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threepandas · 3 months ago

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Bad End: Preserve Us

You know how in conservation biology you sometimes try to introduce a pair to be mated and one will just... just fuckin' merc' the other? Just absolutely obliterate them in a hissing, growling, nightmare ball of fury? Before anyone can stop them? Territorial and (to put it lightly) "uninterested", dispite your desperate desire to save their species from extinction, and need for them to get frisky?

I know.

Holy SHIT do I know.

There's a lot of reasons. Ways you can (hopefully) get around it. But first? Is finding out WHY it happened. Was it just the one? The environment? Were they sick? Or... as is the case sometimes, did they decide their Handler was their mate? Some species only mate once. Are loyal for life. You gotta work around that.

Which is all well and fine and good.

When we're talking about ANIMALS.

Non-sentient, non-sapient animals! Not ALIEN SPECIES! What the ABSOLUTE FRESH HELL did they expect from me!? Compliance?! This was UNETHICAL! Monstrous! I had been trying to slip my gaurds long enough to radio for help SINCE I GOT HERE.

I hope the fuckers ROTTED in whatever their Gods considered a Hell.

"Conservation facility" my ENTIRE ASS. You can't run CONSERVATION EFFORTS like this on SENTIENTS. Eugenics loving, atrocity fetishizing, immoral BASTARDS!!! And they KNEW it too. They HAD too! Or they wouldn't be HIDING it! Fucking KIDNAPPING scientists! Biologists! Doctors!

I was on my ways to study Lekku monkeys!

God...

I'm? I'm so tired of being pissed.

Furious and outraged and SCARED. Horrified and sick. There are PEOPLE here. Kids! And I don't... oh god, I don't... H-How LONG has this been going ON? Why did no one NOTICE?

Every day I feel my heart break. The desire to scream and scream and never STOP, grow inside me. I have to get out. I have to get us ALL out. Get these people FREE. Do SOMETHING. But I am forced to "conserve" the species assigned to me. The group assigned to me.

It's killing my love for the field. Making a mockery of everything I worked for.

I don't... I don't think my hands will ever be clean again.

But I have to help. Do everything I can. Make hell a little kinder, if nothing else. At least while I figure out a way OUT. My group deserves better. The groups I do not work with, deserve better.

I disguise games as "testing". Pages and pages of meaningless numbers ans scores. INSIST that enrichment is the key to success. Diet is EVERYTHING. Oh, and habitat? Well unless we can mimic their habitat there's no WAY they'll "breed".

No, no, using machines would stress them out too much.

It's like you DONT want babies!

Who's the expert here? That's RIGHT! Dr. Cho, but FAILING her and like five other people? Me. And I know for a FACT they are pulling the same scam. We ALL fucking hate you. Dr. Cho has KIDS, you FUCKS. Hasn't seen her son in YEARS thanks to you bastards. He was engaged. She's probably missed his WEDDING thanks to you!

Getting distracted, spiraling again, gotta stop DOING that.

It wont help anyone.

But God, if my brain doesn't slowly feel like it's shorting out the longer I'm here. Stress is called the silent killer for a reason. Or what that something else? Fuck. I can't even look it up! Bastards cut us off from the galactic web. Full information blackout. Because of COURSE they did... can't risk us rightfully calling for help.

Getting the Feds involved to shut this hell pit of a black site DOWN. Or a "whatever it truely is" site. Because it sure as SHIT has nothing to do with conservational biology. Except maybe the abuse of it.

But that doesn't help me right now.

Focus, damn it!

The Yanderens. Old, absurdly rare, nearly extinct, with a home planet they'd reduced to uninhabitable wastelands millennia ago due too... something. No one knew what. There had definitely been fighting. It WAS documented they were excellent fighters. Ruthless ones at that. But it was ALSO documented they strongly pack bonded.

There had been a lot of strongly worded warnings on what few documation my captures were able to find, translate, then shove at me. But honestly? They said the same thing about humans. Ooooh big scary persistent hunters~ oh nooooo! Watch out for the omnivores with a history of war! Sins of the father and we are defined by our diets! Class systems! Let's all JUDGE each ooooootheeeeer~!

Yeah, no. Not buying it.

Especially when the "warnings" were so damn vague and poorly documented. All "the HORRORS!" and "we barely SURVIVED!". Cause honestly? The Yanderens I was watching over? Easily the most mild and temperate individuals I had ever met. No tantrums from the kids, no big emotional meltdowns, just curiosity and at WORST? Mild frustration.

It made everything ten thousand times worse for me, that these poor people were in this hellish place. They were calm. Curious. Meant for greater, BETTER things! They should be out, playing and learning. Exploring and enjoying peaceful strolls in some art gallery or zen garden somewhere! Not... not this sterile fucking LAB.

But then M-17 loses his SHIT.

And now I'm kinda panicking. Because F-6 is not just dead, God rest her soul (she didn't deserve this. Oh god. She was so SWEET.), but M-17 might just be too, soon. If I can't find out what HAPPENED. Because if he's "feral" or "diseased" or whatever other horrifying terminology they end up using? They DO something about it.

And I can't actually stop them.

I... I don't know if it was a trauma response. Or I did something wrong. I could PROBABLY pass it off as my needing more studies into their observed "mating habits"? That... that I somehow... turned it... uuuuh... dominance battle? Shit. Where are my notes?!

F-6 is DEAD and its all my fault.

She was such a cuddle fiend too. Always excited to hear about my studies, from before. My life. Wanted to join me after we got out of here. I never should have let her volunteer. Granted, she wouldn't have taken no for an answer. Wanted to spend the pregnancy plotting our escape. Asked me to help raise the kid once we got out. Had a whole grand plan. But I...And I...

God...

I should have said NO. Insisted. It was just so hard, when F-6 had made it all sound like it would be okay. Like she had a plan and all I need to do was trust her. Believe in her. Then we could be free.

I had hoped M-17 would work best. He was always the most agreeable and quick on the uptake. I figured... well... ha ha. God, I'm such an IDIOT. I should have CHECKED. Who KNOWS what happened before I arrived? What triggered I just accidentally rammed my foot into? FUCK! I sweep everything from me desk onto the ground. Don't give I shit that I'll have to clean it up later,

I had figured M-17 would be COOL with it.

This place is getting to me, isn't it?

Why the FUCK would anyone be COOL with getting jumped? Bred like an animal? Shoved in some random ass room, with a vaguely familiar stranger, and told "now fuck. We want a literal litter from you two"? All while some biologist watchs and makes god damned NOTES!?

Of course he fought back. OF COURSE he didn't stop!

The only one there he could trust was himself.

I...I'm becoming a monster... aren't I?

Oh god.

At least we're in the satellite facility. The gaurds are definitely going to rat me out, but the news will take time to filter back. And... and the Yanderens being so "dangerous" might work in my favor. I... I can spin this. I HAVE to spin this. I can't let TWO people die for my fuck up.

I promised myself I would get as many people out as I could. I refuse to back out now. Even if that means crying, puking, then going out there to lie my ASS off. This was TOTALLY NORMAL. In fact, expected! Yep! It means that's we've determined that M-17 is the alpha Yanderen! A thing that is both REAL and possible to BE!

I rinse my mouth, stomach empty. Crying has exhausted me. But I can't give up. Too many lives count on me now. I... I wish so badly I was just a nobody again. Just some random biology student, trying to make a name for herself. Being "important" is a CURSE.

I try not to chug my water as I half stumble out of the glorified shoebox that is my bathroom into the much larger and Fancier CLOSET that is my room. Truely, no expense spared, for the captives they ripped away from their lives. So glad I am here willingly and of my own volition.

I gather myself. Finally ready to go and try to untangle the mess I have made of everything. When a deep booming alarm rattles my bones. The lights flickering to red. Blast doors slide down, SLAM shut over the transparent recessed bit of wall that counts as my window, the door to the rest of the facility.

Trapping me inside my small room.

Almost immediately after, an EXPLOSION rocks the world hard enough to knock me from my feet. Only the bed's limited padding keeping me from a nasty concussion. The edge of it still ramming painfully into my shoulder. Another explosion. Then another. I sit for a long, terrible, second stunned.

The moment passes.

I scramble on my hands and knees for the in facility communication device that I had knocked from my desk in anger, grief. Not daring to stand lest I be thrown down again. I manage to find it as the world shakes again for the fifth time. Followed by what sounds like gun fire out in the halls.

I fling myself back towards my shitty little bunk. Drag every bit of padding and protection I can, down and under it with me. If the roof goes? I want shock absorption. If shots get through the door? I want something to slow those blasts down. Anything. ANYTHING! To increase my fucked chances of surviving.

I burrito up and wriggle back as deep as I can. The world muffled but ending just outside my crawlspace. Then I desperately try to get one of the others on the line. I got nothing but chaos. Running. Running. Hiding. And Dead.

Dead. Dying.

Remember me.

And GONE.

Some of them fighting with their groups too freedom. Some being targeted right along side their captors. Others savaged by the ACTUAL animals they had been working with, the one's Galacticly deemed too dangerous for effort like this. Someone or something had set EVERYONE free. A simultaneous attack on all fronts that our captors could not put down or escape.

The Yanderens were out there.

Oh god. Please let them be okay. They wer-

My thoughts ground to a halt as M-32 LAUNCHED his tiny body onto the screen of one of the security feeds I was desperately looking through. F-6 had figured out how to get us a backdoor to them a long time ago. M-32 was just a kid. A small, soft, cuddly little thing that loved to lean against me and crawl into my lap. All cherubic cheeks and cute little curls. Shy!

Yet I watched... in mounting horror... as like a lion on some unfortunate animal, he landed on a gaurds back. Small arms going around his body in a mockery of a hug. Head tilting so he could BITE at the back of the man's neck, small hands clawing and ripping at weak points in his armor, as he screamed. Thrashed. Tried desperately to get M-32 OFF of him.

There was so much blood.

My hands were shaking. So much, I accidentally hit the next screen button. Jerked my thumb back. But... but oh god. There was F-26. Using the butt of a rifle to slam down against the head of a scientist. Again and again and again. Long after the begging and thrashing stopped. I flipped again. M-4? No... please not M-4. Not the soft spoken and wise...

I watched as he grinned, a cold thing, and shot out another joint. His foot on the chest of the head scientist who had moved him to a different group. In the background, his supervisor lay dead. They had not died quickly. The head scientist was begging. A mess of tears and pain. M-4 shot another joint, pressing his foot down harder.

I wanted to be sick.

I flipped again. And again. And AGAIN.

H...Had I known them at ALL? Like demons wearing the faces of those I'd known. People I'd trusted. Not a SINGLE ONE was... oh... oh god. F-6. Had she been too? Would I have ever known? Was THIS what all those warnings meant? I couldn't think. Couldn't breath. Had... Had never had a panic attack but... BUT-!

I wheezed.

Shook.

"Oh, Clever giiiirl~" A familiar voice sang, before a blood splattered face flickered into being on the screen in my hands. "Where aaaare yoooou~?"

M-17. He'd somehow managed to take over the security cameras. That or the communication feed. His eyes were bright. A grin on his face like I'd never seen from him. ALIVE in a way I'd never seen him. The excitement transformed his face. No longer softly doll like, but something DANGEROUS. Unhinged. His eyes dilated and deadly teeth on display.

"Come out, come out wherever you aaaare~. I have so much to TELL you! We have so much to DO! I'm going to make you MINE sweetheart! No one else can have you. So come out. I won't hurt you much, I promise! Just gotta make you mine then we can leave okay~?"

Furious snarls echoed through the halls. Male and female alike. Old and young. I... I recognized each of those voices. What was HAPPENING?

"Aaaah? Did you TRASH really think you DESERVED her? Ha! Please." M-17 grin was cruel. Mocking. "You don't have a chance in hell of taking what's MINE."

His eyes seems to shift away from unseen enemies and back, somehow, to me. Warming to something euphoric. Resting his head on his hand as if to consider me. His fingers spread, stroking his own face, as if the desire to TOUCH was simply too great. As if what he was imagining was bleeding over into the real world.

"Oh clever girl~ my clever, clever girl~♡ I can't wait til it's just you and ME. Start think of where you want to go first, okay? We're going to get married. Have that child you wanted me for. All the things you ever dreamed~♡ I'm going to have you all to myself. No more annoying others. Ah~ can't wait to find you soon!"

"But first?"

"May the best of us Win."

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lefaystrent · 7 days ago

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In the Frostweald Forest

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic Moxiety, Patton/Virgil

Summary: On the night that Patton overhears that his parents intend to sell him to pay off their exorbitant debts, he runs away to a place where no one will be able to find him.

A cursed wood of eternal winter awaits.

AO3 Link: click here

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On the night that Patton overhears that his parents intend to sell him to pay off their exorbitant debts, he runs away to a place where no one will be able to find him.

The pine forests outside of his village are cursed. As the story goes, an elemental behemoth known as Errevon invaded through a rift from the Elemental Plane of Ice. Along with his army and a white dragon, Errevon sought to encase the continent in an eternal winter. Stories say he even constructed a towering ice citadel in the middle of the continent to act as his fortress. But the elves of Syngorn and the dwarves of Kraghammer allied with humans for the first time, and they beat him and his army back and closed the rift.

Hundreds of years later, the scars remain.

Most of the year, the Frostweald Forest is blanketed in snow. Even in the summer months, the woods are home to a bitter cold. And if that isn't enough to deter people from traversing inwards, the monsters would make any fool regret entering.

Patton wonders what monsters he may encounter as he crunches through the thin-layer of snow in the dead of night. His boots slip on frost patches occasionally, and he struggles with the rucksack hanging from his shoulder. He doesn't know why he brought supplies, as if he actually thinks he'll survive out here for longer than a day. He's never set foot within the Frostweald. Most sane people don't.

He doesn't feel entirely sane at the moment. He tried to be a good son. He thought his efforts counted for some measly crumb of worth. That if they could not love him as parents should, that he could still find ways to not be a burden.

Instead, he overheard that he is worse than a burden. He is collateral.

Selling people isn't legal. He could have gone to the authorities. But the thought that no one would believe him... Or if his parents managed to sell him before that, and what these unknown people would do to him...

If Patton is to suffer or die, he will choose how. Of course, maybe he doesn't have to die. Maybe he could have run to a different city. He envisions the relief of making it to the coast and bargaining for passage on a ship to flee the continent. He could start a new life abroad.

The thoughts, imaginary or not, melt into his bones thick and heavy. What could have been meets reality. It croons in his ears and tells him to just stop walking. Lay down on the cold, wet ground and let the forest eat him alive. What good can someone like him do anyway? Isn't that why he came here instead?

And yet, he walks on, a meager sack on his shoulders and a weary hope in his heart.

***

Surprisingly, Patton survives more than a day.

Most of the snow thaws gently in the high noon sunshine. The wind remains, lashing at Patton's face and surely turning them ruddy. He tugs his threadbare coat close and minds where he walks, wary of stepping on more mundane dangers such as sinkholes or snakes. The more prevalent dangers prowl more openly, and Patton is quick to duck and hide when he catches sight of beasts. He crawls into rotting logs or burrows into dead leaves. Anything to mask his presence.

A couple of times, he spies humanoid figures walking through the brush. He can't be sure what they are. They could be fae. There's a portal to the Feywild said to be lurking within these woods. Patton shudders to think what they would do to him if they found him, or if he accidentally fell into the portal. He pays special attention to erasing his breath in those moments.

Stay still. Stay quiet. Stay alive.

The woods are barren of signs of life. Not because nothing is living out here, but because all the prey know better. Birds do not sing, and the fear of discovery discourages Patton from so much as humming. The incredible hush could make a whisper sound loud. It's not all bad though. Aside from the eeriness, the forest is beautiful in its own way. He likes the large pine trees and holly bushes and snowdrops. He finds edible berries, or he thinks they're edible, and he collects them as he goes and hopes it doesn't kill him later.

Eventually, he comes across a spider's den. It's a large cavern entrance draped in gossamer webs. With the size and volume of the silky strings, Patton thinks there must be either one huge spider or numerous small ones. Perhaps both. Either instance is nightmare fuel.

The most crucial observation is that the area around here is relatively bereft of other creatures. It could be that this is the biggest predator in the vicinity and everyone else acknowledges that this is its territory. It's almost peaceful here. It would be nice if Patton could ask the spider if he could move in next door. He would promise to be as unobtrusive as possible, if he could just have a safe little hidey hole to live in.

Patton nearly laughs. If he so much as looked at the spider, he would run screaming. Nothing scares him more in this world than creepy crawlies that have too many legs.

It goes to show you though, how different you think you would react in a situation versus how you actually do react.

Because the spider returns to its nest while Patton hides in the bushes nearby debating his next move. It is tall, at least by ten feet, probably more, and even wider. Its legs bend and move in hairy symmetry. And the oddest part is that it's not completely spider. Atop the front, the spider's body changes into a human torso, arms, and head. It's a pale human top with a black spider bottom. It's an intriguing horror and Patton can't tear his eyes away.

The spider person walks towards the cave entrance, unhurried and carrying a bundle of something in its arms. Their arms? Could this be a regular person that was cursed? Or maybe it's a creature from the Feywild. Can they talk? How intelligent can they be? What does something like that eat?

As Patton contemplates, his body-which he had been so observant in not moving a muscle-betrays him and he sneezes before he can smother the action.

The spider startles and drops the bundle. It hits the ground with a weak thud, like cloth or similar material. The face, a human face, looks in Patton's direction. And their eyes– Gods above, there are too many eyes– they look at Patton, straight at him, and there's realization igniting there.

Patton's cover is blown. He can't find the will to scream or run or plead for his life. If the spider person were to charge him and cut him down, he would go into death silently.

But the spider doesn't charge at Patton. They skitter back, almost diving into the cover of the cave before remembering their bundle and freezing for a moment. Two moments. Glancing between Patton and the bundle as if weighing their options. Then the third moment hits and they scurry forward again to snatch it up and dart away, disappearing into its own hidey hole.

Patton lingers for a while. A part of him is convinced that if he doesn't move, that means he was never seen. Mostly though, Patton runs the memory of the incident over and over in his mind.

Why did the spider person look so scared?

***

Against his better judgement, Patton does in fact set up camp in the spider creature's territory.

There's a lot of reasons he justifies it. Again, he tells himself that this could potentially be safer than other areas of the forest. If he can just stay hidden from the spider, then he won't have to worry about anything else in the spider's territory. Another reason he thinks is that at least this monster is half human. Half-people can be reasoned with, right? More so than full monsters. If Patton is confronted, he might can plead his case. Better yet, maybe Patton can prove useful to the creature in some way? Failing that, the spider probably won't eat him, just drain his blood. That would be a kinder death than most out here.

But the real reason? Patton is curious.

Does the spider person live alone? How long have they lived out here? Do they get cold? Or lonely? Can they talk? Why didn't they hurt Patton? Why did they look at him like that?

As the days pass, Patton theorizes on the spider's existence. It's a lovely distraction from the cutting cold and aching hollowness inside. Patton is not brave enough to confront the spider and confirm his theories. But he can still think about it all he likes.

The spider either does not realize Patton has become their neighbor or doesn't care enough to do anything about it. Patton found an outcropping of rock that buffers nicely against the wind, and it's hidden enough amongst the vegetation. No critters or spiders alike have bothered him, so maybe it's simply that well-hidden.

Patton eats the berries he collected and doesn't die. He finds a freshwater stream with fish and constructs a trap to nestle in the current. He finds some regular animals trapped in webs. Patton doesn't touch the fresh ones, but the ones already drained of blood? He figures their bodies have been abandoned and should not go to waste. He skins hides from deer and rabbits, and he breaks off antlers to use for crafting.

He survives.

He survives until he feels like he wants to live again.

There is plenty of timber around to use for construction. Patton brought a few tools from home and there are some he's made here. He stays busy by building small pieces of furniture to make life a little more hospitable. And when he's not doing that, he whittles. It's something that he did before, to calm himself, and it's a good reminder that he can find beauty anywhere.

Patton carves a little wolf statue. It's howling at an unseen moon, and he wishes he could at least paint it, but he's proud of it regardless.

Throwing caution to the icy wind, Patton takes the wolf to the spider's den and leaves it outside the entrance. The spider doesn't see him this time, or if they do, they certainly don't come out. Patton hopes that they may accept his offering as a sign of peace.

Occasionally, Patton does see the spider out of their cave. It's inevitable; he's in their territory after all. Patton never forgets this fact. Constantly, he checks over his shoulder for danger. If not from the spider, there are rare instances where neighboring monsters encroach. Patton becomes and expert at hiding and holding his breath. No one seems to notice him. The spider doesn't look his way again.

Patton shapes a duck figurine next. Then a moose. Then a bear. Pretty much going from animal to animal. He continues to take stupid risks and leave them outside the spider's den.

Notably, Patton never glimpses his previous gifts. They are always gone the next time he sneaks by with the next one.

When Patton goes to sleep at night, he likes to think that the spider has collected them all and keeps them on a shelf somewhere. He wonders if the spider looks forward to each new one as much as Patton enjoys leaving them. And on the nights he lays awake, when the shivering becomes too much and his teeth chatter so hard they rattle his skull, and when the hollowness eats him from the inside out, he weeps alone and imagines the spider as a friend who would spare him a kind word or two.

***

Weeks into his new existence, Patton discovers his generosity repaid.

He's just returning from a successful trip to the river. He's been gone awhile. Although the stream isn't that far, it's made more difficult to get there while trying to stay as stealthy as possible. Patton doesn't mind the difficulty. He's not got much else going on in his life. Nothing to rush back home to. No one to miss him.

As he approaches his camp sight, he notices something shiny hanging from a tree limb. It's almost directly in front of where he ducks to pass into his hidey hole of a home. There's no more prominent spot that a person can pick that screams, "Hey, look at me!"

Patton looks to find that the shiny thing is a necklace. The necklace string is some kind of strong, smooth white fiber, and the adornments hanging from it are a series of small rocks. Some of them are gemstones, an emerald here, a sapphire there, while the rest are unidentifiable, yet very pretty stones. It's not the kind of jewelry Patton would normally see people wear, well-off people or otherwise. There's no real design to it other than a bunch of pretty rocks strung together with no rhyme or reason.

It's absolutely gorgeous and Patton adores it.

He begins wearing it every day. The stones click wonderfully together against his collar, muted under the cover of his shirt, and they are smooth under his hands whenever he fiddles with them or simply holds them for comfort. If there are any illusions as to the purpose behind the necklace and why it was left for him, they are dispelled as Patton finds more items. He leaves his camp, or he goes to sleep, and whenever he returns or awakens, he'll find there at the same pine tree a silk embroidered scarf, or fur lined coat, or a basket of fresh strawberries.

There's only one entity that Patton is aware of that shares a home in this area of the woods. One that could move about this frequently in the spider's territory. The spider themself may never have been seen leaving the gifts there, but Patton knows in his heart that it must be them. Patton's carved figurines were not a waste of effort. They did not disappear in disdain. They were cherished so much that the spider wanted to return the favor.

Patton accepts the gifts with dizzying happiness. He keeps the cycle going and leaves the spider a miniature rocking horse. The spider next leaves a bundle of flowers that could not possibly have grown in the Frostweald.

The next step would be to thank the spider in person, but Patton isn't brave enough for that yet.

But maybe one day, he will be.

***

The night before an incoming storm, Patton finds one of his most favorite gifts: a practical, yet beautiful blanket. It's a lovely work of crochet, black and white diamonds stitched on the top of it and smooth and soft to the touch. Underneath is fluffy wool lining. It's wonderfully thick and warm, and it fills Patton's heart with joy that someone is looking out for him.

He pictures it, the spider looking up to the skies, seeing the clouds loom overhead and the winds picking up. How the temperature already drops at an alarming rate, and the spider surveying it worriedly while thinking of what they can do to keep their human neighbor comfortable through the storm. Because a storm is surely approaching. Patton's shelter has improved by leaps and bounds these past weeks, but the weather has been admittedly docile. He's not sure how it'll hold up against bludgeoning gusts of ice. The blanket will make things more bearable, certainly. He will have to make something extra special next to repay his friend.

Shortly after nightfall, the winds begin to howl and something patters the ground outside. Tiny flecks of hail at first that seem to grow in size, the weight of them intimidating in their clamor. Patton doesn't dare peek out to confirm it, but he can hear it well enough. He hunkers down deeper in his coat, his scarf folded around his face, and curls up into a ball under the wool blanket and various other hides he's made a pallet from.

It's freezing, brutally so. This is by far the coldest night he's experienced thus far in the forest. It will be a long night of shivering with no rest. He even made sure to eat and drink very little before bunking down for the night. He would hate to have to take care of bodily needs somehow in the middle of all this.

There's a makeshift door that Patton built a while back to fit the entrance. Another animal hide has been utilized to cover one side of it, twine sewn in to tie it to the surface in hopes that the cold air cannot seep through. The wind beats against the structure now, and Patton prays it will hold. It's already tough enough. He's scared he'll be at risk of hypothermia if the door flies off.

Much like most nights, Patton takes solace in thoughts of his spider friend. He wonders how they are fairing through the storm. Do they get cold? Do they get scared? What does the inside of their cave home look like? Is it safe? Is it warm?

Patton wishes at times like these he could cast magic. Not many people in his village could, but a few could do some cantrips. Minor spells that could change their eye color or snuff out a candle. There was one girl who lived there for a few years as the carpenter's apprentice, and she could make little flowers and fruit grow out of nothing. She gave Patton a handful of grapes. It was the first and last time he had tasted them.

Strange that he thinks of home fondly in times like these. There were simple comforts and brief acts of kindness that Patton treasured. He wouldn't be wishing he could summon fire if he had a proper hearth. Maybe being sold to slavers wouldn't have been so bad, if they at least gave him access to a fireplace.

Patton chuckles. Is that all it would take for his resolve to crack?

No, he's just miserable right now, that's all.

And in that misery, he hears something awful that has him bolting upright on his pallet.

It's an echoing cry that breaks the night and overcomes the sound of wind and ice. It is haunting as it is terrifying. Patton has never heard such a sound. He can't fathom what it could be until after it stops and starts again.

Wolf. The wind isn't the only thing howling out there. But what could make one sound like that?

Patton wraps his blankets more securely around himself, but he can't manage to settle his nerves enough to lay back down. He sits perfectly still, ears prickling and waiting for each throaty howl. It's far enough away. The bad monsters don't come this close in. Maybe it's just a wolf that got lost in the storm. Maybe nothing will come of this and Patton will laugh about it later.

Many scenarios drift in his head. It's deep into the night, his body is exhausted from all the shivering, and it's scarily easy to dissociate from what's actually happening. He fully believes for a few minutes that it's just a wolf that got caught in one of the spider's web traps. Sad though it is, that is life. Patton wishes though that the poor creature didn't have to be trapped out in the storm. The cold would kill it before the spider could.

But alertness comes crashing back into focus when the howling cry comes much closer. It is not a distant thing anymore. Patton can hear the rough low growls of an animal hunting. He can hear a body stalking through the brush. He listens in abject fear as it creeps closer and closer...

A sharp bark just outside his door has Patton flinching. It's right out there. It sounds big and snarling, voice guttural and angry. No, not angry. Hungry. It's rummaging around for food outside. How can it be so brazen in a storm like this? Why isn't it finding shelter to wait out the storm? Why can't Patton be left in peace?

Answers don't come. They're not important anyway, in the scheme of things. What matters is that a snuffling has begun at his door. Something wicked is on the other side, sniffing him out, and Patton has never been so panicked since coming to this cursed forest.

Adrenaline pumping, Patton shucks off his blankets and grabs his axe. He doesn't truly think he can fight anything off with success, nor does it make him feel much better to be armed. But his body moves on its own and seeks out safety. He stands up as much as he can in the limited space. He won't die sitting down, at least.

To Patton's horror, he sees a glow emanate around the door. The pitch-black space is invaded by pale blue light. A cracking, shifting, breaking– what is going on? Something forms around the door, geometric shapes in the crevices, jutting out and expanding up the walls. It's loud and jarring and cold. So cold. Patton can see his breath now.

It's ice. Whatever the wolf creature is, it has power over ice.

Oh. No wonder it's fine being out in the storm.

Patton realizes this just as something barrels into the door, sharp and swift. The hide tears and the wood of the door caves in halfway. Patton grips the handle of the axe grimly and watches a second battering enough to splinter the door completely into pieces.

It's indeed a wolf, the largest Patton has ever seen. Its head is as tall as Patton. The strong, thick muscles are encased in white fur with more glowing ice shards growing out. Icicles hang from its open jaw, and the teeth appear to be the length of Patton's forearm, maybe longer. It happens so fast, and his fright is certainly skewing things out of proportion. But there is a very real threat that has broken into his home and wishes to eat him.

The wolf growls.

Patton doesn't hesitate. He lunges and embeds the blade of the axe into one of its gleaming blue eyes.

The beast roars and Patton can feel it reverberate in his chest. The head rears back in pain and the axe is jerked out of Patton's hands, the metal left sunk into the eye socket. He is weaponless now, and his gloved hands are spattered in freezing blood. It's so cold that it burns him, causing him to have to swiftly shed them.

Luckily, the wolf was not expecting its prey to bite back. It's either wounded enough or startled enough to back off and clear the entrance. Wind sweeps through, Patton barely feeling it against his chilled skin. The wolf could duck back inside at any second, and his home is already compromised.

Patton let's instinct take over. He scoops up his whittling knife and races outside into the hailstorm. Immediately he is pelted with balls of ice, and the larger pieces thunk harshly against his head, but it's a small matter. Thankfully, the wolf illuminates the space enough that Patton knows exactly where its hulking form writhes in pain. It's pawing at its face, and out here in the open, it seems so much bigger and more threatening.

Into the dark Patton runs. There's no other choice. Either he stays and dies, or he flees and perhaps escapes with his life. The wolf could lose interest now. It could possibly be more concerned with the axe in its eye, giving Patton time to escape.

But he's just not that lucky. The beast gives chase with thunderous steps, paws hammering in a thrumming cadence. The glow catches up but is too dim to light the way for him. Patton is still running blindly into the forest, praying every step that he doesn't slip or faceplant into a tree. Desperation fuels him, and the muscles in his legs burn as he gives sprinting his all. He feels like he's flying.

The wolf is faster. Patton's only warning is a coughing huff before claws shred down his back. Patton gasps soundlessly. It's sharpness and fire and cold cold cold. He can't tell if he's bleeding or how much. He hears the fabric of his wonderful coat tearing. The air rapidly numbs the exposed skin. Perhaps if it were warmer, he could feel the extent of the damage. The numbness gives him the edge to react.

Although he stumbles, Patton uses his momentum to spin around. In one motion, he brings the knife up in both hands, striking upwards and predicting that the wolf would be closing in.

His fast judgement pays off. The knife pierces the furry flesh of his tormentor, close enough to the neck that there would be volleys of blood were Patton to yank out the knife. He doesn't. Though it would do more damage and he could keep the weapon, he can't risk more of the freezing blood on his hands. If his fingers freeze too stiff to move, it won't matter if he keeps a knife. So he pushes it in as deep as it can go, aided by the wolf lunging forward, and he releases it as soon as he can to try to push away.

Patton cries out as the wolf manages to clamp its jaw around his shoulder at the same time. There will be holes in his coat, and Patton can feel the pointed edges piercing his skin, but it could have been deeper had he not been wearing the coat or ruined the wolf's attack by injuring it. As it is, the wolf releases Patton almost as soon as it's bitten him. It yelps and shuffles away, shaking its head now with two weapons sticking out of it.

Patton doesn't wait for it to recover. He spins on his heel and dives into the dark. He runs and runs until his lungs threaten to collapse. He knocks into pine branches, and he slips on ice and crawling roots alike. He can't stop though. He has no time to assess the damage. He jumps up and keeps running.

The glow doesn't follow him this time. It's awhile before he notices or realizes that the only sounds he can decipher is the wheezing of his own haggard breaths.

Still he runs, unable to shake the feeling that he is being chased. Where is he going? He doesn't know. He just wants to feel safe.

He smacks into a tree, not a pine this time. It's one with a thick trunk and low hanging, hardy branches. Patton can't keep running like this. He grabs hold of the branches and climbs. It takes precious, teeth-chattering minutes. His fingers can barely keep ahold. His legs are like jelly, struggling to support him. The air hurts his throat and aches in his chest, and he wants to give up, but he doesn't until he cannot find any more branches within reach.

In the darkness, he can't tell how high he's ascended, but he's sure a fall would be fatal. He lays on his belly and wraps his arm around the branch underneath him. There, he breathes and breathes until he wants to sob.

He's lost his home again.

He's bleeding, but it's so cold he can't tell how bad it is. There's a tackiness on his back that pulls when he moves. The torn strands of his coat are probably stuck to the wounds in a layer of ice. He whimpers but won't be able to do anything about it until the sun rises.

He will die from blood loss or the cold before then.

Patton sheds no tears, but his heart weeps all the same.

***

It is a grueling night.

Patton cannot genuinely think of a worst night in his life. For hours, he slips in and out of consciousness. He tries not too. You're not supposed to fall asleep in the cold like this. He moves his limbs as much as possible to keep the blood flowing. He hides his freezing hands in his sleeves or brings them to his neck. Anything that will keep the frostbite away.

At one point, he jerks awake, breathing rapidly and convinced he was nearly slipping into death. He sits up after that and leans against the trunk. His back is stiff, as well as hot and cold at the same time. He leans more on his shoulder in an awkward pose. If he survives, he'll probably die from infection anyway. How funny would that be?

The wolf never returns. Patton idly wonders if it died or lost interest. He used to love dogs. He'll never be able to look at one the same way again.

He drifts like that for hours, lost in thoughts that he can barely hold on to. The storm eases over time. Patton opens his eyes to snowfall. Huh, the sky is lighting up.

He's laying down again on his stomach next time he opens his eyes. He wonders why he's bothering. He's going to die here. Can't he just go peacefully?

Something rustles in the forest. It must be what woke him. It's an odd sound that rushes over the forest floor. Kind of light and almost silent, were it not in such a hurry. Maybe someone was late for breakfast? What a weird thought...

Patton hears it again but closer. He opens his eyes and blinks to clear away the blurriness. There, about a hundred feet away or so, is the spider.

Patton smiles. He thought he would never see his friend again. At least he gets to see him before he goes.

The spider is bolting through the trees, kicking up pine needles as they go. Their legs march in tandem, a flurry of spindly crooked things, moving with haste. Where is the spider going? Patton will never know. The spider leaves seconds later and Patton wants to giggle.

Later, Patton is roused again by the same sound. The spider has come back. He doesn't know how long has passed. Could be minutes or hours. The morning light isn't much brighter. It must be cloudy. The snow continues to fall and a blanket of white covers the earth.

The spider whips their head around, searching. Their dark hair slaps against their face. They dart closer than before, and their many eyes investigate something that Patton cannot see. The spider crouches at intervals, sweeping the snow away, searching... But they don't find what they're looking for, or they're in too much of a rush to look properly. They skitter off to another spot. They look behind a tree, pry back the gnarled mass of a dead bush. Their pace increases in their frantic need.

Patton thinks about calling out and asking what they're doing. He might could startle the spider, at this rate. So far, the spider hasn't seemed to notice him, not looking up much.

But the spider leaves again and Patton has waited too late.

Patton begins crying for real now. Why didn't he just say something? Can he still not trust the half-creature? Does he not consider them a friend? What does he have to lose now?

Nothing. He is nothing and he has nothing and he will die with nothing.

"Please," Patton whimpers from chapped lips. It's too late now, but he calls out anyway. "Please... don't go... please."

He thinks of his parents who would not love him. They raised him. They knew him. And they chose not to love him.

Does the spider have parents? Does the spider have anyone? Have they ever known love, or are they as lonely as Patton?

If Patton could have one wish, he would have been braver from the start.

"I'm sorry...please..."

The patter of legs dance across the ground. The spider breaks through the trees with renewed energy and looks all around in a frenzied state.

Patton sobs out, "Don't go."

His voice is thin and weak to his own ears. Somehow though, the spider hears him instantly. They snap back their head and their eyes meet. Patton is brought back to the first time, weeks ago, or months now? When they first met. The spider had been scared.

The spider is still scared. They stop short and survey the surroundings before looking over Patton again. He can feel those eyes gazing up and down his body. Does he look as banged up or frozen as he feels? Does he look tasty?

Whatever internal struggle the spider wars with, they come to a decision. A couple of slow steps forward, at first, and then they are racing over to clamber up the tree. It's pretty impressive how elegant the spider makes it look. All too soon the human half hovers over Patton while the spider legs stick to the trunk.

"Please," Patton asks. He doesn't know whether he's asking to be spared or have his suffering ended.

The spider's eyes, eight of them– they are not so dark from this close up. They're amethyst colored and reflect in a way that make them shimmer softly. They're pretty actually.

The spider's mouth moves, forming words that Patton cannot hear. There are fangs peeking out behind the human lips. They don't seem so scary after the wolf's toothy maw.

Patton doesn't respond and the spider seems to come to their own conclusion. They shrug off a jacket (oh, they're wearing a jacket! How did Patton miss that?) and they swaddle it over Patton. Patton doesn't flinch as it touches the wounds on his back. He can't feel much now.

The spider slips their arms under Patton, maneuvering him until he rolls carefully over into the spider's chest. The spider wears a long sleeved purple shirt. Patton's cheek presses against the material, and underneath he feels the shocking warmth of the spider.

Patton shivers briefly and goes all the way limp. When did he stop shivering? That's not a good sign. Neither are the black spots swimming in his vision.

The spider's lips move again and they're looking down at Patton with a pinched expression. They're worried. That's sweet.

A subtle roaring stuffs up Patton's ears. It clouds his mind. The world fuzzes over, and soon he knows no more.

***

When Patton wakes again, he is buried beneath a mound of blankets. It's beyond soft and warm. Too warm. He sweats lightly, and he shifts in discomfort followed by a stretching pain in his back. He whines once and stops moving. Moving equals bad and he's so tired.

"Are you okay?"

The voice is gravelly and low like it's unused to speaking, but it is without a doubt another person's voice. It has been a terribly long time since Patton has heard someone else's voice or had a conversation. As tired as he is, he forces his eyes open.

He's in some kind of room. It's dark but there's a gentle orange light spilling out from a fireplace. No wait, that's not fire. It's crystals. There are orange crystals, a glob of them really, sitting in a recess in the wall. Patton can feel heat emanating from that direction, so they must be enchanted. Convenient.

He's laying nearby on a pallet of blankets and animal hides. There's a pillow under his head, a luxury he hasn't had in a long time. He's on his stomach to avoid further irritation to his back.

His savior comes into view. It's the spider. They stand nearby but not too closely. The eyes are making new iridescent colors as they reflect the crystal light. Their fingers pick at their sharp nails, and a fang peeks out to bite at their lip.

"Where am I?" Patton asks. His mouth is dry as dust and he must make a face because the spider turns to a table and picks up a clay cup. They lean down, offering it.

"You're...in my home. You're safe, I promise. I won't hurt you."

Patton doesn't think he has any fear of that anymore. He wouldn't be waking up in such a nice setting, if not. Plus, the spider has that scared look again.

Patton wordlessly sits up slowly, panting through the effort, and takes the cup. The spider let's him take his time and steps back several steps. They wait while Patton sips long pulls at the drink. It's water. Just water.

Patton stares into the remaining liquid. He tips the cup around to see it spin and slosh. "I thought I was going to die," Patton says in wonder.

"You almost did," the spider agrees.

Curious, Patton glances down at himself. His torso and shoulder are bare, save for bandages. His coat is nowhere to be seen. It had been a gift. It had been one of his favorite gifts. It was probably ruined and discarded.

That more than anything has Patton sniffling into his cup.

The spider jolts. "What is it? Are you hurting? What's wrong?"

Patton chokes on a bout of tears pitifully. "My coat..."

"Your...coat?" they echo. They tilt their head in jerky movements, similar to a bird.

"It's gone," Patton mourns.

The spider hurries around the chamber and brings back a bundle of fabric. The familiar weight of his coat is laid half in his lap.

"It's right here," the spider assures him. "It's not clean though."

"It's torn," Patton cries. Why can't he stop crying? It's just a coat.

The spider waves their hands in the air uselessly. "It's okay, I can fix it, just please don't cry. I don't know what I'm doing as it is. Just tell me what you want to make it better."

That gives Patton pause. He looks up at the tall figure. The irony is not lost on Patton, that the spider can crush him like a bug. And yet, in the face of a crying human, the spider balks.

"You can fix it?" Patton asks.

The spider nods emphatically and bends lower, trying to make themself smaller. "Yeah, I can fix it. And even if I can't, I'll just make you another one like it. How does that sound?"

Patton's lip wobbles. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve such kindness. He wipes at his eyes. "You...gave it to me. Didn't you?"

The spider hesitates at first, but nods eventually.

Patton grips onto the coat. He pulls it closer, protectively. "I want to keep it...if that's possible. I kept all of your gifts."

The spider perks up. "You did?"

"Yeah. I love them."

"You do?"

His lips twitch into a smile. "Yeah, I really do."

The spider lets out a chorus of clicks, entirely inhuman. They falter and turn away, hiding their face under their bangs, as if embarrassed at the sound. One of the spider legs rubs against another, and Patton thinks it might be a nervous habit.

"Do you have a name?" the spider asks. "Humans have names, right? Do you have one?"

"I do. It's Patton."

"Patton," the spider repeats and clicks again. Their mouth splits into a fangy grin, so Patton concludes it's a happy sound. "I wondered... It's nice. Uh, it's a nice name. My name is Virgil."

"Virgil," Patton repeats in the same way the spider did, and they must like it because they click again. "Virgil, it's nice to finally meet you. Thank you for saving my life."

"It's uh, it's no problem," the spider– Virgil– returns. There's a jittery excitement to them that's fairly infectious. Patton finds himself relaxing.

"Virgil, what pronouns do you use?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"I go by he/him. What do you go by?"

"Oh. I didn't think humans cared about that," they say a bit in awe. "I go by he/him too. Do all humans introduce themselves like that?"

Patton scrunches his nose up ruefully, "Not as much as they should."

Virgil nods seriously. "It's not much of an issue for those born in the Feywild. We tend to just...know."

Patton brightens. "So you are from the Feywild! I've been curious if you were."

"You've been curious about me?" Virgil blurts out. Immediately after, he seems to withdraw in on himself. He looks away and grabs something else from the table. It's a plate of diced fruit. Apple and something else that Patton isn't familiar with. The plate is nudged onto the pallet beside him.

"Of course I've been curious about you," Patton says softly. Feeling bold, he reaches out and offers a light touch at Virgil's wrist while it still lingers by the plate. Virgil tenses and doesn't move. The skin is warm. "You leave me such nice presents... And you've let me stay in your territory. I was afraid at first that it would bother you, but you let me stay."

Without moving his arm away, Virgil lowers his spider thorax to the ground. The legs fold into and under themselves. He's still taller than Patton, even like this, but he appears more at ease.

"I didn't know what to make of you at first," Virgil admits. He doesn't look away from where Patton touches him. "I thought you would run once you realized... But then you built a shelter. And you never tried to hunt me. You left me gifts–"

Here he break off. He snaps to attention and looks Patton in the eyes with barely restrained enthusiasm. "Your gifts. I kept them too."

"You did?!" Patton squeals. Oh, he had hoped, but to hear it confirmed!

Virgil nods vigorously. "Every single one."

Deliriously overcome with joy, Patton grabs hold of his hand and cups it sweetly in both of his. He would squirm with excitement were it not for his injuries.

"Where do you keep them?" Patton asks, because he hasn't spied any of the wooden figurines. This chamber of the cave, for they must be in the cave, is small and has one entrance that leads into another part of the cave. It's too dark to tell where the tunnel leads. There's the fireplace, and the table, and in a corner Patton spots a woven basket full of material and what could be sewing instruments.

Virgil moves to jump up, but he stops when he realizes he will have to let go of Patton in order to do so. He frowns at their hands, obviously torn.

"Oh," Patton says and loosens his grip. He does so slowly and awkwardly, and he marvels at the way Virgil looks on the edge of snatching his hands back up. Patton tilts his head. "Do you...want to show me?"

That gets Virgil's gears moving. He nods and gets back up to leave the room. He gives Patton a backward glance before he goes, like he just can't believe Patton is there.

Patton also can't believe he's there or that he didn't get frostbite or get eaten.

"He kept them," Patton says to himself and smiles.

Virgil returns to the chamber after a minute and is holding an intricately carved chest. It's carved out of wood and plated around the edges and central latch with thin, embossed silver metal. He sits it down beside the pallet and opens it to reveal the spoils inside.

Virgil did not place the figurines on a shelf. Instead, he kept them in a pretty box nestled all together. There is the rocking horse and there is the moose and there is the duck. Each of them kept safe and laid on top of a folded silky blanket.

Virgil pulls them out one by one to show Patton.

Patton crafted them with his own hands.

Why does it feel like he's seeing them for the first time?

"I'm scared I'll break them," Virgil admits sheepishly, unaware of the reverent look Patton has adopted. "I just take them out when I want to see them."

How often did Virgil do this? Sit and admire them? Did he also dream of bridging the gap? Did he think often of Patton and feel comforted knowing he was nearby?

Patton did. He experienced all of that and more. It was his favorite past time these days. He would hold onto the necklace or trace his fingertips over flowers, and the residual warmth was enough to ease the longing.

Patton watches Virgil pull out the wolf statue, the very first gift he left, and Patton flinches so hard his shoulder creaks. Worst yet is how the flesh of his back protests and threatens to re-open. Patton stifles a gasp and noticeably hunches in on himself.

Virgil abandons the figurine and is at his side. He holds Patton up so he isn't slumping and tugging at the wounds.

"Hey, hey, what happened? Are you hurting?" Virgil asks. His hands are feather-light ghosting over his bandages. He clicks but it's much deeper now. "I need to change them again. I've got a healing salve. Maybe I didn't use enough..."

"Sorry," Patton whispers out between labored breaths, though he has no idea what he's apologizing for. Virgil too seems bewildered.

"Why? You're okay. You can't help if it hurts. Is there anything else wrong? Uh, like internal?"

Patton takes a moment to assess and shakes his head. "Just hurts, sorry."

Virgil frowns but doesn't say anything more. He holds Patton up through the worst of the radiating pain, then leaves him long enough to grab his medical supplies. There's...a lot more than Patton would expect. Lots of meticulously organized pouches in a large leather backpack, the kind Patton might see on passing adventurers who are prepared for the worst-case scenario.

Rolls of bandages are retrieved along with a clean cloth and a small, ceramic container that must have the salve he mentioned. Patton does his best to remain sitting upright even when he shakes from the strain. It allows Virgil better access to unwrap the soiled bandages.

Virgil is silent as he observes Patton's wounds. He takes too long, and Patton breaks the quiet by asking, "How bad is it?"

Virgil blinks and glances at Patton, a bit surprised. He takes the rag and dampens it with water to wipe ever so gently at the wounds. Despite his best efforts, it stings, but Patton clenches his jaw and bears through it.

"You'll be okay," Virgil vows, and there's more to that statement that he isn't saying. "I had to apply stitches to the worst of it, but the rest wasn't so deep. It's long scratches though, from your shoulder blades down to your waist..."

"Mm," Patton hums and nods. It could have been worse. It could have been so much worse.

"The bleeding is much better. Your movement will just be...limited while you heal."

"Okay," Patton agrees. There's not much else he can do.

"...okay. I'm going to apply more salve and get these wrapped again. Then you can rest some more."

"Okay."

"Patton?"

"Yeah?"

"...what did this to you?"

Unbidden, his eyes stray to the wolf figurine. He blinks and he can see the icicles hanging in the fur. The blood spurting out. His heart skipping beats. The fear. The dark.

How did he survive all of that? By all rights, he should be dead.

Patton shuts his eyes. "It was a wolf. It... it got in and...it wasn't normal, it had– ice, it was covered in ice. And– and it was big. So big. And I tried to fight it, but I ran.... I ran."

From where Virgil has situated himself, his shoulder is by Patton's temple. It doesn't take much for Patton to turn into him and press his forehead against it, to feel the solid reassurance. Virgil stills and doesn't move for a while.

Patton loathes the silence now. He's spent too long by himself, cautious of every step. Wary of every exhale, afraid it would be his last. He just wants to feel normal again, whatever that means.

"What were you looking for?" Patton asks when he can't stand it any longer. He stays with his face hidden there, keeps his voice from being too loud. "Earlier. You were looking in the forest for something?"

"Uh..." Virgil lets out tremulously. Patiently, Patton waits, because maybe Virgil is getting used to the noise too. Virgil's hands mechanically resume their work, and Patton feels the slight coolness of the salve. "I was looking for you."

"Why?" Patton asks, because he can't picture it. Why would Virgil go out of his way?

"I checked on you, after the storm let up." Here Virgil pauses. There's resentment in his tone, brittle and chaffing. "Obviously I should have checked earlier. I didn't think– I thought the storm was the biggest worry. I should have known something would happen."

Somehow, Patton knows that the resentment is not directed at him. For once in his life, the voice in the back of his head, the one that's constantly berating him, telling him that it's his fault- it peters out and has no words. Because like understands like.

Patton brings his hand up, softly brushes his fingers over Virgil's bicep. The arm beneath is solid and real. He sighs.

"You knew there was a storm coming. And you know what you did? You went out of your way to bring me a beautiful blanket to make sure I was warm. You did that, when you didn't have to."

"It...was just a blanket. It's not like it helped with a ravenous wolf attack."

Patton finds it in himself to smile, just a little. "No, it didn't. But if you knew a wolf would come last night, would you have done something different?"

Virgil's silence speaks volumes.

Patton leans back. Virgil holds the new bandages limply, ready to apply but too stubbornly lost in thought to take initiative. His mouth opens a couple of times, starting and stopping with ideas of how he could have been better.

That's the thing though, isn't it? There can always be better, even when you've done your best.

Suddenly, Patton's hand rests gently over Virgil's mouth. That gets his full attention and settles him into a tense waiting game, as if Patton has all the power here.

Patton shakes his head and directs that smile to his favorite spider. "It's the fact that you would try. Once you knew something had gone wrong this morning, you searched for me. You thought of me, and you searched for me, to make sure I was okay. It's the thought that counts. I am lucky to have a friend who thinks of me so kindly."

Virgil's eyes, the two large ones and the other itty-bitty ones, go comically wide and Patton does his best not to giggle. "Friend?" Virgil asks, muffled against the hand covering his lips.

"Best friend," Patton agrees and takes his hand back. He can feel his face flushing a bit at his boldness, but he refuses to take the words back. "We've been giving each other gifts for weeks and you kinda saved my life today, so yeah. Best friends. If you want. Which I think you do as much as I do."

Virgil drops the bandages and smacks a palm over half of his face. He stares at Patton with his uncovered half, drinks in Patton grinning from cheek to cheek. His clicks become a chitter that reminds Patton of happy bird calls.

"How can you want to be friends with me?" Virgil asks, unable to let himself have the goodness that's offered to him. Patton understands. Oh does he understand. "How can... Why aren't you scared of me?! I'm a monster to humans. Don't you think I'm gross? How can you just sit here and... and..."

"Smile?" he says back, teasingly.

Virgil waves his free hand at him, a silent demand for an explanation.

Patton keeps smiling. The horrors of last night have chilled him bone deep. He's still scared despite knowing he's safe.

But he's safe. He's safe.

The need to convey this sentiment surges within him. Relief. Gratitude. Happiness. It seeks purchase in his bruised heart and urges it to keep beating.

"Virgil, I don't think you realize, but you've pretty much meant everything to me since I came to live in this forest."

A singular, squeaky click emits, and Patton discovers that half-people can blush too. Virgil has far too much energy to remain sitting when flustered, and he springs to his feet at lightning speed to crawl up the wall to regain his bearings. His hands flap about, and he looks at Patton only to quickly avert his gaze again. Patton laughs in abandon. He would not trade this moment for the world.

"So no, to answer your questions, you don't scare me. I've been wanting to get to know you for weeks now, and I'd really like the opportunity to do that."

Virgil mutters something to himself that sounds close to, "I can't believe this is really happening." Patton is patient and waits out the excitement. He never thought that spiders could be cute before. Virgil's legs are practically dancing back and forth. Patton would be content to watch this for hours.

"Shit, your bandages," Virgil says, snapping himself out of his euphoria. He hops back down and comes back to his original space on the pallet. Patton ushers him over when he hesitates.

"I really appreciate you patching me up," Patton says. He obligingly lifts his arms to allow Virgil to wrap the roll around his abdomen. "You do good work."

Virgil snorts. "I uh, I get by."

"Mm-hm."

"So...friends."

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"What do friends do really? I mean, I've never had a human friend."

"Well," Patton eyes their surroundings with heavy lids. There's not much here in the way of bonding activities, not that Patton's up for much. "We could start with a sleepover, since we're already kind of doing that."

"Sleepover?"

"Yeah, friends will stay over at each other's houses so they can spend time together. They'll stay up late talking and playing games and sometimes pranks. I would offer to have a sleepover at my place but...I don't think I have a home anymore, sorry."

Virgil secures the last of the bandages. After a thought, he pulls the covers up over Patton more. Patton takes him up on the offer and lays back down on his side. He never really tried any of the fruit plate, but he's too worn out now to be hungry.

"It wasn't too terrible," Virgil tells him. "I think it can be fixed. I'll help you. And...in the meantime..."

"Yeah?"

"You can stay here. If you want." Virgil throws it out too fast. He looks away too quickly.

Patton wriggles an arm free to take up Virgil's hand. There are little retracted claws instead of fingernails, but overall, it's just a regular hand.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot... Is it okay if I sleep some more?"

Virgil squeezes his hand. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll be here."

Deep in the cursed woods of the Frostweald Forest, Patton falls asleep in a spider's den.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #spiders #violence #blood #knives #hurt/comfort #fluff #happy ending #writing #fanfiction #in the frostweald forest #mentions of human trafficking #moxiety #platonic #platonic moxiety #drider virgil #human patton

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