Little Gifts. -Eli/Dorian
It wasn't unusual for Eli to take off for a day or two without giving Dorian a heads up. He was generally pretty polite in keeping his traveling companion in the loop on most occasions, but when Dorian irked himself underneath Eli's skin just a little bit deeper than usual, it wasn't uncommon for him to give Dorian the silent treatment.
But three days was a little much. Eli had avoided him and was essentially punishing him for what? Asking too many questions? Getting too personal? It drove Dorian nuts, but after the first day, he pretty much gathered that this was just something that he was going to have to ride out.
Of course, by the third day, Dorian was beginning to feel guilt. Eli had disappeared before Dorian had even woken up, and by 4'oclock in the afternoon, Dorian was going stir crazy.
He tried to think of ways to ask Eli to forgive him, to tell him that he wouldn't do it again, but no matter what approach he took, it was the same result of Eli just getting more irritated than before. He didn't have the patience for pretty words or flowery, emotional statements. And it was driving Dorian nuts since those were some of the things he was best at.
Practically pacing in the motel room, Dorian decided it was time for a smoke break. (He'd stopped smoking in the room ages ago.)
With cigarette and lighter in hand, Dorian stepped outside to the muggy, unwelcoming weather. He didn't do well in the heat, which probably added to his agitation and need to fix the upset of he and Eli's makeshift household. He inhaled a deep breath of the smog-filled air and sighed as he began on a walk to clear his head.
Dorian didn't get very far, mind you. He got about half a mile away from the motel when something caught his eye on the side of the road: roadkill.
With a heavy heart, Dorian looked down at the dead cat. It's injuries were minimal, but it looked old to begin with. Poor thing barely had a chance. He moved to walk past the scene when a thought crossed through his head.
Eli always did have a hankering for animal bones. Skulls, to be exact. Maybe, if he just...
Dorian's features morphed to a new status of resolve as he quickly sucked down the rest of his fag and turned tail from the dead cat and back to the motel room.
He grabbed an old hand towel and gathered the cat, wrapping it up so that there would be no questions asked as to why he was bringing in roadkill to his bedroom. But it was there that he set the cat into the bathtub and began to work.
Dorian had been taught by his old man how to shoot, skin, and cook an animal. It was never something that he really did like doing, and generally refused to do unless absolutely necessary, but he could do it with enough ease that skinning something like a cat would be easy.
The whole process in itself took about two hours to do. He washed the fur of muck and blood, drained the poor beast, removed its guts, and eventually removed it of its fur, and finally began the process of cleaning the bones themselves. He had to take a lot of little breaks in order to keep himself from cracking at the seams, and even had to go out to get the right kind of soap, but eventually, the deed was done.
Before Dorian took to the task of presentation, he disposed of the remains. He buried the fur pelt as a symbolic way of honoring and thanking the cat for its sacrifice and left the remaining meat of it out near the forest where other creatures of nature could make use of it.
After all was said and done, and Eli was still not yet home, Dorian set on presenting the cat's bones out for when he did return.
With another clean towel, Dorian set it out on the corner of Eli's already made bed. He carefully placed the bones in a way that represented what the creature had been in life, and alongside that, Dorian placed a hand written note that read: 'I'm sorry.'
He was exhausted at this point, but he didn't go to bed until both he and the bathroom were spotless. (Which the bathroom was probably then cleaner than it had been for well over a decade.) But after that, Dorian retired for the evening, not even stirring when Eli finally returned back 'home'.
