ORIGIN

This is Eridanus. Have you been here before?
No.

Bones nodded, more to himself. He had started travel again and struck a connection with the frilled lizard in Polaris. She could hear his thoughts, and he could hear hers. He didn't mind it really - her thoughts were simple. She couldn't speak.

He called her Sally. He liked Sally, almost like a sister; so now it was time to show her his brother. Hopefully, they'd get along. The dog went along with the lizard on his back, near the scars littered there that parted the fur. It didn't hurt; but Sally was probably being careful. She probably knew it would hurt sometimes.

As he went down tunnel I he wanted to tell her about everything - even the things he didn't know about. Those are carvings on the wall, he murmured into his mindspace.
Know. Sally shot back.

Perhaps he was a little put down by the lizard, but it certainly didn't ruin his mood. He twisted and turned into Eridanus, ears pricking as he treaded onto the moss and began heading inwards to the maw of mosses.

Green.
Green. It was an agreement.

Bones continued in, hounding through the trees, sniffing the bark and the ferns. He could barely smell the disgusting scent of fungus - it reminded him of his own mother. Gently, his ears flickered and he lifted his head and continued on.

The mother was up ahead - the giant white mushroom that stood tall in Eridanus. He was sure he'd find Booker there, somewhere. As he came up to it he gently pressed his nose against it, as if he were greeting an old friend. It warranted some confusion from Sally, but he promptly ignored it.

He sat down and turned his head. "Booker?" he called out gently, shifting on his aching legs to set himself down onto his haunches, briefly watching Sally crawl down his foreleg and onto the ground by his paws, shaking her frill out a little in practice.

Don't, he scolded gently.
Have to, she replied.

Barnett sat on top of the Mother's massive cap, the feel of spongy flesh, alive and shimmering under his paws, keeping him at least somewhat grounded. His arms still ached from the strain of climbing Her stalk, then Her frills to awkwardly haul himself up to his perch, but it was worth it - he could see so far in each direction it almost felt like flying. The numbat winced. He'd come up here to get away from the whole Baratheon situation, as complex and convoluted as it was, but it seemed even now he couldn't rest.

A touch made the cap tremor so minutely it was almost unnoticeable - but nothing about Her was unnoticeable to Her most faithful servant, Barnett supposed, even when Booker was locked up tight, exhausted from the entire Baratheon... thing. Curious, Barn got up, stretching, trotting to one edge of the cap to peer over the side, twitching at the searching call. Booker?

There was a dog sitting under the shadow of the Mother, painted with scars, a frilled lizard skittering down to the ground next to him. By now, the impatient pull of Booker was normal, and Barnett only put up a few second's fight before giving in to the scribe's unabashed wave of relief - something that they both sorely needed, if he were honest. "Bones?" Booker grinned, eye misting up a bit, whiskers twitching, gaze flickering to the lizard and back to his brother. "I cain't believe you're really 'ere!"

He did a sort of awkward rolling flip, clinging to the Mother's frills and scaling them upside-down, reaching the stalk to scamper down it and practically race towards the dog, skidding to a stop at his paws, grinning at Bones with a toothy smile. "Been missin' you somethin' fierce." Booker pointedly did not mention that he hadn't exactly remembered his brother existed for a good two months - bygones and all. "Didja make a new friend?" He peered towards the lizard, tilting his head to one side. She seemed kind of... quiet.

Well, not his business. His business included "not mentioning any of the terrible/amazing things that had happened in the past three months" and "making sure Bones was okay." Snuggling also fit in there somewhere, Booker was sure. In fact, that sounded like an excellent idea - so the numbat wiggled, hopping up onto one of the dog's legs and scampering up to his shoulder, unintentionally leaving a trail of spores in his wake, clinging to Bones' fur and making him a permanent beacon in Booker's fungal vision. Booker didn't much care, considering he was currently hugging the stuffing out of one side of his brother's face, like a particularly clingy teddy bear.

Bones lifted his head and, at the same time, Sally did too. The dog's tail curled up and wagged, scraping up snow on the ground as he watched Booker make his way down the white mushroom. "Booker!"

Threat.
Not a threat.

He twisted his head around to lick the numbat clambering up his body. He smelled the spores but he decided he didn't care much. It was probably coming from Booker himself, anyway. He half-closed his eyes, grinning. "That's Sally. She doesn't talk, but I can hear what she thinks."

He nodded down at the frilled lizard. Her blue eyes gleamed briefly before she scuttled off. Hunt, she said simply, the dog sighing through his nose. "She just does her own thing, I think."

His grin didn't falter however; the painted dog lay down with his tongue lolled out, placing a paw over Booker. "I missed you, Booker. How are you?"

The numbat clung to Bones' face for a few more moments, practically buzzing out of his skin at the feel of his best friend solid and alive under his paws, before scuttling up to sit on top of the dog's head, peering down at the lizard below. "Sally, huh? Wait - hear what she thinks?"

Booker's fur puffed up just a bit, anxiety curling in his gut. He mentally scoffed at himself - it couldn't be a true bond, not really. It wouldn't destroy Bones if the little creature died. It wasn't anything like his oh-so-"sacred" link to Baratheon. "Uh. Neat!" He chuckled softly to cover up his lapse, praying that his friend didn't ask about it - from the tattered memories that had come flooding back, he was fairly certain he'd never even mentioned the bond to him, much less who was on the other side.

Then again, he kind of wished he didn't know who was on the other side.

The scribe swayed as his seat moved to lay down, and suddenly the ground was much closer. He hopped down to the dirt, wobbling, turning to grin at Bones, squeaking out a giggle when a paw dropped to half pin him and half pap him. The question made him tense, and Booker chewed on his bottom lip, glancing away and back again. "Well, u-uh, I'm... okay." He winced, Barnett mocking him for the obviously faked answer.

"Okay, I'm not okay, but I'm better than I've been," he settled on, shrugging and reaching up to pat at Bones' paw pad. "I uh... well. Ah don't think I ever told ya... the bond between you and Sally. Thinka that, but talking to her, bein' able to see through her eyes, to step into her body. And her doin' the same. Bein' able to share memories, too." Booker's gaze stuck on the ground, back claws digging into the dirt. "That's what I had - have - with Baratheon."

For a moment, Bones watched the frilled lizard run off. She looked back at him, and then vanished - along with her thoughts. His ears flickered somewhat, but he decided not to question it at all. Instead, he looked back at his brother, listening.

At the possibility of Booker perhaps not being okay, he leaned down and licked the top of the numbat's head. He watched him pat his pawpad with a slight nod, before pausing. "Have? With Baratheon?" he was surprised, but he did his best to keep his tone neutral. If it were his brother's choice - and in the dog's eyes, it was a bad choice - then that was Booker's business.

What if it wasn't his choice? a voice in the back of his head nagged. He tried his best to ignore it as he touched noses with Booker. "That's-... that's okay. Everything's okay. You don't have to be nervous or ashamed about it."

He wanted to support him. He wanted to be there for him - even with the raw fear beginning to crawl it's way around his skin, causing his mottled fur to stand. He tried to focus on his brother, but the fear began to boil deep within his belly. There was nothing more he hated than Baratheon.

Worst of all, he might be near by.

Booker settled a bit at the obvious affection in the gesture, eyes lifting from the ground at the nose-to-nose touch. It hit him then, like a punch, just how clean his brotherhood with Bones had always been. They'd never fought. The dog's teeth had never closed on his leg, sunk into muscle, broken bone. They'd never even argued. Fuck, Bones hadn't even blamed him for being too weak to stop Baratheon from nearly killing him.

Barnett was growing into an angry ember at the back of his mind, furiously fighting for control, because this - this was a bond. He loved Bones, with every ounce of fury and pain trapped in his ribcage, and he didn't have to feel guilty about it, halting and over-patient, sickly sweet and apologetic. It was... freeing. And damning at once, because if this was a true friendship, if this was brotherhood, what ungodly connection had he been entangled into with the dragon?

The thought made his stomach roll and his eye clench shut, made an unsteady breath shudder through his lungs and out his nose. "But I do," Barnett murmured, eye opening a sliver, and the change-up was most obvious there, in the gaze. It was steady and cold. Analytic. "I should be ashamed, and nervous, and guilty, and all of it. You could've died, Bones. He would've killed you," he whispered, the words strangling themselves in the air.

"And I would have been powerless to stop it," Barnett added, gaze wandering away, paws clenching into fists. "He told me it was my destiny. To help him control the... whatever he calls it." The term was misty, faded, worn around the edges. "And what could I say? No? He could've eaten me when I was born. He saved me."

But for the first time, he wondered if the dragon had done anything other than ruin him.

There were thorns growing in the dog's throat. Every nerve within his system wanted to pick the numbat up and carry him away, somewhere else, somewhere safe. But he couldn't. Nowhere would be safe if Booker had a bond with the dragon. Instead, Bones began to lick Booker's mouth between his words.

He barely saw his eye flicker.

He assumed it was Baratheon.

"No, no, no, no, no," the dog murmured gently as he coiled his entire self around the numbat, resting his nose on his back. His ears were flat against his skull now, the thorns growing and moving up his throat and to the back of his eyes. "It's not your fault. None of it is. You're not responsible for anything he does, anything he says. If I had died, it wouldn't have been your fault."

He was whimpering, restless. He continued to shift and move around the numbat - though he was unsure what good it was doing, if it was doing anything at all. He touched and he nudged, he licked and he nuzzled. The possibility occured to him that perhaps he was more upset on the situation than Booker himself was, and he eventually went still, curled tight around the numbat with eyes wide and glassy.

"Do you believe it was your destiny?" he asked with a wavering voice. "You're smart, and you're strong. You don't have to believe anything he says. Anything anyone says." He supposed, by that logic, he didn't have to believe him either.

"You don't have to believe he saved you. You don't have to believe you're doing the right thing to help him. You don't have to be here, in this conversation," he tried to get closer, but twisting himself further around the numbat would have hurt his spine.

"I love you and I want you to be happy," he said. The thorns were threatening to pierce through his eyes - to which he realised it was hot water rather than thick, sharp barbs - or perhaps it was blood from them scraping and injuring his skin. Regardless, liquid was beginning to wet his face. "If you're happy with him, then that's okay. But I don't want you to be upset about what he does, or think you have to take responsibility over his actions."

Barnett shuddered when the dog moved, almost expecting a strike, flinching when his friend did nothing but coil around him, gentle, always so gentle, without the air of being careful. Without anything but simple care. It hurt, made his eyes prickle with moisture, and the scribe roughly scraped the tears away, nearly melted back against Bones' snout. "But you almost did! And I c-couldn't do anything, I just stood there and watched you burn yourself back together and I left you!"

His breath came in strangled, gulping whines, and panic made him twitch. "I just left you there," he finally whispered, eye clenched shut hard, hard enough to make him wince, tears sticky in his fur. "And you... you forgave me. A-and I don't know why." As if all the energy had left him, the numbat slumped into his brother's side, tear tracks wetting his face, pooling out from the edges of his ruined eye socket, staining his opaline gemstone.

"I d-don't... no. No. I can't do it, Bones." It was a confession, soft and fear-filled. "I c-can't help him. I don't think I ever could. He won't let me, and I - every time. Any time he loses it, anything he does, I have these, these impressions." Scarred paws trembled. "I don't w-want to know what it's like to hurt you, or Ark, or anyone. But I do."

He fell silent, finally, turned and burrowed into plush fur, hid his face against the dog's skin, trembled. The urge to protest the claims was consuming. He wasn't smart, or strong, how could he be? No one had said so. They would, if it were true, wouldn't they? But Bones wouldn't lie. He never lied. So Booker hid, and shivered, and let the words wash over him. "I want to be here. I want to," he murmured, an assurance, moved his head enough to meet Bones' gaze.

"I love you too. Sometimes, it feels like, too much. Like if I hold onto it, s-something bad will happen. And then you'll go away t-too." And he wouldn't survive it. He wouldn't. Not Bones. He would just... stop.

Forever.

"I'm..." He wanted to jump to Baratheon's defense, but he faltered, grimaced, turned back into warm fur and choked on a sob. "I don't know how. I don't know how to be happy without him."

"Speech"
He was crying. Burning hot tears flooded from his eyes, staining his fur and partially some of Booker's. His shoulders heaved, his throat was dry. What had that fucking dragon done to his brother? Booker did nothing to deserve this - Baratheon was trying to kill him slowly, from the inside out.

He doesn't know how to be happy. That can't be true. That can't be true.

Raw hatred began to boil beneath the sadness. His brother was broken and it was Baratheon's fault. In the same way the dragon had ruined his legs, he had ruined Booker's emotions. The dragon has the numbat's heart clamped in his jaws, blood dripping down his face and he refuses to let go.

The dragon had ruined his legs. Bevy had healed his legs.

Is it possible to heal someone's emotions the same way you can heal flesh and bone?

Bones couldn't be sure, but regardless he breathed until the tears finally stopped. "I would have rathered you left, Booker," he said quietly. "I didn't want you to see me like that and I don't want you to see anyone else like that. I don't want you to see half of the things you've seen."

He breathed in. For a moment, he thought perhaps he sounded a little controlling - he didn't want to sink to Baratheon's level. He closed his eyes, briefly. "You don't have to help him and if he doesn't let you, then there is no point in you staying around with him," he watched Booker now, quietly nuzzling his fur. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

... was he telling Booker that, or himself?

"Nothing bad will happen. I won't leave you. You're safe and that's important," he said. "You've been happy before-- do you remember? Before you knew him. In Polaris. You were happy, right?"

He shifted, head next to his. "You don't have to rely on other people for happiness, Booker."

Booker burrowed further into the warmth, half out of fear and half out of guilt. Bones was shivering, shaking with tears, and it was his fault again. Why couldn't he just stop? Stop everything and rest? Why couldn't he be young and new again and only have to worry about meeting Bones' mom or playing with Quix? Too broken. It's too late. Gotta keep moving forward. No use lookin' back. Breath hitching, the scribe threaded soft fur through his fingers, held on tight, as if Bones would simply disappear if he let go.

The chest he was stretched against rumbled with words, and Barnett sniffed, tried to even out their heartbeats, counted the dog's and focused. "I wish I could forget," he whispered, secretive, like it was shameful. It was, in a way. Who was he, to be free from the horrors of life? He wasn't special. He was just a trouble magnet. He'd live with it. He had to. He let his brother's assurances curl around him like a blanket, a living shield, and sighed.

Nothing bad will happen. He won't leave. I'm safe that's - that's important. Booker mouthed the words, but couldn't repeat them. "I was happy," he mumbled, muffled by fur. "I was happy. But he was still there." Had he ever explained it? Ever told of waking up to darkness, to two massive monsters? Of being saved from drowning in the river that cut through Polaris by the dragon? Of being balanced on its snout, gentle, treated like he was precious?

Treated like he was worthy?

It was a novelty, a comfort. To be treasured like that. Like he was something, someone special. Like he was the center of someone's whole world. And it had started off fun, breath-taking, a gift. Slowly, the weight of it held him down. The responsibility. The heavy chains of choosing to help someone who changed from his savior to his brother to a murderer to the thing biting through his leg to his captor.

The realization almost snatched the air from his lungs.

"He was the only person, the only one who told me I was everything. I was supposed to be made for him!" It was a strange sort of yelp, a wail almost, gritty, rubbing his throat raw. "And I'm not! I'm not special, Bones! I'm - I'm just me! And I'm never enough!"