Unforgiven [Denen]

[Eldon Sunkiss]

Timestamp: 83rd of Winter, AV 510 Morning - Still Dark

Running, sweating, crying, screaming. Eldon ran and ran, trying his hardest to get away from something. What was it? He didn't know. Eldon couldn't recall how he had gotten in this unfamiliar place, the only vaguely visible landscape, the vaguely audible sounds that echoed through the environment of translucency, through his head, through the very core of his body. Pain, suffering, they were nipping at his heels as he felt his chest splitting in exhausted agony, but he had to move before it caught him. Endrykas! That's it! Eldon could see the tents, though smaller and fewer in number, they were still there. If he could just reach them, burst across the border of safety than he would have nothing else to worry about. His brothers and sisters, striders, hunting dogs, his father, Sam, Denen, Kayiri, they would all come to his rescue. They would come crashing into this thing that chased him without tire, without waning, and crush it with a fury that no mountain had witnessed from any thunderous cloud. If only he could reach them. But it was in vain. Eldon stumbled into the camp, expecting to find everyone where they should be, but there was no life to be seen, only the absence of it. Bodies lay on the ground, battered, naked, torn and bruised. Many of the beautiful young children that Endrykas was blessed with, were decapitated, mangled, merely mounds of bloodied beef and meat. There were familiar faces everywhere. Matasol, Vanah, Edalene, Dymphna, Vanator. All dead. Eldon could only stare in horror as he slowly stalked towards Vanator, a man he respected to no end, hanging from a crudely sharpened wooden stake, his arms severed at the elbows, his feet were bear, but the flesh was torn up to his mid thighs. His chest was finely carved down the center as either half was folded outwards like either half of a book, his words, the vivid imagery, the contents of that book were missing. He was hollow, as if someone was not just satisfied with the warrior's death, but was only sated by the utter destruction of that beautiful man, all his strength. Eldon backed away, his eyes, however, would frozen as the peered in hysterical fear as Vanator stared right back at him. There was anger in his eyes, torment, and blame. His lips may have been missing, his mouth did not exist, only a layer of smooth skin covered where words should have flowed from. But instead, there was only a lump of his tongue pressing vigorously against that unnatural skin like some foreign creature trying to burrow its way out from his throat. Eldon turned, running from Vanator's butchered-yet-living corpse, only to be caught in a cold, ice cold, and oddly moist embrace from Kayiri. Eldon couldn't see him, but knew at once by the smell of his blood it was him. Eldon pushed, trying desperately to part from the man, who he knew would look no better than the unfortunate fate of Vanator himself, but could not. His hand rested on the back of Eldon's skull, holding his chin firmly against Kayiri's filleted shoulder. There was only bone, with ribbons of pink skin and muscle dangling here and there, to greet him as he stood there, trapped in an unnaturally strong grasp of the dead. Eldon screamed, only to have another, his Father, reach out from some black mist, and his hand traveled into Eldon's mouth, down his throat, and took a soft and almost gentle grasp of his heart. Eldon stared into the eyeless sockets of his father's head as it too apearred, gradually, from the mist. And it spoke. "Son, take this guilt upon your soul. You alone are to blame. You alone remain. You are alone. Be damned my child, forsaken you are and unforgiven you are, and unforgiven you shall remain. "Wait! Wait!" Eldon screamed as his hands moved to his face, grasping at the hand that existed solely in his vivid imagination. It took the young man several minutes to realize he had not truly seen what he saw. He did not truly feel what he felt. But it had happened to him, regardless of its solidity to anyone else or not. Eldon shuddered lightly. The wind took a quick hug of his bare chested body, causing chills to quickly infect his arms, sending dozens upon dozens of small bumps to arise on the back of his neck and shoulders. Somehow he had wandered outside into the slumbering Endrykas in nought but his undergarments. Still though, he knew he would not be able to return to sleep, he wouldn't even want to after what he was just awoken from. Still it lingered in his mind, his father accusing him. He knew that it was he himself that put such thoughts in his own head. If he put such blame on himself, why couldn't he himself lift it? Eldon truly was Unforgiven.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen had risen earlier than usual, pulling himself from the tangle of furs to get dressed. He shivered at the chill that came from not being beneath the furs and snuggled up against Sam, and paused for a moment to smile as he thought of him. It was early. Incredibly early. But Denen wanted to check on Eldon. He'd done his best to tend to him, grateful to the goddess that his injuries had not been beyond Denen's care. He pulled his cloak over his shoulders, followed by his hood, and then his gloves, and slipped out into the dark, small hours. His steps were quiet, and he slipped past the Striders, not wanting to wake Reth and have the old thing think he needed to come along. Denen's worries over the gelding increased day by day, and in the back of his mind, he knew it would be soon. Soon, he would be obligated by Drykas creed to give Reth the comfort and peace he deserved. He went to the supply tent and picked up his bag, making sure to grab the chunk of jade he had found a few weeks back. It was pretty, and Denen was a believer in the healing traits of stones. He was nearing Eldon's Pavilion when he caught sight of another body moving about in the dark. He paused, at first, and watched, crouching out of sight to better observe. But it did not take long to recognize his own bandaging, or the strong shoulders and chest that belonged to Eldon Sunkiss. His eyes widened, and he moved directly towards him. "E-Eld-Eldon, what are y-you d-d-doing?" He whispered sharply, his features marked by concern. A slim, gloved hand raised then, seeking Eldon's shoulder. "You n-need...need to-to-to g-go back ins-side." He took hold of Eldon's wrist, then, seeking to draw him back towards his tent.

[Eldon Sunkiss]

Eldon stood there for a long moment, just breathing in the night's chill, staring up at the dark cloudless night sky, the sea of shining dust across that blackened void above him. Leth looked back down at him, Eldon could feel it, but more so, saw that same look Vanator threw at him in his frightful dream. he shuddered again, though it was more of such painful imagery rather than the chill that gnawed against his nearly nude body. Linen bandages did little to maintain warmth. When Eldon looked back down, he saw a figure approaching through the haze of darkness sprinkled with the faint burning marks left in his vision from the brightly radiating moon. The figure, although obviously Denen, was more ghostly, like that of the butchered friend he saw only moments ago, like the rest of his family, like all of the Drykas. Eldon took a step backwards away from Denen, his eye widening in shock as he feared that, just maybe, the dream was merely an omen, a promise of the truth that was to come, and Denen had already fallen victim to death and came for him in vengeance. "No..." His voice was no more than a whisper escaping on a hasty and incompetent exhale of breath. His right arm, the one that escaped his fateful experience unscathed, lifted to his chest. His hearth thundered vigorously through his skin, and he could have sworn that within the minute it would burst from over stimulation to these destructive emotional events. Another step backwards. Eldon contemplated running from Denen, fearing that his dream was real. Fearing that Denen would hurt him like he never imagined the gentle healer capable of doing. It wasn't possible, logic told him that it was so unlikely that he was just being paranoid, but he still couldn't convince himself of that fact. No, Eldon would not run. If this was his fate, if it was to be, he would accept it. Instead of tearing his throat out or digging for his eyes, Denen simple walked up to him, his figure returning to that which was natural for him, which was comforting to Eldon. He sighed heavily, realizing that he must have seemed like a lunatic, cowering away from someone that had never so much as shown even a hint of hostility or violence in their life. Eldon lowered his head, ashamed that he let his imagination get the better of him. Eldon allowed Denen to take his arm and lead him back into the Sunkiss Pavilion. He did not struggle, much like a child might follow a mother if only she had a hold of him to force him if need be. "I had a dream." Eldon, after speaking, remembered once again that it was useless to speak to Denen if he wasn't looking at you. He lifted his hands, and quivering from the cool night, he tried to sign the message, and merely managed to spell out the word, "Nightmare." How childish it was to be aroused from sleep by one's imagination.

[Denen Sunsinger]

This was the hour for dark thoughts. These were the times when the things of nightmares seemed most real, when they reached into the heart and squeezed all warmth from it. Darkness offered no comfort, not against darkness. Only light could chase it away, with the warmth of morning. For now, breath hung on the air in little clouds, and the chill reached the very core. This was when furs and warm bodies worked wonders. But Eldon was alone, standing beneath the black expanse of heaven in next to nothing. The healer noticed how he drew back, as if alarmed by his approach, and he paused for a moment. His lanky frame huddled slightly, and he hugged his cloak close to keep warm. Denen knew he wasn't very strong, and he didn't want to barge up on Eldon and risk getting his face smashed in. Though Eldon was his first seriously injured patient, he had heard stories of those who had suffered lashing out and hurting those around them. Denen had accepted that he couldn't do any good if he was injured himself, and therefore allowed Eldon his space for a moment. He could not know of the dreams that had passed through his mind, or the thoughts he entertained now, but he knew Eldon needed help, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. And Denen intended to be one of the people to offer it to him. His stomach twisted anxiously, worry clear in his blue eyes. They seemed oddly bright that night, as if illuminated by the fading night above their heads. But he couldn't stand here forever. No. He'd have to risk getting clobbered in order to help Eldon. He'd get chilled if he stood out here forever, and that would only make matters worse. He made sure to be obvious about his movements, and slow, and when at last he touched Eldon, his hands were gentle. A soft sigh left his lips, and he rested a hand on the man's back, near his shoulder, to comfort him. He wasn't sure that hugs would be acceptable just yet. Eldon lowered his head, and Denen paused a moment. Hugs were always acceptable. Thin arms slowly slid around the taller Drykas, and he embraced him gently, offering his own warmth and whatever comfort could be taken from it. “El-d-don,” he murmured. “Come now...L-Let's...Let's go where...where it's w-warm.” He rubbed Eldon's back reassuringly, but he did not tell him everything would be all right. Such words would be hollow to Eldon at the moment, and Denen knew this. He walked Eldon back towards his tent, holding his arm as he did so. He missed, of course, the first statement, as he was trying to watch and make sure he didn't run into anything in the darkness, but when Eldon signed to him, he stopped for a moment and looked up into his face. His own features were unreadable for a moment, but after a few, silent seconds, he gave a nod of his head, and ushered Eldon back into his tent. “Lie down,” he signed. “And tell me your dream.” He knelt next to the furs, and drew his bag onto his lap, waiting patiently for Eldon to follow instructions.

[Eldon Sunkiss]

Eldon felt Denen reach up and embrace him, he felt his gentle grasp around his neck, but he neither moved to return the hug, nor push him away. Eldon, to be honest, did not feel cured nor harmed by the show of affection. He respected Denen for trying everything possible, beyond what was simply 'out of his way', to mend Eldon. He recognized that the deaf Drykas was fighting for him. He would accept the hug, but still he was cold, his heart was no more that a block of ice, his mind inversely was boiling with rage and fear and panic. Eldon only peered back at Denen as he took his arm and led him inside his own pavilion. Denen gave Eldon a few commands, not like one of a Hunting Pack leader, but more of a friend out of love and concern, and he obeyed without hesitation. Well, somewhat. Instead of lying down, Eldon grunted as he shifted from a standing position, to that of sitting. His chest ached, the wounds had stopped bleeding days ago, even though most of the times it was Eldon's movements that reopened holes or such. Now he was mostly healed, the wounds were still very visible, most likely to leave scars, but still they ached. Eldon took a deep breath and held it for a short moment as Denen asked him to share his dream. It was a surprising request, and Eldon wasn't sure if he wanted to tell it for fear of reliving it as vividly as his first time experiencing it, or even for fear that the darkness might soak into Denen merely by his words (or hand motions). Eldon took a deep breath as he shook his head, not in a denial to Denin's request, but more so to gather his wits. "Okay." "Something is follow me through the darkness. Something evil. It chased me to Endrykas, where it had already killed everyone. Everywhere I looked, my friends and family were dead, but watched me with anger, despair, hatred. My father died to save me, but he is unhappy with me. He sees me as a failure, a weakling, and with him I an unforgiven for my weakness." Eldon motioned with his hands, though he was considerably slower than Denen was. It wouldn't take long for his palms to ache from subtle cramping. His story was short, inevitable for someone not fluent in sign, but it got the message through. He sat there, just staring at Denen, wondering what he was thinking. He tried not to see the accusation in his eyes, not those pained looks that were everywhere in his dreams, he knew logically that he wouldn't, but it still felt so vivid.

[Denen Sunsinger]

There was nothing but gentleness in Denen Brokensong's hands. He had never once physically lashed out at someone, not even as a child. He was the beta male, assuming and accepting the submissive role, even now. Had Eldon pushed him away, he would not have forced him further, or expected him to even submit to healing. After all, Denen knew very well that those who did not want to be fixed could not. A huge part of healing was in the mental state. Eldon may have felt weak, and even been it in that moment, but Denen could see, still, a fire within him, even if that fire was one of anger. He simply hoped that such a thing could be channeled into another emotion entirely, something with less destructive properties. Love, perhaps. But what did Denen know of such things? He had only just confessed his feelings to Sam, and hadn't had the courage to act further. He ached for the last of winter, when the sun would return to them and bless the land with warmth. That alone seemed like hope. He did not pressure Eldon to sit. If he endured it well, all of the pain would be over soon. The sun would heal all wounds, and give them spring and new life. He was sure of it. At least, he hoped for it. He was weary of winter. Of the cold. What he wouldn't have given for flowers and new grass, for baby horses and smiling faces. Winter was nice when it came to camping together, snuggling up with other warm bodies and telling stories around fires, but it seemed so long...So incredibly long. He watched Eldon, and he could see the winter in his eyes. Spring would come, once the snow had melted away, but for now, the frost held his heart. It saddened Denen to witness it. He watched silently as Eldon told his nightmare, his hands folded in his lap. His features were serious, showing complete focus on the subject at hand. Eldon had his attention entirely. He allowed him to sign without interruption, thinking only on what was said, and not on his own opinions. Not yet. But as Eldon drew to a close, he bowed his head, thinking to himself. Rak'keli, give me the wisdom to know how to help this man. He let out a slow breath, tucked a long strand of hair behind his ears, and then turned his eyes up to Eldon. “Eldon,” he began, “I never told you how my mother died, did I?” As he spoke, he reached into his bag, drawing out new bandages and a rag. He didn't wait for an answer, for he knew it. “My mother was only sixteen when she gave birth to me. But Father always said she was strong enough to survive delivery” He paused, deft fingers slowly unwinding the bandages around Eldon's torso. “My birth went well. I was small, but healthy enough, and Mother seemed to come through it like a champion. But she died that night. All that Father said happened was that she hemorrhaged in the night. He never said it, but...I killed her. If I hadn't been born, she'd probably still be alive.” His blue eyes turned to Eldon's face, and he gave a grim smile. “Eldon, am I guilty for my Mother's death?”

[Eldon Sunkiss]

Eldon finally sat down on his cot, led by the gentle tug of Denen. His almost fearful paranoid state lifted from his eyes like a shade cast from a cloud, finally parting from the earth. He exhaled slowly, weakly. Even though he was not tormented by the unnatural realism of the dream, at that moment, he was still depressed. Anger, or anguish, or hollowness. Eldon had tried to tell himself his father did not die because of him. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing that could have been done. He tried to convince his own mind that this was bound to happen, regardless of his actions, regardless of how it effected him. He tried, and failed. Eldon chest trembled as, out of that cloud of silence, came a sudden, harsh gasp for air, a gasp for tears. But they did not come. "I'm sorry..." Eldon didn't know why he was apologizing. Why did he feel the need to apologize to Denen. He couldn't understand it. He said it out loud though, not in sign. Was he apologizing to himself? To his passed-away father? To everyone in his freakish dream that accused him. Maybe it didn't feel as distant as he thought. Eldon read Denen's hands, for the first time, with perfectly and unmistakable clarity. He must have been improving significantly these several days, having Denen there, replacing bandages, chasing away infections, being there to talk with. Eldon never really had someone he could share with, never had somebody he truly felt he could admit everything to. His father was busy, and Ankal, had no time to talk, not that he would know how to respond. He knew how to teach, to fight, to hunt, to lead, but not how to be a single father. To Eldon, he seemed almost more of a teacher than a father at times, but he loved him as much as any child loved their parents. Eldon's watched, the message of Denen's words imprinting into his own head, the story sounded familiar, and it wasn't because Eldon heard Denen's tale before. No, it was because Eldon's father said the very same thing about Eldon and his mother. Child birth was her death. The only real difference was that Eldon's mother knew she would die, she was too ill, too weak to survive, but rather than save herself, she fought to get pregnant, fought to live long enough to deliver, than drifted off into peace of death. Eldon's eyes shut as his teeth clenched tightly against his lip. He fought it, fought the urge to do this, but it was no good. Tears pushed from under his tightened eyelids, not one, not two, not just a few from each eye, but a stream. The tears became countless as they merged into two separate streams that flowed and flowed. His body became infected with the urge to tremble and shiver. He was cold, he was lost, he was alone. He had nobody to share with. Sama'el, Eldon wanted him to always look up to him, never see weakness in him. Matasol was his brother, but even so there was no real bond between them yet. Denen, however, came to him, shared with him, and with little effort drew out the tears that had been trapped in him for so long, that were so desperate to be released. Eldon suddenly moved forward. Wrapping his arms around Denen's shoulders, hiding his sobbing tear soaked face against Denen's neck. Eldon couldn't stop himself, the urge to just sit there and bawl like a child until he died of exhaustion was too strong to deny. All Eldon could think only that everything was his fault. He was too weak to stop the forces that rolled through his comfortable life. "I-I'm so-so-so sorry." Eldon repeated this over and over, his lungs ached underneath his chest, his throat was strained from trying to talk and not trying to stop his raging cries. Eldon had gone from the happiest guy in the world, to this, in a matter of three days. Three days is what ruined him, tore him down to a miserable wretch groveling for forgiveness that he didn't deserve, couldn't earn. There was nothing he could to make up for his crimes. His father was dead, his mother long before, never had he known her. Never had Denen known his own. Eldon's hands finally unclenched, releasing the cloth around Denen's body. His crying finally faded into heavy gasps for air, then stilled. Eldon did not move though, he remained there for a minute, two minutes, perhaps longer, just in silence, holding onto Denen for the fear that he might once again take on the appearance of that wicked dreamlike state, scarred. His beautiful body destroyed by agonizing, brutal death. Eldon wouldn't let that happen, if that thing, whatever that invisible apparition was that haunted him in the night, came for Denen, he would do anything, anything regardless of the sacrifice required, to protect him. That, at least, is what he owed him.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Quiet Denen went about his work. There were times, he knew, that being present was as much a healing tool as were his herbs and roots. He did not have all the words, or even enough experience to truly offer emotional comfort to Eldon, and as such, he relied on simply being there for him. Being within touching range; quiet, gentle. Present. Had he any sort of singing voice, he'd have offered up a lullaby, but Denen couldn't sing to save himself. He was in the process of applying a caraway poultice to the healing injuries when Eldon's chest heaved. He raised his hand, eyes widening, and swallowed hard. He rested said hand on his shoulder to steady him, before he reached into his bag for fresh bandages. These drawn forth, he began to bind them around Eldon's torso, and then about his arm. After several layers were applied, he tied them off, and began putting his things away. Eldon was lucky to be alive. Denen knew that, and he was grateful that he had been able to assist the man in his recovery. It would be a slow, laborious process, but he intended to see it to the very end. He would remain near until Eldon no longer needed his help. Emotionally or physically. How similar their stories were, to a point, at least. Denen's mother had been—or so he was told—lost as a result of childbirth. No one had suspected foul play. Not from Jada, who mourned Yew's life the most. And Denen's father had, with his nature, been distant. Cold. Like his name. Denen had always struggled to impress him, to show his father that he was, in fact, worthy of attention and his time. But Stone had four, older sons, and two daughters. Healthy, strong children, who gave him grandchildren and hope. He hadn't ever been sure that Denen would survive to adulthood, as the boy had been weak and sickly for most of his early life. It had driven the youngest Brokensong to labor for all he was worth, to do his best to overcome the handicap he'd been placed with. Despite all this, Denen had never seen approval in his Ankal's eyes. He had never felt the pride of knowing he had done what was hoped for, succeeded well enough to please his father. There had always been a sort of stoic indifference. Blame. Where the youngest son might have found acceptance, and even spoiling at the hand of his father, he found only distance and mild recognition. His siblings and his father's other wives had done their best to let the boy know that they loved him, but there was ever the weight of that wretched blame. It was something he sought to overcome each day, reminding himself that mothers died sometimes, that there was no stopping the will of the gods. Perhaps it was this that made it so easy to pry Eldon's tears from him. Denen knew well that tears could not be kept within, that in order for the heart to heal, they must be shed. As such, he watched with grim countenance as Eldon wept, ready to catch his crumbling body within thin, wiry arms. He was not the strongest of people, but he had a strong, loving heart, and that alone served as a better tool to heal than the cleverest of hands. He was silent, hands folded in his lap, allowing for Eldon's grief to rush past the dams he'd built to keep it at bay. He was surprised by the sudden warmth of arms around his shoulders. He had hardly expected Eldon to embrace him, but he was not against such a thing. Physical contact was comforting, and he was willing to offer whatever he could. Very slowly, he raised his thin arms and wrapped them around Eldon, slender hands splayed across his back. He rocked gently, kneeling on the ground as he was, and rubbed Eldon's back. He could feel the vibrations of his voice, but he had no idea what he was saying, so he kept quiet, and pressed his cheek against Eldon's dark hair. As far as he was concerned, there was no need for forgiveness, for Eldon had done nothing wrong. He had simply been present when something horrible happened. His guilt was no more real than Denen's was for his mother's murder. Simply being born, and inspiring a woman crazed by child hunger to kill for a baby did not mean he was responsible. “Eldon...” His voice was gentle, soothing, hoping to ease some of his pain. His neck and shoulder were soaked with Eldon's tears, but he let them be. He'd worry about that later, if he even remembered. Right now, Eldon needed comforting, and he intended to do just that. He gently brushed aside the man's tears, offering a sweet smile. The loose shoulder of his tunic had slipped, revealing smooth, pale skin, oddly sensual in the dim light. He didn't think to adjust it, but tilted his head and tucked Eldon's hair behind his ear. He'd always been incredibly demonstrative, especially when it came to his friends. Little kisses on cheeks or tender touches were like words of comfort to him, as offering them by voice was difficult for him. “Eldon, I know it is impossible to believe right now, but everything will be all right. I promise. I will be here for you if you need me, and even when you think you do not. There is no shame in weeping, so...do not be afraid to do so. No one will think ill of you for mourning what has happened.” He smiled again, and patted the elder Drykas' hand gently.

[Eldon Sunkiss]

Eldon felt the the old strips of cloth peeled slowly from his body. The bandages have been changed several times over the past ten days, Denen had suggested strongly. It had become a vaguely familiar feeling to feel that achy peeling, as if a portion of his skin was being separated from him, along with the bandages. Tonight though, it was a little less noticeable. It must have started healing already. It had a long ways to go still, yet there was a newer, stronger, hope that he would recover, at least physically. Eldon sat there, silent, just staring at Denen as his gentle hands went to work, removing one layer of worn, lightly bloodied bandaging, after another. Denen was... close. Eldon sighed heavily as the last of the cloth was stripped from his chest, leaving the chest and his scars-to-be, bare. Eldon felt the coolness, stronger now that his wounds were exposed, and was more than happy to accept the new bandages, even though his body was still sensitive. Eldon closed his eyes a moment as Denen worked, silently, diligently. Denen was there, always there. He was there for Vanah on the plains, he was there for Eldon when he was happy and needed no assistance, he was here when Eldon came home, dying, bleeding, and fatherless, and he was still here even when he was so emotionally miserable. Denen was always there for him, and Eldon couldn't accept that. He didn't know why he deserved such a friend as Denen, but whatever it was, Denen was there for him, always there for him. Eldon opened his eyes, he was freshly bandaged and felt as clean as if he bathed. If questioned, Eldon wouldn't be able to tell why he cried so hard. He wasn't able understand that he was scared, he regretted so much, he felt so connected with Denen. All he knew was that he was miserable, and Denen was lifting so much weight from his chest as he held onto him. He felt like something sinister had taken a hold of his heart, yet Denen had single handedly begun to peel it away from him, much like the bandages of old. It took a long time for Eldon to calm down, his tears finally slowing, then stopping. His sobbing had faded, then died to nothing but heavy breathing, gasping for fresh cool air. Eldon felt Denen's fingers move to his face, gently chasing away the tears from his cheeks as if they were the very cause of his pain to begin with, and perhaps they were. Eldon was frozen in something, just watching, waiting. He didn't know what to do, it felt strange to allow Denen to move his hair, brush his cheek, but he couldn't just push him away, he didn't want to. Eldon read Denen's words via sign, his own hands still shook, his fingers stiff from the cold, reluctant to move well enough to sign back. He lowered his gaze as he nodded. He knew Denen was right. Endrykas would forgive him for his misery. He knew Denen was more open than anyone towards him, willing to take his tears, his misery, his sorrow and pain, and ask for nothing else in return. Denen was altruistic, kind. Eldon moved again, embracing his friend once more for fear that he was going to cry once more. But he didn't, no. His lips resting against that lone bare slender shoulder of Denen's. He didn't realize he did it until he had already kissed the skin. Eldon had difficulty even accepting that he did it, but he knew he did. Eldon's eyes widened for fear he just made the biggest mistake ever. What if he just did the only thing that could drive away Denen from him? He had taken such good care of him, and Eldon went and did that. Eldon bit down on his lower lip as his cheeks took on a faint pink hue. "I'm sorry." Eldon half expected Denen to flee for his life right there, but that was uncharacteristic of him. Eldon would just make sure not to do that again, it wasn't fair to Denen.

[Denen Sunsinger]

There were wounds that did not cover Eldon's body, and those were, perhaps, the more serious injuries. He worried, though, that his inexperience and his youth would render him unable to help. What did he know of Eldon's pain? His own seemed so infinitesimal in comparison. He hadn't been the one to discover Jada's body after she died, nor had he had anyone sacrifice themselves for him. He thought, momentarily, of his own father, and wondered if Stone would have ever done such a thing, if his life would have been offered if it meant giving his boy a better chance. Such were his thoughts as he set aside the bloodied bandage and began winding the new. It had been a long while since he last saw and spoke to his father, and their parting terms hadn't been exactly friendly. The hurt of being shamed in front of his friends still lingered, though he knew full well that they would support him in all things. What had he done to deserve such friends? It didn't cease to amaze him that they could be so incredibly good to him. Even Eldon, injured as he was, was good to him. He was patient and sweet, which was—he imagined—difficult. He wondered if they ever felt impatient with him, as his handicap put him at a marked disadvantage. He struggled with being patient with himself. He could only imagine how it made others feel. But his thoughts returned, however slowly, to Eldon, gentle fingers soothing as they bound the bandages in place. He glanced up every now and then, offering quiet, shy smiles. He needed to focus for the moment, and that didn't generally involve signing. After all, his hands were busy. Denen didn't think of himself as one capable of healing hearts. He tried to be the very best friend he could be, but the actions that seemed to hold so deeply with others were natural to him. The gentle hands, the constancy. They were all things that he had always done, things that were, in and of themselves, more the mark of a healer than any knowledge of herbs or roots. He offered a soft smile, hand resting on Eldon's bare chest to steady him. It was an innocent enough gesture, and he didn't think fully of the placement. His fingers slid down, brushing, unintentionally, over Eldon's nipple. Kneeling alongside the other, focused on his injuries, rather than the placement of his hands, he was oblivious to the fact. Once the bandages were tied, he brushed off his hands on his own lap, and looked up to Eldon with a reassuring smile. “Thank the goddess you're healthy,” he signed. “You're healing very quickly.” He reached up to push back his own hair, when he felt Eldon's arms enfold him again. He gave a quiet, almost sad smile, and patted his back comfortingly. He did not speak, but simply held him. He closed his own eyes and gave a quiet sigh. What would he have done in Eldon's shoes? He didn't feel himself as strong in spirit. Would he have broken? Crumbled? He didn't like thinking about it, but he was very much aware of how weak he was. He probably wouldn't have survived such injuries. Eldon was lucky to have survived them. He slowly opened his blue eyes, and a hand rose to rest in Eldon's dark hair, stroking it comfortingly. He was thinking of how soft the locks were, when he became vaguely aware of a warm, somewhat moist presence on his shoulder. His brows furrowed, and he turned his head slightly. Eldon was kissing his shoulder. Instantly, his cheeks burned, and he bit his lower lip. He was blushing as Eldon pulled back, and his hand trembled as he lifted it to touch the smooth, bare skin. His only experiences with others had been random, sudden. What he wouldn't have given to be kissed, tenderly and sweetly, by someone who loved him. Eldon's kiss was sweet, but the man was immediately apologizing for it. Did he regret it, then? If he'd only kissed his shoulder and was already apologizing...He looked down to his knees. “W-Why...Why are you...Why are y-you apologizing?” He asked, his voice little more than a whisper.