[DoTW] - To Aryn (Lazarus x Robin) by Lachtaube on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

The pace had been grueling. Robin had to catch herself from becoming too frustrated with their frequent rests - with his frequent rests. But she had promised to take him back to his pack’s territory, and she couldn’t well abandon him on a promise.

The wolves had met by chance, and it was a damned good thing. Lazarus might have otherwise been dead after another few days, trapped forever in the cave on the side of the mountain. They knew little about one another, other than their names, that they were both known to lie a little, and Laz had some serious baggage. Robin had plenty of her own, but she wasn’t exactly the open book that the wounded Lazarus had become.

Normally quite the chatterbox, her relationship with Lazarus was atypical for her in that she didn’t feel like she had to compete with him, either socially or for survival. She was making sure he was capable of carrying on, and all the while did not feel the need to constantly impose her status upon him: she wasn’t threatened by him in his visibly troubled and self-conscious state. It wasn’t that she took pity on him, Robin pitied no one. Constantly fearing judgment from others, the little black-and-red wolf was wont to take offense easily, and built up strong, unnecessary defenses to the point of hostility. But not against Lazarus, for reasons she could not quite pinpoint.

Nightfall came quickly that first evening, and Robin was beginning to feel a little more like herself around this stranger. Her unrelenting curiosity for him would not allow her to sleep, of this she was well aware. She had to get to the bottom of it.

“Why did you leave Aryn, again?” she probed, not certain if the reason had been told to her once before -- if it had, she wasn’t able to grasp on to it amidst the other four million confessions that spewed forth from the panic-stricken wolf earlier. She hoped he was now stable enough to retell it at a pace she could understand.

Getting out of that cave had been the easy part, who would’ve thought? Each step was a fresh fang through his side, causing his pace to be a quite slow, and ungraceful, waddle. Robin had been surprisingly patient with his rather frequent requests for a break. Though he could tell that she was still frustrated. He was frustrated too. It didn’t feel good to depend on another wolf either, he wasn’t sure how many more tired jokes about his infirmities he could crack before he’d run out of clever ways to ask for a break. And it was only the first day.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten as comfortable with someone in such a short time as he had gotten with Robin. Perhaps it was the circumstances of their meeting… a wolf going out of her way to save your life and then out of her way again to make sure you get home safe had a way of making you look at her favorably. And he hadn’t overlooked the fact he had made himself out to be a total nutcase right out of the gate. How did that look to a stranger? But by the good of The One Robin took a chance on his sanity, and decided that he was a wolf worth her while. That gave him more assurance than anything else, in all honesty. He still felt fragile, unsure of himself, muddled about his priorities and his values and even who he was at all. All he knew was that he had to go home, so that was what he tried to think about. He had that clarity at the least. But did he really? Now that his paws were in that direction he found it wasn’t as easy as simple steps… or was it… well either way, back to Robin, Lazarus still wasn’t sure about his sanity or his worth at this point in his life. But she seemed sure. And that faith that she had, expressed only through her actions, was the most sobering of all.

He was more than thrilled when they decided to settle down for the night. Though less than thrilled when Robin began their evening respite with that question. He looked at her from where he lay, “What, you didn’t catch it the first time?” he joked. He couldn’t totally recall what he said during his little meltdown. But he remembered the gist of it… and he didn’t like what he remembered. Probably good that Robin hadn’t been listening too closely.

“I, uh… I dunno.” he said to begin, instinctively. He heaved a careful sigh, slow so it wouldn’t hurt him, and then hung his head, “Everything got all messed up there. I had a really great time when I was younger, you know? I was born in Aryn. Everything was fun, happy, nothing bad ever happened, I had lots of siblings and friends and then this best friend, her name is Seven, we’d go on all sorts of adventures,” he smiled a bit, recalling the bright days of his childhood and adolescence. His smile faded a bit when his memory meandered onward to when everything went wrong. He still remembered seeing her motionless form on the ground, the dust clearing, he thought she might be dead. Had he ever been more afraid than in that moment? And that was before his pack itself had gone crazy, friends turned against them and hurt people and stole one of their members. “Then… I dunno, I sorta… did a bad thing. And things got… tough,” he cleared his throat suddenly to try and ease the building tension (even if the only tension was in his mind), and gave Robin a smile, “Feeling pretty warm around here, for a mid-autumn night, huh?”

As soon as the uncertainty eased from his lips, that ‘I dunno,’ Robin’s eyes narrowed in uncertainty. Was he about to tell her the truth? He certainly didn’t want to. But he had no reason to lie to her, not that she knew of. She had gone to great lengths to win his trust, even if merely by happenstance and a guilty conscience, to be lied to now would be a clear sign that this wolf was in fact not worth the trouble.

She folded her ears back and briefly closed her eyes, realizing she would have to uphold herself to the same standard. And lying -- even if just for because she could -- was her native tongue. Opening her gold colored eyes again, she shifted slightly and tuned in.

Out of all the subtle details Robin could have fixated on, it was the most mundane; (No, not the small-talk about the weather -- he was trying to change the subject, and she’ll catch him for it later):

‘Fun, happy, nothing bad ever happened,’ the words struck her with a sense of gross peculiarity. And not just because this wolf of fun, happy, nothing-bad-ever-happened origins nearly died alone from a cave-in with no one who knew where he’d gone. Robin always thought she had that kind of childhood. Why could she only recall memories of disgusted scrutiny, bullying and the starvation of the plague? There were other pups to play with in her adopted pack when she was a juvie, but they weren’t friends. She was alone, but she never thought herself as lonely. Was she stupid? Had she no idea what the ideal childhood she thought she had actually was?

The tension was building, alright. Her shortsighted envy, coupled with the unbearably long day and his insufferable attempt to change the subject had her bristling. Robin was not in the mood for this shit. “Oh cut the crap and spit it out already!” she barked at him. “Just because you had the perfect childhood does not make you immune to the foibles of reality. News flash, Lazarus, bad things happen all the time. We’re only wolves: we do bad things ALL the time! If you can’t own up to your own shit, how can you expect someone like, what, ‘Seven’? to forgive you for it?”

Her face was hot and she was slightly out of breath for reeling into him the way she did. She realized suddenly that she had been leaning forward, menacing him. Embarrassed, she withdrew and looked away. Lowering her head onto a paw, she mumbled with feigned finality: “Not that I care.” There. Tit for tat.

Lazarus was physically startled when she snapped at him, her words like weapons as she leaned into him. He recoiled at the sudden rebuke. This is not a wolf to mess around with! That he was quickly realizing, between the lecture about his lost brother and the slap across his face, and now this. Lazarus’ method was easy smiles and evasion and less-than-tactful subject changes. Usually when he got like this wolves just gave him a look and let it go. And if they didn’t he’d just start avoiding them. But Robin wasn’t putting up with any of his tricks, and he certainly had no means of avoiding her out here. Nor would he at this point, in all honesty, even if he could. “Okay! Okay... geesh,” he grumbled, settling back down at crossing his paws. He had never met a wolf so stubbornly on his case before. Who was she, his dad?

She has since turned away from him, adding a dismissive disclaimer. He couldn’t help but smile a bit, “Heh, right, of course not.” But he knew better by now than to take her word for that one. “Aahhumm..” he hummed as he let out a puff of breath, gathering his thoughts. By now he would have long shut down on the conversation if it were normal circumstances. But with Robin, well… for all her passionate investment in his life, Lazarus had to admit it felt… benevolent to him. Even if unwelcomed. But was it unreasonable for Robin to want to learn about the life that she saved? He would be here if not for her, he ought to give her anything she wanted.

And the other thing... he had never heard anyone say that wolves did bad things all the time… Arynians didn’t seem too, he always thought he was the worst of them. But Robin seems to know what it’s like to make a mistake. Would she understand? Maybe… he gulped and then began.

“So yeah, uh… I thought that it would be fun, which it is, by the way, if you do it right...” he had to throw that in there, or else he’d seem like a total loon. Well he would anyway probably. “To ride an elk. I sorta… surprised Seven with the idea. We were on top of this rock and they were all right there... I dunno I thought she’d think it was fun too, we always do crazy things. But she… uh, well, we were on the rock, and I managed to jump on one. The herd freaked out, and then she… didn’t make it, I guess, I didn’t see what happened. I realized I couldn’t see her at some point and went back to try and find her, I figured she must have fallen off because I found her on the ground…” he trailed off and swallowed, that was the worst part of the story. He came in quickly again by saying, “She was okay, though! Well, not entirely, she hurt her leg… or shoulder… I don’t remember. But then she, like, freaked out at me and told me to go away. So I left, since you know that’s what she told me to do…” How’s that for an excuse? “But I came back, to make sure she got home okay. She’s hated me since then, I think, it seems like anyway. We hadn’t really talked since actually, I’d been avoiding her, except for the day I left... so I don’t know. But if she didn’t hate me then she hates me now. Right before I ran away I talked to her… asked if she wanted to come… the whole pack was going crazy, I didn’t want to stay. She said I was...” he paused to clear his throat, and studied the group somberly, “abandoning them…”

Lazarus never confessed to anything, so he wasn’t too great at it. But the fact he was telling anyone all of this… it was strange, he reflected for not the first time. He dared to lift his silver eyes to look at Robin, searching her amber gaze for any signs of how she might react. Would she be disgusted? Would she look down on him? Or would she understand? Not that she cares, according to her. Though indifference wouldn’t be the worst reaction.

For as long as he stalled, Robin feigned disinterest by flicking the tip of her tail rhythmically. This session was supposed to be for his own benefit, to get whatever he had off of his chest to feel good enough about himself to carry on homeward. But emotions rolled through her on all frequencies at the mention of riding an elk: utter detestation at his negligence, tickling laughter at the image, abhorrent offense on behalf of the elk, and even inspired awe that he lived to tell the tale; all of which she kept bottled up and hidden from his view.

Her interest sufficiently piqued, she slowly and casually lifted her neck to glance at him for the rest of the story. She tilted her snout upwards at the mention of an injury that occurred during his apparent romp of ‘fun.’ Number of wolves surprised: zero.

What did surprise her was the way in which he recounted his tale. He made it apparent that he seemed to have taken everything so literally. There had been maybe a few wolves she had known from Heyl who were similarly naive, but even they could read between these lines.

“First of all,” she offered steadily, unsure of how elementarily she had to break it down for him. “Girls don’t really say exactly what they mean. Seven told you to go away - she probably just wanted some space - and an _apology?_” the word hung over his head questioningly, awaiting an eager affirmation or realized denial. Her yellow eyes searched his for the answer and came up empty. “And she probably doesn’t hate you, best friends don’t operate that way. ‘_Best_’ Friends?” Her delivery was not unkind, and she stretched out her forelegs, secretly savoring her moment as Knowledgeable She-Wolf to tell him what’s what. She wanted to take it all in before she had to deliver him his last lumps, which were doomed to recoil on her own selfish past.

“When she told you that you were abandoning them,” she said frostily, the arrogant tone whisked from her voice on the evening winds, “she meant her.” There was no speculation left. “You abandoned her.”

The weight of her own guilt bore down on her, and she fought back by hardening. She reminded herself she didn’t really abandon her own family, her parents. She had been a mistake, her father an embarrassment, her mother a wallflower, and they were in all likelihood relieved to be rid of their little red pock and be able to go their separate ways.

So why are they looking for me?

It was the one detail that didn’t fit into her well established narrative: square peg; round hole. And it was the only part of her own story that she knew to be factually true. It made her head - and stomach - spin. Her entire life she spent making up stories for herself, fooling herself, denying anything that might harm her emotionally. The levees holding out the truth were buckling, and it just made her angrier.

She took it out on Lazarus. “Maybe if you weren’t so reckless, she would have left with you.” She quipped with stinging nonchalance. Instant regret hit every vein. She gripped her lips together tightly and hoped not another word would escape them.

Girls don’t really say exactly what they mean.

Lazarus sighed sadly when she offered the suggestion that perhaps it was an apology that Seven wanted. In all honesty, he agreed with Robin. Even at the time, he knew it was wrong to leave an injured packmate alone when they were away from home. Nevermind one who was his friend. But he was so… guilty about what happened. He didn’t know what to do. So when she gave him the excuse to leave, well, when facing her anger, it was easier than staying.

He looked at Robin as she stretched out her paws, insisting that she wouldn’t hate him. Best friends don’t hate each other. She was probably right… Seven had a heart bigger than the sky. She wouldn’t hate him. But she ought to. Robin went on, decoding Seven’s words, to Lazarus’ surprise and dismay… she was upset at him for leaving her. And this wasn’t the first time. He had abandoned her many times before that. He let her down each time and each time she came back. Robin’s voice was all the more scathing as she pointed out his recklessness.

Lazarus was rather passive, but mostly because he was so laid back (it took too much energy to be angry. Had he ever even been angry at all? He couldn’t remember a single time…). It was the context that hurt more than the way the little she-wolf said them. Though her fury was not overlooked. “She wouldn’t have,” he insisted, “Seven doesn’t run away. She… she stays.” He licked his lips, “And if I wasn’t so reckless… I wouldn’t either. You know I made the decision in a night? I was just sitting there being miserable and decided ‘hey, why not just leave?’ and the next day I was gone. The whole journey I was wondering if I had made the right decision… until I got stuck in that cave… and met you.” he looked at her seriously, “I am reckless. I don’t know what I was thinking...” he thought of Ian, the wolf who willed to fix his pack when he was a pup. And then he thought of himself, a full grown wolf who just fled rather than face reality. “What kind of wolf just up and leaves his pack? They raised me...” The black wolf had likely never said anything more genuine in his life, his voice even cracking a bit as the gravity of the situation seemed to hit him.

Robin’s ears flattened out to either side of her domed head as he disagreed with her. Skirting the issue entirely, she mused with disappointment at his persistence of weighing Seven’s character over his own as the reason for her fealty to their pack. But then he changed course immediately, unexpectedly, and his frankness took Robin aback.

As he admitted his faults and missteps, she studied his face. She watched the way his temple dimpled as he spoke, and the intensity that shone in his eyes even before he turned them upon her, sharp and unwavering. She was stunned by his candor, how readily honest he was with her. Robin felt a twinge in her chest like an icicle boring through her heart. It was both enticing and agonizing.

What kind of wolf just up and leaves his pack? A question she had never bothered making up an answer for herself. Frozen, she did not know how to answer. For perhaps the first time in her life, Robin was without words.

She had to dig down deep to find them again, to excavate beyond the layers of her petty fibs, between the carefully laid out patterns of make believe and reality.

“The kind... that doesn’t feel complete there. The kind that is... afraid. And the kind that… that...” She trailed off and an unmistakable sigh of frustration escaped her. Wanting to make amends for her last comment, she opened up to empathize, but did not want to give her position away. Dragging her own problems through the mud with him would only exacerbate them, and she wanted to shelter him from the ugliness of her truths. The best part of meeting a stranger was knowing they know nothing about you.

Lazarus’s question had stung, although it was not directed at her. Still, she felt the universe’s perverse judgement and knew she would be unable to eclipse it with any fabrication of beguiling stories. Thick eyebrows knitted together into an apologetic arc as she avoided his gaze and gave in. “I left my pack. I was young. I ran away in search something I couldn’t get back home. When I found out what I wanted was… basically a delusion… I convinced myself I could never go back.” Turning her head to look at him she projected onto him: “You left because you needed to find something you couldn’t get from your pack. Maybe you did,” she offered, speaking of his newfound insight into his own flaws. “At least you won’t return empty pawed.”

Lazarus had his eyes fixed on the ground, desolation in his gaze. Though he glanced up when Robin began to answer his question… “The kind… that doesn’t feel complete there. The kind that is… afraid.” He felt a sort of weird… good feeling, almost like relief. He knew what he did was wrong, but Robin offered him a sort of forgiveness… an explanation that wasn’t how lazy and selfish and stupid he was. An explanation that suggested that maybe she… understood.

Not for the first time Lazarus reflected on Robin’s unusual investment in his story when she let out the frustrated sigh. Was she a passionate wolf, he wondered? Or maybe she really did understand.

Her answer came after a long pause. Lazarus waited for it, watching her amber eyes which were diverted from him. “I left my pack.” Lazarus perked his tufted ears up, listening to her story. She left in search of something… a delusion? Lazarus was lost, wondering what it could be…

Finally she looked up at him, explaining that he had found what he was looking for. In truth, he didn’t feel a whole lot better about the situation in Aryn. He was dreading his return with every step, and he knew when he finally got there it would be far from a joyous and triumphant return. It would be quiet and shameful, and he would be right back where he started with the tension and the loneliness, except probably worse even. But at least I’ll be back. Lazarus had never really known who he was. He still didn’t know. But he knew more than he ever had before. He knew where he belonged, and he knew why he had left that place to begin with, and why it had been wrong. That’s what Robin meant, and she was right. He wouldn’t return empty pawed. He smiled a bit and nodded, “Yeah… my paws will be full alright,” he said, both in agreement to her and with reference to the work that was still before him when he returned… he would have some explaining to do.

Lazarus didn’t usually ask much into other wolves’ lives. He either didn’t care or didn’t want to care, since sometimes wolves had tragic pasts and no one liked a downer. But his comfort zone was way beyond crossed at this point, he had spoken to Robin in ways he had never spoken to anyone before. At this point he barely felt like himself as he adjusted to the exploration of this new… him. This new Lazarus that he had always shut out and scoffed at and ignored. The Lazarus that thought about things. And the Lazarus that empathized with people, and actually cared. “But your pack… what was the delusion?”

Their voices had grown quiet in the still autumn air. Robin looked up at the wisps of clouds, barely visible in the night sky, except that they held no stars. They parted just enough to offer a glimpse, a tease really. She wondered if the sky looked any different tonight in the mountains of Highvalley.

Her eyes parted with the stars and met with his as he asked of her wild goose chase. She had half-hoped he wouldn’t dare ask, but half-hoped that he did. She almost wanted to squirm with delight at the chance to tell someone. When she sought to be healed of her ‘affliction’ in Heyl, the wolves looked upon her with pity, both for the apparent social stigma that she claimed followed her birthright, and for her naivety. Her mostly self-driven childhood fixation of the redness of her fur was broken not by some snake oil or smearing herself with pitch -- she was still red after all, more so now than when she was a juvenile -- but through the notion of self-acceptance. She had parted ways with her pack in body and in spirit, and had no intentions of ever returning. By leaving the past behind her, Hakuna Matata, she was able to move on and look forward to what the future held. Right?

Her smile held, but the weight of her failure to fully address the ghosts of her past threatened it, always. She was Lazarus if he had succeeded in running away. ...And not been caught in that rockslide. She was what she wanted to keep him from.

The thought of how he might react to the truth of how absolutely silly she had been as a pup made her grin genuine. Robin rolled her eyes with feigned exasperation and tilted her head to look at him. “Okay. You’re totally going to laugh at this…”