;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide

Whether they wanted it to or not, time marched forever onward. Wounds began to stitch together. Souls began to mend. One could not stay a prisoner forever, when the prison was no longer of another's making.

and Olive, began to learn slowly that life was indeed not over; nor was it solely battles and blood. In fact, a the sylph saw the world in which she could face such things and survive due to the love and loyalty of her friends as a very beautiful world, indeed. The woman had a difficult time assessing her own value and worth, but if she looked at it from others' perspective, she was valuable and worthwhile indeed, and simply drowning in a sea of friendship and support. The simpleness of life tasted too sweet.

The quietude of Cloudrest was a welcome reprieve after near-constant adrenaline and panic. She spent most of her days sleeping, even though she deeply desired spending time with Tiberius, Benry, Riannon and Archon and detailing to each of them the nature of the thoughts she had while imprisoned amongst the walrus harem — but alas, she could not. All she could do was sleep.

Her exquisite tiredness lasted even after the titan, Tiberius, had said his goodbyes and parted ways to travel the long way back to Shiroshika, and inquire about the other happenings that he was responsible for. Though Olive pined for him to stay, and she wished to tell him that he was working himself to the bone and deserved rest as well, she knew she could not cage him — nor would she want to cage him. She wasn't being the most attentive host, anyways, and while Tib was away she could focus on what she really wanted to do: rest. not even eating, just... rest.

Olive lay in a spot of dappled sunshine, warming her body that always seemed so ever-cold. Her eyes were shut though she wasn't asleep; but still, her mind danced with listless daydreams and she mildly wondered where @benry was, and what he was doing, and how she had so much to say to him if there was only ever a chance.

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he'd been avoiding her.

because honestly, truthfully, he couldn't stand the sight of her.

it triggered a cascade of hatred.

of himself. he was her parole officer, her guard, really, and he had failed to keep her out of trouble. to keep her safe.

of tiberius. that he succeeded where benry had failed, looking the triumphant, chiseled hero who slayed the beast as benry fell into water like a fucking chump. a loser.

of her. he thought that he was fucking dying — very well could have died — and she'd barely glanced at him. too enamored with her savior to care for the person who'd been there the longest and was actually in mortal danger.

look, he wasn't "in love" with her. that wasn't how he felt at all. he barely even thought that it was possible, both for him just as a person and for them as a cat and wolf. but he cared. as deeply and sincerely as was possible for him. he stayed with her not because he was letting the joke run on too long but because he cared for her. because he thought he cared. — read: queerplatonic; benry's demiromantic

so to have the feelings not reciprocated in the way that he wanted, the way that he thought was fair? cut worst than any wound. chilled him to his core, reaching deeper than any ice water ever could.

he wandered aimlessly through frostchant. he was really only here for her and archon. and that his chest hurt when he breathed and he hated sitting there wheezing in pain — read: bitch's got bronchitis and he didn't want to be cold again, even though spring was slowly warming everything up.

he saw her. sleeping in the sun.

he blinked for a moment.

then he turned around and left, his strides as long as he could managed without outright running. his chest protested the sudden burst of movement, but he just couldn't look at her.

nopenopenopenopenope.
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She wasn't sleeping,

and Benry wasn't as clandestine as he thought.

Olive couldn't say that the world was quiet — her awareness, as she laid inert and fully listening, was full of the birds that warbled their springtime songs, and the rustling of the newest grasses in the winds, and the trilling of insects coming out of hibernation — and still, Benry's featherlight, fleeting footsteps registered louder than it all.

Her eyes opened and she blinked against the sun, catching a flash of gold and the flick of an absconding tail in the shadows just there. Olive rolled her tongue against the roof of her mouth, uttering a small "Benry?" that was probably too quiet to hear, so she followed with a heartier "Will you stay?" and lifted her head, wondering if he had heard her. He probably hadn't heard her.

But why did he now run, when he might have once been by her side?

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she was lucky, very very lucky, that he was sick.

his chest protested loudly at the quick movement, the sudden need for his lungs and diaphragm. it stalled him, making him cough wretchedly as her words tickled the back of his ears.

he hacked and coughed, growling with irritation at the pain trickling in his chest.

because of her.

he wondered, stupidly, angrily, really, if he would feel as bad if she had paid attention to him, had given him the time of day after he fell into the depths.

“stop.” he gritted through his teeth. he couldn't say if he was speaking to her or himself. “no.”
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A small part of Olive hoped, now that she had addressed him and requested his presence, that all would be fine and he would assume his place by her side. He did not stop willingly, and his escape was thwarted by a hacking coughing fit that reverberated through his entire body. All this, Olive (an experienced healer) could ascertain from simply the sound of it — and as much as Olive wished she could say it was her concerns over his health that drove her to him, her reasoning was something much more existential.

He coughed and sputtered; the ashen waif climbed upon unsteady legs in an anxious rush and called out to the golden lion, startled by his reaction and rejection. “Benry!” she called again, her voice stressed, this time not to catch his attention but to ensure he didn’t leave, or run away in the next moments. Her heart, which had been so full and peaceful, beat wildly, enticed into palpitations by her lack of understanding and honest surprise at all things that had happened between them (or lack thereof) since she was recovered from Boomba’s harem. Olive wished to run towards him — how slowly she moved, and how weak her bones felt, could not be helped.

When she arrived at his side, the woman allowed her slight head to hang in way that connoted how she felt, in a regards to the two of them. “I don’t understand…” the shewolf said softly. ”Where have you been?” As unconscious as she had been the past days, it hadn’t hit her that perhaps Benry was intentionally avoiding her. Honestly, she hadn’t thought about it much (which perhaps what truly belied the growing dissonance between them), but she hadn’t thought about anything much at all, except for how good it felt to be hale, healthy and loved.

There were many things Olive wished she could change in that moment, and the breathless whisper of her voice made her cringe. She did not want Benry to think she was soliciting sympathy here and now. Instead, she only wanted to talk to him. “It feels as though you are mad at me, and I can’t fathom why,” she said, perhaps bluntly, but such a thing was what she wished from him in this moment. “I wish you would tell me directly.” and she sat her hindquarters down as she felt the eternal tiredness settle in. Perhaps Benry might take it as an invitation to do the same.

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Though Olive had asked Benry to be direct, she found herself entirely unprepared for when he unapologetically obliged to her wishes. He released a tirade of venomous words upon her, some true more than others; but Olive could do nothing more than stand there, eyes not even blinking, as she received the full weight of his each and every through. Benry, her friend. Benry, one of the heroes who had saved her — did she truly make him feel so consistently small and stupid, that he felt the need to be defensive of himself so often, and so viscerally?

He snarled at her and lifted a paw; and for perhaps the first time, Olive was afraid of Benry. The claws, so much sharper and more meant to kill than her own, made her feel threatened in a way she had felt perhaps once before, with the walrus — and before he could slam his paw on the earth, she had spirited away from him, her heart fluttering wildly, unsure if her Cloudrest was as dangerous a place as the ice floe had been.

Even as assured as Benry felt he was, she could not find it in herself to shoulder the responsibility that he cast upon her. Stonefaced, the woman wondered who had taught the man such behaviors. Perhaps the ones who had made him, who had clamped the foreign machine upon his neck?

She swallowed a deep breath, attempting to still the wild beating of the blood through all parts of her mind and body, and failing miserably. The hair upon the back of her neck raised in a way that felt most foreign, and the emotions that she might have doing a good job of swallowing thus far — the feeling that she was eternally at risk, the understanding that horrible things could happen to devout, good people, the worry that she would continually disappoint those who had risked their lives to save her — all bubbled to the surface. How dare he put this on her!

Could he truly think of no one but himself?

Olive seethed, and her mind was cashing checks that her energy could not cash. There were many moments she wished to interject, or place her paws upon his shoulders and shake some of the anger out of him, but all she did was meagerly, feebly and silently listen to her upbraiding from the safe distance of the sideline, steeping in every expletive thrown her way. When it was mostly over, Olive found the space for her small voice to weasel in. “You ask me not to speak,” she said slowly, almost to herself. “but how can I not?” She looked towards Benry, with a sad-ivy gaze that asked him to allow her space for her own expression.

“I understand that we are each the protagonist of our own stories,” she began, curling her tail around her gathered ankles as she continued to sit, to perhaps conserve her resolves, lest this be a long discussion. "—that means that I also understand that you are the one saying all these things about yourself, not me." again, she wasn't sure if she was telling benry (would he even listen to her?) or if she was telling this to herself. “But in doing so, you completely devalue my own lived experience, as if everything was fine and I, myself, was in my right mind—" she shuffled her front paws uncomfortably as she cast benry a gaze that resembled something like shame. She was not intentionally trying to make this about her, but wasn't it?

Then she gazed off into the near-distant horizon, her eyes unseeing, but her mind wondering how to say this next delicate matter. “Our lives are not a game where we get endless chances. If it were up to your rescue efforts alone, we would both be dead. We wouldn’t get a chance to heal. We wouldn’t get better. We would be dead.” Her attention cut towards him, wondering if he had realized this; that he owed his life to Tiberius and his wildcrafted army, just as she did. But they hadn't died. They were both alive, and to argue about almost-dying felt besides the point. Olive didn't care that Benry's own rescue effort didn't work... but she only didn't care, because Tiberius had succeeded.

“How could you put yourself in so much danger? How could you be so stupid? Do you think the last thing I want to see in my life is my best friend,  thrashing in the water, dying for a fallacy…” Olive closed her eyes and wished the tears not to come, but come they always did. The waif paused, only for a moment, to allow a shuddering breath to pass through her. “I will not sit here and argue whose trauma is worse — there is no way to determine it,” she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the back of a pale, velveteen paw. “But you cannot ignore the fact that I was enslaved, forced to live amongst garbage, forced to feed, to be fattened up to be made appealing to their king, so that he may breed me and turn me into a coat…” Breathe. Swallow. Blink away wetness. Repeat.

Olive wished to come closer, but the distant still felt satisfactory to the instinctive, reptilian-part of her brain.“You know nothing of my experience, have not asked me about it, and you act as if I cast you aside out of spite, neglecting to see anyone else in your story.” She held his gaze. Breathe. “There were many other heroes that day who too risked their lives, but I didn’t have the time or the headspace to go and address any of them, either… I cannot be in two places at once… I had to choose…” This was the reality. There would always be someone who got what they wanted, and someone who didn't. There was no world where the could have appeased both parties involved, especially when her and Tiberius were so opposed, and forced her to choose.

“I felt so alive… and I wanted to share that with him. I cannot apologize for following my deepest held desires,” There had to be a world where her happiness with Tiberius and he love for Benry could co-exist — however, Tiberius wasn't the only other force in her life that Benry felt he was competing against. "Truthfully, I didn’t go to Tiberius first. I went to the walrus — and I berated him, even as a corpse.” Olive hung her head at the vivid memory. “There was so much rage in me, and so much love and longing… that is all I had to give, in that moment.” Gritting her jaw, Olive finally opened her eyes and looked at him with a desperate, cloying gaze.

“Is that what you wanted?” she asked, almost afraid of his answer. “Is our friendship not enough for you?”

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his sudden weakness forced him to listen, despite his brain screaming at him to run. he wheezed through her words, sputtering and choking as if he had swallowed lungs full of water yet again, his eyes watering from the effort and the rage and the sorrow.

somewhere within himself he hated that she was right, that she had been hurt, hurt more than he could ever comprehend, and that he'd barely thought of that in all this time. and he hated that he didn't know, and that he'd let her get hurt, and ultimately — she, despite herself, didn't disagree. she had said it outright, in so many words: he would have failed. and they would have died. he gasped, her words allowing him the chance to catch his breath “th-th-th-they were taking. too long.” he hissed in the end. it was all he could muster. “ssso you ch-chose to yell at...a-a-a-at, atta corpse?”

she asked what he wanted and he told the truth, just as he had before. “i ju-juss-ss- i don't know.” he whined, almost dog-like. “y-yourrrrr'e, you're normal. you can get otherrr chances. you c-can make other fr-fr-friendsss! you have otherrrr frrriends!” there were so many there. who showed up for her. wolves and creatures he didn't know that she had known, from places beyond frostchant.

“you're all i have.” he realized with a whisper. “aaa-ar-arc-archon hasss others. he's growin'. y'know? he big boy. he'll grow-w-wuh, grow outta me.” he would grow up, because that's what normal people did. he'd grow up and stop playing with him. “ya-ya-yer the only one who'ss been able t-t-t-ta tolerate me fer this long.” he gulped, feeling the tension in his throat and chest, not from his illness, but something deeper in his soul. “i'm sorry.” he choked out.
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Somehow, for some reason, Benry listened to her caustic response. He stayed, and even weathered her tirade. It was painful to see him in such a state, but it was even more painful for Olive to feel her own feelings. He didn't understand her perspective, or any part of it, and when Benry acted to incredulously towards her all-consumed hatred towards the walrus, she bristled and flexed her toes against the ground in apparent frustration. “Yes,” she groaned. “You don’t know what it’s like to be enslaved, or…” her voice became weak, almost instantly dropping away, as her gaze fell directly on the collar that sat tight 'round his neck.

Then she looked at the ground, and she didn't say anything for a number of moments.

Benry sputtered an explanation, an answer to her question about his motivations, and what the hell she could do to appease him. Silent still, but her mind churned to process his words. She supposed, in a way, Benry was right. She did find it easy to tend and befriend, and the woman was aware now (more than ever before) what exactly it was that personality trait bought her: it has saved her life. The shewolf couldn't imagine what it must feel like to feel unsupported and alone, as Benry must at times — but it was far too much responsibility for her to be Benry's sole source of safety and approval.

The tone of the conversation quieted down to something dull and sorrowful. The svelte figure of the mountain lion appeared smaller, fueled by something other than anger. All too suddenly, the distance between them was overwhelming. Olive dreadfully wished to close the distance between them and make nice of all this painful truth, but she refrained. From behind a veil of thick lashes, she glanced listlessly over to the cat and uttered quietly “I had a lot of time to think out there.” she said, searching for his familiar green-gray gaze; and whenever she did make eye contact, she found that her heart fluttered so wildly that it wrenched her attention away. “You know what I thought about?” she spoke, to the skies.

“I thought about your laugh. And I thought about how you smell at night,” she explained, her voice strangled and taut, as if holding back tears. “And I thought about how I never wondered where you were. You were right there, always with me…” a sob rose in her throat, overtaking her words. She went from looking upwards, to hanging her head towards the earth, then to pointing her body towards Benry and pacing several careful steps forward. She sniffled, eyes watering openly.

“No one has been able to tolerate me this long either,” she said, pausing to rethink her physical advance. "You've been around longer than anyone else." without making a decision either way, her paws continued to drift forward. "I'm not so sure I deserve your...." she took a breath, "...love, and friendship." Well, that was about the gist of it, wasn't it? That's why she felt so shitty, right, because she felt she didn't deserve Benry's devotion? I mean, he had come to save her, and she had been too distracted to give him the time of day.

Some friend she was.

So close they were, that Olive dared to reach out her nose and touched it upon his neck. "I'm sorry too," she nearly-whimpered. If he would allow it, the waifish woman would step closer and press her entire face into the dense curvature of the lion's neck. “You think you are the most vile thing in the world," she spoke into him. "but you are not, I promise…”

“Well, at least no more vile than I am.”

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benry huffed, glaring at her quietly. he was glad though, that she recognized her mistake before continuing, because he didn't want to say the truth. he was a pampered slave, a toy, a pet, a trophy. he had come to realize that, as he walked with these wild, freeborn, unaltered creatures. he could feel a burning around his neck then, literally hot under the collar. he shook his head, dismissively.

he didn't say anything as she met, then held his gaze. he couldn't bring himself to look away, even as his breath rasped again, panting with sudden restlessness.

deserve. that had struck him. giving it to her had seemed natural. it didn't strike him that he didn't have to. he just...did.

he didn't move away when she stepped forward and pressed against him. he was painfully aware of his breathing then, the hurt and drag of his lungs and diaphragm and throat. but he was just as aware of her warmth. her presence.

his breath hitched, and he wasn't even aware of when he started crying, but it just happened, despite his pain. the purr, more stressed than happy, began vibrating through his chest and body. he leaned back against her, and one arm looped around her, holding her close.
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