Hypocritical

The woods are a quiet place; peaceful, serene, wide and obscuring, light trickling down from the gaps in the leaves above, illuminating the ground between ancient, thick trunks in a weak, watery film.

Out here Duelek couldn’t hear anything but the surrounding wildlife; birdsongs, rustling leaves and bushes, skittering bugs and rodents that made this place their home, peaceful and removed from the rest of the world; the woods a thriving thing, humming with life.

He was a bit of a distance from the clearing that held his home, in a small glen that could hardly be called such, the only difference it and the rest of the woods between the thick trunk that had once called this place it’s own had fallen for some reason, the trunk rotting to a weakness that had caused it to topple some decades or centuries back, the trunk overgrown with moss. 

Duelek was sitting on the old, toppled over trunk, one of his knees tucked up to his chin and the other loosely hanging off of the side of the moss, ridden wood, arms resting on his raised knee. His ears were loose and inattentive, whiskers limp and relaxed as his tail billowed out in loose, spreading mist. A joint was held loosely between long, boney fingers, a thin wisp of smoke rising from the lit end and curling upwards towards the canopy.

It’s a quiet day, peaceful. 

Duelek was enjoying his time away from home, keeping his own company for a little while just to be alone for an hour or two.

A rustling above, unnatural and different from the rest of the woods froze Duelek in place, the Weaver turning to look to the canopy above.

A shadow appeared, hurling towards the ground and Duelek himself.

Falling, undistinguishable and uncontrolled.

A harsh snap, echoing through the quiet of the woods..

Duelek’s shoulders fell, his eyes rolling as he raised the burning joint to his mouth again.

“Fuck a you doin’ out here Mihal?”

His twin hung in front of him, arms and legs twisted up in their performance silk, the rest of the fabric leading up into the branches and leaves above.

The other Weaver rolled their head in an exaggerated manner, lifting themselves on the silk until they could wind their elbow around it and stand in the material.

‘Thought you were going to be quitting that shit?’

“Fuckin’ shut yaself,” Duelek grumbled, lip drawing back over his teeth as Mihal’s four eyes narrowed back at him. “Ya can’t being ta lecture me ‘bout this kinda shit.”

‘But you said you were gonna change about all a that.’

“Ya calling the kettle out there, ain’t ya?”

Duelek turned a purposeful gaze skywards and Mihal followed his eyes for a moment before focusing back on him. ‘You being got yourself a point there.’ They dropped their shoulders and upper chest in something like a sigh. ‘Just don’t want you to be falling back into them habits, yeah?’

“I know,” Duelek grumbled, taking another deep inhale. “Just… I ain’t wanted ta stop this, just cut back ya’know? I think cutting back’s more than enough for me.”

Mihal stared at him for a long moment before signing a few simple words. ‘Ok. As long as you’re being happy with it, and I ain’t being going to find you half dying again, I can’t say no thing about your choices.’

“Don’t you worry none, I ain’t ever wanna be experiencing that shit again.”

‘Good.’ Mihal nodded, lifting themself back up their silk a bit more. ‘I’ll leave you be to yourself, got stuff to being working on.’

“Right, course ya do. Gonna lecture me on stuff ya already failing at.”

Mihal directed a gesture at him, ignoring him as they continued to climb their way back into the canopy.

Duelek left to himself again, inhaled another burning breath, holding it in his lungs a moment before releasing it back to the air around him.

Maybe he’d spend a bit more time out here than he was initially planning.