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I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
It had been a while since Laurel had invited Poe to his and Nikita's humble abode. And while little had gone on in her daily life, that simple offering had stirred up a long stream of thoughts, considerations and some forgotten emotions. Loneliness, and her stubbornness against such feelings, seemed to keep rising to the surface of it all, as an issue that dug deeper than she would have liked to consider. Hollow had remained absent from her dreams, and a venture into the northern forests had given her only faded trails of her single long-time friend. The implications of a visit (which, she was very convinced had every possibility of swelling into a stay, particularly when considering the two delicious leaders) breathed in and out, damn near hyperventilating in recent days until she had stabbed a hole in it to deflate the fretting, and simply send herself onwards.
She brought with her one of the only practical offerings that she could; a damp sack of live lobsters, dragged from the traps she had set up off the Shattered Coast, not too far from the outskirts of Esper Hollow in fact. It seemed a little out of place, being dragged across the ground behind her frivolously clad figure, wearing a white, dainty dress draped in colourful, chunky beads and green ribbon. But she moved with the utmost comfort and contentment until she came to the territory border. There, she hesitated and contemplated the proper protocol, realizing just how long ago it had been since she had exercised those manners. A year and a half, two years? Shit.
oh, no don't close your eyes
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More and more, he kept himself away from the direct centre of the territory. Having only just recently shut Ahren up somewhere, Laurel needed the space to think. Nikita wasn't looking so great and he hadn't seen hide or hair of Zephyr or Asanotohl for a while. Zephyr the most, Asanotohl didn't hang around the territory that often, always off doing something. The thought did cross his mind that perhaps the non-shifting fellow had gone opposite ways from the band already, although if that were the case there was always the new fellow. The tattooist, who's name ended up slipping his mind given every other circumstance.
However, it was the soft clinking sound of beads against one another that really caught his attention amidst his jumbled up thoughts; through the trees he spotted something that was quite out of place. A flash of white, a flash of green a bit too bright against the late summer foliage. It was there that Laurel stopped for a moment, unaware of just how far he had gone from the campsite and just how close he had gotten to their literal border and its untamed sights. However, the flash of black hair of the wandering Poe surprised him the most. He had almost forgotten about his little offer for her to come out and visit.
What timing. “Good thing you're not out hunting in that dress,” he called to her as he came to the trail head where she had come fully into his view. “I heard those beads jingling all the way down the road from here.” And she was dragging something in a bag, he noticed as he got closer and saw it move. Just what in the hell could be in there with such awkward moves? “Cat in the bag?” There was no hello, no how are you, just him pointing out the obvious and being nosy.
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I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
She was greeted with the cheeky swagger and tones that had made an impression on her the first time around, and she replied about the same as she had before--with a pixie grin and a little wiggle to her body. The beads stirred up further, dancing and chattering around her in a brief cry of song. "I hunt just fine in these clothes, thank you very much," she called back at him with nearing steps. The fish didn't care about her pretty beads.
She hoisted the bag off of the ground and to her side to drop one lip open and allow her free hand entrance. Half a dozen crustaceans writhed in desperation and disapproval there, claws locked shut with grubby rubber bands. With an expert grab, she took hold on one lobster back and followed through in one quick movement, tossing the flailing thing at Laurel. "Not a cat!" she chimed innocently, beaming at him and the outgoing lobster.
oh, no don't close your eyes
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Catching the lobster around the middle, Laurel watched as it tried to reach out at him with its tied claws. “Meow,” he said with interest, holding the crustacean at several different angles to look him over. Lobster were definitely tasty food to eat, which made him wonder if they even had a pot to put them in. Surely they did, because Jasper had brought a lot of odds and ends with him. “He doesn't seem all that happy to have been drug in that sack, that's for sure,” the coyote went on to say, closing the distance between them and handing it back to her with a wiry grin. It was nice to see Poe again, especially since she wasn't sick at all (or yet, at least).
“You've sure picked a hell of a time to come and visit though. About half of the people here are sick from some weird bug going around or something. I don't know what it's all about, but it's nasty. Jasper seems to have gotten it first, his father brought him here, and then came back later with some guy named Laruku,” he said, not hesitating to give her the details. Maybe the more people he told, the better. But maybe others that were sick would turn up and think that they were a safe haven of some sort… yet what were the odds? “You know anything about anyone else getting sick lately?”
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I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
Poe openly, contently laughed at Laurel meowing at the lobster, blissfully unaware of just what scenario she was walking into. "He's just cranky from the ride over, is all. Just wait--he'll be screaming in joy when you get him in a nice bubbly pot," she said cheerfully, opening the sack to accept the lobster back into his shared bag of doom.
The tone was quick to change, and Poe followed his words intently as he explained the situation. Jasper was sick, and Laruku--she recalled Ahren mentioning him once before--as well. Her own optimism assumed that because Ahren had been the one lugging the other two in, it must have meant he was all right, and that he was likely still here. She frowned and twisted the top of her sack absentmindedly while speaking. "No, nothing," she said slowly, making a personal note that she hadn't really seen many people at all lately, making that knowledge less than valuable, really. "What kind of sick is it?" she asked with eyes roaming out to where Laurel had come from. "And are you all right?" she added upon a fuller consideration, turning back to look at him with a careful, mildly concerned eye.
oh, no don't close your eyes
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*has absolutely no attention span today*
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“Yeah, I'm okay,” at least for now. He didn't know whether or not he'd get mauled by whatever was going around or not, but only time would tell. Same for Nikita, he imagined, though he still wanted to believe that she had just some simple cold as opposed to what everyone else was going through. “I don't know what kind of sick it is either, I've got the three that are sick shut up in a shack right now. They're pretty much out of it and I know Jasper's gone and had some sort of seizure a couple of times.” As for the others, he didn't know and in a sense, didn't want to know. “Laruku's kid and Laurent have been keeping an eye on them the most and so far I don't think they've gotten sick either,” at least if they were, they didn't act like it when he saw them.
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I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
Poe formed her bonds quickly and deeply with certain creatures that she had come across in her lifetime, and Laurel was certainly one of them. A silly meeting in a dusty old store, and possibly a time long passed, and she found herself thoroughly relieved to hear that he was not in harm's way. Perhaps she was building him up to be more than he was, a cartoon character of her own creation in his fanciful clothes, charming words and an innate musicality to his movement. Or maybe they had just clicked, and Poe really had caught a glimpse of a road to follow under the gesture of his hand across branch and brick. Her eyes lingered on his face with more intention than was necessary following this thought, but a single wave of lash and lid returned her to the reality at hand.
Poe didn't have any kind of healing knowledge (just about whatsoever, despite numerous occasions that she could have used it), but seizures were made for a pretty bright and flashing warning sign that it wasn't just some ordinary bug. With growing concern, Poe noted the number of afflicted and asked, "Is Ahren sick too?" with a very evident personal anxiousness blended in between syllables. Before Laurel could answer, Poe lifted up the sack of lobsters to hand them over. "Here, all the more reason for a food offering. And give me a go-ahead, and I can keep you knee-deep in those guys and more for as long as you need." As long as half of his company was down and out, for sure. It wasn't a typical wolfish diet, but it was the most useful thing she could think to offer, and it certainly kept her going from day to day.
oh, no don't close your eyes
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“Yeah, he is. Someone else you know?” He had come to that conclusion (of Ahren being sick) long before having to tie him up and throw him in a shed somewhere. His actions that day had been even more maniacal than the way he had acted the day they had met one another. Whether or not he was permanent crazy or just crazy from being sick though, he imagined only time would tell—providing he survived. It was her offer of the lobsters that caught him off-guard though, not expecting her to hand over the entire bag, but also not expecting that she'd offer to help out. He nodded his thanks.
“If you want, I could take you to where we've got him but I'm not sure you'll want to see him… he's… hostile, more or less. Tried to come after me after he busted up his hand attacking a tree or something.” And in hindsight, remembering Conri, had he been sick too? “I've been trying to keep my distance from all of them aside from checking in on them, which how I guess I've avoided getting it yet.” Of course, if Nikita was getting it, then his chances weren't looking very good either. Only a matter of time, he supposed.
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I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
She nodded and stretched her arm behind her head when the bag was released into his custody, lightly gripping the back of her neck. "Yeah, Ahren's an old friend of mine," she said, briefly noting then that he may be her only old friend in these parts now. Old friend, old leader, nearly a brother, once a lover. As time passed, Ahren had integrated into her life in more and more ways. But when it came down to it, their knowledge of each other's lives was relatively limited, and Poe found herself surprised and disheartened to hear of his state.
"I would appreciate that," she said quickly and clearly, despite his cautioning. Maybe it was a childish sense of immortality that send her head-long past warning signs, or just as likely, it was the foolish loyalty that came from a bond deep enough. A genetic trait, she could have blamed it on if she had thought into it. But instead of thinking of the whys, Poe was already building herself up to follow her burdened new friend to her troubled old friend. Her hand swung back down to her side and she looked carefully at Laurel, searching the lines of his face for further detail to his own state before they began inland. The weight of the possibilities this bug presented seemed to be settling on her.
oh, no don't close your eyes
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_____Back through the forest they went, mostly in silence because Laurel was running far too many things through his head. It seemed like most of the people were connected to one another, which was ironic, given that Laruku had told him about that. He thought maybe it was just some sort of isolated incident, but after a while… it seemed like everyone either knew one another or were related in some fashion. If all roads led to Rome, then it seemed that all ties indirectly led to one another here. Almost weird, he thought, but not overly out of the ordinary. Most of the north was unoccupied still, given that most of the folk in the north were well-suited for the climate.
_____He on the other hand, maybe not so much. He was used to the desert (thought having not grown up there) and he was used to the sprawling forests and valleys with the mountain backdrops. They had that here, but with the ocean flanking them on one side. Nice and scenic, nice and local. Everyone shit in each other's backyard, just like the rest of the world. As the camp site came up, he readily started in on the spiel he had been giving everyone lately, or so it seemed. Gesturing to his left, he pointed at the wooden structure and its adjacent building.
_____“That shack over there is where we've got a couple of the sick. I've separated Ahren from the rest of ‘em, mostly because I didn't know what he would do.” Closer and closer they got and he paused, surveying the quiet atmosphere of the area. “I had to tie him up too, but for as strong as he is I reckon he's either tuckered himself out by now or broken that belt of his, so y‘might wanna be careful around him. But I'll be lingering around just in case.” He wasn't about to let some sick madman sock the crap out of her, anyway.
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I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
Laurel's gentle warning of Ahren slid over her like water on a duck, getting little more than a small nod while her eyes fixated on the two modest buildings. Poe was not the most logical of beings, and most definitely not one that you could deem calculating, even when it came to blatant violence. It was a miracle that the worst she'd received for her foolishness was a could of bruises and scratches so far in her life.
"Thanks, Laurel," she said, dragging her gaze back to him and settling there again, with the same mixture of curiosity and concern that she had been following him through the walk. Her mouth and mind felt over-loaded with matters that she wished to speak with the coyote about, but neither of them resided in a state for such things at the time, and her heart was beginning to tap at her ribs, impatient and anxious for Ahren. So she merely lifted her hand and squeezed Laurel's arm with an air and will that was more hug-like than the casual gesture implied. A step away, and her hand slid down his arm, falling back to her own side just above his wrist while she walked to the wood shack and her ill friend.
Later, when Ahren has fallen into a uneasy, fitful slumber, she would return to Laurel and bring up one of the foremost thoughts that had hung from the back of her tongue. A couple of words, easier than she had expected after years of solitude, and she was a part of something shared again.
oh, no don't close your eyes
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