"You know what hope is?" From a hole underneath a berry bush, dirt flew, as the creature within cleared out more space. Its voice was soft and scratchy, winding through the air like a sickly snake. The tone was melodic, but solemn, sung more like a hymn than a true diddy - and no wonder, considering the tiny beast who sang. Booker shoved a pile of dirt up and out of his burrow, sweating and panting, patting it down in front of the bush with shaky motions. Slowly, as his home grew deeper into the earth, a garden - or at least the outline of one - was taking shape outside, surrounding the entrance to the burrow. The numbat stared at it, pleased and grinning, sitting back on his haunches and taking a hearty swig of tea. One day, he hoped, the plants and flowers he grew would completely conceal his home. For now, little more than piles of dirt marked out the grand plan. Still, it was better than nothing, and, pausing in his work, he shoved the stone that lay in the center of the would-be garden a few inches to the right, before nodding at his work, leaning back once more. The grin faded into a small, disquieted frown at the righted rock. Black scorch marks decorated the marker, for that was what it was, with a simple inscription. A vague impression of a drawing lay below a name: Diot. Looking closer, one could make out that the picture was of a small face, circled with long fur, a shimmering stone set in the middle of the babe's forehead. At the marker's base lay an almost entirely decomposed cocoon of leaves. The scribe turned away from the stone with a rough shiver, croaking out the rest of his song, determined to get back to work with more vigor. "You know what hope is? Hope is a bastard, Hope is a liar, A cheat and a tease... Got no place in days like these."

Booker...and Bara...yes those were their names, he remembered them fondly. Having lived alone ever since he had fallen asleep in white fur beside that sweet Numbat. Why weren't they there when he woke up deep within the protection of the earth. He didn't know, he could only speculate they didn't want him after that day. Leaving him within the lovingly crafted burrow of what he assumed the Numbat had made during the night.

All he can remember was red. Red on Booker and even smudging the red all over himself. The eyes of the loved one called Bara. They too were red, but for a small amount of time. That was a particularly confusing and wild day. He back then didn't understand much of danger. Though living alone in the trees he understood it much more now. Though he was always watching. Everything from the plants to the small insects and lizards below. Occasionally he ventured down to the soft earth. But he felt so alone, so vulnerable without them. Booker and Bara...

He could remember it all, as if it happened just yesterday. But it had only been one full cycle since then. At least that is what nature told him. One full cycle since he had seen his fathers. Yes, fathers; that word was the only one that describe what he felt. He loved them still. He hoped they were doing fine. After all he was doing pretty well. Venturing from tree to tree, eating any good looking fruit he could get his little hands on. Occasionally he would manage to grab a small lizard or two, some insects here or there.

At first it was hard but over time nature showed him the way. He was older now, just a bit larger than before. But his understanding of life was vast, after all he watched everything from above. He was safe, nature kept him safe and he was fine with it. Though he could be better, every sight and sound of someone walking down below he hoped was someone familiar. That tight clenching of his chest when it proved to be someone new entirely. Choking back sobs he would run higher into the trees. Hiding behind the thick vegetation he asked so kindly to bloom. He would lay in wait then, for hours till he felt the sharp twang in his chest fade. He missed them so much. He felt wrong being so alone. He didn't want to meet anyone else, he just couldn't. It hurt too much to even watch the other gembounds walk below him half the time. He could only imagine how he would feel if he were to attempt to replace what he had. He couldn't even bring himself to think about it. He only wanted Booker and Bara.

Every day since waking in that solemn burrow he had moved from tree to tree. Today was no different. He had ventured through quite a few, being particularly picky about the selection of fruit they bore. Occasionally taking a bite out of what seemed ripe! Ovnly to spit it out and throw it on the forest floor below. Too ripe and mushy for his taste. He would let the small mindless critters of the floor have that one.

"Speech"

"Thought"

Slowly, ever so slowly, sweltering in the forest's sunlight, Booker cleared out his burrow, his pile of garden soil steadily growing. So far, a fairly sized common room had been built, its ceiling and walls supported by the bush above's root system. The claw marks Baratheon had left were barely visible, now, but the numbat couldn't bring himself to completely obscure them. For now, they were all he had of his brother. A new hum started up, soft at first, but growing steadily, until the numbat was once again singing softly, voice gravelly but focused, gaze lingering on the marker every time he passed it. "There's a moment, in my mind, I scribbled and erased a thousand times, Like a letter never written or sent..." Rustling from the treetops cut the song short, and the scribe glanced upwards, before shrugging it off - after all, he'd fought a dragon. Not much could intimidate him nowadays. Trotting onwards, Booker rooted through the grass at the edges of his family's old camp, scooping up a tiny sprout with a proud grin before scampering back to his burrow, transplanting the growth to just beside his doorway. A satisfied nod, and the tiny cultist went back to his work, occasionally darting outside to sip at his rapidly cooling tea. "These conversations with the dead, I used to be a sentimental guy, Now I'm haunted by the left unsaid." Booker froze just inside of his den - another noise, closer, and then the sound of something hitting the ground outside. Hesitating at the burrow's threshold, the scribe took a deep breath, two, before squaring his shoulders and heading out. After all, last time it had been Bones, and that visit had been the best he'd had since... well. Since his gigantic fight with his bondmate. Ears swiveled towards the sound, the tiny Gembound crept towards the source, finding a rather squashed fruit lying on the ground. Following its falling pattern up to its tree, Booker thought he could vaguely make out an outline of someone. "'lo? Someone up there? You can come on down, y'know. Ah don't bite."

@Diot

He felt as if this specific place held something important. Though with how much nature had overgrown this area it would be hard to determine. Most specific details of the terrain were no longer there, as was nature. He didn't spent much thought on it. But, didn't he hatch nearby? Maybe? He fondly reminisced the opalescent colors of his egg. He had no idea where exactly he had left a few bits a pieces of it. He was so young then. He buried it? All he could remember was the feel of the cool earth on the palms of his hands as he saved it for later, way back when.

Combing through no group of fruit in particular he picked one. Bringing it to his lips, ah this smelled good! Looked good too! Nice and plump! Not too soft in the palm of his hand! Not too hard either. Just right! A quick bite and he was joyful of what bounty nature had in store for him. Though he new little of what fate had as well.

Happily eating through it he paused, someone was speaking to him. Someone, way down there. Along the floor of the forest. Chest tightening Diot's eyes widened. No, no no, please not this again. Anything but this! He was doing so well! He hadn't come across anyone for days! Dropping the half eaten fruit, he had lost his appetite. Staring down at the forest floor. Listening hard to the small voice that called up to him.

The poor tamarin could barely see through how much anxiety was bubbling up. Eye's growing blurry he relied on his ears. Shutting his eyes tightly he hoped he could hear the stranger loud and clear. Maybe today wont be like the others. Maybe today was a good day. And then he heard him. The numbat, Booker! He knew that voice! It rattled through his bones and shook his very lungs. He could hardly breathe! Was this real! Was Booker truly down there! He had been mistaken before, but this was by sound! Not by his blurry anxiety riddled sight!

A quick as he could manage he climbed down the tree. With no visible self preservation of his own he had to make sure. He just had to! And if this individual wasn't Booker, well then it was the lonely tree tops for Diot for more than a day. Leaping to the ground he stood just 3 meters away from him now. The young tamarin, shaking with anxiety. Eyes shut tight. He spoke now, finally. It had been so long since he had heard the sound of his own voice that wasn't sorrowful sobs. But still it rang through shaky, and riddled with nerves.

"B-bbb-boookerrr??? Booker? I-is that you..."

"Speech"

"Thought"

@Booker

Booker watched, head tilted to one side, a small, confused smile playing at his lips, as the shadow in the treetops seemed to freeze, tensing, before it dropped the other fruit. With a soft "Woah!" the numbat dodged the falling food, chuckling a bit guiltily - he hadn't meant to upset the silhouette that badly, after all. In a flash, the shadow moved down the tree's trunk, practically barrelling to the forest floor, a blur of red and black. The scribe watched, eyes wide, as it came to rest, mere feet from him, shaking, eyes shut. And Booker, for his part, had absolutely no idea what to do. Because against all odds, all hope, his son - his missing son, his baby - was alive, and here, standing right in front of him, voice trembling and breaking. Eye wide and pinned on the apparition, he took a step forward, then another, before his frozen form burst into action, just about launching himself at the tamarin, nuzzling over the child's face and ruff, hot tears clogging his throat. "'s okay, Diot, 's okay now." The words were rough and rasping, choked by grief and guilt, love and relief. "Mother, kiddo, I was so worried 'bout you," Booker managed to mumble out, face pressed tight to Diot's shoulder, tiny paws petting through fur as if searching for hidden wounds. A shaky sigh, and the numbat barked out a laugh, leaning back to grin up at his son, reaching up with one tiny paw to tap at the tamarin's gemstone as if to affirm that his child was, indeed, really there. "Didn't think I'd ever find ya again, after... well, after," the scribe settled on, the memory of his and Baratheon's abduction not able to taint his unadulterated joy. "Can't rightly believe you're here. Are ya hurt? Didja run inta any trouble? 'm sorry for leavin' like that, but ah couldn't prevent it as such," the tiny, mushroom-covered man rambled, chattering in excitement between sentences, whiskers twitching wildly.

@Diot

It felt like death to stand there, shaking, just waiting for a response. Was this even Booker? Was this all for nothing? Chest tightening he couldn't breath as they launched themselves to him. Blurry eyes taking in what they could of the nuzzling individual. Heart caught in throat he couldn't say a thing. He stood there, embracing and taking in the view of a certain numbat. Against all odds, Booker was there. Alive and well. 's okay, Diot, 's okay now.' He listened, focused on every syllable that left his mouth. The rough sounds that escaped as they choked up on tears. 'I was so worried 'bout you' he said. The numbat's paws petting through Diot's fur as if to see this was really him.

Every word that left Booker's mouth set Diot's own back a minute or two. Everything he said melted away the foolish thoughts and anxiety he held onto all this time. Booker was so worried, he didn't have a choice on leaving the young tamarin behind. What joy he felt now. Eyes swelling with the very tears of both sadness and happiness. He was wrong about not being wanted. He was so happy! He had Booker back too!

Arms extended he pulled the mushroom-covered man close. Nuzzling his face deep into his very fur. Crying out loudly, only to have it come out muffled now. His inner most thoughts spilling out before the numbat, apologizing and grateful all the same.

"I-I thought you two didn't want me anymore! B-both of you where gone when I woke up! I was so alone! I was afraid I did something wrong! All this time! The entire time I thought! You did it to pro-protect me and I I didn't know!"

His word spiraling into incoherent sounds as the young tamarin sobbed. It didn't matter if Diot had run into any trouble. Diot didn't care, not now anyway. Everything was fine starting today It was all as it should be, with Booker.

He stood there, soft hiccups erupting from his fleeing cries. It was ok now, everything was fine.

"Speech"

"Thought"

@Booker

Booker made a tiny, pained noise in the back of his throat at the sight of his son in tears, only flinching a bit when the tamarin pulled him close, sobs muffled into the spore-filled fluff that covered the numbat. Gently, the scribe pet at the babe's back, trying his best to soothe when he himself wasn't exactly stable. "We woulda never left you on purpose, kiddo. Never. You didn't do nothin' wrong, promise." Pausing to swallow thicky, Booker huffed, nosing at Diot's cheek with a tiny, sad smile. "'s what families do. Protect each-other." Even from themselves, he mused, before turning his thoughts sharply away from his brother. "'spose ah should explain m'self," Booker finally said, humming a soft melody - the bonding tune of dragons. "Went to visit the Mother. She's a big ol' mush-room. Dunno if you've seen 'er by now," he added, wincing at the thought of just how long he and his son had been separated. "Left you and Bara behind. 'e was... out, ah think? Huntin', maybe. Instead o' my friends, there was a fox." Drawing in a shaking, shuddering breath, the scribe marched on through the tale, leaving out some details so as not to scar his kid for life. "'e was... is... sick. Like your other dad, y'know? Got a hankerin' for chaos, sometimes. For violence. Guess I caught 'im on a bad day," Booker added, chuckling, wiping away a stray tear as he settled back on his haunches, keeping one arm firmly planted on Diot's shoulder, as if to stop him from slipping away. "Bara came runnin' soon as he 'eard me. We can... talk? Talk, yeah. Through our thoughts. 's a bond," he explained, tone soft and fragile, looking away to focus on not breaking down once again. His family had seen enough tears for one day. Another deep breath, and the scribe shot Diot a half-faked smile. "Anyways, he came'a runnin', real angry like. Tried to stop the fox from takin' me, or you, but I was... ah was too weak to stop 'im. Got captured, an' the bond dragged Bara into it too." He couldn't quite keep the bitter self-hatred out of that one. "Anyways, 'e took us back to 'is home. 's a windy place - Monoceros. Big and... cold. Too bare. Not like 'ere." A frustrated huff, as if he was trying to find the right words, before Booker continued, tone softer now, more contemplative than angry. "The fox was the leader of a group, called the Merrymen. Weren't too merry, ah think, but then again ah didn't name 'em," he added with a genuine smirk. "Rotten bunch, them. Wanted to use Bara like a weapon, ah guess. The fox, though, 'e was... hm." What was Louie, exactly? "He was.. nice. Sometimes. When 'e didn't want ta be, ah think. Ended up that he let us go, left the group 'imself. An' he gave me a gift, y'know! I ain't never talked much 'bout 'im with you, kiddo, but you'll haveta meet your uncle one day," Booker exclaimed, grinning brightly at the thought. "Name's Khloros! Best lil brother ah could ask for, I reckon. Thought 'e was gone, like you, for a long time. But the fox let us reunionize." And then the moment was gone, and Booker looked at the forest floor, ears flicking to the sides. "Khlor is around, ah think, but... Bara's not. He... we... well, we 'ad a bit of a fight. Not like the one from before," he rushed to add, thinking of blinding pain and snapping teeth. "All verbal like, no battlin'. A diss-ah-gree-ment, of sorts. He's... angry, with me. So much ah can't even talk to 'im through the bond." Sniffing, the numbat tilted his head up with a sigh, absently nosing at Diot's ruff. "He'd be pleased as punch ta see ya, ah know. Just as much as I am... but it might take a while 'till we can see 'im again, alright?" Mother, ah hate deliverin' bad news.

@Diot

Booker began to explain what had happened. He left to visit mother, the small tamarin grew excited at the thought of who she might be. Only for her to be revealed as a giant mushroom! Needless to say the excited didn't waver, not one bit. Nature was a large part of Diot, and he hoped he could meet this 'mother' sooner or later. Visibly watching the numbat wince, Diot mused that they were separated for a long time. Though while his father's life was probably full of events in that time, his was not. So there wasn't much he would be able to share with the numbat after all this explaining.

Bara had been hunting, so he was alone. Then there was a strange fox? One who was sick like Bara, this was a fox he did not want to meet. Watching him wipe away a stray tear, Diot sat beside him. Keeping close, not wanting to have any chance of them vanishing again. Though the next part intrigued Diot to no end, Booker and Bara coul communicate through thoughts? That was something very new to him. Though after thinking on it, was it like how he spoke to nature? A few more moments to muse over it and he felt it wasn't so stranger after all. In fact it must come in handy! He knew it they could speak through thoughts they would have all be reunited much faster.

The fox wanted to use Bara as a weapon? Why? What could he possibly want with him!? Though Booker continued and at least it didn't seem to be going to bad. He let Booker go, he was being nice? Reunited with a younger brother? That sounds lovely! He would love to meet his uncle! So maybe this will end on a high note! Though maybe Diot should stop counting his flowers before they bloom. 'Khlor is around, ah think, but... Bara's not. He... we... well, we 'ad a bit of a fight. Not like the one from before'

His heart sank, his father's had an argument. One so bad that he cant communicate with the other."Thats...alot to take in...all at once..." He sat back on his rump, a sigh escaping as he still stayed in physical contact with Booker. "But...everyone is ok now. Safe? So I am happy, I will see Bara later then! Even my uncle! And mother shroom! She sounds very nice! I dont think I've even had the pleasure of meeting her...I strictly stayed up in the trees. Alone out of fear..."

he drifted off becoming lost in thought. He hardly lived now that it was brought up. All he did was survive. There was a difference, that much was clear to him.

"But thats in the past right!? We are ok now! Safe and sound! "

Checking out his surrounds, a clearly habit he picked up alone he smiled catching glimpse of the burrow.

"So pops, how about you show me around! I'll help dig! Just like old times!"

A small laugh escaped, still traced with some nervousness. But hey, you cant blame the guy right? He had so much to absorb, and so fast it was like whiplash! But in reality, Diot wouldn't have it any other way. Everything was fine now, a smile now worn on his face.

"Speech"

"Thought"

@Booker

Booker winced, scratching at his cheek, blushing just a bit. "Sorry 'bout that, kiddo. Ah can be a bit of a rambler," the scribe mumbled, patting at Diot's fluff gently. At the tamarin's words, he hummed, a smile twitching at his lips. His son was optimistic, a bright spark of light in the dim, dull grey of his vision. Almost too bright, and Booker wondered, worried that that light might attract the dark, as his had, a gift waiting to be snuffed out. "You betcha, kiddo. You'll see Bara and your uncle and the Mother just as soon as ah can make it happen," he promised, leaning forward to nuzzle at Diot's ruff, sighing under his breath. "And I'm sorry. Can't make up leavin' you, know it cain't, but it's the truth. It's no way of livin', scared like that." It was just another thing to feel guilty about, to add to the slowly mounting pile that smothered most of Booker's empathy, sympathy, his ability to interact any kind of normal around others - outside of his own family, of course. They seemed determined to dig his spark out from under the rubble. But his family was small, had been large once but had shrunk, and even then he was uncertain of just how strong his connection was to Bones. What he'd done seemed unforgivable, but the dog had just... forgiven him. Absolved him - or tried to. It seemed too good to be true. Booker couldn't take any more surprises, not when it came to his family, his friends. Magdalena was enough, more than enough, and he had to violently scratch at the back of his neck to wrench himself off of that train of thought, back into the present. He was so different now, it was oppressive, the forest shrinking in. Fur wouldn't grow where tail met haunches, the skin too ravaged by fire. His front paws permanently scorched, the pads half-numb, half-tingly. His lungs were weak, each breath wheezy and crinkly, like something had scrunched up his throat, wrinkling it. He didn't deserve Khloros' forgiveness, nor Bones', and especially not Diot's, not the child he'd promised to protect, the one he'd left alone in the forest, all by himself, God, why did everyone keep forgiving him? The entire thought process spanned only a few moments, and then Booker was back to himself, eyes losing just a bit of their light, blocking off that panicked, emotional, attached part of himself, at least for now. He needed to be strong - and strength didn't need to be loved, or to love. Though he did love Diot. As much as a man so violently detached from his emotions could. But that's in the past, right!? We are okay now! Safe and sound! The cheery voice shoved him back to the waking world, like a shock of icy water, and Booker shook himself, offering Diot a tiny, faded grin, whiskers twitching, hoping to the Mother that his miniature meltdown hadn't been noticed. The tamarin glanced about, and with his son's face turned, the numbat took a moment, to rub at his eye, pushing back the renewed pang of guilt. This was his way of making amends - doing whatever his family, his victims wanted him to. Didn't do that for Bara, did you? The scribe waved the thought away irritably, focusing back on Diot, chattering at the offer, nodding. "Alrighty then. Be nice to have some help, ah imagine. Bones was 'ere a lil while ago, helpin'. You'll haveta meet 'im too, someday. 'e's... good. A good man, down to the core, ah think." It was amusing, in a distant way, how his brothers were just so good. It was strange, to be surrounded by such light, when all he felt was the shadows, cold and clutching. Like staring at the distant sun, the stars, wishing for their warmth. Still, he got up on three limbs, back leg dragging, trotting towards the half-formed burrow he falled home, stopping by its entrance, not thinking enough to realise that the carved stone in the "garden" might cause not-dead son some distress. Booker just sat in the dirt, tapping at the crumbling ground absently, reaching inward for a moment to poke curiously at the bond, still waiting for the day when the hot anger cooled enough not to burn. It was... cold? No, that wasn't right. It was still warm, but not burning, more controlled, as if Baratheon had decided to open it back up. A real, true, toothy grin graced Booker's face, and he eagerly pet the long chain of white, still a bit crumbly on his side from sickness. Then, with a pulse of light, a message barreled across the bond, loud and clear, and the scribe listened, attentive, loving and loved. Brother... I am sorry for getting angry with you and sorry that I left but I needed to be alone. The words were rushed, but steady, and the grin on his face slipped a bit at the stress of them, like they were almost too important to say. If I could I would go see you now but I must fight Raheerah and hopefully destroy him for you. A tiny, pained squeak made it through his mouth, rattled out amidst, panting breaths. Wish me luck, Booker... I love you. And with that, the bond snapped shut once more, leaving Booker stranded in his own mind, the silence heavy as a death knoll. No, no, no! Bara, come back! Come back! Stop, stop, no, this isn't s-supposed to happen, you'll get killed! He rushed the bond, grabbing it, shaking it, twisting it, punching it until even his physical hands felt the ache, his spectral form flickering and shaking, defeat already slumping his shoulders. No, no, come back! Please, please, but it was much, much too late. One sob, another, before he was crying, both in and out of his mind, silent outside but screaming within, rattling the bond until it clanked dully against the sides of its tunnel, the one that was blocking him from seeing through Baratheon's eyes. No, I don't even know where you are, Bara, you can't do this! It's not worth it, it's not, please, but his words were nothing but the whimpers of a dying creature, already aware of its fate, clutching onto that last lifeline with tooth and nail. For the first time in what felt like years, his mind was empty. He was utterly and completely alone. A heave of his chest, another, before Booker was shaking out of his mind and thrown to the real world, having collapsed against one side of the berry bush in his stupor, shivering, staring blankly down at the... fur? Clenched in his paws. The sting from his arms said that he must have pulled it out during the fit, but he didn't have any idea when that had happened. Slowly, he turned his head towards Diot, blinking, raising a shaking hand to his face and wiping away the half-dried dears stuck there. "I... I..." There were no words, not for this. Not now.

@Diot

Booker assured the young tamarin that he would see everyone! Just as soon as the numbat could make it happen. 'And I'm sorry.' his father had begun to apologize, a smile took the young ones face and he nodded and nuzzled back at the numbat. Whispering a soft 'I forgive you' into his ear, hoping it would absolve his father of anything he bottled up. Any feeling he kept away, blaming himself for how Diot had lived separated from almost everyone else. The tamarin didn't blame his fathers, he understood. That was one of the good things of being raised by nature, you learn to forgive and go with the flow.

It seemed as luck was on the numbat's side, the young one hadn't noticed the meltdown he had. Being focused in your own thoughts and what should be done next would do that to you thought. He spoke of Bones the dog, smiling wide as it would be good to meet some friends who his father trusted. Something new than being alone in the tree tops talking to small snails that he would later eat. Watching his father move with not four but three of his legs a frown pulled his features. He would try and make something for him, he could practically hear the ideas blossoming all around him. AHA, he knew exactly what Booker would need.

Calling up the young plants from the soil he smiled, coxing them into a specific shape. The warmth growing in his chest, mimicking that of the life he coaxed with his fingers. Finely they intertwined with one another, until his chest went cold. A sharp pain shot through his chest as he braced himself. Before his very eyes they began to unravel. Wilting and killing the very patch of earth they had emerged from. The once lush green circle they grew from, now black and lifeless. Dark withered and dried stems of what was suppose to be a gift of love. Now lay there broken. It left no love now, only a sharp pain within the young gembound's chest. This hadn't happened before. How could he have done this!? Killed the very nature he loved and nurtured. This hurt him more than what he thought. Though what did he respect. He was one with nature. Wet eyes from the loss of life that was all but flourishing between his fingers his attention shot to Booker.

The numbat released a shrill cry, flopping onto his side, looking over at Diot with tearful eyes. Selflessly he rushed over, forgetting the very pain that rang through his being. Hushing the words that could not come from the numbat's jaws. Grabbing his small paw and holding him, hand in hand he gently stroked the side of Booker's face. It would be ok, sure he didn't know what caused this in his father. But it would be ok, it had to be; unless it was something through that magical bond he and Bara shared.


"Speech"
"Thought"