[ P ] Big big energy

He had never been a picky man, not where women were involved at least. Where others had preferences for eyes of green or blue, or delicate frames, or ember fur, Caspian could not conjure an image of the ideal woman. That meant having only one. Why not appreciate beauty in all of its forms? Heavy round the middle, blue, white, curvy, thin, etc. etc. It was such a shame to only appreciate one kind of art.

Lately, however, he started to experience a change of heart.

Caspian's loathing of the mainland only intensified when he'd been forced to be there from the heat. He had been brought low and vulnerable by his inability to feed his ailing mother. And so he and his sister had made the arduous and loveless journey down south and away from their ocean which had, finally, forsaken them.

Oddly enough, Black and his mother had recovered enough to go home. He had been the most afflicted by the heat sickness and was still in torment. His tormentor, in particular, was this young girl with black and white fur, yellow eyes, and an almost infuriatingly cheerful disposition. She was quite difficult to demoralize and was altogether too invested in making sure he bathed in mud or chewed down herbs until the blistered skin on his back and face soothed enough for the fur to grow back.

Now he was finally nearing his release, and he knew it. It made him want to escape, but it would be difficult without getting by her.

"Isn't that right, doc?" Caspian asked, not bothering to look at her as she performed whatever daily ritual she had so designed. "No chance of escaping today?" His voice was bored as he stared at the entrance to the run-down cottage in which he and a couple other sick wolves were housed.

table ; bunny

Florence had had her share of difficult patients. Argent usually topped them all, with his constantly surly demeanor and his insistence that she either did not know what she was doing, or knew it too well and had offended him somehow. But Caspian was a different story. He was younger than Argent, wilier, with his sea foam eyes sharp and appraising. They had seen each other several times now, and she was constantly surprised at how easily and stubbornly he maintained his sour attitude. He had been burned in the heat wave, his face and back a galaxy of slow-healing burns and blisters. At first she had taken pity upon him. There had been so many injured... But once she heard him speak, that pity had faded into something different. "isn't that right, doc?" She was not looking at him, carefully patting a salve along his shoulders with her paw. But sure enough, her disengagement would not stop his chattering. "no chance of escaping today?" "Well, Kiram is on duty, so you could certainly try. He likes to take naps at lunch." Indeed, the sun was perfectly poised in the sky, but they were within the shade of one of the Arboretum's cottages. "And now you'll be slippery enough to worm through even the tightest foxholes to slither on out." She finished her labors with a decided pat and then sat back, wiping her paw. "You know what's next," she warned as she turned from him to her herb collection. She made him a mixture to help speed up his healing systemically after the topical treatments were complete. "And this helps with infection too, as I said, so you remember you have to take a bite every day until I see you again." Her voice was as cheerful as she could make it. She began smashing up the herbs, her back to him, waiting for whatever sullen or sarcastic comment was next. "speech"

table by amanda

He knew he was supposed to stay still, to grin and bear it whilst she smeared the green paste across his shoulders. Knowing this was not enough. Caspian squirmed, occasionally jerking to the side when the cool salve sent an electric shock through his thin-furred, half-healed wounds. The role of stubborn patient was one he was glad to fill, and it was his sole source of enjoyment. Why be meek and patient? It wouldn't make him heal faster—or so he preferred to believe. Succumbing to this heat was just another way of bowing to Mainlander rule, and Caspian would hold a minor rebellion. Even if it was in the dressing of his wounds.

"Kiram, huh?" He asked, chewing on his lip as if deep in thought. After several seconds, he began to nod. "Lunch, lunch could work. My schedule is free."

To his slight surprise, she was humoring him more today. With sea foam eyes on those of liquid gold, he nodded studiously. "Slippery like a fish, got it, got it." His murmurs gave the appearance of a man taking the most studious of mental notes.

"You what's next," she began and he feigned ignorance.
"A pack of leprechauns to avoid? A furious chase down the mountainside?" Caspian inquired, cocking his head curiously.

For several moments, he watched her work, then his ears perked.

"Oh shoot, noon won't work for escape."

table ; bunny

@Florence

Of course, Caspian played along with her bit. She hoped it might calm him down a little, but he still continued to squirm away from her at the slightest touch. It was a relief when she turned to mash up the herbs, knowing that she would not be responsible for accidentally hurting him if her paw slipped while he was twisting around and she poked his still-healing burns. He had a quip for everything. "a pack of leprechauns to avoid? a furious chase down the mountainside?" She looked back at him, her sunshine eyes slightly wide, and laughed, before she proceeded to school him on the importance of taking his medicine. She wasn't sure what had gotten into her today. Usually her smile was faked by this point. Caspian was not exactly...an easy patient. But for some reason, today, she just felt a little lighter. Maybe it was because he did look like he was healing, and finally, some of his blisters were peeling away. There was still plenty of work to do, but as she looked into his face once more, carrying the bundle of herbs in her teeth, she could more easily imagine what it would look like without the wounds. And it made her feel good to know she'd be part of that. She deposited the bundle neatly at his feet. "You know," she said, "I don't even think I know what a leprechaun is. Is it a funky Rionnach animal? I'm still learning." She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, it wouldn't be the first time. There was still so much about her new home that she did not understand. "speech"

table by amanda

He had originally anticipated a distracted why? in response to the rescheduling of his grand plan. To that, he would offer some stray flirtatious mark, an off the cuff "because we have a date". He'd wink and hope that whatever was left of his charm—diminished as it was by some of the peeled blisters upon his brow and shoulder—would work its magic and cause her smile to falter. It was an unnatural little thing, her smile. Constant and eternal as the land of Rionnach itself. Unflappable, never willing to wave the white flag of retreat. An opponent all on its own.

The girl herself was alright and he didn't have anything against her, but no one could possibly be that happy or pleasant. Did she not carry a dark cloud? A worry that caused her to frown or fuss? While it was foolish to try and make someone be sad, he was hopelessly bored and not above childishness.

As she engaged him on the leprechaun of all things, Caspian's brow lifted. He blinked once. Then twice. Then tilted his head to the right, then to the left. "Did the heat get to you, my dear?" It baffled him that she even asked the question. He leaned in a little closer, making a show of inspecting her face.

"Hmmm, no, everything seems to be in order. You're just sorely uneducated." His dark ears twitched and he leaned back. "No worries because I've tangled with them before. Nasty things. Tiny little pygmy wolves. Ankle biters the lot of them."

table ; bunny

@Florence

Caspian was trying, ever so valiantly, to find a crack in her armor, to whittle down her cheery exterior. He had tried all manner of move so far to no avail. But when he surveyed her closely, his brows high in disbelief, she felt something shift within her. "did the heat get to you, my dear?" Florence blinked, taking an involuntary step back as he came closer, his expression...baffled. At the mention of heat, the same rose to her face, though blessedly her dark fur hid the blush. But it was not a pretty, ladylike one: it was mottled with true embarrassment. "hmmm, no, everything seems to be in order. you're just sorely uneducated." At this, that invisible blush turned an ugly shade of maroon. She broke eye contact, looking away so he would hopefully not see the blow land. It was one thing to tease, and prod, and poke. It was another to insult her intelligence, and that, at last, was what he had resorted to. She had admitted just mere breaths before that it was something she knew nothing about -- but it was something in the way he said it that sent licks of shame down her spine. "no worries because i've tangled with them before. nasty things. tiny little pygmy wolves. ankle biters the lot of them." But they were real? Then why had he treated her so cruelly? She'd thought they were fake by his reaction. Now she looked back at him, eyes a tad sharper than they had been moments before, the blush fading away to something steely and colder inside. She thought about exchanging banter again, giving him a cocky, slightly mocking remark, as he was so good at giving her. But she was not a jokester at heart. She did not love these battles of the wits. All the sudden, she found herself good and tired of him. For a few moments, she was unable to hide that from her face as she met his eyes. Then she gestured to the herbs she'd laid at his feet. "You're good to go," she said. Mercifully, her voice was even. "I don't have time for more stories at the moment, I'm afraid. We'll see you next time. Have a nice day." It was a dismissal of him, and of her. She gave him a last nod before she promptly turned away, gathered her things, and left. She hoped it did not seem too much like a flee. She hoped he would not have seen the tremble in her lip. exit "speech"

table by amanda

A tempest

of salt and sea spray

He was a cocky kind of idiot, one with a tongue that could be as bitter as the kelp that wilted upon the beach underneath the summer sun. Like the waves come spring, his attitude had a habit of battering the shore with far too much force. Alas, in Aberdeen, the wolves were built with enough grit and vinegar to endure. Hell, they did more than that. They splashed and cursed and sputtered, kicking up a royal fuss so vehement that it was a wonder that Adamh had earned the crown. The Highlander stock off of the coasts played rough, and so he awaited her response eagerly. Either she would cheerfully bat him away or some hidden glint of spirit would well within her. She'd reveal a clever wit that cut sharply and they'd bat the proverbial ball back and forth.

But instead, she squirmed beneath her gaze. And when she wrestled up the courage to look at him again, her withering stare made uncertainty flicker across his face. He felt at once deflated, the levity from before no longer enough to carry him. Rather, he was a penguin that had foolishly mistaken his flippers for wings—and under the weight of her utter disappointment in him, he felt his stomach fall.

He'd broken her, finally.
But it did not feel good by any measure.

...

This was the third time this year that he had gone ahead and fucked it all up. The first had been with that little girl he'd dunked in the pool—and he'd never gotten her name. That strong, burly fellow at the festival had been the second.

And now his nurse was next, but would surely not be the last.

Swallowing, he layed on his side and use his paw to shield his eyes. It wasn't enough to wipe away the memory of her expression, but it was all he could possibly think to do.

- exit -

code by EGGSY, minor modifications by claerie

@Florence