Wounded merfolk/siren whumpee washed up on shore. They try their hardest to scoot their way back into the tide, but their injuries prevent them from doing so.
Whumpee has long since refused to go to the beach, better yet go swimming despite the overwhelming heat this summer. They finally relent, the swimsuit unveiling their scars.
Team was having fun on the beach, especially watching their rigid Leader lay around, being forced to take a break. Finally leader falls asleep underneath the warming sun. Now its time to go, and they aren't so easy to wake.
Whumpee and Whumper end up stranded together in the ocean.
Unknowingly, Whumpee came in contact with something venomous from the ocean. No one knew until their skin started to blanche, and they were sweating more than reasonable for a sunny day.
Quicksand (or quickmud really)
Whumper falls overboard in dangerous waters. Does whumpee pull them in? Or do they relish in watching Whumper's fingertips vanish under the surface of the water.
"It's just a jellyfish." Caretaker couldn't help at laugh, seeing how sick to their stomach whumpee became over the gelatinous blob in the sand. How could whumpee explain that whumper was a mysterious underwater creature of similar sustenance.
Whumpee's head popped out from the surface of the rushing water, as they clung to the edge of the roof. The roar of the flood was deafening. All around them, inside their waterlogged ears. Was it Caretaker's offered hand in front of them? Or a more nefarious individual ready to take advantage of the disaster?
The whumpee had managed to escape on their own, but find themselves in a frigid, snow-covered forest. The whumpee is covered in injuries and bleeding, they’re definitely not dressed for the cold either- but they just know that they need to keep running, they need to make it somewhere safe.
Whumpee had gone to get a popsicle, it was hot, the middle of summer and their A/C had broken. They had wanted to create a blizzard in their room, but Caretaker told them if they did that, they’d have to do dishes for a month. The A/C was getting fixed tomorrow. And in the face of a month of dishes, one day of heat didn’t seem so bad. If only this could have happen during winter. They’d have a blast crafting intricate snowflakes. So many snowflakes… They giggled at the thought, which was odd. Whumpee couldn’t remember the last time they had giggled.
It was hot, and they were in a hallway… to get… something. They placed a hand on the wall to brace themself, waiting a moment for the lightheadedness to fade. It was kinda funny.
Popsicle! Yes! They remember now and moved with a renewed vigor to the kitchen. It had a freezer. In that freezer were ice popsicles. Nice and cold and icy and poppy. Unfortunately, the tiled floor was farther down than they remembered, and a little to the left. Their step turned into a lurch and they were on the ground. At least the tile was cool.
Caretaker heard the thump and ran into the kitchen. Whumpee hadn’t been looking too good and now they had to shake them awake from their position on the floor, checking for damage. Nothing too severe, they’d probably have a nasty bruise on their arm though. And their skin was… warm, a normal temperature for anyone else, but for Whumpee it was bad fever, heatstroke was most likely given their current predicament.
“Caretaker!” Whumpee’s words came out slurred but ecstatic. “Oh MY GOODNESS! I was getting something…” Their voice trailed off and Caretaker couldn’t help but laugh, getting a popsicle out of the freezer.
“Here.” They had never seen Whumpee like this and couldn’t help but smile a little at just how silly they seemed. Whumpee was a fairly serious person, they would crack a couple of jokes, but usually just monotone side quips. Whumpee’s eyes went wide with amazement, like the popsicle was the holy grail.
“You’re giving this to me?” There were tears in Whumpees eyes, like they couldn’t believe a 2 dollar popsicle from the local grocery store was really in their grasp. Caretaker nodded and Whumpee opened the wrapper with another giggle. A giggle, yet another side of Whumpee Caretaker had never seen. The closest they remember was when Whumpee got a little lightheaded after standing in line for cheesecake that Whumpee swore up and down Caretaker had to try. They ended up getting the cheesecake, but Caretaker drove them home. Thinking back, Whumpee had never gotten so much as a fever, but delirium must have been the effect heat had on them. Caretaker picked Whumpee up with a smile, and carried them back to their shared room. Maybe a little blizzard would be okay, a very, very small one. They shook their head, a little voice was already trying to convince themself that maybe two inches of snow wouldn’t be that bad.
@whumporama Something a lot less hurt a lot more comfort :)
Aspen sat next to the herd elders quietly, watching and listening as they talked and bickered amongst themselves. Foals were encouraged to spend their time listening to their stories— a way for them to learn, and a way to keep them out from under hoof.
Together, the elders used their accumulated wisdom and knowledge to form prophecies. But, as Aspen was quickly learning, they never agreed on anything. They bickered over everything from weather patterns to tea leaves to berry abundance.
"A fatal illness will befall us as autumn becomes winter," one centaur announced loudly.
Another centaur, Jacob, rolled his eyes. "You say that this time every year, Barb."
She scoffed. "Have you seen the number of berries this year?"
"I think we should be more concerned over the lack of birds." A different centaur, Ivan, muttered. "They migrated early, so they missed the berries. That's why there's so many now."
"Well the stars don't seem concerned," Jacob huffed.
"Always the stars with you," Barb replied with a roll of her eyes. "The stars aren't even on our planet! How are they supposed to know what's going on?"
"Maybe there's a big winter storm coming early," Aspen offered quietly. Some elders felt that foals shouldn't give input, but these three never seemed to mind.
Jacob leaned in closer. "What was that, dear?"
Before she could respond, Barb spoke up. "She said maybe there will be a big winter storm! Get your hearing checked, old man!" She threw a clump of berries at him, but he just waved her off and returned to his star chart, muttering to himself about planets and stars.
Aspen turned to Ivan, who shrugged. "It's worth making sure we're prepared. Birds know more about weather than we do being so high up— if they've decided to leave early, there's probably a reason." He gave her a warm smile. "Maybe you'll be good at this one day, little one. You certainly have the spark."
She beamed under the praise and watched as they called a meeting to announce the need for winter preparations.
Ivan and Barb worked hard, making sure as many herbs and berries as possible were turned into medicines, while Jacob instructed younger centaurs on how to reinforce their tents for the winter and spoke of wind and ice. Aspen took it all in, a hint of pride that they were taking her suggestion seriously.
The storms did come early, soaking everything in a heavy, wet snow that froze into slippery ice. Each day, the sun came out just enough to thaw the top layer— each night, more fell, and it froze denser and denser.
Warriors spent hours each day hacking at the ice with axes, trying to break it up and move it out of camp. They ended up building an icy wall around the camp instead, hoping to keep more snow from blowing in. It wasn't as if anyone could leave, anyway.
It was a struggle to keep enough wood dry for fires, but the damp cold was far too dangerous to withstand without them. Some of the strongest centaurs began making careful journeys to cut down more trees and bring home the wood— but green wood smokes more. Smoke is bad for the lungs of anyone, but especially an animal like a centaur.
Aspen remembered the day she first heard a foal coughing. She rushed to get medicine, a syrup to boost the immune system and soothe the throat and lungs.
After a few days, there were attempts to isolate the sick to a tent of their own, with caretakers required to wear thick scarves over their faces, but it wasn't enough.
By the time spring came back, they had lost nearly a fifth of their herd. Ivan held Aspen close as the herd buried Barb and Jacob— together, in life and in death. Ivan, now the defacto spiritual leader of the herd, gave burial rites. Aspen held his hand the whole time.
She and Ivan spent a lot of time together after that. He showed her different methods of divination. They went out at night and he showed her the stars and the ways that Jacob had read them. She absorbed all the information he gave her about birds and their flight patterns, and they spent hours mixing and cooking medicines with Barb's books. He even showed her how to toss bones and rocks and trinkets, then read them.
After she was captured, the stars were all she had. In her nights of broken sleep, she could sometimes feel Jacob's presence beside her, showing her the way the stars promised she would be okay, even if it didn't seem like it now. She didn't believe him at the time, but the feeling of his presence was comforting. When she was in too much pain, she would feel Barb reminding her how to make medicines and treat wounds and promising she was tough enough to survive this. Sometimes all she had was mud, but Barb would try to help there, too.
She broke down the night that she felt Ivan's presence, telling her how proud he was of her for making it this far and promising better days ahead. She could feel his hand around hers as he told her stories of birds and berries and stars.
Spruce had reminded her of Ivan when they first bought her— their fierce expression but gentle eyes, their soft voice as they reassured her she would be okay now. She hadn't believed them then, of course. She'd been far too broken to trust that anyone could have her best interest at heart.
But they'd won her over eventually, given her a new name free from the burdens of her past, and space to just be.
She never made prophecies anymore. But she still heard her elder's voices when she studied the stars and watched the birds and checked the berries. And sometimes they still sat with her on quiet, lonely nights, just to remind her that she wasn't alone.
Synopsis: Miraculously alive, Salmo tries to gain her bearings and find Akvo. . .
Word Count: 1201
Content Warning: Mentions of death. Immortal whumpee. Lady whumpee. Environmental whump. Mention of past injury.
Notes: Isn't it crazy how the dinosaurs were wiped out by a meteorite? Like that's astronomy, what are you doing in my paleontology? The Hadean was like four billion years ago buddy!
Dumb jokes aside, this is more of a brief break before the real whump stuff begins in earnest. Ideas and comments are welcome! Enjoy!
At first, it was impossible to tell if she was waking up from a nightmare, or falling into one.
Visions and sounds of her broken body swam through Salmo’s brain as consciousness slammed into her. She woke with a start, gasping for air she didn’t realize she needed.
The immediate world around her was unfamiliar, utterly alien. It was not the safety of her band’s camp or the cone walls of her nest. Nor was it the grotto she had fought so vainly to escape from. Salmo found herself instead, sat, the center of some decline; a deep depression with great earthen walls jutting up around her. She could not see out of the pit.
To one side, there was a trickling waterfall, which fell and traveled and pooled all around her waist. The landscape was browns and grays and fires burned all around. The air was hot enough for her to sweat and above, the sky was thick with dark, soot colored clouds.
Unsteadily, she stood. She could hardly feel her legs and a single step brought shooting pain up her torso. Reluctantly she sat back down in the simmering pond.
What parts of her body hadn’t been covered by water were instead caked in white ash. Each breath brought a choking cough and her chest felt utterly unprepared for any act of breathing.
Her chest. . .
Shaky hands traced her sternum, half expecting to find some deep hole carved through it, but instead Salmo just found soft skin, unmarked save for a mole and hot ash. But the pain, the memory of being impaled, of her body being crushed, it all felt so real, so recent.
Once, during her tenth season, Salmo had fallen from a tree and broken her arm. She couldn’t use it for what felt like weeks, but eventually it had healed enough for her to return foraging with her mother. She remembered the way it felt, for her body to be only slightly healed but still the echo of pain with each movement. For seasons afterwards, her shoulder still gave her issue if she strained it too much.
Now though she couldn’t feel that tinge in her shoulder. Now the only echo of pain was in her body and legs, and it too was fast fading. Salmo’s mind spun.
Had the deinotherium been real? Where was she? Was she dreaming? Was Akvo okay?
Oh fuck. . . Akvo.
Salmo gasped and tried to call out, but her voice was caught in her throat by an intense dryness. Quickly she scooped up some of the water around her and tried to swallow. It tasted like death and she just as quickly wretched it back.
Akvo? Akvo! Salmo tried to call, but all she could hear in turn was a dull ringing and the crackling of flames.
She needed to figure out where she was, what happened to her band. She hoped, with such desperation, Akvo was still alive.
Slowly Salmo stood. Already her legs were feeling stronger and with each step towards the wall of the depression, her pace became more confident, more determined. The ground beneath her feet was scorching and soon she was jogging, running, sprinting until her fingers dug into the wall. She reached up and strained and climbed her way out of the wide pit, only sliding back down once as the soil gave way to her weight.
At last she reached the top, throwing herself over with one final effort. Her lungs still burned and her eyes felt heavy. Where the hot pain in her abdomen had gone, it was replaced with a hunger like none other.
Before the deinotherium she remembered eating a feast. How long had it been?
Salmo stood back up, there was no time to wonder. She had to find–
Her breathing hitched.
Any doubts of where she was vanished in an instant. Although they were all knocked over and ablaze, she recognized the trees of the forest which Okro had guided them to. She recognized the meandering miniscule flow of the river which now poured thinly into the pit she had just climbed from. She recognized the charred and half-buried corpse of the deinotherium matriarch which had trampled Akvo and impaled her. All around death and destruction greeted her.
Salmo gazed back into the pit.
Where once there was a thriving grotto, there was now but a hole in the face of the earth. As though a giant hand had come down and scooped out the very land itself, there was nothing save for a burning landscape to show that anything of value had once been there. There was no grotto. There was no Akvo.
The surrounding forest was beyond dead. What trees were not totally collapsed were leafless and ashen, bent awkwardly away from the pit. They were all thrown like that, as though, like the deinotherium, the trunks of them had died in a desperate attempt to flee whatever destruction had occurred. Salmo had never seen or heard of anything like it. It was beyond anything she could understand.
When her grief finally came, it surprised her. She didn’t quite know who or what she was mourning. Akvo was gone, certainly, as were any remains of her parents–but they had been gone for a while. She didn’t know where her band was. She didn’t understand what was happening and fuck she was all alone!
She let herself collapse and cry for as long her body would allow. Tears made her dizzy and she quickly realized not only was she starving, she was incredibly thirsty. She crawled towards the river, then choking down the filthy ashen water, cleaned herself, and cried some more.
The dark sky darkened some more and unexpectedly, night arrived.
It seemed unfair to Salmo that in her despair the day could keep going, but perhaps she still should have known better. Since becoming the band’s oldest, she had never once known a time where she could truly afford rest. Now would be no different.
Waiting for daylight then, was not an option. Forcefully, Salmo pulled herself together and stood.
With her gone, Okro would be the oldest and leading the band would fall on her shoulders. If she was smart, and Salmo knew she was, Okro would lead the band upriver. Any deviation would be caused only by the most trying of circumstances: another band, a pack of lions. Fuck, more deinotherium. Salmo’s best bet was to follow the river and hope to catch up to them. And, as the pained growling of her stomach reminded, to eat along the way.
As she set off, questions still haunted her brain. How was she alive? What happened to the forest? But the time for answers would have to wait. For now, she trekked silently into the night, a miracle, and blissfully ignorant of what was to come. Departing that deathly safety of the charred forest, she had never noticed that at the center of the crater she emerged from, there sat a small, burnt metal rock. She could never have guessed its origin, high in the heavens and from beyond the sky.
She would never know what gift–and what curse–it alone had bestowed upon her.
CW: Hypothermia, recovery from abuse, brief mention of counting calories/not eating enough, dumb cute caretakery shit I said I wouldn't write much of
Word count: 2950
Characters: Warren/Aziphem
"Aren't you cold?"
Of course he was, hell Aziphem got chilled when the temperatures dropped below 65. One of the many joys of being a demon.
"I'm fine." It had been his constant answer whenever Warren pressed on how he was doing. What was he supposed to say? Yes, he was cold out here. There was a threat of snow that night, only a dusting but still dipping below freezing. But if he told the human he would, of course, get the offer to come inside with mentions of hot food and warm blankets.
Not that Aziphem didn't want those. He had stolen one of Warren's blankets when he first arrived, making a little nest for himself in the shed behind the cabin they were hiding out in until the hunt for him cooled down.
No what he didn't want was that-- gentleness. The kind offers, the care, the sympathy. It made him feel... pathetic. Didn't Warren know what he was? He didn't deserve those things, just wanted them. Which was why he stole them. He deserved to be able to steal them, not be gifted them.
"Alright, well, there is a couch, I could sleep on that and give you the bed-"
"No."
"... You could have the couch?"
"No."
"You can... say the word no again?"
Aziphem opened his mouth to speak, but caught it before the word left his lips, only responding with a glare. Stupid human, with his stupid crooked grin, and the stupid way his stupid eyes crinkled and his stupid little laugh-
"Can I get you a jacket at least?"
"I have a jacket." Aziphem pulled his thin flannel closer around his shoulders. He had also stolen this, from Warren's closet. Why wasn't the human mad at him for that?
"Have you ever been up north for a winter Azzi?" Warren sighed, sitting down a respectful distance away from the demon on the porch step. Still, Aziphem scooted himself away. He didn't like the human so close. He didn't know why the human wanted to be that close.
"No. Not really. I saw some snow at-" He paused, twisting his fingers. "When he brought me to his house sometimes. That's it."
Maybe that was why he hated being given things. That angel, so gentle and kind when he 'behaved'. When he let it happen. He would get gifts, treats, allowed to sleep in a bed instead of on a cell, given clothes, food, and all of it came with the caveat that he had to allow himself to be poked, prodded, and pulled apart on those stainless steel tables. Accepting things gave the giver power over him.
Warren, thankfully knowing not to press, nodded. He had made it clear with the human early on that he was not to ask about the angels and what they did to him.
"Well, up here, it gets really fucking cold. And I know-" He held out his finger to stop the demon's predicted interruption. "It won't kill you permanently. But is it really worth the risk?"
"I'll be fine. I have a place to sleep."
"In the fucking shed?" Finally, Warren was getting frustrated. Aziphem knew how to deal with frustrated people.
"Yeah, and you want to stop me?" The demon bared his teeth, ready for whatever reaction followed.
"Yes actually, I do!" Good! Yell at him; that Aziphem could work with! Ok so it... wasn't a yell. But close enough.
" I could kill you so easily- and you think you can stop me?" He snarled, lunging just enough to get the human to scramble back away. With teeth snapping between his words, he glared at Warren. "You want to take that chance?"
Warren, to his credit, didn't look as scared as Aziphem had hoped. He looked more... disappointed. Muttering a few words in Spanish that Aziphem couldn't understand, the human stood up, shaking his head.
"I'll leave the door unlocked if you change your mind." Warren slammed the door behind him, leaving the demon alone again.
Good! He had won that encounter! Warren didn't get to hold the power of helping over him. It was a hollow happiness, but still one Aziphem relished. Making his way out to the small, spider infested shed, he curled up in his stolen blanket, munching on a stolen granola bar. Maybe tomorrow he would go hunting, show Warren he didn't need him. Why was he still here anyways? He didn't need the human's help!
Well-- he kinda did. Warren had found them this hiding spot, and these were Warren's clothes he was wearing. And Warren had driven them out here. And... patched up the bullet wounds Haziel had left him with in his escape. And was currently keeping an eye on his blood work since the drugs Kotarou had given him were causing withdrawls now that he was off them...
The more he thought about it, the more he hated it. Why did that human want him around? Why had the human always been so--- nice?! He didn't know what to do with nice, because nice was temporary and contingent on him not stepping out of line. Nice was fake and a tool to get him to do what someone else wanted.
Aziphem stewed over these thoughts for a few hours, watching the last bit of light turn blue, then black in the dark forest. Alone in the dark, he normally felt so safe.
Now he just felt fucking cold.
Shivering in his blanket, Aziphem pulled the flannel in tight. Warren had been right, this was not a jacket. And he wanted nothing more than to go inside. But that would be losing, and he would not submit to Warren and give him what he wanted. Even if that was what he also wanted.
Through the cracks in the shed walls, he could see the first bit of snow starting to fall, starkly contrasting against the pitch black sky. It was so peaceful, watching each flake slowly drop in the near windless night.
But that cold was anything but peaceful. The flannel and the blanket were hardly enough, the numbness setting into his fingers and slowly working up his arms. How long had he been unable to feel his toes? The dilemma was becoming more and more apparent, he wasn't going to last the night out here. Maybe he could sneak in, sleep in a closet, and sneak out before Warren woke up? No if the human caught him he would never live that down. He had to manage out here.
Of course he had been a little concerned when the shivering started, but he was more now that it had stopped. The basic drive to stay alive was kicking in, but he felt- tired. Like the night was starting to eat up the now heavier snow, leaving only darkness around him.
He needed to get up. He hated that he did but he needed to get warm. Stumbling out of the shed, he looked around for the house. Which direction was it? He wasn't more than 300 feet away, but with the dark trees, snowy night and with his brain addled by cold, he couldn't remember which way-
Right. He was certain it was a right. It had to be a right. Stumbling in the direction, Aziphem picked his way over the dusted ground cover, bare feet crunching frozen plants beneath him. The house had to be just up ahead, he would sneak in, steal a victory granola bar, and sneak out before Warren woke. Hell, he would steal himself a whole ass cookie if he didn't get caught.
There wasn't a clearing between him and the house. Aziphem stumbled into the small gap in the trees, looking at the definitely unfamiliar terrain. He had been so sure it was right, was it left? The snow had been coming down harder, masking his tracks as he turned around. He was lost, cold, and afraid.
For a moment, the demon circled the clearing, flicking his tail in the now blustering night night. Had he walked past that fallen tree? Or that stump. He felt dizzy, head pounding and body weak. If he died out here, the angels would find his energy signature from the revival. Would they find him before-
"Warren?" The last word of his thoughts escaped his lips, barely piercing the snow muffled night. "Warren? WARREN!"
Stupid human, making him need him. Making him want him to come to his rescue when he couldn't help himself. Aziphem was weak and pathetic and he hated himself every time he screamed that name into the darkness, pleading with a God who had abandoned him that by some miracle the human would hear him.
Shaking legs gave way underneath him, forcing him to the ground. The snow was no longer a dusting, now pelting him from all sides as he curled up on the ground. That familiar cold filled his limbs and his memories.
Ice cold water in his lungs.
Fighting his restraints as the ice froze around him.
Death. Revival. Death. Revival. The time between getting longer and longer until he inevitably would not wake up, frozen in a constant stasis.
He was going to die. And they would find him. And they would freeze him. And it would all be his fault for not letting Warren help him. Warren- Warren-
"Aziphem?"
Aziphem instinctively flinched away from the hand now brushing him off, but gave in to the arms as they pulled him in. Sticky hot human- he hated the touch but as the thick jacket wrapped around him, warmed and thick with the scent of Warren he buried himself into it.
"What are you doing?! It's too cold out here, you're covered in snow!" The human pulled him into the treeline, stripped down to his underlayer with his jacket wrapped around Aziphem.
"I -- got lost." He mumbled, pulling the jacket close around him. Not past the stump or the fallen tree, just a small break in the forest he would not have noticed in his cold delirium. The human was holding tight to him and he fucking hated it, but he was far too cold to fight back.
"Where were you going?" Warren had this way of being firm with him, but not in the way Kotarou had, ordering him to strip or kneel or shut up. The human would ask him these questions, pointing out that he was self sabotaging by making him admit it.
"I wasn't running away if that's what you're asking me." He tried to pull the jacket in with numb fingers, the fabric slipping through his grasp. Warren pulled the jacket on for him, helping him get his hands through. Any other day he would have snapped, demanding to do it himself, but numb fingers were useless here.
How had he gotten so far from the cabin? The walk felt long, Aziphem tripping over his numb feet and falling on Warren for support. At least when the human caught him there was no teasing, no gentle cooing that he was safe, just silently picking him back up so he could keep walking. He did have to give in eventually, leaning heavily on his caretaker as they trudged up the last hill and into the cabin.
"You're going to go warm up.' Warren commanded, once again in that firm way that Aziphem knew meant that this was not a choice and that the human would in fact make sure he got warm one way or another. "There's blankets by the stove. I'm going to make you some tea and soup. Did you eat anything for dinner?"
"Is now really the time to be grilling me on my eating habits?" The demon half-heartedly snarked, curling up in the warm nest of blankets near the wood burning stove that warmed the house. Wow, this was- worth the humiliation of submitting to Warren's wishes.
"Calories are important to making sure you can warm yourself up." Warren sighed, pulling a pot of something from the ice chest and placing it on that stove alongside a kettle. "Please? I just want to help you, so if you could just work with me-"
"A granola bar." Aziphem said quietly, pulling the blankets around himself. "And I am getting warm. Happy?"
"Incredibly." Warren turned to look at the demon. "Well, no, you probably should be eating more than that... right? I still don't know your anatomy- er- I don't know how to best take care of you- I know you don't like doctor terms but damn it I am a doctor I don't know what else to say."
"I should be eating more, but it is not a problem yet. I was planning to hunt something tomorrow. Just say you don't know how I work."
"Alright- I don't know how you work."
That was the one thing Aziphem appreciated about Warren's type of care. He... listened. If Aziphem told him no, he rarely pressured. When he told the doctor he didn't like hearing medical terms, Warren did his best to change the way he described his care. Imbalanced brain chemicals and abnormal bloodwork were what an angel would use to justify forcing him to be medicated. 'Whack ass shit' was what Warren would grumble and scratch his stupid gorgeous curly hair about when something came back out of the normal.
"I need to eat more than you do, averaging closer to 3000 calories per day. But consider it more... 12000 calories every four days? I can go longer without food."
Fishing out his small notebook from the snow pants, Warren scribbled something. Aziphem hated how it made him feel observed... but caved to the doctor on this disagreement long ago.
"Got it." The human did a few moments of quiet math, fingers counting to match what he was doing in his head.
"I'm under, I know, I was going to make up for it tomorrow." He sighed. "Catch a deer or something."
"Not in that storm. Light dusting my ass, it's threatening to break 3 feet before morning."
"I've hunted in worse. And it's not like I have a choice-"
"Yes. Yes you do." Warren pulled the pot of soup from the stove, foregoing the bowl and handing Aziphem the pot. "You can eat my god damn cooking."
This was defeat, but damn did defeat smell like a rich venison stew. Aziphem poked at it with a spoon for a moment before quietly taking a few bites.
"And while you're at it, you can wear my damn clothes and sleep on my damn bed." Warren continued, sitting down in front of Aziphem with arms crossed. "Or the couch, I will make an exception for that since I know you-"
"What do you want from me?"
The question must have thrown Warren off, pausing with his mouth open.
"What do I... want from you?"
"Yes. I know you're trying to get something from this. And I won't give it to you, you'll have to fight me for it."
"Azzi-" Warren just... looked exhausted. "I want you to eat, sleep in a warm bed, and maybe put on some fucking shoes outside, but I can compromise on that."
"Bullshit- I know how this goes." The demon pulled his blankets tight around him, creating a defensive wall. Soup inside that defensive wall of course, even if he didn't want to accept it, now that he had it it was a precious resource he needed to defend. "You act all nice, give me things, then take them away when I say no. I know how this goes, and I won't let you give me things if you're going to use them to control me."
"Aziphem--- Azzi-- no. I'm not going to do that."
"Allow me to reiterate- Bull. Shit."
"Look, I know you won't just-- believe me. So let's talk about this rationally. If I tried to take that jacket from you, what would you do?"
What would be do? It was Warren's jacket, but he had it now. It was a tool he now needed to survive.
"Tell you to not fucking touch me and get away from you?"
"Alright, and if I tried to get you, would I be able to?"
"No. I am faster, stronger, and more resilient than you." Ignoring the fact that he had been dying alone in the woods only minutes earlier...
"Exactly. You can beat me in a fight if you need to. So can I take those things away from you?"
"... no."
"So what can I gain from giving you things?"
Aziphem didn't have an answer, instead choosing to silently hide in his defeat blankets and eat his defeat soup. Did Warren really want nothing from him?
"Then why are you helping me?"
"I wake up every day and ask myself that question." There was that stupid crooked grin again... "You got me roped into this mess, figured I might as well ride it out with you. Besides, I'm a doctor, a real one mind you, and it's my job to help people."
Stupid human, he wasn't a person, he was a creature. And a violent one at that. When would Warren figure that out? Aziphem knew he would eventually, but for now... for now he could accept this defeat and let Warren give him these things. Even if they would be taken away, even if he knew he would be hurt or abandoned for it.
Right now, he just wanted that stupid human, his stupidly delicious soup, his stupid jacket that smelled like him, his stupid crooked grin and the stupid way he made Aziphem feel safe, even if he couldn't trust it.
