[aw] finding comfort in the smallest spaces

Vesper · 07-15-2012, 11:21 AM

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All welcome. Ves is recovering from the events of this thread.
Long story short, she crashed here last night, and it's now morning,
and she's in a tree trying to eat her raven.

Vesper woke feeling like shit, which was unsurprising when she opened her eyes to unfamiliar scenery. Another luperci might have panicked, but the woman only inhaled deeply and let her eyes shut again. She was within Inferni, and while it was odd that she wasn’t curled up on the bedding in her cavern, she was used to sleeping out under the trees from her time as a loner. The only strange part was that she was in her optime form, spread out prostrate underneath a charred tree.

After a deep breath against a skinny arm, the Centurion pushed herself and rocked back so she was sitting on her rear end, wiping underneath an eye. The cries of ravens around her confirmed her suspicion that she was in Hallow’s Ruins: not the best place to take a nap. It was cool, at least compared to the pretty constantly warm summer weather they’d been having, but the sun lingered in the east behind fluffs of white cloud.

“Boy waking up?” came a half-amused, half-concerned croak above her. She lifted her head and stared at Stark, and the events of the previous day came back to her. Alarm flared in her chest, and she looked a question at him. He shook his head. “Nobody seeing.”

The coyote wiped at her face again, blinking a few times to clear her vision of its sleepy haze. She never woke this sloppily, normally jumping to her feet before dawn even broke and heading out fully operational from the get-go. She still felt well-rested, but it was harder than she’d thought to stand up, especially on two legs; she gripped at a tree for balance. Her claw scraped at the bark, and motes of ash floated before her.

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Vesper announced in a dangerous deadpan. Her claws dug in. “I thought I lost you, Stark.”

The raven made a low warbling sound, possibly one intended for comfort, and flew down onto her shoulder. She rested her cheek against his feathers and stayed that way for a while, quiet.

She hated being afraid, and she’d felt more afraid in that moment than she’d had since the war. All she had wanted was a hunt, but some cocky coydog had nearly shot an arrow into her partner then proceeded to be obnoxiously friendly and stupid and goddamn innocent. If she had a weakness besides her pride, it was her soft spot for those cutesy types. Her urge to protect everyone, maybe to make up for where she’d failed with Sparrow, made her want to throw up.

Her weakness she’d shown when she got back home made her want to throw up more. She’d come into the ruins, shifted so she could climb up into a tree, and held the tolerant raven until she stopped shaking. Maybe she’d cried. She didn’t like to think that she’d cried, but who knew. She could hardly remember the goddamn thing.

“Stupid mutt,” Ves murmured. “I hate dogs. They either act like savages who want to eat everything like they were born in a pit, or they sit there and wag their tail like they’re still poodles. I hate the cute dogs more. At least I can beat up the snarly ones without a guilt trip.”

Stark might have smiled if he could. “Would saying a crush, but dog having the man bits.”

She looked at him in alarm, then managed a laugh. She brushed him off her shoulder as if he was no more than some dust, and he flew up into the tree again, twitching his tail-feathers at her. Something about seeing the older raven acting so ridiculous rekindled her good mood, and she started up the tree after him, forgetting about the collie archer.

+631 (wtf)

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