Being lost was not exactly the way Lior had expected to spend the last two months. He couldn't admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he missed the constant company that his family and acquaintances provided; Basil he had grown used to as they grew up side by side, and though his brother had a habit of bossing him around and making his life generally miserable, he was still family. Yu, too, though clingy and prone to embarrassingly frank displays of affection, Lior considered a member of his family, if only in an honorary sense. It was difficult for him not to, really. He had a hard time being unkind to people, and an even harder time saying no and meaning it.Well. To most people.
Expression twisting into almost comical irritation, he wrapped his hand around a low-hanging branch, grunting as he hoisted himself up a hillside. To the world at large, Lior was polite and respectful, downright accommodating when it came to their needs and happiness. He'd been raised to be that way, groomed and shaped by his brother especially, who was a profoundly selfish, oblivious person. Though he liked to complain about it, and often did so loudly, Lior didn't really mind his brother's ways as much as he liked to indicate.
Kenji, however, was another matter.
His brows etched closer together as he grunted and swung up, landing nimbly on the other side of a log. He couldn't remember going down this specific hill, but he had been on his way home for two months, so it was entirely possible that he'd forgotten.
It was even more possible that he had never seen this hill in his life, that he was helplessly lost, but Lior would not admit that to himself. He would much rather focus on how much he disliked Kenji, and how the man was always getting on his nerves, and making things difficult, and how could he possibly be related to Yu?
Even when he didn't want to think about the river demon, he was in his thoughts!
Stopping, boots sinking lightly into the mud, he huffed out another irritated breath. He had been climbing for hours and had no idea where he was.
He was getting tired. And hungry.
He pressed the heel of his hand to his good eye, muttering something choice under his breath. Which direction had he even come from that morning? Which direction was he even going?
The wind blew, slipping icy fingers around his neck and over his ears. Wherever he was going, he needed to find shelter again, or he was going to have a very awkward, very cold night.
"Fine, I'll just--" He turned, but lost his footing, and his hand flew from his face. His legs slipped underneath him, shoes losing purchase in the mud, and he screamed in rage and disbelief as he went sliding down the face of the hill he'd just spent the better part of the day climbing.
At the bottom, in a heap, he wrapped ginger hands around his calf, moaning when his attempt to extract it from beneath a log failed.
He was now muddy, at the base of a hill, injured to a questionable degree, and...
"And it's raining. Damn rain," He moaned, slumping over the log.
