#lambam

i like leshy

text is

1). Went to darkwood 8 times just to beat the shit out of him (Leshy) for fun and now makes him cook for everyone

2). Chef hat, Really just doesnt wanna be here, doesnt realize hes a favorite

She didn't know yet. She was still tied in the medbay as any time her wounds healed and Amdusias made the mistake of letting his "mother" free, she'd rip the freshly healed wounds right back open. Leshy himself was sitting on the Indoctrination Circle, quiet. Docile, almost. The antlers that stuck from his head sometimes moved, more like antennae at times with how they'd shake at the slightest wind, sensing. Waiting. Seeing where he couldn't.

He knew she was there. She didn't know he was there. Narinder stood beside the Lamb, arms crossed. He spared a glance at his former vessel, trying to read the ever-blank, wide-eyed expression the Lamb always had, though the usual matching empty smile was gone.

In the Lamb's head, a storm was brewing. He didn't realize the same would occur as it did with Narinder. He'd thought it was some effect of being the god of death specifically, not a god in general. Even in this smaller form, Leshy was large. Tall, thick, like an ancient tree come to life. The robes he wore before now hung tattered and loose, exposing green wood-like flesh on his arms, and a brush of the fur-like hair stuck out from a cut across the front of his tunic.

"Tell me your name, and declare your loyalty to me." The Lamb's voice made Narinder uncomfortable when they were like this. It was hollow, hard, cold. They'd spoken to him with that same tone when he was kneeling on the hard stone, the cold seeping in from both the ground and the Lamb's eyes.

"Leshy. Indoctrinate me into your cult, and I will follow your teachings faithfully." Leshy's own voice was hoarse, his tiredness audible. It twinged something in Narinder's chest, but he remained silent.

The Lamb leaned down a bit, brushing his hand against Leshy's shoulder before turning his palm up, offering it to the former Bishop. Leshy stood, the red light from the circle washing over him and whisking away the tattered robes to replace it with the standard tunic and pants that were oft uniform for the Cultists. Leshy didn't speak another word, he only stood, his head slightly tilted down.

"You should go see her."

"No." Leshy's response was immediate. He knew Eris, he knew how she'd react. He couldn't let his girl see him like this. Small and beaten. Much like her. "I can't..."

"You should. Small and beaten. Red and wrong. Bishop and Hand. She has been tearing her hooves bloody trying to get back to you. She's in the medbay. That's a command." The Lamb turned on their heel, trotting off without another haunting word. Narinder lingered, staring at the forlorn expression on Leshy's face.

"I can feel you staring."

Narinder's fur stood on end for a moment, before he settled. "I'm..."

"I'm glad to see you too. Well...." He gestured vaguely at the bandages that covered where his eyes used to be. Narinder let out a small chuckle, but he couldn't bare standing there any longer. As he left, Leshy turned his head to the direction of the medbay.

The cemetery was situated in front of it mostly, making it a bit difficult to naviagte to the corner where the medbay was sequestered behind the Lamb's temple. He heard her voice, soft and quiet as she whispered with Amdusias, ever at her side. Such a faithful child, Leshy still wishes he hadn't been the first to go down.

He couldn't. He could only stand there, her voice trailing from the smallest opening in the door. Not yet.

My best friend is getting married and moving away in two days.