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"Why do you think I wanted to come here?"
"To have you to myself!" "No crowds! No cameras! Just you!"
"Because that's what I want!"
"You want to know how I actually felt when I heard we were missing a war?"
"Nothing. You know when I last felt like that?"
"Never."
"It's who I am. Or who I was, I guess! And then you came along, and now there's so much that messy and hard, and I just -- I don't care! Because it means I get to be with you."
"I was comfortable. I'm not anymore. But... I'm more me than I ever was by myself.""Skip, skip, skip, skip," Jasmaby flicked the screen repeatedly, text blurring past, until a highlight row came into view. "Oh, a missage from Shizu." Tap. "Oh no, this is adorable," Jasmaby raised a paw to his mouth, <<reviselink laugh "laughing lightly" end>>. <<revision laugh>><<gains>>(Charthur felt a tiny spark of envy; there were few feelings as wonderful as getting a laugh out of Jasmaby.)<<endrevision>>
Charthur leaned over, almost letting herself lean on the lanky tiger. "What's up?"
Jasmaby lowered his paw, a tender smile on his face. "There's a war starting, and she wants to know which side I think she should join."
"War" made Charthur's ears perked up slightly. "Oh, there is? What's the war? What are the sides, what's it for?"
"That's just the thing," Jasmaby replied. "In her excitement, she forgot to say."
Charthur felt the unrestrainable urge to [[tease him]].As true darkness settled in, Jasmaby held one paw in the air. With a flick, he conjured a little flame; he let the flame dance from fingertip to fingertip, letting it hop briefly into the air between digits. "Hm," he said. "I guess I'm feeling better." Charthur gently placed a paw on his shoulder; indeed, there was a warmth there that had been absent earlier.
With that, Jasmaby snatched the flame in his palm, putting it out with a tiny puff of smoke, casting the room into peaceful dark once more.
Then he turned towards her. "As for you... Charthur, about what you said before..." Charthur turned slightly to him. "If you don't like habituating Dewclaw... why don't you move?"
She turned back to the ceiling. "Born and raised there, the simple truth. Never felt I could leave the place of my youth." She sighed. "Told myself that heat made a good place to train. But I think it's mostly that, well, moving's a pain." Charthur felt Jasmaby turn towards her. "I used to regret it, you know, never moving. Myself, I was growing. But my life, unimproving."
Jasmaby lay there in quiet contemplation for a while. Then he asked, "'Used to'? What changed?"
She gently reached over to place her paw on his. "If I had moved, would we have met? So there you have it: no regret."
"That is enough soppiness out of you, miss poet," Jasmaby said, but Charthur knew he was blushing without having to look. So she said nothing, but [[squeezed his hand|no travel 2]].Charthur shoved open the door, threw herself through the frame and slammed it shut behind her.
She didn't have her pack, wasn't fully dressed for the cold. Didn't matter. She'd make it to back to town. More or less.
All that mattered was to never make a mistake like this again.
She shoved her hands under her armpits. It wasn't too cold, she told herself. She wiped the traitorous tears from her eyes. They weren't hers.
Never again.
<<display "bad end">>"To be with me, I thought!" Charthur screamed. "I thought you wanted to come here to be with me!" She was roaring now, her throat already complaining, but the pain gave her focus.
"That's not-- I obv--" Jasmaby was trembling, his paws balling into fists, uncurling, then tightening, again and again.. "Stop, shut up, shut up, just shut up for..." he lowered his head, staring at the floor, placing his fingertips on his temples and jaw as if attempting to hold his head together.
Charthur decided to...
[[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[listen]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] [[leave]] Charthur stared for just a second longer... then pivoted on one foot, turning her back to Jasmaby. "Fine. Okay."
For a time, there was only the sound of Jasmaby breathing, slowly growing quieter, and then, "I'm just... feeling ridiculous."
Charthur said nothing, but she could picture Jasmaby speaking down into his lap.
"It's not... it's not the weather, it's not the cabin, it's really not. It's just, being unable... being unable..."
Charthur didn't move, but she could picture herself sitting by Jasmaby's side.
"It's... it's having you see me when I'm... when I'm not..."
She wanted him to lean on her. She needed it. But she forced herself not to move, not yet.
"I don't know," Jasmaby concluded. "I don't know why I feel like this."
Charthur [[did]].<<timedreplace 10s>><<becomes>>(<<back "but is that really how the story went?">>)<<endtimedreplace>>"It's tiny, dull and entirely new; but I saw it, and, I thought of you." Charthur gently unfolded the cloth wrappings, revealing a tiny teacup, decorated with the swirls and loops of ancient Auroria.
"Oh... oh no, is this about the vase..."
"No replacement, that's for sure. A pound of guilt, an ounce of cure."
"Dear." Jasmaby took the teacup in his hands, turning it gently against the light. "It's lovely, it really is. And it couldn't have been cheap."
"A tiny sorry, for what was lost. It's only right, ignore the cost. It sha'nt replace," but Jasmaby took her cheek in his paw.
"I love it. I shall cherish it until the end of my days." He leaned forward, his lips near hers, and whispered, "Just like you."
Charthur nuzzled into his neck, sighing heavily. Jasmaby flinched, giggling. "Ah, stop!" he cried playfully.
Charthur grinned to herself, rubbing her face against Jasmaby's gentle curve, snorting directly into the crook of his shoulder. "Stop, stop!" His giggles became laughter, encouraging Charthur to prod gently at his sides. "Stop it, I can't..."
Jasmaby foot kicked out reflexively, connecting with the small table at the foot of the bed. The table jumped several inches, hitting first the wall and then landing on the floor with a pair of thuds, followed immediately afterwards by a small, sad tinkle.
Both tigers froze where they were. Charthur stared at Jasmaby, who in turn had turned around, staring at the floor, aghast. Charthur tried to turn, but Jasmaby reflexively caught her face in both paws and kept her from looking.
"Was that--" Charthur started.
"I did you tell you to stop," Jasmaby said nervously.
Charthur narrowed her eyes slightly. "Didn't you say you'd--"
"Don't read into it. It doesn't mean anything." Jasmaby
"Do you have any idea how much of my savings I sp--"
"What happened to 'ignore the cost'??"Charthur gritted her teeth, adjusted her grip on her sickles, and tensed. She took a moment to listen to her body, feeling the exact position of her limbs, the weight of her packs clinging to her frame.
She found her moment. She bounced, once, twice, before pressing upwards through her toes, exhaling as she moved, grinning as the steam of her breath briefly clouded her vision. At the peak of the push, she swung her other arm upward, driving that sickle into the icy wall. It struck the ice, embedding itself cleanly into the frozen surface. Victorious, she hauled herself up to the new vantage point.
She took a moment to glance downward. <<insertlink "Jasmaby">> (somewhere inside that puffy, furry parka)<<endinsertlink>> was lagging behind, four handholds below her. Charthur noted that the rope connecting them starting to run out of slack. She watched as he punched at the wall with his ungloved hand once, twice; a pause, and then a third time, a brief burst of steam erupting where it plunged into the ice. She contemplated this quietly. He shouldn't be having such trouble; but then, they had been traveling for most of the day. Perhaps the cold was starting to take its toll.
She called down to him, "You okay? You in need? Are you able to follow my lead?"
Jasmaby didn't look up. He huffed, then called back, "I'm fine. Keep going."
Charthur stared down for a moment longer. Then she...
[[...helped him]].
[[...continued to climb]].Charthur shoved open the door, threw herself through the frame, slammed it shut behind her.
She didn't have her pack, wasn't fully dressed for the cold. Didn't matter. She'd make it to back to town. More or less.
All that mattered was to never make a mistake like this again.
She shoved her hands under her armpits. It wasn't too cold, she told herself. She wiped the traitorous tears from her eyes. They weren't hers.
Never again.
<<display "bad end">>Charthur stood there, listening, and realized she was breathing so raggedly that she was shuddering with each exhale.
For an agonizing minute, Jasmaby simply stared down at the floor, teeth bared, but not at her. He opened his mouth, then shut it again immediately, snarling.
Finally, he spoke in a quiet tone, one of desperate constraint. "I don't know," he started. "...what, here..." Jasmaby took a deep inhale. "I don't know what, why you'd... I'm..." He stopped, closed his eyes and held up one paw. As he bowed his face into his other paw, he said, "...don't look at me. Just don't look at me for a minute."
Charthur stood there, still struggling to get her breathing under control. But... she took a gulp of air, and felt it becoming easier.
Charthur...
[[looked away]].
[[forced him to look at her]].Not releasing her paw, Jasmaby rolled onto his side. "Still, though. You must have the urge to peregrinate, at least."
Charthur shrugged. "A harsh, cruel world for poor little Charthur. No free tickets about; they always would charge her."
Jasmaby prodded her in the arm. "Well, that's not a problem anymore, then. Poor little Charthur has that boyfriend now, right? The rich asshole."
Charthur failed to contain a snort. "I wouldn't call him that," she said, with a cough.
"Not to his face if she has any sense, no," he replied, punching her firmly in the upper arm, forcing a smile from her "But the point is, I've got cash. Take advantageous of that."
Charthur forced the air through her lips. "I... don't think I could do that."
Jasmaby sighed with an air of drama. "Seriously, dear. My work gives me occortunity to travel. It's hardly an vexruption to purchase a second train ticket. Why wouldn't you come with me?"
Charthur [[considered this|no travel 3]].Charthur huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "Maybe here I'm being funny; I don't want 'us' to be about money."
"Well then," Jasmaby said with a theatrical paw in the air, "You could earn your keep instead." He dropped his tone slightly, and with a paw on her arm, said, "You could be one of my models."
Charthur thrust a finger into the air, "I must decline your idea to profit; I'd find a cliff, and throw you off it."
Jasmaby stroked Charthur's arm and leaned in. "It depends, of course, on what you're willing to wear. I can pay more if you're willing to wear something more exprovocative..."
Charthur...
[[...accepted|accepted]].
[[...declined|declined]].That is absolutely not how the story went.
<<timedreplace 4s>><<becomes>>Definitely not.<<endtimedreplace>>
<<timedreplace 8s>><<becomes>><<back "Try again">>.<<endtimedreplace>>Charthur turned to him, a wide grin on her face. "Tomorrow, we'll climb the highest, most glorious peak in all of Auroria, and I will pitch you from the very top of it, my love."
Jasmaby leaned in further, matching her grin tooth for tooth. "And how much to have you model just for me?"
"In your dreams, beanpole," Charthur snapped.
Jasmaby's smile widened further, and suddenly Charthur felt like the ground had shifted beneath her. Jasmaby moved in closer, putting the two of them nose-to-nose. "Yes," he breathed. "They're some of my prefavorites,"
Charthur's smile vanished. "You have brought this upon yourself," she whispered.
Charthur...
[[...attacked]].Charthur struck, lancing her face into Jasmaby's exposed neck. She released a sigh directly onto his sensitive skin, causing him to flinch. "Ah, stop!" he cried playfully.
Charthur grinned to herself, rubbing her face against Jasmaby's gentle curve, before moving to snort directly into the crook of his shoulder. "Stop, stop!" he giggled.
Emboldened, Charthur pulled herself on top of him, and began to nuzzle up and down his neck, her claws prodding gently at his sides. "You asked for it, dandelion."
Jasmaby choked back his laughter. "Stop it, I can't..."
With that, his foot shot out reflexively, connecting with the small table at the foot of the bed. The table jumped several inches, hitting first the wall and then landing on the floor with a pair of thuds, followed immediately afterwards by a small, sad tinkle.
Both tigers froze where they were. Charthur stared at Jasmaby, whose gaze was fixed at the floor behind them, aghast.
Charthur made to [[turn around]].Charthur attempted to turn to see the damage, but Jasmaby reflexively caught her face in both paws and kept her from looking.
"Was that--" Charthur started.
"I did you tell you to stop," Jasmaby responded nervously.
"Do you have any idea how much of my savings--" Charthur said, suddenly frantic.
Jasmaby cut her off, firing back with, "What happened to 'ignore the cost'?"
Charthur narrowed her eyes. "What happened to you cherishing it like--"
"Don't read into it. It doesn't mean anything." There was an earnest anxiety in Jasmaby's voice, and this realization took Charthur aback, just for a second, before [[leaning in]].<<timedreplace 5s>>Hello!<<becomes>>Goodbye!<<endtimedreplace>>Charthur looked down at Jasmaby. Something was off. A little help was in order, whether he liked it or not.
She worked her way back down a few steps, until she was directly above him. She stretched down, offering him a sickle in her extended hand. "Here, for where the ice is thicker. It'll help you crack it a little quicker."
Jasmaby didn't respond immediately. He simply hung there, clinging to the icy wall, as if he hadn't heard her at all. She stretched down slightly further, offering the sickle again. Without looking at her, Jasmaby reached up and took it.
Satisfied, Charthur made her way back up to where she had left off. It wasn't too much further to the top; being <<insertlink "short a sickle">> (the air was too thin, and her grip too tenuous to form a suitable replacement)<<endinsertlink>> made it harder to get enough leverage on her swings, but she knew the wall well enough to compensate. With each new handhold, she glanced downward, and saw Jasmaby was just about keeping pace with her now.
Putting her concerns in the back of her mind, she focused on the task at hand until [[she reached the top]].Charthur looked down at Jasmaby. Something was off. Still, she knew better than to intervene when he was like this.
Turning back upward, she resumed her work, cracking open handholds one after the other. The climbing called for focus; there would be time to worry later.
A few yards from the top, she felt her lifeline to Jasmaby gently go taut, as she was finally far enough ahead to use its entire length. There was a note of vindication in her heart, which she was quick to suppress. Instead, she quietly fed a little bit more slack into the line.
It would last them until [[she reached the top|no help top]].She hauled herself over the edge. Working quickly, she drove a stake into the ground, having to dig down through a thick layer of snow to find the frozen soil beneath. Just as she finished securing her rope to the stake, Jasmaby's hand appeared over the edge of the cliff. Charthur took it, and helped pull him up and over. Jasmaby let out a grunt of gratitude as he passed her; it would have to do for the moment.
"Come on, a little further still; the view I promised is over the hill." Charthur padded forward, working her way up a sparsely-forested incline. She listened, and heard Jasmaby's bootsteps crunching dutifully behind her.
Together, [[they crested the hill]].She hauled herself over the edge. Moving efficiently, she pushed aside a layer of thick snow to find the frozen soil beneath. Removing a stake from her satchel, she drove her into the ground with the butt of her palm, then looped her rope through it, securing it in place. Then, nothing else to do, she sat at the top of the cliff, and waited.
The wind whipped at her face, elicting the occasional creak from the thin trees that dared to grow at this altitude. Aside from the occasional muffled snarl of frustration from below, it was the only sound to listen for in this little slice of the world.
Time passed. Then, finally, a hand appeared on the edge of the cliff, Jasmaby pulling himself up and over the precipice. He lay near the edge for a moment, before pulling himself to his feet. "Told you," he panted.
Charthur didn't respond to this. Instead, she stood, brushing the snow off her parka as she said, "Come on, a little further still; the view I promised is over the hill." Without giving him time to catch his breath, she set off. She didn't want them to miss the view at its most beautiful, she told herself.
With Charthur leading the way, [[they crested the hill]].The two tigers trudged their way up the incline, following the orange glow of the sunset just beyond. They crested the hill, revealing a view of the forest stretching away in every direction. The sun glimmered off the sea on the horizon, lighting up the snow in oranges and pinks.
"Ah," Jasmaby said, stopping in place for a moment.
Charthur shot him a smile, raising her eyebrows, expectant.
"Hm." Jasmaby, not looking away from the view, smiled as well. "Even your poem fell a little short of the real thing, I'm afraid."
Charthur walked to the edge of the cliff and sat down, patting the ground next to her invitingly. Jasmaby joined her, briefly smoothing out the snow before finding his seat. The pair sat in silence for a while, an inch apart, watching the sun hover just above the glowing horizon.
Maybe this was the moment.
Charthur...
[[...told him]].
[[...did not tell him]].Charthur went over to Jasmaby and knelt in front of him, placing her paws on his knee. "Look at me," she said. "Look at me right now."
"I told you NO," Jasmaby shouted. He rose, placing his paws on her shoulders and shoving her backwards. "I asked you to LISTEN, and you couldn't... couldn't even..." Charthur stared up him helplessly.
"I just..."
"Never //mind//," Jasmaby snarled. "This really was a //mistake//."
With that, he strode to the door, flung it open, and disappeared into the storm. Charthur made to rush after him, but a sudden feeling of weakness stopped her as she rose.
He'd be fine. She'd be fine. She'd be fine. There was nothing more.
And never would be again.
<<display "bad end">>Right. Seize the moment.
"Jasmaby, there's something I wish to tell..."
Her boyfriend lifted an eyebrow and turned slightly towards her, still gazing at the view.
Her courage faltered.
"Just, uh... this is... the best place to get cell," she finished lamely.
"Oh! Oh, good." Jasmaby dipped a hand into his parka to retrieve his <<revision compact>><<gains>>(brand-new, undestroyed)<<endrevision>> <<reviselink compact "compact" end>>. He swiped in his glyph and began thumbing across the screen.
Oh well. It could [[wait|shizu]]....this wasn't the time. She'd have plenty of time to bring it later.
She realized Jasmaby had turned to her, one eyebrow cocked. "Something the matter, dear?"
Caught off guard, Charthur rattled off, "Ah, from the scene, I don't want to distract; but this is the best place to check your compact."
"Oh! Oh, good." Jasmaby dipped a hand into his parka to retrieve his <<revision compact>><<gains>>(brand-new, undestroyed)<<endrevision>> <<reviselink compact "compact" end>>. He swiped in his glyph and began thumbing across the screen.
Oh well. It could [[wait|shizu]].Charthur grinned, and lightly whapped Jasmaby in the shoulder with the back of her paw. "For all her menace, for all her bluster; you pull her strings, and cause her fluster."
Jasmaby waved a dramatic paw, still smiling. "I don't mean to. It's not my flault."
"I don't know if I believe that's true; you have that effect on quite a few."
"Mm," Jasmaby quietly hummed to himself.
Charthur waited a moment, but there was no further reply coming. Instead, she went on, "Shall we turn around now, without delay? Catch the end of the war? What do you say?" When Jasmaby responded with a brief "pfft," Charthur went on, "Or perhaps to the cabin, tired as you are? We're almost there, it isn't far."
Jasmaby stared down at his compact for a few more seconds, before jamming it back it into its pocket. "Let's stay a little longer," he said softly.
And so [[they did]].They stayed a while longer, sitting in silence with their thoughts, until the wind and encroaching shadows encouraged them to continue on.
The little valley lay down a slope and around a bend, sheltering the tiny [[cabin]] at its center from the worst of the elements. Its wooden exterior was entirely unadorned; it served its purpose, and nothing more.
Charthur produced a sturdy silver key from a satchel and unlocked the door, letting the two grateful tigers [[inside]].The cabin belonged to Charthur's cousin, who lived in a nearby village and rented it out to earn some money on the side. She had always been happy to let Charthur use it when it was vacant; in return, Charthur would always bring along a present of whatever exotic spice she came across in Dewclaw. It was a small gesture, but it delighted her cousin's partner, an Aurorian fox, so she made a point of trying to bring something new each time.
It was a tiny sanctuary; a little pocket of existence where there was nothing to do but rest, and write, and be.
Normally, at least. This would be her first time bringing someone else to stay with her. Which is where she found herself <<back "now">>...Charthur entered, holding the door open just long enough for Jasmaby to hurry inside before slamming it shut against the wind howling outside. The two tigers worked quickly to unlatch and shrug off their packs; their equipment, a few changes of clothes, and just enough food to get them through the week. For the moment, these were unceremoniously dumped in a pile; there would be time to sort through them later.
The cabin was, as always, exactly as Charthur had left it. An oven sat awkwardly just off the center of the room, positioned to maximize its ability to spread its warmth without regard for aesthetic concerns. On the opposite side from the door was a simple wooden <<insertlink "bed">> (It was just wide enough for the two of them, and just <<reviselink long "long enough" end>> for Jasmaby.<<revision long>><<gains>> Well... she certainly //hoped// it was, anyway.<<endrevision>>)<<endinsertlink>> with a thin mattress and thick, almost plush blankets, the only thing in the room that had any sense of luxury to them. At the foot of the bed was a tiny end table.
To their left was a pantry cupboard and an icebox, along with a table for their meals. To their right was where the chest of drawers used to sit, until too many guests complained about the agonizing distance between it and the warmth offered by the bed, which is why it was now awkwardly crammed between it and the oven. In its place sat a <<insertlink "writing desk">> (it had simply been there when Charthur arrived once; and it remained the best birthday present she had ever received)<<endinsertlink>>.
While Jasmaby took in the sparse accommodations, Charthur made her way over to the [[oven]].Charthur flipped open the iron door on the oven, and was pleased to see it <<reviselink ready "ready for use" end>>. <<revision ready >><<gains>>(Her cousin must have been here recently, and taken a few extra steps to help ensure their vacation would go smoothly.)<<endrevision>> She called over her shoulder, "A simple spark, inside this hatch. Care to let us spare a match?"
She looked back with a grin, but Jasmaby was sitting on the bed, staring out a window with his chin resting on one hand. "Not really, no," he mumbled, half to himself.
Charthur stared at him in mild disbelief for a moment. Then she turned back to the oven. She retrieved the tiny matchbox from its compartment, plucked out a single match, and struck it against the coarse side. The match failed to ignite, so she struck again, and a third time, then a fourth, each time more violently. On the fifth stroke, she finally managed to light the match, and hurriedly pitched into the oven before slamming the door shut with a little more force than was necessary.
The irritating chore had given her a chance to decide her course of action. Charthur...
...[[called him out]].
...[[tried diplomacy]].
Charthur had tried to be patient, but enough was enough. She straightened her back, raised herself up to her full height, and shot out, "I warned you that we'd have to rough it; so take that attitude and stuff it."
This got a reaction. Jasmaby whipped his head to face her, eyes narrowing. "What excisely are you saying?"
Charthur pointed an accusing finger. "The air is cold, the bed is stiff. I saw you struggle with the cliff. I know you're used to a little pamper, but must you bring a sour damper?"
Jasmaby's ears flattened, his body going rigid. "That is not why I'm upset, and I take umgrudge to the accrimination."
Charthur saw the warning signs, but she wasn't about to be deterred. "Then what, exactly, inhibits your smiles? I've put up with you dour for the past four miles."
Jasmaby grinned; a false, mocking grin that turned Charthur's stomach. "Oh, so you were paying attestation, then! Here I thought you had obliviated me entirely, so caught up in showing off." Jasmaby rolled his eyes dramatically, then pitched up his voice to mimic Charthur's: <<display "mockery">>
Charthur snarled, and...
[[...fought back]].
[[...fought back]].
Charthur sighed. She'd start with the gentle approach.
"Jazzy, is there something wrong? In the face, you're looking long."
No reaction. Jasmaby continued to stare. Charthur had hoped for a smile, even a little one at the corner of his mouth, but it was as if he hadn't even heard her.
"Why do you sit there, so forlorn? Do we have a cause to mourn?"
This earned her a slightly furrowed brow. "It's nothing," he snapped. "I'm just tired."
Charthur briefly clenched her fists. Then she...
...[[ignored it]].
...[[called him out]].Charthur made up her mind. If Jasmaby wanted silence, he could have it.
They talked only sparingly that night. Just enough to navigate around each other.
The next few days dragged on; when <<insertlink "one of them">> (did it matter which one?)<<endinsertlink>> proposed they go home early, it was to their mutual relief.
Things did not improve back in Dewclaw. But at least they managed to go back to the way they were before each other. More or less.
And that was that.
<<display "bad end">><<if visited("...helped him")>>"I'm much too busy climbing the wall with only one sickle to notice that he specifically said he DIDN'T want HELP, what a //loser//."<<else>>"I'm so good at climbing that I can zoom right to the top and then wait for him to slowly crawl after me, what a //loser//."<<endif>>Charthur shouted, "I was paying close attention, and saw that nothing is below you; when you stared at your compact instead of what I brought you here to show you."
Jasmaby's face went soft, a look of affected surprise taking over. He raised one paw theatrically to his mouth. "Oh! Well, I see now that we've only just arrived, and I have managed to arrantly ruin our entire vacation!"
Charthur drove a paw into her own forehead, trying to think through the descending fog. "That's not..."
But Jasmaby went on, shifting from feigned remorse to feigned delight. "Well, you should be happy I checked my messages! Now you can rush back to the war instead of having to put up with me!"
Charthur...
[[...slammed her fist on the oven]].
[[...slammed her fist on the oven]].
[[...slammed her fist on the oven]].Charthur slammed her fist on the oven, a tiny creak of protest eminating from its tiny legs.. "Where the hell did that come from? Why...", she felt like she was choking, like the words were lodged in her throat. Head pounding, she managed, "Why are you being like this?"
This, at least, caused Jasmaby to drop his sing-song cadence. "Being like what," he said, not phrasing it as a question.
"Like... like... THIS," Charthur shouted. The anger was growing painful, harder to hold onto, and she didn't know whether to cling to it.
Jasmaby raised himself up, and looked her dead in the eye. The two simply held each others' gazes, each second feeling like an eternity, each heartbeat pounding in her chest.
And then he said, flatly, "I don't know what I'm doing here."
Charthur...
[[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stood her ground]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] [[stormed out]] "I get it," Charthur said. She clasped her hands together. "You're kind of used to being a star. Out here... you're not sure who you are."
"...hm. That's... acute," Jasmaby said softly.
"Jas. Let me ask you something. Why do you think I brought you here?" She turned, to find Jasmaby looking down and off to the side. He looked up at her, his eyes slightly red.
Charthur steeled her nerves. "I brought you here because I'm selfish. Because I wanted to have you to myself!" She swept her hand to the side. "No crowds! No cameras! Just you!"
Jasmaby didn't answer right away. Charthur felt, rather than saw, the slight tremble to his lip. When he spoke, his voice sounded as if it was coming from the back of his throat. "I just don't feel like myself here. I feel... suffocated."
That was it. Now she could [[tell him]].The thought had been running through her mind the entire trip. And yet, curiously, it was so very hard to say. But now Jasmaby had given her the word she had been looking for. And so it was time to tell him.
"That's exactly how I feel about Dewclaw."
Jasmaby sat upright at this. Charthur explained, "I don't hate it, but..." She sighed. It wasn't going to be possible to say it right, so she fell back on her patterns. "It's hot and noisy, dry and loud. The sun is stifling, as is the crowd."
She gestured weakly to the cabin. "If the cold and quiet make you feel the same way..." She sagged. "We can go home tomorrow. I won't make you stay."
"No." Jasmaby spoke, his voice immediately crisp again. "I do want to. I promise. But if you wanted to try to catch the war..."
Charthur couldn't help it; she [[laughed]].Charthur laughed. It was a brief laugh, only slightly ugly. She grinned, and could see in Jasmaby's face that she wasn't doing a good job of hiding the pain behind it.
"You want to know what I felt, about missing the war?" She shook her head. "Nothing. And I've //never// felt that way before." She was speaking a little bit more loudly than she meant, but she knew Jasmaby would at least understand that. "You don't feel like yourself? I totally hear you. I just... I..." There was an ache, building, and all she wanted to say was...
"I just want to be near you." Jasmaby said, neatly. He patted the bed beside him with one paw, beckoning her with the other. Charthur walked over quickly and sat next to him. She moved to lean on him, suddenly feeling exhausted, only to collide with him halfway.
The two sat, eyes closed, leaning on each other. The wind howled, the fire crackled, and their hearts beat.
Charthur [[listened|do we have a future]].Time passed. Charthur wasn't sure exactly how much; by the time Jasmaby spoke again, the light from the windows had just started to grow dim.
"Charthur," Jasmaby said wistfully. "We both kind of mussled each other up, didn't we."
"Ha. Yeah," Charthur said.
There was another gap of silence. And then, with as much fear as Charthur had ever heard Jasmaby let into his voice, he asked, "Do you think we have a future?"
Charthur took just a moment, and answered...
[['"...yes."'|yes]]
[['"...no."'|no]]
[['"...I don't know."'|I don't know]]"Yes," she said. "I see our future, clear and true," she held up a fist, grinning, "'cause I'll fight for it; and so will you."
"Oh, Charthur," Jasmaby leaned on her further. "You can be so naïve sometimes." Charthur deflated for a moment, but Jasmaby went on, "It's one of the things I adorable about you. Always so romamorous." With that, he leaned over to deliver a peck to the top of Charthur's head, precisely between her ears.
A thought occured to Charthur. "Actually," she said, as she gently pushed Jasmaby off her. She trotted over to where she had put down her backpack and brought it to the little end table at the foot of the bed. While Jasmaby watched, curious, Charthur [[dug down to the bottom]]. "...no. Maybe not," Charthur heard herself say. It had slipped out of its own accord.
"Oh." Jasmaby was suddenly sitting upright again. Charthur tried to think of something to say, but no words came.
Desperate, she reached to touch Jasmaby on the shoulder, but at that moment, he stood, and said, "Well. It aggrieves me to hear that."
Charthur stood up as well, but Jasmaby was slightly too fast again, making his way to the door. Without looking back, he stated, "I shan't burden you further." He opened the door gracefully, and stepped through.
Just as he was about to close the door behind him, he turned halfway, and said, "...it was fun for you too, I hope." And closed it behind him.
It would be the last thing he ever said to her.
<<display "bad end">>"I don't know," she said. She felt Jasmaby stiffen slightly. "But I know this isn't just a fling." She put one arm around Jasmaby's back. "I want us more than anything."
"Oh... Charthur," Jasmaby leaned on her further, and wrapped his arm around her in turn. "You... really do have a way with words sometimes. Always the amoromantic."
A thought occured to Charthur. "Actually," she said, as she gently pushed Jasmaby off her. She trotted over to where she had put down her backpack and brought it to the little end table at the foot of the bed. While Jasmaby watched, curious, Charthur [[dug down to the bottom]]. Charthur worked her way down through the contents of her backpack, arriving at last at a bundle of heavy cloth near the very bottom. She retrieved it, set it on the table, and began delicately unfolding the layers of fabric.
Finally, she unpeeled the very center of the wrappings, revealing a tiny grey teacup, adorned with a loopy, swirly pattern. The seller had said they were a meticulous recreation of the ancient Aurorian style of ornamentation, and she had been forced to believe her.
"It's tiny, dull and entirely new; but I saw it, and, I thought of you." With that, Charthur presented the teacup to Jasmaby, who blinked, then held a paw to her mouth.
"Oh..." he said, "Oh no, you weren't still disquietated about the vase?"
Charthur shrugged. "No replacement, that's for sure. A pound of guilt, an ounce of cure." She [[presented it]] to her boyfriend, who shifted to the foot of the bed to receive it tenderly. It really was one of those perfect kisses; the kind that demands time and attention, that progresses through stages, and blossoms. Jasmaby's paw found its way to Charthur's hair, while she brought hers around to his back, to pull him in closer.
When the two tigers finally pulled away, the light had all but gone from the windows. Jasmaby placed the little teacup down on the end table, then flopped into bed. Charthur crawled over to the other side and lay down next to him. Neither was quite ready to break the sanctity of the moment that had just passed; but Charthur was perfectly content to stare up at the ceiling and [[work through her thoughts|no travel]]."You do know what this means, don't you," Charthur said, sliding her paw up Jasmaby's chest, letting it come to rest at the base of his throat.
"I'm sure..." Jasmaby started, but Charthur moved her other paw to the side of his head, pulling him towards her.
She whispered to him, "You will be making this up to me." And with that, she adopted her best evil smile. "And we have a full week for me to figure out how."
Jasmaby grinned back, his expression a perfect blend of relief and apprehension. It was too cute to restrain herself; Charthur leaned forward, planted a kiss on his nose, and rolled off him.
"Sweet dreams, Jasmaby," she said, perfectly satisfied.
"Ha..." Jasmaby let out a quiet laugh. "You too, Charthur."
And then: "I love you."
Charthur sighed, suddenly filled with bliss once more. "I love you too."
In this cold room, on this hard bed, Charthur felt more [[comfortable]] than she ever had before.!THE END
<<timedreplace 3s>><<becomes>>([[epilogue]])<<endtimedreplace>>Charthur stared up at the ceiling, one foot dangling over the edge of the bed. It was the middle of the night, probably. She had slept, possibly. And then she had woken up, uncountable minutes ago, and had been unable to fall back asleep. The night dragged on, but sleep would not come to her.
She reached up, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. It wasn't Jasmaby's gentle snoring, or his leg lying across her body. It was the heat, radiating off him like a furnace. The little oven had gone out hours ago, yet the room was baking.
Charthur croaked out in a whisper, not daring to bother him, "Jasmaby, this may sound a little bad; but could you try to again be sad?"
There was no response. She briefly envisioned rolling him off the bed, and then ideally, across the room, out the door, and into a nearby snowbank, but ultimately she was forced to abandon this plan.
Oh well, she thought to herself. It's not always about being comfortable, is it?
Gently, she reached up to pat Jasmaby on the head, then closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep."Dear. My darling." Jasmaby took the teacup in his hands, turning it gently against the fading light. "It's exquisiteous, it really is. And it couldn't have been cheap."
Charthur grinned. "A tiny sorry, for what was lost. It's only right, ignore the cost. It shan't replace," but Jasmaby stopped her by placing his paw upon her cheek.
"I love it. I shall cherish it and care for it until the end of my days." He leaned forward, his lips near hers, and whispered, "Just like you."
Charthur leaned forward, into [[a perfect kiss]].