It didn't matter how long she slept, or how little. It didn't matter how stuffed her pack became with valuable healing materials that she dispassionately stored away. No matter how many times she rubbed at her red-rimmed eyes, tears soon came to brim again.

Her lovely Fritz wouldn't wake up. No matter how she tried, with forcing his unconscious body to swallow water and food, or when she tried to talk to him in hopes his curiosity would get the better of him in this damnable sleep, he just wouldn't respond. His light, shallow breathing made her on edge and paranoid that it would just stop alltogether, and...to be honest, she was just so tired of crying. Of caring.

All it lead to was pain in her chest. She cared for people, and it got her hurt over and over and over. She hadn't heard from Tenn since their home burned down, her sister Dove was...well, let's face it, her absence was expected, given how apathetic she was towards her. Bog was probably getting himself nearly killed again while she wasn't around, and everyone else just expected her to use her skills to the best of her ability.

The only people who got close to her were...gone. And she should get used to it. Why bother care?

She rubbed at her eyes again, trying to get the pain in her chest to stop, trying to make her throat lessen its restriction, because it was just being stupid.

"....why can't I just hate everyone...." She murmured under her breath.

Pisces was... quiet, ever since Leon had vanished, leaving Baroque alone, with nary a peep of news from anyone on where his family had simply disappeared to. Hawthorne had taken to sleeping just outside of the soft-spoken hybrid's den, always waking by morning and slipping back to his own. He'd never really understood how to comfort, to "lend a helping hand" as the older members of Maji Walezi had offered up for advice, but he knew how to listen, to watch and wait. If anything, the slowly growing pile of blue-gold baubled stones outside of his friend's home was as much of an apology for the world's misfortunes as the bony buck could offer. For now he yawned, uncurling from his awkward lean against one of Pisces' damp walls, blinking sleep from his eyes as he took in the view of yet another mind-numbing morning.

He stilled at the sight of a thin creature yards away, obvious in the early light whilst he lay in the shadow of the cave's ridges. Breath picking up as anxiety ruffled his fur, Hawthorne craned his neck to peer at the stranger, tail swishing on the ground. Suddenly, it clicked, and his good eye widened, golden iris dilating in surprise. It had been cycles since he'd seen her, but it had to be, it just had to be "C-Cayenne?"

The soft murmur was muffled under the roar of the waterfall, and he slowly rose, feeling distinctly odd that he now towered over his childhood friend as he trotted forward, gait forever unsteady and strange. "Cayenne, i-is that you?" The tiny grin on his muzzle had leaked into his tone, giving away just how closely he still thought of the lemur - if the slight wag of his tail didn't telegraph it enough.

She heard her name under the roar of the waterfall, but she instead of turning, she froze, the fur around her shoulders prickling at the innocent, happy sound. He called to her again, and the footsteps were coming towards her faster than she could pretend to not hear him and just slip quietly away.

Dammit, no no no no no, she didn't want to care, she just wanted to have a quiet heart for once, but heavens, what part of the caves wanted her to be at peace?

Fuck you, All Mother, she thought with a poison tone.

So she turned to the child she remembered so long ago and oh mother he was tall. She had to crane her head up to look him in the eye, his pleasant and slightly nervous expression still as it was the last time they met. She was silent for a little while, quiet hope for a friend battling with dripping cynicism, and, as always, hope won out.

"Hawthorne," She said softly, her raspy, cobweb voice harsh with disuse. "It's me. It....truly has been a while, hasn't it? You're all grown up in the blink of an eye." She looked around briefly, and wondered out loud if that flower she made for him was still here.

She reached out to find it with her magic, but it snapped back at her like a slap in the face, angry with her for not using magic in so long. Her fingers pinched the brow of her nose and her eyes scrunched close with the sting of it, and she hissed, "Tch," under her breath.

As soon as the older Gembound turned, a purr, steady and almost uncomfortably loud began to roll from Hawthorne's throat, all of his strange mix of teeth - some pointed and carnivorous, others flat and square - on display in a beaming grin. His head ducked down on a strange, serpentine neck to level out their gazes, and his own expression mellowed into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, all four feet dancing in place excitedly. Quietly, he wondered where his childhood friend had been, if she had been with the partner she had mentioned... if she had thought about him. But one thing the days turned into weeks had taught him was not to push. "I-it has been a while, M-Miss Cayenne," he agreed in a purring murmur. Even if she had revealed part of the truth about his mother - or, perhaps, because of it - he still thought about the lemur who had first truly appreciated his talents with magic.

Speaking of which, he perked up again at the mention of the flower she had preserved, wide dish-like ears flickering. "Oh! Our flower is still h-here, Cayenne," Hawthorne assured, raising his head to gesture towards the lake's shoreline, tines glinting in the light. "Right w-where it was! I made s-sure no one h-hurt it," the buck promised, moving his neck to point his face straight down. The odd physique of a doe and a cat, one would suppose. He frowned at the pained expression of her face, ducking down to nudge at her forehead with his nose. "Y-you okay?" He almost offered to lend her a shoulder - or, in this case, a back covered in matted creamsicle fur - to lean on, but his attempts at that kind of thing hadn't ever been particularly successful.

"Hm?" She lowered her hand and flashed a very small smile at the worried Thorne. "I tried to use a spell and it gave me a headache instead. It's nothing to worry about." Her head throbbed and her eyes felt irritated, but she pushed it aside and wandered over to where the flower stood, exactly the same as when she had left it. She touched its soft petals, the blue cast of light tinging the upturned palm of her scarred hand, and she looked at it for a length, musing. She looked back to Thorne and beckoned him closer, to lay down on the ground next to the lakebed.

Once he did, she ran her small fingers through his pelt, sighing a little bit. She missed petting him, the overwhelming need to groom his messy fur like a meditation just waiting for her. Slowly she untangled the knots and petted the hair down, starting at his neck. Absentmindedly while she did so, she thought that she could easily make more of those flowers. She could make a whole field of flowers right here, if she wanted to. And she could pull out those two tea cups she'd carved cycles ago, after Booker taught her about tea.

It would be nice. Calm. Easy. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

She kept telling herself that as she reached for her magic, bringing more of those flowers to life underneath the rockbed. She called an unnecessary amount to come to life, but only a quarter of them actually managed to pierce the ground, peeking gently through the cracks to tickle their feet and blossom around them both. It brought a small and subtle fragrance as they began to open their blooms, like a silent sigh.

"....It would be nice...if this whole area was covered in flowers." She said, feeling strangely at odds with herself. She was a powerful doctor who could bring a gigantic boar back to life with a huge gaping hole in his chest, and here she was petting a child and making flowers, wanting to sit down for a tea party.

She wondered when this would all go to Gehenna.
And then she told herself that, even though it would eventually, she still wanted the peace.
She deserved it, at least a little bit.

Hawthorne felt his lips twitch up at the lemur's reassurance, but his brow remained furrowed, keeping a steady eye on his friend as he lazily trotted after her, smile returning when she found the flower. It was tall, and he'd spent weeks after she'd left building a spiraling sun-pattern of baubled stones around it, practicing his magic, waiting for her to come back and see his work the same way he'd waited for Valentine and Iris to come back. Eventually the stones had started appearing on Baroque's doorstep instead. "S-see? I kept it s-safe," the buck murmured, trotting forward at her gesture and flopping down with all four legs tucked under his concave stomach.

His purr had trailed off, but it came back in full force when delicate hands began to work through his fur, tugging at matted knots and brushing them out in a way he'd only ever experience once, on that day so long ago. Eyelids dropping to half-mast, Hawthorne rumbled contentedly, chin dropping down to rest on the damp ground, hesitating for just a moment before licking a stripe up Cayenne's cheek in thanks. He felt more at ease than he had in... well. Four cycles, really. After finding out about his mother's apparent death, and then slowly hearing the stories filtering in about her deeds, always hushed up by adults when he walked near; with Wisteria's disappearance weighing on his mind and Valentine vanishing, relaxation had been in short supply. Eyes slipping shut, they only fluttered open when the familiar scent of flowers in bloom suddenly hit his nose.

The buck stared down his snout at a flower, slowly breaking its way through the soil to twirl in the air, brushing his snout with its leaves and petals. Hawthorne blinked in surprise, head rising from the ground to watch as flowers yawned their ascent, tickling his hocks with their blossoms. His ears flicked to catch Cayenne's soft words, and he hummed in agreement, breath ruffling the tiny field around them. "T-that would be nice," the hybrid agreed, neck straightening as an idea hit. "Oh! Baro h-has a garden, a b-big one. Y-you should s-see it, before you..." Go was left unsaid, and Hawthorne sheepishly looked away, focusing on the flower that had first sprouted. Something in him wanted to give back to her, give her something to remember him by like she had for him. Benitoite eye shimmering, the buck concentrated, breathing in the flower's scent - periwinkle, Baroque had once told him - and breathing out, a golden mist that shimmered blue moving to encircle the flower down to its roots.

Another breath, and he gently tugged it free from the earth, taking care not to bruise its stem or tear its roots, and turned his head to tuck it behind one of Cayenne's ears, leaning back to grin at the picture. "T-there! N-now you can r-remember me, t-too!"

She felt the flower being placed behind her ear, and she looked up at Hawthorne with big, wide eyes. Her head was stuttering and tripping over itself as words failed her, and her hand traveled up to touch the rim of the flower like she still was surprised it was there at all.

When....was the last time someone had given her a kind act, or a kind word? It was long enough that she couldn't remember the last time it happened, and the thought made her instantly want to cry. Her eyes stung, so she shut them quick and told herself to think of something else.

Her throat felt thick when she said, "A...As if I could forget you, Thorne."

With her hand still touching the petals, magic glowed under her palm and swirled into the flower, settling and shifting to look like the one resting in the rocks, surrounded by glittering stones, like a small shrine. Soon they matched, like little twins, and she took a moment to rub at her eyes and try to push down the foolish waves of feelings that wanted to bubble over.

"I..would like to see the garden...if that wouldn't be too much trouble." She said softly, clearing her throat at some points. She wondered if the gem he was talking about was another one with a talent for the earth. It would be incredibly difficult to coax flowers to grow in a place like this otherwise. Maybe she could help it along. "And I won't go. I don't want to go yet."

Hawthorne's grin began to fade at Cayenne's initial reaction, anxiety making his newly-detangled fur fluff up and his face move in closer to purr at the little lemur - but then she was replying, and he beamed, touching his nose to her own and pulling back once more to stare contentedly down at the miniature garden she had grown. "I-it looks n-nice on you," he offered shyly, wiggling in excitement when the older Gembound took the time to cast her familiar spell on it, freezing the plant in time as she had to the flower at the center of his own stone contraption. At her agreement to his offer, he jumped up onto dancing hooves, tail cutting through the air furiously. "Perfect! I-I mean, o-of course, Miss Cayenne!" A hint of salt bit at his working eye at her promise not to go just yet, and he couldn't resist ducking down to brush a cheek over one of the lemur's own, hurriedly prancing a few steps away and looking back over his shoulder with a half-panicked, half-excited bleat.

"It's t-this way! Y-you can r-ride on my back, i-if you want," he offered, waiting until she had made her decision until he moved forward, mindful not to trot too quickly. It was difficult to keep in control, however, when he had the thought of being with both Cayenne and his best friend in his head. Baroque's garden soon came into view, blooming with life and vibrant with color, and Hawthorne huffed, stretching his neck up and out to peer out over the sea of flowers. "Baro? You around?" The difference in his voice would be obvious to anyone who'd spent five minutes with him, switching into a relaxed, purring tone, reserved only, at the moment, for the other hybrid. "Cayenne wanted to see your garden!"

She swallowed forcefully, still rubbing at her eyes when he leaned down to nuzzle his cheek against hers, and she reached her arms around his soft neck into a hug, her head against his cheek. She held him tight for one, two seconds, then she let him go, completely untrusting of anything that might've come out of her mouth, and she climbed onto his back so they could go together to this garden he mentioned. It was much more comfortable than she thought it would be - she thought of how Tenn would ride with her on his wild cave deer that he'd tamed, and how unruly they were, right up until the farm went up in flames. She remembered helping him find that very first cave deer, the exhilaration of their teamwork. She still couldn't look at those white flowers without thinking of those associated with it.

This was much nicer. She had the irritating temptation to scratch behind his shoulder blades as a thank you, and perhaps behind his ears as well. It was nice to hear him purr.

And when they got to the garden, a shocking vibrancy in such a cold place, she heard his stutter go away and felt his muscles relax in his back when he called to this other person, accompanied by a completely different purr than she had been given. Completely irrational jealousy flared, even though she knew it was ridiculous. To think such a kind soul would only have her as a friend was stupid. But to know the other way around was true...it stung too much.

She petulantly thought that, perhaps, she wouldn't like this new gem. His garden was scraggly. She could do a lot better. It was petty, but it was better than the sting of self-pity.

Baroque stared, empty eyed, and his garden. The flowers that were growing there now were barely starting to bloom-- one or two had made it, both beautiful and blue, but tiny. The rest would come soon, he told himself. It was the only thing he could do but to watch them slowly change before his eyes, each hint of periwinkle a soft whisper of his mother's love. It was all gone now; Quintus had been doing his best, but it was impossible for the large, babied and helicopter-parented hybrid to do anything but be numb and distant until... Until, maybe, just maybe, his mother came home. Maybe it had been a vision of the future, and his magic had overloaded and broke the connection?

It was all he could do to keep from crying. Doing nothing but zone out was helping with that, for the most part. He felt awful sitting aside doing nothing, but the second he did anything else he felt his edges start to fray and crack-- the absolute emptiness in the boy was terrifying. He had always had his father at the fringe of his thoughts, soft and comforting and warm. Now, he only felt cold silence in his all too quiet mind.

A voice shook him from his lack of presence, and he twisted towards Hawthorne's voice, a purr instinctively rumbling up through his chest. He rose to his feet, tail swishing behind him, and immediately felt the world spin-- he was light headed from exhaustion, having not slept for the last... However long it had been. He realized as he padded over, smile on his big, almost-jaunty mug, that he hadn't told Hawthorne yet. That was probably for the best. Tears bit at his eyes, and he swallowed hard as he made his head rewind the deer-cat's words and replay them because he certainly hadn't processed it the first time.

Cayenne...? The one who had given his friend the gift-- the beautiful flower, one that rivaled Thistle's mythical story flower, and all the precious flowers his mother... No, no, no, anything but that. He grinned, eyes glazed, as he looked past the hybrid's head to see the black creature. "Oh, I've heard so much about you," he said with less enthusiasm than he had intended, finding it hard to sincerely pull out any emotion at all. He had to reach to bump his head into Hawthorne's cheek, but that was alright. "Welcome to Maji Walezi's first ever garden... I did it all myself... I, wanted to... To..." The grizzly lion blinked back tears and stepped back, tilting his head and letting out a tiny laugh.

A-ahaha, yeah, well, come have a looksie. You're a... You have plant magic, right Cayenne? M-maybe you can... Give me some... gardening tips, yeah? I think... I think they, might... Might be struggling," He forced out the words, pushing his mind through the gauntlet of conversation through his grief, trying not to let it show through. It wasn't like it was that unusual for Baroque to be upset about one thing or another, anyway.

rate yourself and rake
yourself, take all the courage
you have left and waste it on fixing
all the problems that you made in your own head

@Hawthorne @Cayenne