unconventional fishing - Printable Version

That rock's still lodged in Yvan's throat as he stretches far further than he should, his forepaws sliding and bracing on the shore itself. His armpits land squarely at the ledge. "C'mon—!" Fingers splay out as he shoves, nearly tumbles from the shore, grasping for fur and scales and anything he can the moment Ryoto is in reach.

Claws hook on hair. With a gasp, Yvan has a hold of it, tight, tighter and dragging it closer like a yanked cloth. It's heavy. It's drenched. Yvan has to try, at least, try to save it, clenching onto the fur of its shoulders and neck to bring up up towards the bank.

Pebbles break loose as he hauls the both of them up. Hands switch from fur to hooking under armpits, and he's got it now, dragging it over the lip and scrabbling as far away from the river as he can. His mouth gapes for air. He hisses through gritted teeth, and he lugs Ryoto to lay on its back once either of their tails aren't idly in the freezing waters. For a brief moment, he pats anywhere he can, checking its chest, its arms, its cheek.

He's lost for words. Panting, Yvan plants his hands down beside either side of its face, water and blood beading down to his chin as he searches for life. There's no name to call for. There's nothing in his mind, other than the pleading for Ryoto to be okay. Even if he's worse for wear, he never wants to be that scared for Ryoto again.

"I'm sorry— ..." His face screws up and ends up going buried into its chest. Warmth pools under his eyes, claws grasp for its shoulders, and he chokes out a twisted sob that mutates into a despairing laugh. He doesn't get why he's laughing, he doesn't know how he even managed to get it out, but— ...

Ryoto's still alive. It's alive. His hands loosen to slink towards its chest and wrap it as close they can to himself. "You're alive. It's ok, we're fine— we're alive. Oh I'm- haa, I'm sorry, that was stupid and dumb and I almost lost you but I got you and I'm not letting go— I'm so sorry!" Shoulders shudder as he hides in its drenched fur. He grasps for its back, tucks it in more, stains its abdomen pink with blood as he refuses to let up.

He can't let go again.

A nervous impulse misfires at the scruffing, body going limp; limp, instead of curling in and scrambling to wrench itself away from the force pulling at its hair. Stone biting into its side as it's lugged into the impossibly colder air reawakens its sense of movement— the fact that it can at all, even with exhaustion sinking into its bones— and need for Yvan to live. It twists despite the urging for it to lie on its back, chest heaving and spasming with ragged coughs. A knee digs into the slick stone as it makes a feeble effort to help in dragging the two of them to safety. Ultimately, it's Yvan who does most of the lifting.

Yvan, whose cold, cold— palms are searching over drenched fur. Drenched, bloody, but—... he's alive. He's alive.

His sob is echoed by another; but its twin doesn't trail off into the hopelessly grateful, terrified laughter that it does. Ryoto wrenches itself upward, heedless of blood and the water dribbling from its lips as it coughs and heaves. Sitting close enough to upright, its arms wrap around Yvan's shivering frame— sopping-wet and as heavy as towels. It's sure that it feels cold and that it isn't helping, but—

It needs this.

Rambled apologies receive a short, throaty growl in response. It doesn't care. Don't ever do that again.

Ryoto butts its head against what little of his it can crane its neck for. A hand settles against the back of his, other arm slung around the waist— both squeezing tight. Yvan's sure to feel the full force of the staggered breaths in it takes; the voiceless sobs as it nuzzles in deeper. Claws tangle themselves in his scalp, tight, tight, tight—

A bleating whine escapes the drowned rat of a dragon, face twisting into Yvan's wet hair in its leftover distress.

As cold as he is, as freezing as it is, Yvan can't bear to find himself minding at all at how it envelops him in its fur. All he does is hold on tighter, bring himself closer, bury himself in the cold, wet fur of Ryoto, smother himself in its fur. His heart races as he shudders from the sting of air and warm tears. He can't bring himself to care about the pain it adds to his scalp.

"Cold," he murmurs into its pelt. It takes him a few harsh breaths and a little more courage, but slowly he peels his face away, tries to wipe at his face with a palm. He winces at the sheer touch with a throat-rattling hiss. "Ow."

He stays there for a moment, breathing in and out, trying to measure his hiccuping breaths before grabbing Ryoto's biceps. "Why— why did you go in too? Y-you're cold now too and- and— I could've dropped you, and... be left without you. D-don't do that. Th-thanks, but— ... m- I could've gotten out. I could've." It's all said and done now, but he still grimaces down to the side with his fingers tensing on its arms. "Iiih— it was my fault. I don't want to hurt you be- cause of something... something stupid. Don't... don't scare me like that."