In OTHER news, Weilund has a man crush on Conor. And I have a thing for him too.
Weilund's world felt horribly off balance. It tilted recklessly and the male feared falling along with it. But at the last moment Conor reached out to him, offering comfort. The yearling took it, seeing the gesture as a lifeline of sorts. It didn't seem odd to him that he was finding solace in a stranger, let alone the alpha of the pack whose territory he was practically trespassing on. He just knew that this kind male was willing to take on a little of his grief, enough to make things seem bearable. He was also willing to lead Weilund toward the next step in his journey.
Weilund's ears twitched at the mention of Bris – someone he didn't know, but still a connection to what he used to have. He found direction in her name and was willing to follow it as far as it would take him as long as Conor pointed him in the right direction. And after that? He didn't know. Maybe there wouldn't be an 'after that.' Maybe it would all end before he saw the rest of his journey through. He used to believe in plans, contemplating moves beyond the first or second step. But in the last little while Weilund suffered through enough revelations about mortality to effectively destroy any previous beliefs. How long did any of them really have? At the very least he was certain that he would survive the next hour or so and it was all thanks to Conor.
Thank you, sir. The large wolf finally spoke, bending to brush the alpha's chin both in respect and gratitude. He took a few deep breaths, working to calm himself so he'd be able to regain his composure. When he believed himself in control, Weilund addressed the pack that he had forgotten at his feet. He was careful to make the movements seem effortless, but slipping the bag back onto his back was yet another difficult task. Once this feat was managed, Weilund addressed the male before him again, feeling he needed to explain. It wasn't that he figured Conor would suspect that the bag contained anything dangerous – he just found that talking helped. Silence was the only dangerous thing he needed to concern himself. The quiet gave his thoughts an opportunity to attack.
My brother left me this stuff. They're all his tools. He was a really good carpenter. He taught me everything I know. To his great surprise, Weilund found that he was able to smile. It was small and kind of pathetic, but it was something and that was all that mattered. It was enough to get him through whatever happened next, at least. But what was next, anyway?
If he did manage to survive the next little while, what was he supposed to do? It occurred to Eilu that he had no intention of returning to Jasper Valley. Even though his whole family lived there, the male just couldn't see himself going back. It was the last place he had been happy, the last place he'd seen Eli as well. But for some reason Weilund knew he wouldn't be able to feel his brother's presence there any longer. This had been Elliot's home, not the valley. So what did that mean for Weilund?
Before he was consciously aware of it, Weilund was speaking. Uh. Conor, sir? Do you think it'd be okay if I stayed here? As surprised as he was for saying it, the male couldn't deny how right the idea of staying here felt. This was the one place my brother was really happy and if it's okay with you, I'd like to ...share that with him, if that makes sense. He hoped he didn't sound crazy and hastily pushed on. I won't make a nuisance of myself. I'm good with tools and in my old pack I was the Medic's understudy. I did a lot of patrolling, too. He wasn't exactly sure how one went about joining a pack. He'd lived his entire life in Jasper Valley and because his old home was so isolated there hadn't been a great deal of potential joiners for him to learn from. He was willing to give it his best shot in any case.