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 Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 6:48 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 6:50 pm
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Masoal didn't understand.
The night had started as normal as any other. They'd left hive in early evening once the sun was gone, Fossamom lingering somewhere behind in the trees as her charge hunted for a meal. He hadn't eaten in at least half a week, but the feat was easy still. Each passing sweep had seen his skill grow exponentially and it was a sign. He didn't know it yet, but it was.
On the way back to their hive they'd stopped to gather a few of his bells, ones that had fallen from the tree branches. Of all the ones he grabbed, a majority of them were Emiola's work. It might not have been obvious to anyone else, but he could tell. She just wasn't as good at balancing in the branches and tying things properly. Not yet, at least. Eventually. He was teaching her.
That was something Masoal felt pride over, as strange as it might seem. Fossamom had always been his teacher. In a way it was like following in her footsteps. Was she proud of him, too?
Masoal didn't know it, or at least not in the sense she felt it now, but Fossamom was very proud of him. She'd seen him grow and change, seen him mature. There were ups and downs, of course, there always would be when raising a child. Often she hated the way he lashed out, the way he betrayed himself and her by acting a fool, especially in front of other trolls. Though she knew he'd be independent even grown, she knew just as well that trolls and fossas were not the same. Where she'd be alright on her own, she knew he needed someone, something. As much as he resisted it, she knew he needed to integrate into society.
Emiola, as ignorant and ridiculous as she was, had been a blessing in disguise. Her consistent presence was the kink in Masoal's armor that Fossamom had searched high and low for.
It was finally time to let her child grow entirely into his own, to walk his own path with everything he'd learned and everyone he met. He could survive and he could thrive. Fossamom knew he was ready.
Unfortunately, he didn't feel ready. The decision to leave was never something he was privy to, after all. When they returned to their hive, after a moment of rest, she told him and his expression, for once in his life, was entirely blank. Masoal didn't know what to say, didn't know what to think. Sweeps and sweeps—his entire life had been spent under Fossamom's guidance. Though he played at independence, he actually depended on her far more than either of them knew.
And yet... She was leaving him. Masoal didn't understand.
"You can't!" he hissed, unable to properly express how it tore him up inside. Masoal just didn't have the words for that in his limited social vocabulary. "You can't leave me!"
Yet despite his tantrum, his guardian remained unmoved. Nothing would change what he meant to her—she was, after all, very proud—but she'd made this choice long ago and had only waited for the perfect moment. On this night that started so normally, and this night that should've stayed quite normal once she was gone, they were parting ways.
Why exactly Masoal lashed out the way he did, even he wasn't entirely sure. It was, in part, desperation. It was because he didn't know how to channel his emotions or express them in any way but frustration and anger. In the end, that was fine. If this was how he needed it to be, then Fossamom resigned herself to teaching him one final lesson.
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Posted: Sun Dec 17, 2017 4:34 pm
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Unbeknownst to the trials and tribulations that Masoal was experiencing, Emiola continued her lazy stroll through the forest. The air was cool, the night exceptionally clear even with the canopy blocking most of the moonlight. She had a smile on her face, but then again, when didn't she? In her hands was a small parcel that jingled softly with every step she took. Bells. These were fashioned into a piece of jewelry, something meant to be worn. The metal was warm in her hands from being clutched so long.
There were no sounds, save for that ringing. Maccue had been left behind. Emi hadn't been keen on letting him know when she she was venturing out; nothing bad had ever happened, nothing bad probably would, and her lusus was growing ever more neurotic as the nights went by. She didn't understand why. The space missions seemed like a distant memory, but the conversation she had with Masoal was still fresh in her mind. Not everything was fun and games... but she still held by her opinions too. Not everything had to be serious. Not everything was some weird scary game of life or death. Sure, she knew her species was violent by nature, but she had no interest in the cosmos or interplanetary conquest. She had no real interest in leading lowbloods either.
Being a following was a lot easier.
But maybe that was where some of Maccue's deep seeded paranoia came from. Maybe she was too docile, but it hadn't led her wrong yet. Still, she felt like she needed to listen to Masoal, maybe just a little bit. The bell-bracelet in her hand was proof of an apology that she intended to deliver to her friend. Actions spoke louder than words or something, right? Besides, Masoal loved these things.
Emi liked them too.
For all the 'friends' she'd so-call 'made' over the past few sweeps, she never found herself keeping up with them quite like she had with Masoal. Sure, she would still consider them friends, still call them out if she saw them on the streets or in passing, but it was hard to say there was anyone else that she was this attached to. Maybe, she realized blithely, this meant that Masoal was her best friend. She was more than okay with that.
Maybe after she gave him the bracelet, they could go into town and grab a bite to eat. That sounded nice.
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 5:33 pm
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The hive was no place for fighting. Even if Masoal's possessions were few, Fossamom's intent wasn't to wreck what little he had and leave him alone with nothing. She would move the fight outside. It was lucky for Masoal that he managed to grab a branch after she threw her large head into his stomach and flung him through an opening in the treehive.
Honestly, that alone should've told him he was outmatched. The plan had never been to make parting this hard. He was the one doing that all on his own.
With the grace of a cat, Fossamom followed him through the window, her long, thick tail poised and keeping her balanced. She was considerate enough to give Masoal time to pull himself onto the branch before knocking him straight off to the shorter, thinner ones below. As he fell, he fought back against the realization that he was fighting a losing fight.
It hurt, it really did. Since early childhood, Masoal had considered himself independent as far as he understood what that simple word meant. Sure, he learned from his lusus, but with each passing sweep he grew stronger, swifter, more able. Now he could hunt all on his own, bring down prey larger than himself. It was easy to jump from tree to tree, traveling without ever touching the ground. Fossamom was always one step behind him making sure things went alright, but he didn't need her.
Except, well, he did.
The thinner gathering of branches held Masoal's weight long enough for him to right himself, hitting the ground feet-first with a force that shook his legs and sent him to his knees. As Fossamom leapt down after him from the tree, he managed to turn fast enough to lash out, to knick her with his claws, but in return he caught an unforgiving paw to the shoulder.
It was funny except it wasn't, because Masoal could recall even in the heat of the moment behind his anger and sorrow that he'd told Emiola once she wasn't ready for anything that wasn't skipping stones and playing music and fun. Right now he was the one caught off guard, fighting a losing battle he hadn't been even remotely ready for. All the while he continued to push because his combative nature and selfishness and pride made it impossible to back down and admit he was wrong.
That and he didn't want to be alone. As he traded blows with his own lusus, he experienced such a deep loneliness like he'd never known before. She was still here but she wasn't, she wouldn't be, and he didn't know how to handle it.
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 5:49 pm
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Something moved in the brush, up above, far in the canopy. Emiola's presence often disturbed the wildlife. She was used to sending flocks of birds off in a startle. She smiled when her feet would nearly step on a tree frog, the little beast scampering away like everything was alright with the world. Equilibrium. And again, just like it usually was, she watched the feathery beasts scatter high up into the sky. She half expected to hear the quiet woosh of her massive lusus. No such luck. This was fine.
She knew the way by heart now, but only with a little help. The forest was long and winding and there was no clear path set out in the brush... at least not overtly. Emi's hand brushed against the smooth white bark of a tree as she passed it, the trunk indented in with a sharp cut that could only be indicative of another troll. Further along the way was another, and then another, until it became clear that someone had marked this trail in the past. Now though, Emiola didn't need it. She knew every root that stuck out of the ground, could avoid every rock, could leave patches of foliage untraveled.
This night should have been normal, just like every other night.
Her sight was never her strongest sense. She heard the struggle before she came upon it, but even then she didn't rush. Her gait was still lazy and lax, because never once in her life would she imagine the scenario she was about to come across. Why would she? Masoal's lusus was quiet and enigmatic, but Fossamom had never given Emi any reason to cower from her. She fed the gigantic lusus deep fried fish sandwiches for ******** sake, and besides; it was difficult to imagine anyone's lusus turning on them, especially after what seemed like an eternity spent growing up with Maccue.
Except that's exactly what she stumbled across. The sounds of a struggle, the snapping of tree limbs. A fern brushed by her stockings, sticky with a deep teal colored blood, and then she saw them in the clearing beneath his hive, fighting. Stilled, the bells in her hands did not make a sound, her knees locked into place, and her feet remained planted on the ground. Standing there, Emiola was just another tree in the Four Frond's woods.
And she didn't know what to do.
Because this wasn't fun and this wasn't a game, no matter how hard her mind was trying to rationalize it. Games sometimes involved blood, but rarely did they involve the twisted expression on her friends face or the force that his lusus was using to bash him around. This was supposed to be a normal night. They were all supposed to be normal nights.
"St..." Something hitched in her throat, naive and thick and hopelessly hopeful. She'd call out, they'd stop fighting, they'd go back to normal. Masoal was a very contrary troll, so disagreements were bound to happen, right? Maybe this was normal. It wasn't like Emiola was ever at Masoal's hive twenty-four hours a night.
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 6:46 pm
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The birds darting away to the safety of distant canopies, the squirrels and chipmunks and other wildlife escaping to the tiptops of the trees or deep into their burrows—these were things Masoal should've noticed as Emiola did. These were things he was trained to make note of, after all. The slightest change to the forest was something he could use to his advantage in a hunt or for avoiding unnecessary danger on any normal night.
This was supposed to be a normal night, but it wasn't.
Right now Masoal was locked away in his own head, letting his hands and his feet do all the work, paying no mind to the world around him. In a way it was like his unkempt emotions let him ignore his own injuries, too. He couldn't feel the wetness of blood seeping into his torn clothing nor the way his skin stretched painfully where Fossamom had sunk her teeth into his shoulder. He swung at her with his wounded limbs and left small, almost pointless scratches beneath her fur.
The dark teal blood dotting the foliage was mostly his, rarely hers. Masoal bit into his own lip and made that bleed too and it didn't even matter in that moment. It didn't matter because he would be alone if he didn't fight. This was the only thing holding his lusus back now and he, he...
Masoal's eyes opened wide, but didn't lose the haze distorting his vision. It was like he'd heard something, something that wasn't his own frantic breathing or the heavy beat of Fossamom's paws. His head snapped uncontrolled to the side and for once it was painful. There was nothing, he saw nothing, but everything was off, everything was wrong.
Unfortunately, he left himself unguarded. This would do it.
Fossamom went for the stomach, claws extended, and there was no denying the power packed into her sturdy, muscular frame. Any pain ignored before was absolutely minor compared to what he felt now, a sharp, intense burning to his very core. Her strike ripped through his flesh, deep and angry and real—it was like being gutted.
Masoal shouted, his arms immediately around himself, protecting his injury. Blood splattered the ground at his feet as he stumble-stepped back away from his lusus, his legs shaking.
Everything hurt, but the pain wasn't solely physical, because he was strong and he could survive this. No, the pain was emotional, too. Honestly, that was what hurt the most.
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 7:10 pm
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Masoal screamed a lot. He screamed at stupid things, trivial things, things that irritated him. And once or twice he might have screamed at Emi for some reason or another, although she would argue that it constituted more of a yell (yes, there was a difference).
But then there was this. Fossamom's gigantic claws raking into her best friends body. Not everything was fun. Not everything was a game and sometimes, sometimes, life had to be serious. But what the hell was this? Emiola didn't know. She'd wouldn't know for a while, and even when she did know, she wouldn't be able to understand how this would be any sort of solution. Her knuckles were pale and strained around the bell bracelet in her hands.
Masoal might not have seen her, but the soft sound she was trying to make, her attempt to speak--that was when he looked over, and even if he didn't register their eyes meeting, that was when his lusus swiped across his abdomen. There was a very real, very sickening feeling welling up in Emiola's own gut, as if she were the one who had been gutted, and it was unnatural and real and definitely unwanted.
"Nn--" There again, the words caught in her throat. She was still smiling, if only because her entire body was frozen in place like a statue. She wondered if she'd ever be able to move again. Masoal was right. Masoal was right. Masoal was right. "NO!"
Between the after-echo of Masoal's screech and Emiola's outburst, the forest grew eerily still
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"What are you doing! You can't, you can't--!" Her heart was racing, her muscles still felt like long wooden posts nailed to the ground, but in an instant her arm was out stretched, her palm open, and--
--the bell bracelet was bouncing against Fossamom's head, the weak thread breaking apart from the force of the impact.
In fact, despite feeling like lead, she had been running too. She didn't have claws like Masoal had. She didn't have any sort of weapon. She was completely defenseless, but something about seeing her friend stumble around had her scared for the first time in her life, like he might actually die, like she might actually lose something when she'd never lost something before. No, loss meant breaking her drumsticks and buying a new pair. Loss was always something that could be replaced. Masoal couldn't be replaced and she'd never seen so much blood in her life.
She had one of her shoes off too, already launching through the air at the large lusus. "Go away! Go away!" Emiola had never had a daymare, but she wagered this is what one felt like. "You can't hurt him! You can't--he's your charge! You can't--!"
Except she had.
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Posted: Thu Dec 21, 2017 2:41 pm
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Hearing Emiola shout through the pain sounded something like Masoal imagined sticking his head under a waterfall might—wavery and far away, yet everywhere at once. When he looked in her direction a second time, his eyes were tinged with red, but the way his face distorted looked more like desperation than anger. It was like he was still looking through her, but he knew she was there. He knew and it scared him in some deep-rooted, primitive and instinctual way.
"Emiola...?" he sounded confused, not like himself. It felt like an eternity for his thoughts to catch up to his body, but in reality it was only a few seconds. Certain sounds became sharper through the muddiness then. The bell bracelet tinking off his guardian's head was one of them.
"Emiola, get back!" he shouted, his throat scratchy and his mouth tasting of iron. This stupid fight had been entirely his fault and he knew it. It wasn't fair and it hurt and Masoal couldn't understand why his lusus would leave him, especially without warning, like she didn't expect he'd be upset. Then again, even he didn't know why he was this upset. Still, the last thing he wanted was Emiola getting involved, getting hurt. His adrenaline was through the roof now to compensate for his heavy injury and his chest felt like it might collapse under the weight of his own emotions.
Everything he was feeling, same as before, drew out like hours, but took only moments.
"Stop, stop-!" Masoal tried to get between Emiola and his lusus just as Fossamom batted her shoe out of the air like a toy. In one quick motion, she shouldered Masoal to the ground. It snapped every nerve in his stomach and he heaved as the pain shot through him again and his body shook with thick, awful coughs. "E-Emi-!"
It wasn't that Fossamom planned Emiola's involvement. How could she? The girl showed up on her own. That she went for her next was, at least in part, the heat of the moment. At the same time, though, some intent couldn't be totally denied.
This tealblood, the one she'd silently entrusted with her charge's wellbeing now that she'd decided to leave, lacked survival skills. Masoal would be able to teach her, of course, but Fossamom had watched them together long enough to know Emiola needed a wakeup call, too. Who could say if her arrival had been poor timing or good timing after all?
The great fossa's jaw snapped wide with a frightening crack and she lunged straight at Emiola.
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Posted: Sat Dec 23, 2017 12:25 pm
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Masoal was yelling at her to stay back, and realistically that was the intelligent thing to do. She was making a choice, and even if it was the wrong one, to her it felt right. What was she supposed to do, leave Masoal to the mercy of his lusus with whatever spat they were in the middle of having? No, this wasn't a spat. She'd had plenty of spats with Maccue, but they never ended in bloodshed. She never attacked him. He never attacked her. In fact, his goals were the furthest thing from her getting harmed.
In fact, most of their spats revolved around his overbearing nature, the way he'd constantly tried to be a part of her life, how he'd never let her do things she thought were fun. He'd tried countless times to get in the way of her friendship with Masoal, and it was nothing short of irritating.
Funny how now, with Fossamom's jaw unhinged, with every tooth in her maw visible and teal stained, she wished for her lusus to be there. Maccue wouldn't let this happen. The only thing that kept her from visibly panicking was the same train of thought that tonight was supposed to be a normal night. Actually, everything happened so fast that she didn't have any time to respond to Masoal, didn't have any time to run, didn't have any time to reach for her other shoe--
Instead she blinked and she was pinned. She blinked and the air had long left her lungs and her hands were struggling for some kind of purchase, scratching uselessly at the white fur that was suddenly all around her, fists trying to find the fossa's ears or her eyes or something that could momentarily make her hesitate. Emi had never been in a real fight. She'd never fought someone with the intention to harm, not past yanking on braids or body slamming her friends.
Apparently all the punching and pinching and poking had some sort of an effect. All in the span of half a minute, all in the span of something that felt so much longer, and she felt the sharp jaws clamp around her right shoulder.
Now that, in her adrenaline drunk haze, was something she would always remember. She could deconstruct every moment, the warmth, the pressure, the pain and then the sudden stark crunch.
She screamed.
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Posted: Mon Dec 25, 2017 11:16 am
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The scream—it was the clearest thing Masoal had heard all night. Time felt frozen and not just figuratively. Every extremity from his fingers to his toes felt cold, icy, barely there and the chill crept through his veins until it permeated every part of him. It squeezed around his blood pusher like a vice.
Though blurred vision, Masoal watched his lusus back away from Emiola, her maw and chest fur coated with a brighter teal than his own. Fossamom turned to look at him, her eyes serious and almost solemn, like maybe she regretted the lengths she'd gone. Honestly, he couldn't tell, especially not with as foggy as everything was. It was like a mist had settled over the clearing. In actuality, it was as clear and comfortable a night as ever.
The only difference now was the fireflies had gone.
"Mm..." he tried to speak despite how dry his mouth felt, "Mom..." Even with what had happened, Fossamom was obviously steady in her decision to leave. They were trolls and they were hardy. Both of them would live, she thought, without her intervention. Now that her final lessons were taught and her charge's attention should be elsewhere, it was time to disappear beneath the underbrush.
And yet, Masoal's eyes were trained on her departing steps. She'd hurt him and she'd hurt Emiola, the only troll he'd actually grown to care for, but even so he couldn't hate her. For every step, for every sweep, she'd been there, quietly guiding him. Her lessons were tough and this was certainly the toughest, but...
No, he still didn't want her to go. Masoal didn't want to be alone. His legs and arms shook, but he pushed himself to his feet. Don't go, don't go, don't-
It was then his bleary gaze fell on her again, Emiola, laid out where Fossamom had left her. The wound was grievous, potentially so much worse than his own, and she'd deserved none of it. She'd done nothing wrong. In fact, she-
The way it dawned on him hurt, almost like someone threw a physical manifestation of his heavy thoughts at his head. Hey dumb a**, wake up. Everything he'd feared with his guardian's departure had been loneliness. He would absolutely miss her, there was no doubt about that, but the real truth was, he wouldn't be alone. Even if Masoal had few friends, in large part due to his own resistance, he would have someone. He would have Emiola.
She'd come here tonight to visit him. Despite all his pushing and fighting against it, she continued to seek him out night after night. Without realizing it, he'd accepted her. He enjoyed her company and their games. He got upset when she continued to put herself in situations he thought she couldn't handle or walked blindly into danger like a fool. No matter what, though, she'd always been there. It was selfish that he'd been so positive he'd be alone without his lusus. After all, he wouldn't be.
This was what Fossamom had been trying to show him before now. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, he needed other trolls. He needed to open himself to the idea of troll society even if he didn't like it. He didn't need to throw himself to them with open arms, but he, quite obviously, couldn't live his life in total solitude and still be happy.
Masoal shuddered out a breath and it stung. On useless, shivering legs, he slowly stumbled the few steps to Emiola's side. Immediately his legs gave out and he dropped next to her, one hand touching her face to try and rouse her, the other pressing at her shoulder in some vague attempt to stop the bleeding.
"Emiola" he muttered, "it will be okay..." For once, Masoal wasn't sure it would be, but what else could he do? He had to comfort her, he had to do something, but he didn't know if he'd have the strength to carry her to Four Fronds for help.
With his attention where it needed to be, never wandering from Emiola, Fossamom finally vanished.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2017 4:34 pm
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It was strange. Emiola had sprained muscles and broken bones and been through her fair share of physical strain, but nothing had ever quite felt like this. The pain was so immense that it felt like there was almost no pain at all; even with the absence of her arm, it felt like it was still present, like she could feel her fingers and clench her palm and--
She looked over at where everything should be, but instead her eyes were greeted with brightly colored teal. Her stomach didn't turn. There was too much else going on.
Right, the threat, she needed to focus on the threat, except... Fossamom had seemingly slipped away, silent as ever, as if nothing strange had happened. Maybe tonight had been a normal night, just not for her. Everything had a unique perspective outside of what she observed, she realized. The forest was quiet again, save for the wind in the trees and the rustling of grass around her body.
Well, and the raspy breaths and the aching thud of her heart in her chest cavity.
"Nnhn--" Masoal's touch jolted her attention back around (as well as it could with her focus disorientated and muggy). "B-Bud?" For once she found herself frustrated with her hair as she weakly shook her head to see past them, "Is... are..."
Eventually her gaze found purchase, her eyes stared with wide, dilated pupils. She seemed to be looking at her arm again (what was left of it), and then at Masoal, and then at the equally teal-stained hand pressing into her grievous wound. Anyone could see the clockwork gears spinning in her head. The pain was still etched deeply into her features, but when Masoal spoke to her, tried to reassure her--
--she laughed.
Not boisterously. It was weak and so obviously forced, but she laughed all the same, the sound soft and rumbling in her throat. Actually, there was nothing funny about this situation at all. She had streaky teal colors staining down her cheeks and the amusement on her face--if it could be called that--was twisted up into something so much more bitter.
"I'm o-okay." She said--fought--her voice struggling to retain any sort of even tone. "T-This? This isn't--D-Dude, 've been through s-so much worse." There was that weak, rumbly laugh again. She was lying, but it didn't stop her from saying it. Maybe if she kept saying it she'd start to believe it, or she could get Masoal to believe it, or maybe they could both just agree her bullshit was okay in the moment so long as she wasn't passing out on herself. Her good hand had touched the hand that was mindlessly pawing around her face, "W-What matters is... What matters is..."
Something seemed to catch in her throat for split moment, like her thoughts had crossed or her focus had wavered. But an instant later her eyes lit up, and she said with a quiet earnest:
"You're okay."
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2017 5:10 pm
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When Emiola laughed on any normal night, Masoal likewise felt any number of things from vague endearment to outright annoyance. Tonight, on this most certainly quite abnormal night, he felt nothing but agony.
Or maybe that was unfair. It was uncomfortable how she forced it out like a cough, like choking, but she was trying. For all the s**t he'd given her before now, Emiola was doing her best. There was no way she'd missed her very detached arm, but she was still trying to comfort him right back. Masoal wasn't sure it was what he really wanted, but it was probably what he needed.
"Okay," he said. He wasn't going to argue with her. How could he argue with an expression like that? "You're right. I'm okay. And..." With a brief moment of hesitation, he slipped his hand from under hers, grabbed it and squeezed it, then let it go so he could get his arms under her. "You're okay."
It was a lie, but they were both going to agree on something this time. The bullshit was okay. What mattered now was making sure it didn't become not okay. He fought back a sting at the corner of his eyes and, with some effort, hoisted himself to his feet with Emiola in his arms.
Masoal still wasn't sure he'd be able to carry her very far, but he was going to try.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2017 6:24 pm
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Honestly, if there was one thing Emi didn't want right now, it was being moved around. Masoal manhandling the rest of her (thankfully intact) body made her protest, but she didn't have any sort of energy to fight even if she wanted to. Instead she struggled to help herself up too, but her legs weren't working right. Attached to her body, yes, but they didn't want to move. Nothing really wanted to move right.
"S-See?" Her voice cracked. It was becoming steadily difficult to continue up her facade, but she still persevered with it. Some night, some time far in the future, she'd probably make light of this situation; hey dude, remember that time we almost died?, and as stupid as it was, it gave her the right kind of strength in the moment that she needed. All she had to do was stay awake, watch the skies, focus on Masoal, hope he didn't drop her or something...
"I bet..." Her voice was hoarse, a little squeaky, "T-That Maccue's gonna... gonna come s-soon." He was always there, just out of eyesight, ever watching. Emiola knew this. Emiola expected this. "Don't... don't stress too h-hard bud..." She couldn't find the words, but there was an unspoken not everything has to be serious there.
Instead she gave into her own exhaustion and slumped into his arms. Masoal was a lot stronger than her, she could give him that.
But it just meant she had to get stronger too.
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