back to what it was before. Killing Regan wasn’t out of duty or obligation, the way Ren had been taught to murder her own kind. It wasn’t a threat or a promise or whatever had kept Felix in the Grit Pit. It was senseless, blind, as empty as he was becoming as the thing inside him kept ripping him into pieces. Ren had said that her home was with him but he didn’t know if she understood what that meant. More tears forced themselves from him as Gael resisted, resisted, tried to fight against it but he couldn’t and he knew she didn’t like physical contact but he adjusted his position until they were leaning against each other. He felt her lowered body temperature against him. Her fingers intertwined with his. He wondered when the thing inside him would tear her apart, too. He should’ve been leaving her, telling her that she was better without whatever he was, that she was wasting her time and that she still had so much life to experience, so many friends to have… That it was for her own good. That whatever happened, whatever loyalties he had towards Regan didn’t mean anything to the wretch inside him. If the two were even separable. 

Gael felt her body heat. The words she said running in an exhausted loop in his head that pulsed with dehydration. “It’s broken.” He finally replied, his creaking voice thick with phlegm. He turned to look at her at long last, face gaunt, beard unkempt. Eyes sunken, rheumy. An expression that held multiple meanings, none of which were familiar to him. Dark, glistening eyes looked at her, half-lidded. “And the rain comes in.” He sniffed, determined to keep his eyes on her now despite every inflammation in his brain urging him to look anywhere but at her. “I tried. I tried not to let it. “I’m so sorry, Ren.” He shivered an exhale, choking the apology through a sob. “I’m sorry for making you come out here, I’m sorry for– For not… telling you. I’m sorry that I can’t be… what you need me to be. What you deserve.” He lifted her hand and carefully placed another shaking hand over it. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

—

“If it’s broken…” Ren repeated the phrasing, welcoming the pressure against her shoulders as he leaned over. Surprised by it, not that Gael felt the need or desire for it, but that she had missed this so much. “Then we can patch the roof. We can sit until the rain stops.” Metaphors were clumsy and twisted on her tongue, but she remembered so clearly the way he cared for her. The way he took her in. Gave her shelter, gave her space to finally learn what it meant to just be herself. Something she had never dared to dream of before.

“You are in pain. That is– It is–” Her brows furrowed as she fumbled for the right phrasing. For the ideas she was trying to catch up with. “I run off too. When things are much– in here.” Ren gestured to her chest, then to his. Her hand found the place just above his heart, she pressed it there for just a moment before pulling back slightly. “World is too noisy. Too many people to get caught up in something I cannot control. It feels… or it felt… safer when I am–was alone.” The redhead paused, her lips tightly pressed, a thin line of thoughtful contemplation. 

“It is not such anymore. I feel safer when I am with you. So—So you cannot have failed me. This is just… a storm. We will survive the flood together.” Ren hadn’t put together a plan for this. She couldn’t have expected it, even if maybe she should have. There was not much that she knew of werewolves. She knew Gael was one, and she knew that she loved Gael in a way she still didn’t quite understand. In a way that she never felt enough room for in her chest. As much or more, perhaps, than her mother. Lord knows he showed so much more kindness. An infinite expanse of calm compassion that Darya wasn’t even capable of. It was only fair to return some of it. To hold onto his hurt while it was too big to shoulder alone. 

“Do you wish… to talk about it?” That’s what he always asked right? Ren leaned into him, but shifted slightly so she could pull the bag off her back. Fussing with the neatly packed contents, she procured a few things. The blanket, which seemed more necessary to drape over the pair for warmth rather than to lay out below. A sandwich or two, and twin thermoses. One of coffee, one of apple juice. Roles reversed, returning the care he’d taught her to give. 

— 

He felt her effort. He felt her effort and her words and her… Gael wasn’t sure if he’d earned the right to call it ‘love’, even at this point. Things were so fickle, so prone to changing and he felt all of them on his dirt-covered skin, pouring over his heated mind, a gentle coolness to a sickness that held him in a stranglehold. He’d only thought a handful of times about how ephemeral things were, tried as he might’ve to enjoy moments as they happened. Gael wanted to enjoy this. He wanted to enjoy this selfish treasure, the feeling of eating with his little fern in the idyllic grove they found themselves in. He wanted to understand that she knew how he felt; she’d killed many more people and at a fraction of his age, after all. He wanted to feel this potential gravesite morph into one of that ephemeral beauty, another snapshot in his mind that he could draw back on in the middle of the night when he found himself lonely, or afraid, or with a rare self-doubt pestering his mind. But he… couldn’t. Tempting as the offer was, no matter how badly he wanted this, Gael simply hadn’t deserved it. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he could’ve done more to deserve it less. He killed Regan, did nothing while Felix selflessly helped him, took up their space, wasted their food. Even the conversation with Zoey however long ago felt like a fleeting memory of something he didn’t deserve. He didn’t deserve to eat a sandwich with Ren, or go home with her, or… The guilt chewed at his stomach again and he clenched his teeth visibly under the taut skin that stretched across his jaw, hidden under the nest of hair that’d accumulated on his face after over a week of neglect. Did he want to talk about it? No. He wanted to give Ren an excuse that she wouldn’t take, do a disservice to her and stay there until he wouldn’t be anyone’s problem anymore. No more wasted food. No more nosey questions. No more murder that wasn’t his to remember, but his to deal with the fallout and ramifications of. And yet… he felt like he lost both ways, no matter what he wanted and didn’t want. His brow furrowed, he reached up to wipe his watering eyes with the calloused heels of his hands. He didn’t want to talk about it but what he wanted and what he needed were two different things sometimes. “We went… camping.” He loosed an exhale that was accompanied by another sniffle. “We chained me to a tree. Then…” He grunted and Gael pressed his hands to his head as he tried once again to recall something, anything, but of course it was as it’d been every time before. Every time. He shouldn’t have been dumping this on Ren; the poor girl didn’t need it. He was a terrible guardian. “Then I woke up and–” His breath caught in his throat. “I found… the sleeve of her coat.” Shaking hands didn’t know where they wanted to rest or motion to as he wanted to gesture to the chain harness he woke up in, the sleeve of Regan’s coat, the tree with the shattered links scattered on the forest floor. So, instead, he folded them them against his stomach, reeling all over again from the sensation of the memories he was allowed to retain cutting into his body. 

—

As he had done before, she made space for him now. Ren watched and listened. Careful to absorb every detail, to find the missing pieces by cobbling together the context. A hand found his back as he doubled over his stomach. Her thumb rubbed small circles, a comforting gesture she’d picked up from somewhere. Unsure of the origin, but remembering the sensation all the same. Pain had a way of metastasizing, growing into something bigger than oneself. Too big to contain, too strong to hold back. She knew better than most that when it was like this, it was a ride you couldn’t get off of. Thrown around the river rapids by hands that decided where you’d land. Whether it’d be somewhere soft, or against sharp rocks at the whims of a waterfall.  

“But… Gael you went camping with Regan?” The first falter of confusion hit her tone. Had she missed something, or was there more than one other person there? Or was his the context that was missing? “You only found the sleeve, yes?” Hope had found a seed in this line of thinking. One she wouldn’t normally afford the sun needed to gift it life, but this, this was cause for celebration if it was the case, wasn’t it? 

—

The young fae’s hand on his back, rubbing small circles of warmth over one of the many bruises he’d acquired from the heavy chain harness, didn’t assuage the aching in his gut but it did serve its own purpose, each completed circuit seeming to take just a little bit of the overwhelming tension with it. Gael found himself trying again, in vain, to recall anything in the gap of his memory from being chained to the tree, hands behind his back to waking up not chained to the tree and with his hands completely free. Then Ren asked if he had gone camping with Regan. The name that still stung bitterly on his tongue, not belonging in his mouth as though a curse he’d been forbidden from saying due to squandering it. When he tried to visualize what had happened, all he could think of was the sleeve of her stupid puffy white coat with the blood smeared on it. He thought about the way his reality came crashing down around him, about how horrible he must’ve looked, sounded, smelled to Felix. He thought about how Regan’s last moments of life must’ve been full of… Gael didn’t even know. Betrayal? Disappointment? Fear? Before he– Or the thing inside him– His stomach tying itself into knots, Gael pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets once more as though by physically blocking out the light, it would take the negative memories - all he had left of her - with it. “Yeah.” He admitted quietly and with that utterance, he felt another stab of guilt in his chest all over again, a cycle of perpetuated misery, an ouroboros of profound grief that he wasn’t sure how to break out of. 

—

“But–” All at once the excitement burst, it wasn’t often Ren had good news to deliver. “But Gael, she is very much alive!” The nymph practically bounced to her feet. A great smile lit up her face despite the fact that so much concern still radiated off the girl. Her eyes darted frantically around as if she couldn’t quite decide where to place them. “You– You could not have hurt her because she has sent the privateer message to me!” Energy bounced around inside the bug, and her limbs responded in kind. First finding his shoulders for a second to squeeze, then her bag for a second before remembering that her phone died after her third day in the woods. 

Ren turned back towards the direction of town for a second before realizing she did not have any direct evidence to share right away. Had she realized the importance of the frantic seeming message from the banshee, she would have gotten it printed, framed, or completed a fully rendered oil painting even if it would have spared the man any of this pain. 

Knowing he hadn’t actually done such an awful deed wouldn’t fix the week he must have had, wouldn’t change the heartache of thinking he had. Of worrying that it could happen again. But Ren also knew they couldn’t broach that subject further until the fae who had stolen his ability to know was brought to justice. But she could hope it lifted the biggest weight off of his shoulders. 

— 

The shift in energy from Ren was almost tangible how quickly and fervently it had gripped her. She sprang to her feet and Gael’s gaze, sleep-deprived and sluggish, slowly tracked up to see the beaming smile doing its best to convey the sudden sense of ecstasy that washed over her. And then the words she said, after a longer period than necessary, caught up to his mind and his breath seemed to pause in his throat. 

Regan was… alive. 

Gael realized quietly and rather painfully that he wasn’t sure if he would’ve believed this if it had come from anyone else. And a great deal of his insides, the parts that were churning and trying to kill him as he was so sure that he’d done the same to someone else who didn’t deserve it wanted to have him think, feel, trust that she was just saying this to placate him to bring him home to a place that wouldn’t feel right to something like him anymore. But… this was Ren. Ren, the young fae who went out of her way to ensure that people didn’t owe her thanks even if she deserved it in a human way. Ren, who was raised that there were more liars in the world than just fae. Ren, who he sometimes made verbal mistakes around because she took what he was saying too literally or seriously even now. Ren, his little fern, who he trusted with… his life. Who came however many days it was out here in the secluded woods to find him. And she was content to stay with him and the wretched, wrong thing inside of him no matter who it was that he might’ve killed. Which… was nobody. Regan was alive. A shaky exhale heaved his chest and Gael’s vision, his head craned up and looking at Ren with her big smile and elation at being able to say that with no semblance of lying or stretching the truth to make him feel remotely less like a monster, blurred yet again. This time, for the first time in however many days it was since he first aimlessly wandered out into that forest with the intention of never coming home again, it wasn’t from shouldering the immense grief of killing anyone but especially someone he cared so much about. It wasn’t earned, he could feel it, but he couldn’t keep his body from trembling as what felt like relief washed over him. It wasn’t as cleansing as it could’ve been but it didn’t need to be. It was enough to expose a piece of him that he’d covered up with dark, fur-covered hands and shining claws, something he was sure he’d never get to see, deserve, or feel again: Hope. Nostrils flared wildly, a lower lip quivered and the sound that erupted from him this time was a mixture of a sob and a laugh, almost as though he were trying to laugh at how utterly ridiculous and dramatic he had been. It was quickly smothered in more futile gasps for breath, sniffles that didn’t perform their function correctly and in another image, mirroring the one that day with Felix, Gael leaned forward, his hands wrapped around his aching stomach and head bowed and he wept. Unlike the mirror image, though, this wasn’t ugly or loud. It was a restrained, tearful sigh that carried the shape of a smile at the end of it. It was a timid tug on his heart, that small child of hope that held hands with the monster’s and he felt its warmth. It was an emotional release disregarding what the newly-appointed consequences for these selfish actions he’d performed the past however many days were. At least for now. It was an overwhelming sensation that fought the thing that was ripping him apart. 

It wracked his body, peeling pieces of the shell that’d formed around little more than an exposed core ready to burn out as it didn’t feel deserving of life anymore. Gael couldn’t look at Ren but ultimately, as more tears he didn’t have streamed down his face and he faced the ground, he smiled. “Thank you for finding me, little fern.” He said softly, his voice simultaneously dry and yet wet. He knew what that meant to the young fae, but he meant it. He wasn’t sure if he had the capacity not to mean anything he said at this point. “...Okay.” Wherever she was, wherever Ren had ended up during yet another one of his melodramatic outbursts, Gael’s dark-ringed eyes and face stained with tears found her. “Okay.” He repeated. “Let’s… go home.” Whatever came next would come next. Regan’s being alive didn’t fix how wrong his existence still felt, though he still didn’t know what it was. And it didn’t fix how sorry he was, or how Regan and… Ren, and anyone else who interacted with him were still in danger from whatever that thing inside him was. But for today, for now, even… he felt like he could’ve been able to go back home. Home, where Mirabel and Montaña were. Home, where even if they didn’t interact, he could still feel Ren where she belonged, which in turn helped him feel like he belonged. Home, with her. 

—

Cautious eyes watched the waves of emotion wash over the man. Every stage of grief slowly morphing into something resembling desperate relief. It sat like a stone in his chest tied to a hot air balloon up above. Ren wanted to lift the anchor, to let him be able to just soar but there was far too much tangled up inside. Not even the news of his innocence was enough to dislodge the stubborn knots. She could understand that. Each time someone brought a new realization to the fae, she had to wrestle with it. Try and pare it down until it fit within the wires of her mind. 

Not all fae were bad. 

Which meant she had a chance of being good. It meant she had been lied to. About this and so much more. Tiny disruptions to her way of thinking made waves that cast tidal forces on the whole of her being. Chipping away at the wall she had built around her heart. Around the box she placed a certain assumption two hunters had made. If Darya was a liar, she could have been the one to kill Ren’s real family. Still, the fae did not know how either came to such a conclusion. Only that they had done so separate from each other. And that scared her. 

“Yes, please I would– Oh sugar.” The familiar, non-swear surfaced again as a thought occurred to the young fae. She wasn’t the only one out looking for the werewolf. “First we must find Alex.” The sudden burst of giddy glee subsided, replaced with a growing sheepishness. It wasn’t in Gael’s nature to make Ren feel badly about anything like that, but the deeper wounds still gripped against her heart when memories of being reprimanded for such childish outbursts played back in real time.  

“She is also in searching for you. We both became worried when you did not answer. I think Regan must have as well. But she is still within town and not in woods.” 

—

Getting his breathing under control, huffing out breaths through an ‘o’ formed on his mouth, Gael cleared his throat and nodded, again before realizing what Ren had said. “...Alex is out here, too?” He really had been selfish as he wandered out there in the woods. He always talked such a big game about being remembered, about how when Regan was going to leave, that she was going to be leaving a bunch of people who cared about her behind. He’d been so wrapped up in his own despair, his own sudden, crushing feelings of worthlessness and shame that he had failed to practice what he preached. It never once crossed his mind that there would be anyone looking for him, especially people aside from Ren. Ren was the exception; Ren lived with him, knew about him. Ren would do this for anyone, he knew, even for things like him that might not have deserved it (Regan’s being alive, while instantly lifting a weight from his mind, couldn’t keep the rest of him from threatening to drown under the waves of reality that forced him to think that it could happen to anyone, at any time, without provocation or memory). So learning that Alex was out there when she should’ve been with Cass or Alan or Kaden or… whoever else needed her, sent a small pang of guilt through Gael’s weary heart. Regan also… worrying about him felt like something else, something that he wanted to violently reject like blood cells attacking a foreign body. He was almost mad, even if he understood what her worry meant and sounded like. She probably– She probably posted something about how there was a– The word inspired bile in his esophagus, burning. A dog. That’s what he was to her. She probably posted about a dog going missing. But he took a deep, filling breath that rattled something in his chest cavity loose and he regarded Ren softly, gently, tearfully though he was almost certain that was through crying… at least until he saw the worry on Alex’ young face, too. Alex, and whoever else knew, whoever else worried about him without knowing what he thought he did. “Alright.” Moving almost agonizingly slowly - he hadn’t moved at all that day - Gael shakily got to his feet. He ignored the aches, pains, feeling his legs threatening to give out though he couldn’t keep one of his hands from clenching his empty, starving stomach subconsciously. Swaying where he stood, his other hand lazily brushed his long hair from his sunken face. “Let’s go… find Alex. Then we’ll… We’ll go home.” Home. Not somewhere he’d ever think he’d go back to.

—

Sitting or standing, he still looked so much smaller than himself right then. The girl scooped her arm underneath his, supporting his weight with her enhanced strength. The added pressure around her shoulders was welcome. Even more so was the closeness it brought. Ren leaned into it. Squished her cheek against his chest and held tight to his arm like a security blanket. If a few days in the woods had roughed up his smell, then she didn’t notice. It was just… Gael. The same heartbeat, the same warmth, the same shape she’d found herself puzzle pieced into. Not really knowing where she’d be right now if she hadn’t met him. If things had gone in any other direction. 

It was nice, almost, being able to care for him. Gael wasn’t one to show this kind of vulnerability, even when he maybe should have. He taught her that it was okay to need help. To accept it. But the times when he would allow such a thing to even show were far and few between. Made sense that it would all come bubbling up at once. Maybe it was a good thing, in a way. Ren remembered how much she felt like she needed the tears that came when she had first shown herself, her real self to him. Mixed up emotions in a messy heap, but the processing left her better. More in control. 

“You need to eat though. Before anything else. We cannot hike on empty tummies. Unless you know way to make battery from things out here. I brought charger but did not think about how no places would have–” Ren bit at her lip, like that would stop her sudden rambling. Gael might know how to do something like that. He was always showing some interesting science tid-bit that she just ate up. Found fascinating in a way nothing else really ever captured her attention except perhaps art. An Onion, he mentioned one time, could be used to create an electric current. She didn’t bring any onions, but they did occasionally grow in the wild. If not them, then their cousins. 

“Do you wish for the coffee? I do not know if it is as good as yours but I followed the way you prepare it on fancy machine. Though it is perhaps cold now.” Her free arm went fishing in the backpack again, pulling out the thermos for a second time. Maybe he’d feel more like eating now that he wasn’t– well, wasn’t wallowing in the pit of thinking he was a murderer. An understandably hard swamp to escape from. 

— The shifter, even after their discussion and months of what they’d been through, wasn’t expecting her to so readily place herself under his arm and for a moment, his mind flashed with memories he did keep, those memories he stored like photographs and looked fondly on. Gael thought of their first interaction online. Of the vodnik, the puddle, the rain and when they both got ‘attacked’ by the glitter that was on his couch. He thought about her showing him her ‘true form’, which was small and cute and unusual though she hated it and how she looked different and might’ve been different but it was still Ren.

He thought of the picnics. He thought of the first time he showed her apple juice. He thought about how relieved he was when she came home after missing herself for about a week, and how his own insecurity and desire to protect her were incompatible and instead of finding her himself, as she’d done with him, he left it to Emilio. But it was important to remember the bad memories too, because even bad ones still existed. They’d had a couple of disagreements, a few ideas that had to be worked around. He would find small animals that had escaped from her eager hands underfoot or, more unfortunately, in the jaws of one of the kittens and he had to gently discuss those things with her.

But those memories were theirs. And she was there today, physically, coming to bring him home. Offering to let him lean on her. For a moment, just a brief moment, Gael leaned forward, closed his eyes and placed his face in her hair. He smelled her scent through the forest, the dirt, the days she spent getting to him. He breathed deeply and a faint smile, exhausted and thin but sincere, found its way onto his features. Then gently, ever so tenderly, he kissed her head. ‘Thank you for finding me.’ He wanted to say but he didn’t want to make her feel any more awkward - she’d already done so well, stepping far outside her comfort zone for him. So that’s what he said with the kiss, speaking without words.

He didn’t know if she would get that interpretation but it just felt right. And speaking of things that felt right… “You’re right. No use hiking on empty stomachs.” He stayed close to her, in turn curling the arm that was over her shoulders, gently, comfortingly but not to the point where he couldn’t breathe, move or disengage if she wanted. His other hand went from grappling his stomach uselessly to taking the thermos from her, holding it out so she could unscrew the lid for him. “And any-temperature coffee made by you sounds exactly like what will help my battery.” He glanced down at her, quirking one of his eyebrows. “And maybe a sandwich.”

Things would never go back to normal. Not quite, not with the way he left them and with such horrifying gaps in his memory. What his mind could put in place of those gaps. The rabid thing inside him that would destroy everything Gael, the human, knew and loved.

But with Ren, with Alex, with Alan and Felix and Monty and… possibly even Regan (if she would ever accept his apology) there, all of them abnormal themselves, letting him into their lives, maybe normal wasn’t something that needed to be gone back to. Maybe this was the new ‘normal’.

The thoughts were too complicated for the shifter’s low-energy brain. For now, he did just want to sit in that beautiful glen and eat food that his little fern made. Two of each thing because she knew she was going to find him.

[adamsadministration]

Lou Wilson is America's Sweetheart

[quiddie]

Someone warn Lily Du - there’s a coupe d’état (pun absolutely intended) coming 😈

[disastergoose]

OH MY GOD also check out what @cherubeck made for me!!!!!!!! for my bday!!!!!

[generallyjl]

the lady said butthole, Sam.

[jdmara]

i've always loved the way they love

[under-your-floorboards]

Will is actually really into morbid curiosities and vulture culture. He likes bones, alright? And he already canonically listens to true crime podcasts. I bet when he originally saw Nico he was just excited for the possibility of someone he could talk with about bones and myths and murder cause there’s certainly no place for that in the Apollo Cabin. That’s also how he and Lou Ellen became good friends, because Hekate is also a big symbol in death (triple goddess of life, death and rebirth) but her fixation is on mushrooms and moss, so they spend hours talking about natural decomposers. He’s able to name any bone, human or animal, and she can name most non-flower plants, ESPECIALLY fungi, so they have a mutual respect bond. Both of them know random facts about really niche beetles and other insects, especially if they are also decomposers. This slowly transitions to include Cryptids and folklore legends, it’s their favourite. They have plans to go to the mothman festival together sometime and they’re both dragging Cecil along (and eventually Nico when Will and him get together). They’re definitely the kinds of best friends to road trip and go camping or ghost/cryptid hunting in the woods. (They’re kind of sad once they realise some of those myths might actually just be greek monsters considering their demigod heritage and how much has already proven to be real.)

[theresoneicouldcallking]

okay so can we all agree to be grown ups after tonight's episode?

if we don't get bi buck; don't go after the cast

if we do get bi buck but it's ambiguous; don't go after the cast

if we get bi buck but it's tommy-centered; don't go after the cast

if we get bi buck and there's nothing that points to eddie feeling the same way; don't go after the cast

if we get bi buck and somehow they go all in with buck/tommy; don't go after the cast

in short; DO NOT GO AFTER THE CAST because i'm going to assume you're a grown up too and you love the cast and they are not responsible for the scripts

[kwillow]

As an eligible young noble of no small fame, Ambroys had a number of arranged courtships and suitresses in his youth, but any nascent marriages always fell through.

It's not that he didn't try; he certainly knew how to court a lady (perhaps too well, according to many fathers and husbands), and when he lacked knowledge on the affairs of womens' hearts, he sought counsel from a young woman who was a dear friend of his (perhaps too much counsel, according to his own father). Nonetheless, all he garnered for his efforts was separation after separation.

Ah, well. Maybe it was for the best.

[ebaywolfplush]

I never see anyone talk about these lou rankin friends stuffed animals but they're so baby that every time you make eye contact with them "i bet on losing dogs" plays

[ophernelia]

@imogencrnza: it was hard getting them all to behave for a picture.

[purgatory-jar]

Who's excited for tonight's episode???? I am!!!

A lil bit of buck/tommy as a good luck charm for tonight!

*

Want something like this? Commission me here: x

[sweeneydino]

Just a usual adoption, nothing else.

[novathena-og]

[pezhead]

IDK... I just wanted to try drawing Rise Splinter

[embraceweird]

I love Ally's "hey girlie" moments, it's iconic but it is so funny to hear the other intrepid heroes get in on the bit (ie Riz freaking out or antagonizing Brennan) because they say it so seriously (especially Lou)

Ally✨heyyyy girlie✨

Lou 😠girlie😠