you are the one

It’s just like any other day. A fresh coat of snow sticks to every surface while the sun glints off the mountainous tundra. Verglas is going about a busy day in the tribe. The hunters have gone on their expedition for the day, pups are flitting around the dens and the yards, some rolling snowballs to toss at each other while others sit under the preening hands of their mums. Neru has brought the miners to their quarry; new homes being carved out of soil and stone to make room for the ever expanding tribe.Verglas himself is elbow deep in carcasses and hides, cleaning pelts for clothing and blankets. His company and coworkers--Liliru and Nakhet-- are working hard under him, and in tandem they make quick work of a stack of pelts. He’s cleaning up scraps of fur and skin when he hears someone calling for him from afar.

There’s a stir, hushed rushed voices amongst rising commotion. Verglas wipes his hands on a rag and bids the two brutes to stay at their station as his name is called once more. Neru leads, rushing to his side. “They found him at the base of the mountain. The rest of the group is still down there working but they bade me to get you to come look at this.” Verglas is perplexed, but immediately excuses himself to go see what, or who exactly he was referring to. Down the path he sees a small cluster of toskals. Ebrietas and Galza are damn near carrying a strange toskal, one who looks to be in bad shape; unconscious form near dragging the ground as the escort attempts to keep any of his limbs from falling. Ebrietas spots them first, down the way, and the look in his eyes sets Verglas’ nerves off in an uncomfortable way. It’s a quiet hurry until they are within arms length of each other, and the two carrying the stranger gently let him down to rest against a smooth wall. Galza is the first to speak, and Verglas assumes it’s he that found this pitiful looking toskal. “I found him against a tree, doesn’t look like he’s had food or drink in a long while--he’s in bad shape, Verglas.” The grave tone in his voice clearly communicates the gravity of the situation, and Verglas decides in a few quick seconds what he wants to do.

“Galza, Ebri, I’m going to crouch beside him. I want you two to help me lift him on my back, I’ll carry him into my den.” The two toskals nod, and so set about the work. It’s awkward, and it takes some fussing to get the stranger leaning against Verglas’ back properly, arms propped over his shoulders in a proper piggyback. It’s alarming how, when he stands, the toskal seems to weigh no more than Nakhet. In his head he makes a list as the small group walks back to the tribe’s court and to his own den. It’s there, on his own bed that he and the others place the tosk on, propped on neatly folded blankets and pillows in as comfortable a position as they could manage to work him into. Once they’ve settled him, Verglas asks Galza to fetch the brutes and have them bring water and the mildest food they have currently available. Galza sets them on their tasks and then comes back, leaning against the doorway with a concerned air about him. A waterskin and a bowl of soft, mild berries are procured, and Verglas sets them on the table next to the bed before sitting next to the unconscious toskal.

Verglas is struck again with worry as he looks upon the toskal’s face. He’d not stirred even slightly in all of their transporting him up the mountain into his bed and that didn’t bode well. It was too dangerous to feed an unconscious toskal, so that was out until they could get him to open his eyes. As it was, they layered him under a couple hefty pelts, hopefully to bring his temperature back up. The threat of frostbite was real and they were all wondering if he’d already suffered a degree of the ailment. The apex sent a small prayer to the sky and tentatively pressed his palm to the toskal’s cheek, where an unruly amount of fur had grown. He’d never seen any toskal like this one. As he gently ran a thumb up the bridge of his nose, Verglas noticed that he had no ears. That made him tilt his head, speaking up to Galza once again. “His ears are gone.” Verglas blinked up at his friend and gave only a nod in response. “We noticed when we found him, there doesn’t seem to be any trauma to the sides of his head, they’re just...gone.” This new piece of information made the puzzle that much more confusing, and the apex could only sit there, looking down at the prone form in his bed, wondering what his story was. He hoped he got the chance to ask.

Verglas spends the next 12 hours by his own bedside, watching and waiting for any signs of life. The stranger’s breathing had deepened over the course of the past few hours, signaling that he was in fact sleeping rather than unconscious. It calms some of Verglas’ fears as he keeps a watchful eye on him. Somewhere around midnight-- it’s hard to tell exactly-- Verglas decides to try and stir the toskal. He does so gently, placing his hand on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze and shake, accompanying a soothing greeting. “Hey, are you with me?”

It takes a minute of near agonising silence before the toskal’s eyes squeeze, and then blink open. It’s dark save for a smattering of candles around the den, with enough light to decently make out the stranger’s features. He doesn’t startle, doesn’t panic, merely looks around and brings his arms up to rub at his eyes. Verglas watches him, having retracted his hand once the tosk started moving. He doesn’t speak initially, but he takes the opportunity to gently help him sit up, propping another pillow behind him before handing over a full waterskin. “Sip slowly, you don’t want to make yourself sick.” He does so with a gentle, if weak energy, and doesn’t notice the stray droplets that trail down his chin. It’s a long few moments of him sipping in between breaks, slowly rehydrating himself. Verglas merely sits beside him, wary of making any quick movements. Before the toskal can utter a word he excuses himself with a promise, “I’ll be back in just a minute, feel free to sit up, there’s a bowl of berries on the table there that should go over well on a touchy stomach. If you want to get up be careful.” With that he walks out, in search of Galza. It doesn’t take long find him stationed at the edge of the dens, working the graveyard shift as he tends to do. “He’s awake. Just minutes ago, I’ve got him sipping water,” Verglas explains all at once and then turns to head back to his den, eager to tend to the stranger in his bed without waiting for the other toskal to respond.

Galza roots around the base of his firepit, making sure anything loose can’t collapse before he stands up and trails after Verglas with a burning curiosity. He reaches the door just as Verglas settles beside the bed once again, and notices the now conscious toskal drinking his fill with a warm candlelight illuminating the den. Galza pulls a stool up near enough to be part of this little gathering but not too much, wanting to avoiding crowing the newly conscious toskal. He speaks plainly however, curiosity eating away at his manners. “We thought you were dead when we found you--glad to see you’ve perked up.” That alone is enough to gather the attention of the room, Verglas inclining his head and taking the chance to speak up as well. “We don’t know how long you’ve been unconscious but we brought you to our tribe’s dens. Do you know what happened?” The toskal blinks and places the waterskin down, Verglas takes it and sets it on the table before looking back at him. There’s a beat of silence before they get an answer. “I--I’ve been walking, for awhile now. I don’t know anything about these lands and I guess I just wore down.” His voice is so scratchy it sounds painful, added to by the wince he gives mid sentence. “My name is Orrin, thank you for taking care of me. I got tired and just...drifted off I guess.” He -- Orrin -- seems anxious even with the lethargy, his fingers twitching and fidgeting with the furs he’d been bundled under. Verglas seems fixated on him, sticking so close to the edge of the bed he’s nearly leaning on it, and it strikes Galza as odd. He decides not to comment. Neither of them comment on his lack of ears, though they’re both insanely curious about it.

Verglas pats the heap of furs and stands, inclining his head to Orrin and turning to Galza. “I’m going to fetch some meat from the stores. He needs something to put life on his bones again.” Orrin watches his hands but seems to shrink in on himself, being talked about like he’s not in the room. Galza stays put and very mildly makes a comment. “Our apex is a very caring toskal, you’re lucky we found you and not something else.” There’s no venom in his tone, purely brute honesty. Orrin nods and mutters a small gratitude just before Galza stands and makes to leave. “Rest up, He’ll be back soon but you look dead tired, get some rest when you can.” And then he’s waving as he winds himself out the door and back to his fire, back to his post for the remainder of the night. He doesn’t fear the newcomer, and knows that Verglas will take proper care of him for the night. Should they need him, he’s within easy earshot.

Verglas returns to find Orrin dozing once again. The sight of another toskal in his bed is weird, to say the least. He hadn’t shared a bed with anyone but his father since before his rite. Still, he decides to give Orrin peace for the night. He sets about quietly straightening his den while casting the occasional glance at the sleeping toskal. He’s running through the short conversation in his head, re-examining Orrin’s voice, how meek he sounded, hell, how meek he looked. Verglas was hoping to get some food in him before he slept more but it could wait. He obviously needed the rest and they had managed to get water in him at least. It’s just before he lays down on a self made pallet on the floor that he hears a gentle knock, followed by his father’s face peeking in the door. He seems to have been filled in on the situation so there’s no need for words, they share a look before he ducks back in and leaves Verglas to curl up and find sleep himself. It happens to be a hard thing to do, he learns. His mind is running so fast he can’t keep track. All he knows is most of the thoughts are surrounding the stranger in his bed. How he seemed delicate and soft. How fluffy his cheeks were. That on top of his missing ears made this toskal so different to any he’d ever met before -- and he was hooked. Something in his gut fluttered, and for a moment Verglas felt like he might panic, so he took the time to steady himself and turn over facing away from his own bed. Soon sleep came. The last thing he thought about was Orrin.

Galza is the one to wake him, gently as always, before he takes off to sleep through the day. Verglas sits up slowly, leisurely. There’s a stiffness in his spine from sleeping on the floor, but he decides as he stretches that he doesn’t mind. Orrin is still asleep, covers twisted around his legs with his mouth slightly ajar--it seems that he’s resting well--and Verglas is loathe to interrupt that. So he doesn’t. He stands, reaching for the sky for another good stretch and then begins to pick up and fold his bedding. He then makes his way out the door as quiet as possible and goes about gathering the work force of the day for their meeting before everyone leaves for their jobs. He forgets about Orrin among his daily duties up until lunch. It’s the unfamiliar pelt that catches his eyes as he walks to his den that reminds him of everything that had happened the day before. They lock eyes for a short moment before Orrin looks down and disappears back into Verglas’ room. He follows unhurriedly, snagging food on the way in.

“How are you feeling?” he begins, standing at the doorway. The food is offered by an outstretched hand and Orrin looks up at him before gently taking it. His answer is given in a still scratchy voice, “Better.” There’s a weak smile and he motions to take a small bite of cured meat. Silence falls as he chews and Verglas pulls his stool to the bed once again to sit by the stranger. He doesn’t prompt him again, choosing to bask in the quiet of his room away from daily commotion outside. It’s a couple minutes of Orrin eating before Verglas notices him fidgeting, more pronounced than he had been the day before. He feels mentioning it would be rude, but the fidgeting itself--his anxious demeanor tips Verglas off to the very pronounced lack of ears on Orrin’s head. That, he thinks, may be the reason for Orrin’s visible anxiety. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he is curious as hell and in the moment he manages to blurt out his track of thought. “You seem nervous, is there anything I can do to help that?” Orrin freezes and blinks, not meeting Verglas’ eyes and not initially answering. The apex almost regrets saying something, feeling like calling him out may have been the wrong thing to do. “You don’t have to answer that just--just know you’re safe here, ok?” Orrin breathes out a heavy sigh and nods, “It’s alright. I’m just...you don’t think i’m a freak?”

Something strikes Vergles deep in his chest, in his bones and down to his toes. It’s not pity, no,  it’s something far less cruel. Looking up at Orrin he feels it like a tingle up his spine, but it’s nothing like the shocks he lets lose when fighting. It’s warm and comforting and the strength of it hits him so hard he falters. The question hangs in the air; Orrin’s eyes slowly go wide and watery as Verglas doesn’t answer, lost in this peculiar feeling. In that long moment of silence two things happen. Verglas leans in toward Orrin unconsciously; Orrin freezes but his shoulders drop slowly. He’s sitting there, blinking back tears when he makes a confused sound, gripping the furs under him like he’s expecting to fall. “Um--” he begins; Verglas stands abruptly. Orrin’s expression morphs into something between horrified and stricken. The confusion in his eyes is apparent but Verglas is so caught up in his own swirl of confusion and emotion that he’s blind to how his actions look. Because at that moment, with Orrin’s vulnerable question still hanging in the air, it absolutely looks like Verglas is rejecting him. And with no clues as to what’s going on in that brain of his, he’s unintentionally made himself out to be a massive jerk. Before the timid toskal can say anything, Verglas is darting out of the den, leaving him bereft and upset; confused beyond words.

Verglas rushes to the mouth of his father’s den, calling to him before reaching the door in a tight, almost panicked voice. His heart is thudding audibly in his ears. “Dad, what did it feel like when you and mother bonded?” the words come rushed and half hushed. Tuvo’s brows knit and he blinks up at Verglas from where he’s fiddling with a basket. “It was warm, intoxicating, admittedly alarming. We’d been together awhile before it happened so by then it felt natural.” The apex’s pacing stopped, and it clicked. With dawning horror he shot back out of Tuvo’s den and fled back to his own, hoping that Orrin hadn’t fled himself.

“Orrin--!” Verglas calls out, he gets to his door and finds the toskal pushed into the corner of the bed, knees up, face buried. His chest feels tight as he approaches the bed. Orrin covers the sides of his head with his hands and squirms, trying to fold in on himself. “You don’t have to say it--I know I’m ugly,” muffled voice rises from him and goes directly to Verglas’s heart. “I--what? No--.” Verglas pulls his stool to the bedside once more and breathes out shakily. “Can I--can I hold your hands?” He’s so sincere, so incredibly sincere, and he hopes that the timid toskal will at least humour him. When Orrin slowly withdraws from holding his head he slides shaky hands in front of him and they are immediately clasped in a gentle, soft grip. Verglas is staring him in the eyes and feels that pull again, that tingle. Orrin swallows reflexively around the knot in his throat; Verglas takes a moment to appreciate how it feels to be holding his hands like this. “You’re not ugly,” he starts simple. An inhale-exhale and then he launches into a stream of consciousness. “You’re still so weak, I know. From being out so long without any supplies. It’s incredible that you’re even alive. I don’t know what happened to your ears but I think--I think what I’m feeling means I’ve found you, finally, I’ve found my bondmate. And you--I barely know you but you’re perfect as you are. You’ve been nothing but gentle, sweet. I want to get to know you. Will you let me do that?”

It’s a lot, Verglas knows, so he makes himself stop before he blabbers further. He can see the wheels turning in Orrin’s mind. His eyes are wide, shock written into every line of his face. His lips are parted and he’s breathing just this side of too fast. “That’s what this is?” he asks, hushed. “It feels like there’s pests wriggling in my stomach.” Verglas can’t help himself--he snorts and dips his head in a nod, “I know, it’s weird, but I went and asked my dad what it’s supposed to feel like. He said it surprised him too.” He wants to comfort Orrin in any way he can, so he gets bold. “May I sit with you? Next to you?” Orrin nods; their hands stay clasped together as he sits in front of him. Verglas takes it upon himself to gently turn one of Orrin’s hands palm up, and begins tracing the lines of his fingers in silence. The smaller toskal watches, inadvertently holding his breath. Verglas is enamoured, quite frankly. They sit in amiable silence for quite awhile; Verglas gives Orrin his hands back at some point and they just sit there with each other. Occasionally they lock eyes while chatting and Verglas offers small smiles that are met in turn with the same.

It’s Tuvo that interrupts their little bubble, checking in on them as he’d been wondering what Verglas had been on about. “You two doing ok?” he begins, walking in as he announces himself. Verglas looks up and smiles, nodding in response. Orrin squeaks, hiding himself behind the apex at the sight of the newcomer. Verglas lets out a soft laugh, feeling his heart soar at the feeling of his new - well, they could figure that out later - so close to him. He reaches around to give the chubby tosk a reassuring pat on the arm, smiling warmly at him.

It may not have been long since they first met, but something stirred within him whenever he locked eyes with this toskal. Something that told him that this was only the beginning of a new chapter in his life, one that would not be over any time soon..

“Never better.”