#teraak

Valkurius tilts his head at Teraak’s approach, snowy brow furrowed slightly at the Aurin.  His expression reads of concern and anticipation of… yet another thing going wrong.  What he does not expect is, in fact, an embrace.

The Cassian tenses slightly, but he does not push Teraak away.  Very slowly, he curls an arm around the Mountain Aurin’s shoulders with a companionable squeeze.

"Teraak?" Her claws rap quietly against the glass, the amber liquor within swirling with each movement of her hand. "He’s harmless."

She chuckles as she remembers moments of playful torment, creeping through the village while shrouded in a field of nanites and generally making Teraak’s life miserable.

"It’s a strangely attractive quality. He is perhaps the most passive doormat I’ve ever met. His rigorous self-inflicted abuse makes him an easy target for whenever I need to let off some steam or have a good laugh."

Lilaac pauses to take a drink of the dark liquid, her cheeks reddening at the harsh bite. 

Valkurius blinks owlish before slowly looking down toward the long tail sticking out from beneath the drape of his coat.

Oh.

Whitevale was a snowy wasteland, made moreso by the distress within the mobile quarantine nearby.  Valkurius still found it comforting in a way, the quiet, the loneliness; these things he was used to, so much that they were familiar friends.  The Cassian rocked forward, leaving Malenkov and Blackbriar within as the doors settled closed and locked behind him, and he drew the heavy coat closer about him with a frown.  Sooner or later, they would have to make a decision.  As much as he desired to save the Matria, perhaps it would be a kinder service to end her and subsequently the Strain’s hold over her.

Bowing his head against the chilly wind, he nearly missed the peek of blue coat and swish of long tail on the other side of a pine.  Valkurius gave brief pause, contemplating:  Teraak was the only of Ira’s consorts who had been consistent in his concern.  It did not take much to see that the larger-bodied Aurin cared for her deeply—perhaps more deeply than she could reciprocate.  Although the Cassian did not know the pain of love, he did know the pain of heartbreak.

It was decided, then.

Silently, Valkurius turned to stride around the side of the towering tree, intentionally crunching snow beneath his boots to announce his presence.  Wordlessly, he reached out to swipe fallen snow off the unoccupied bit of boulder before taking a languid seat next to the morose fellow.  Gloved hands folded lightly over a knee, and for a time he retained his companionable quiet.

When Teraak turned his troubled gaze onto the Cassian sidelong, he dipped his head to return the glance, golden eyes half-lidded.  “It is never an easy thing, to watch the suffering of those we find dearest,” he murmured softly, the snowy mustache of his beard disguising the faint curl of full lips.  “Especially when we are unable to assist in their recovery.  She is in good hands, Mr. Pinefrost. Doctor Malenkov has overseen my recovery many a time.”

The Mountain Aurin slumped, exhaling a hard breath as he lowered his gaze.  “I just wish…”

"We do nothing for her by distressing ourselves over her condition.  We may wish and wish, but it draws us no closer to finding her cure."

"What then am I supposed to do?"

Valkurius tilted his head, watching Teraak for a long moment before he reached out to grasp the Aurin’s nearest shoulder with a firm squeeze.  “Will her survival, but do not blame yourself and do not linger on her situation.  That will bring you only more pain.  Love is a painful thing, but even those most enamored may need their own distractions.”

The Aurin’s ears flattened back slightly, and he huffed another breath, trailing his gaze from Valkurius’s hand up to the Cassian’s face.  “I don’t—”

The human paused, watching Teraak before extending a hand to curl the tips of gloved fingers against one of the other male’s cool cheeks, head tilted.  The smile on his lips was sad even if more obvious, and he exhaled a soft sigh, eyes narrowed to the rise of color on fair skin.  “There are times, Teraak, when the best choice is merely to feel.”  Without hesitation, Valkurius leaned forward, wrist twisting to gently curl fingers at the Aurin’s chin in a firm but gentle grip.

Ultimately confident, the Cassian pressed his lips tot he Aurin’s own, the bristles of his beard tickling hairless flesh.  The touch was brief but firm, a beckoning, a searing heat in contrast to the chill of winter air and the loneliness of an unrequited love.  The noise in Teraak’s throat did not deter, and as Valkurius drew back enough to puff warm breath against cheek and chin, he hummed a quiet noise.  Long digits slid down the column of the Aurin’s neck before he stood, reveling in the shocked silence and the crawl of flush over the other’s cheeks.

Reeder exhaled shakily as another strong shiver passed through his form. He frowned, hugging his knees even tighter to his chest as he tried to will himself to stop shaking. How could anyone stand this cold? It was horrible and unnatural. And the snow… he glared sourly at any stray flakes that dared to wander inside the clinic. Snow, he decided, was one of nature’s worst ideas. And he’s fought a stemdragon before.

Meanwhile, Teraak couldn’t help but crack a weary smile as the male sitting across the room from him regressed further and further into an angry, vibrating ball. “Final offer for hugs!” he whispered loudly, just enough for Reeder to hear him, but not enough to wake the Matria sleeping nearby.

Reeder’s icy gaze flicked up to him briefly. His jaw was chattering too much to say anything without an embarrassing stutter, so he mouthed the words at him; Fuck off.

Teraak hardly seemed offended. Rather, he was more concerned that this aurin’s own stubbornness would be the cause of his own hypothermia and eventual death. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly before turning to reach for one of the bundles on the shelf behind him.

Reeder shook his head furiously as Teraak approached him while unfolding the blanket in his hands. But the mountain aurin paid him no heed; he unceremoniously dropped the fabric over the balled-up male on the floor before him.

thatonederpyaurin old-matria

Perhaps it was the cold.  Perhaps he was growing soft.  The little blue-skinned Aurin was not herself, he could save her, but his mercy... his mercy was not for her, not even with how he boasted to the thing causing her troubles.  The Cassian turncoat tightened the grip on his stalker's claws as the blades began to emerge, but she was fast, too fast, too--

His grab for her missed, fingers trailing through dirty, silver hair, electricity sparking as it flickered over the length of his arm.  One hand reached as if to snag her, but she seemed fast, unnaturally fast.

Too slow.

Pain blossomed with the impact as her little body collided into his, as she snapped her forehead against his face.  He heard the crack of cartilage before he felt it, but a familiar discomfort seared his senses and vision briefly blurred as his head tossed back and impacted the sturdy wall.  Valkurius swiped for her, but the movement was belated as she ran, scampering her way out of the door with a wail.  A trick.

Shit.

The remains scattered the floor with blood and gore, bits of fur left in the wake of horror.  Outside he could hear motion, scrambling and calling.  A familiar rocky voice called out unintelligibly and its carrier stepped toward the door.  He had to go.  He had to leave.  She had been right.  A bunch of Exiles would love to gut a Cassian like you.

It was true.

Gathering himself up and ignoring the throb of ache in his skull and down his spine, Valkurius snatched up his coat and the roll of medical supplies, shoving them into their holster at his belt before he turned, scrambling up a wall and squeezing his way out the small window.  He landed hard, stumbling and bracing himself on his hands as knees impacted snowy earth. 

He had to find her.  He had promised her...

Cursing under his breath, the Cassian stumbled to his feet and lurched forward, pulling his coat closely around him as he engaged his nanoskin, imbedded ports burning dully.  Into the snowy wilds he escaped, seeking any sign of her flight.  A footprint here, a dribble of blood, he dug through the forestry with frustration.

How could he let her go?  How could he lose her?  He had failed to protect her, failed to keep her safe.  She was scared...

Scared...

The howl of frustration rattled the break in his nose, and he huffed harshly through his mouth.  He couldn't stay out here longer, not with the way dim light burned his vision and every breath seemed to vibrate the fragile lines of his nose.  Bronzed skin slick with crimson, scarlet crystallizing in his beard, Valkurius began his slow lope back toward Thermock Hold alone.

Failure.

The contact to Erik Malenkov was sent once he had reached the outskirts of Thayd, a simple note.  He needed help. 

But there was one thing he had to do first.

The only location he knew of was the little lady's Temple.  With a wad of coins in hand, he avoided the city's streets and caught a young man, directing him to the Temple with a simple note to be left.

"To whom it may concern: