[ P ] Fresh Water

Ara Snow
dainty are the faerie wings, her hair silver spun

She swallowed, initially asleep until the scratch of her throat caused her to wince. That bright blossom of pain caused little trickles of life to appear, like water flowing through stone. First an ear twitched, than her breath hitched. Pale toes, the skin slimy from a green salve, stretched and splayed. Her shoulder, which had grown numb hours ago, began to prickle with pins and needles. It was finally enough to cause her to crack open her eyes.

"Eh," she murmured softly, grimacing at the sudden feeling of lightheadedness as it washed over. Her ears flattened against her skull as her nose sunk between her paws. Her tail flicked and brushed past another patch of poultice upon her hip. At least she had gotten past the mud.

The last month had gone by in a blur of interactive cut scenes. She was often asleep, awake for hours and moments but never full days. Not until recently, at least. What had begun as burning pain and a ravenous thirst had become a realm of autumn with wet moss and mixed herbs. Her dreams were remembered far better than the day's activities, and for a while, Monarch had seemed like a fantasy. A figment of her imagination that took the place of whatever nurse or doctor that had found her.

As her condition improved, however, it became clear who was going out to scavange for herbs that hadn't been scorched by the sun. He would always return when it was just beginning to warm again, wet moss in his mouth. At first she'd been resistant to take it. But, when it had become apparent that he was not going to drink it either, she had relented.

After another week of small improvements, she had grown used to his company... although she still felt a sharp pang of guilt. The debt she had acquired, whether he wanted it paid back or not, loomed heavily over her head. As did the ruining of her book... But she banished the thought quickly from her mind.

It had been quite some time since she had seen her little changling, and the memory still stung.

The sound of footsteps caused her ears to twitch and she sat up slightly, trying to adopt a smile to welcome Monarch home. "Is it cooler yet?" She asked, as she always did.

@Monarch

code by claerie

His raw paws stepping through the sparse snow was a blessing, the icy coldness freezing away some of the pain. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something. Monarch could feel it in the air, the way it was easier to breathe, the way he no longer felt like he was melting completely into nothing. Perhaps the heat was finally gone. He stopped and frowned at the little patch of snow he was stepping in, relishing. He brought his muzzle down and bit into some of the ice, crunching greedily on the little water crystals. It was so small, and already melting. He wished there was some way to bring it with him, to pick it all up. But the most he could do snuffle some snow onto the moss, and hurry back on his way.

Despite the hope of reprieve, everything in him still felt taunt and stretched thin, tired and weak. Monarch hated it. His body was usually the one thing he could rely on, his strength and assuredness… but all of that had fallen apart recently. And he didn’t even have the worst of it… Ara had wilted and shrank beneath the heat, her little body unable to even stand. He’d found something of his old strength when he found her like that, fear engulfing and electrifying him. She wasn’t dead, but had been so close and he’d felt such despair… doing what he could, anything. And it seemed to have worked. She was barely coherent, but still here, and he could only hope every day that she’d make it.

He hurried back, as fast as tired legs could carry him, before the sun was too high in the sky. Blue eyes alighted on Ara’s pale form as she pushed up, trying to sit, as she heard him approach. A mix of elation and concern were written there, happy to see her up and moving and at the same time thinking she should probably just stay as still as possible. But it was hard to convince Ara to do anything. His brow was stern as he stopped near her, dropping the moss but he tried a small, sad smile. ”I think it is. I saw a bit of snow today. Already melting but… it was blessedly cold,” he said, his smile a little more wry. He nudged the moss closer to her. ”Here, I tried to bring some melted, for you,” he said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. It was easier to speak that way.

Monarch laid down then, his legs feeling weak, a pant already starting but even the earth felt cooler under his body… or was he imagining it? Even if it was just in his head, it was relief all the same. He studied Ara, herbs and poultice discoloring her snowy white, skin dry and so thin. And still, trying to smile. How she could retain any of her cheer was unknown to him but she always had.

”How are you today?” he asked, as he always did.

@Ara

Monarch Vanadium

Ara Snow
dainty are the faerie wings, her hair silver spun

"Snow?" Her ears perked and although she felt a bit of pain, it was barely a tickle compared to what she'd felt before. The sun had pierced through her white coat as if it had been a million translucent mirrors, each strand eager to amplify its rays. Parts of her fur, especially where it was thinnest such as her nose and ears, had scabbed over. Only recently had the ugly, inflamed patches begun to heal.

Although vanity had never been one of Ara's obsessions, she had felt oddly thankfully that none of the rivers ran full enough for a reflection. Otherwise, she might have felt more self-conscious with Monarch as her ward. Not that aesthetics seemed to matter much to him at all—which begged the question: why then, should she care? The thought would settle for a couple of moments before she waved it away as if it was a stubborn tuft of dandelion fluff.

"I wouldn't have believed you," she mused with a laugh, the sound a tad rough from the scratchiness of her throat. "But look at it." Her red-blue eyes glittered with joy as she lowered her muzzle next to the moss. A thin, cool layer seemed to surround it. She cherished that coolness against her lips and nose before she licked the icy-cold droplets from the moss. What few crystals were left soon melted.

"Thank you," she said at last as she glanced up at him, a warm smile on her face.

She shifted to make room for him so that they did not touch when he sat down. It was mostly to avoid sharing any body heat, but in large part out of politeness. "Better—but I feel guilty." Ara pursed her lips and lowered her head to rest her chin between her paws. "You have done so much for me, but I can't offer anything. You can read, your family has books. I do not have lands or hunting rights."

And she could barely walk a mile, and so she was useless when it came to scavenging water.

Her smile became weak and self-deprecating. "Please tell me if you think of anything I can give. My conscience is as heavy as a stone."

@Monarch

code by claerie