Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D
This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...
Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)
CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references
His legs still ache from running.
Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Hestonâs hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.
Itâs colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But itâs better out here. No one can hurt him here.
As long as they donât find him.
He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. Itâs still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Hestonâs glinting eyes surfaces in Arionâs memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But heâs done it, he reminds himself. Heâs escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.
Please, please donât come looking for me.
A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.
A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.
Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It canât rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.
He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. Itâs ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it werenât his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. Heâd been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, heâs unbearably cold.
An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that theyâve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that heâs thinking about it, his feet havenât felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. Thereâs no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.
And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.
Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the roadâs tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where heâs been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.
He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesnât come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, heâd love to be put out of his misery. But heâs seen a bird been run over before. Under a truckâs tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.
Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. Itâs so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.
Itâs just his imagination, he thinks.
And then he smells exhaust from a car.
And the screech of brakes.
And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.
âI swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, Iâm never going to get anywhere.â
That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.
âCanât help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.â Thereâs a meow in response. Arionâs breath hitches. The voice says, âMe-ow. I know, I know. Iâll be right back.â A car door shuts. Then thereâs heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arionâs chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.
A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isnât an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.
âOh, geez, thatâs-- not a mouse. Okay.â Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. âOkay. Okay okay. Oh, God, youâre injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all⊠cut up. Thatâs not good. Um.â
Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isnât something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.
âOkay. Hereâs what weâll do,â the girl continues. âIâm gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. Itâs gonna be okay. Here. Iâm picking you up now, âkay?â
The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. Itâs both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.
âOh, youâre freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous⊠Iâm glad I found you. Iâll get you all warmed up in the car.â
Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers heâs an atheist.
Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel⊠nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.
Words are spoken to him, but he canât listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girlâs voice hushes.
Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it wonât be in another cage.
Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:
(Also, let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tag list. No hurt feelings! I know it's been a long time and if you've lost interest that is A-Okay, friend)
(Also, if you'd like to be added or if your username's changed, let me know!)
@whumping-every-day, @deluxewhump, @sola-whumping, @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @ahorriblebimess, @whump-me-all-night-long
