Midnight Stroll {Midna + Wey}

[Rioga Oiche]

Rioga had been close to falling, the agony washing over her in waves that she had whimpered, the harsh sound escaping her barrier and breathing into the night. Her dome lowered slightly, maw brushing the mud slightly, and a sneeze overcame her. She shivered slightly, not meeting the gaze of her packmate's as the rain dripped down her maw and from her pelt, a sickly brown color mixed with a bit of red where her wound's had started bleeding again. She was weak, and hurting but would go on if needed. Giving up was something she didn't know how to do, so hiding her pain and just getting on with her life was something she HAD to do. Ri could not just not put her health in their hands and expect them to care for her, she always did it for herself and this was no exception.

Ri's orbs widened slightly, their silver depths filmy, as a tongue slipped over her wound's. Her dome turned and she spotted Wey, who was tending to her wounds as if he was her...mate. Ri couldn't help but reach out to put a small lick on his maw before turning away, embarrassed slightly but no mood showed on her masked face. She felt his warm bodice slip beside her's, and let herself lean slightly on him, giving release to her muscles and to her broken ankle. Her silver grey pelt brushed against his own, and his warmth was welcomed greatly to her chilling bodice. She was wondering why her alphine cared for her so much, but she held her tongue for right now she was in peace. It felt....right to be beside him, her pelt and bodice touching his own that she would be reluctant to part from him.

When he spoke about not blaming herself, her orbs met his If I had not been scared and faced my fear's, this would not have happened she said simply and turned her gaze away, knowing he would soon blame himself someway or somehow. She didn't want him to blame himself for her mistake's but what could she possibly say that would help him understand? Nothing...nothing at all. Ri was bad at explaining things and would only make it worse, so she shut her jowl's, lowered her dome, and just tried to ignore the throbbing in her dome and the throbbing of the pain in her broken bodice. Her auds flicked back against her dome, and her jowls snapped shut as slowly her mask crumbled and every emotion she was feeling was shown plainly on her face.

Poor Midna Ri thought as Wey began to speak to her, his lyrics anything but nice. She winced openly, and glanced at the white fae who was suddenly beside her. Her orbs where a apology for a mer second before they dropped to the terra, knowing she could not meet the orbs of her superior. Her pride was to injured, and she was feverish and just wanted to get out of the rain. Already black dots blinked at her vision, for she was exhausted, the last of her strength beginning to seep out of her bodice as they just stood there, the rain coming harder and faster. She sneezed once, the motion causing pain to rack through her ribs before she quieted and she leaned closer to Wey, clearly losing her grip on reality.

She spoke her reply, softly but firm I can walk, Wey...but not for to long. her lyrics where raspy, but her throat was dry and she was weak, so it wasn't her fault. She started forward, moving on her own and not leaning on them. Her paw's sank into the mud, pillar's moving with effort as she limped forward, not waiting for them to walk beside her, for she wouldn't eat at their help. Only if she could move on no farther would she accept their help. Ri wasn't that pathetic. Ri's dome came up, auds flicking forward, as she tried to show the sign of her dominance of betess, but it was not going to get her far, for her limp was bad, even if she didn't want to admit it.

[Weylyn Tokalawaya]

Weylyn's mind rattled the way an empty plastic bottle with a pebble would. For some reason, Wey couldn't get a grip on his thought processes. Every time he tried to evoke some sort of emotion or idea, it disappeared within seconds. He couldn't properly find his way, either, which was very uncharacteristic of him. Weylyn's entire being was shaken as he dealt with the reality of what had happened. His beta, his pack mate, his friend, had been in a freak accident, that wasn't his fault, and yet he felt as if he should have known this would happen. The ghost of an image of the same night his family had been killed stabbed Weylyn to the core of his being, leaving him feeling empty, alone, and useless. Why hadn't he been quicker? Why hadn't he been more aware? Why hadn't he been more careful? The guilt welled in him, bringing up a remorseful howl, so deafening that he hurt his own sensitive ears and the thunder seemed like a welcome reprieve. The rain continued to pour on his frame, soaking his body as he stood next to the femme that was not well, and Weylyn's own grief welled inside him. The downpour masked the tears the awful memories, repressed so well that he had only vaguely remembered what had happened, brought forth and his quiet sobs could not be noticed by beast nor nature, for he hid them well. The femme may not have been Weylyn's mate, but she might as well have been, for the immense sadness that enveloped him was that of a mate who had lost its spouse. Sorrow washed over him and he felt himself fall into a deep depression, and endless pit of self pity and hate.

If I had not been scared and faced my fear's, this would not have happened. Despite hearing her words, and the way she emphasized them, Weylyn would not stop blaming himself, even if he knew that she was disagree with the way he was doing it. He would not speak his disagreement with her words, for she knew his argument already, and he didn't want to invoke any more speech from the weak female. How was it her mistake that she ran from her fears? Hadn't that been what, maybe unconsciously, Weylyn had been doing all these years? And she wanted him to blame her for it? The idiocy of the femme surprised him, but he also surprised himself. How could he think of her less for not knowing his past, when he did not speak it himself? Weylyn shoved the one emotion that had reigned through, the one distracting him from his inner turmoil and pain, into the oblivion at the back of his mind. The wolf he had ordered came to the other side of his beta, and he nodded at her respectfully. He wondered what would have happened if someone gave him orders the night his family died, or what would have happened had he been stronger and not so obsessed with himself, or what would have happened had he never left their side. Would he have died with them? Or would he have found a way out? Would he have dug for dear life until his body gave out, or given up like the rest of them? Weylyn could never know what he would've done then. But he did know what he was doing now, and that was holding out until the end. The stinging of his torn flesh was welcome, for it pushed him forward. He was not the one in dire need of help here, but she was, and yet he was so stricken by his own despicable self that he had lost sight of what he should do. The revelation came upon him, and his memories of the terrain flew back to him in a seconds time.

Weylyn fished through the pond of images in his head, finding one close and suitable as a shelter, and he did. There was a small burrow underneath of a tree, where a convenient three or four wolves could fit. He remembered it clearly, for he had thought it peculiar. There was a hole under massive roots of a tree and it was wide and deep, almost as if nature had intentionally put it there for purposes like these. Weylyn moved beside the wolf, not taking away her pride, but there if she stumbled or fell. Even the boldness and noblest had to admit when they were in need of help and Weylyn's distracted mind kept playing the same question in his head; can wolves survive on three legs. Even if Weylyn didn't want to face the reality of it, there was a good chance his beta would be scarred by this event, and mutilated beyond ever functioning the way she had again. Wey didn't want to face this fact because he didn't want it to be true; the harsh and cocky femme he had taken for his beta was somehow perfect the way she was, and if she changed, poor Weylyn would miss her attitude and behaviors. Follow me he rumbled louder than the loudest thunder roar, his voice powerful and demanding. He walked beside her, his body leading her through ever twist and turn they had to face and his body maneuvering in a way that she would never have to feel a prickly bush or branch, for he was the one taking the blunt of everything. And after he led her far, and looked behind him to see his newest appointed wolf, he finally came to a stop. He was sure this was the right place, but where was the tree? He spotted it then, the image entering his mind like a beautiful piece of art, unforgettable in its own beauty. He noticed the fear and tiresome expression on his beta, and couldn't blame her. He merely urged her to the hole in the ground and then urged the other femme inside with her. He supported Rioga on her way down, hoping to keep as much weight off of her leg as possible. And once in the ground, he left them, the both of them, to stand in the rain and wallow in his self hatred.

He stared up at the rain, the drops bursting in his eyes and stinging. He kept on looking, as if he could see beyond the clouds and to the stars, where the moon lay nestled between the sparkling drops of white. Weylyn was a statue, wishing at the stars as if they could hear him. Incoherent whispers formed upon his lips, lowly coming from his mouth. Prayers were uttered lightly, mostly for himself, so he wouldn't have to face the guilt for the rest of his life, and partly for his dearest friend, so she could live happily on without pain and suffering. Weylyn brought his head back to a normal level and glared at the world, the way it had glared at him the very same night. It had tested him, his power, his abilities, and Weylyn had failed at them. And through the rain, he could see the world laughing at him for being so cocky and egotistical to think he could come traipsing into a land, ask it away, call it his, and be powerful without having to work for it. He would never make the same mistake again.

[dude, 1237 words]