So there was a feast. Yay. Scylla had been to enough feasts with her family and wasn't terribly excited about the revelry. She was far away from home, so she thought she may as well try something new. Something that she wasn't allowed to do at home. So the girl marched up to the tables as though she was going to get another bite to eat, but instead, she pilfered two bottles of wine and ducked under the table, walking the length of it until she was at the end, then she booked it off and into a wooded area nearby.

Scylla wasn't sure if the Elysium wolves were sticklers about underage drinking, but her father certainly was. She fully aimed to take advantage of her time away from home. The long tailed girl settled down in a little clearing and leaned back against a big rock. Comfortable, she placed one bottle aside and uncorked the other. Scylla took a long draw of the drink and almost spat it out. Instead she made a little face, puffed her cheeks out and forced herself to swallow. "Blech," she said aloud, wrinkling her nose and staring at the bottle. She wasn't a quitter though, so she took another drink. The second drink was easier. The third, easier still.

"Scylla"

Saracyn was not fond of parties or festivals. He didn't care for the crowds of strangers. He didn't care for all the strange smells and foreign voiced in his home. He didn't care for pretending to be happy that all these wolves were eating the pack's food and drinking the pack's alcohol. He didn't give a damn about being a "good host" or any of that bullshit like his sister did; that was all her schtick. This... this was more akin to torture for the red-furred yearling. So Saracyn filled his time with eating and drinking. If his mouth was full, he couldn't rightly hold a conversation with anybody he didn't want to talk to, right? Win-win situation all around. Plus this was the first time Sara had gotten the chance to indulge in drink with the adults, a privilege he was taking full advantage of—though perhaps with a bit too much gusto. After receiving his parents' blessing to imbibe, Saracyn immediately set to downing as much summer mead and Hallows wine as he could. The wine was bitter, but the more he drank, the better it tasted. The mead was just good, and that was becoming Saracyn's crux as he finished his fourth serving of the honeyed beverage.

Though the effects of the alcohol were a slow wear away at the young lad's mind, by midway through the night, he was beginning to feel more wobbly and silly, actually wearing a dopey smile while he interacted with Avacyn and the other wolves at the feast. It was the loosest Saracyn had ever been in his entire life. Yet even with his vision beginning to sway some and his senses dulled, the Mendacium prince noticed the movement of slate and cream sneaking away from the feast tent with two of their bottles of wine. "Hey!" he called after the rat-thing, his words a touch drawled out, but she was long gone by then. "D'ja just see that?" Saracyn turned to the wolf at his side—only to realize there was no one at his side anymore. Huh... Who the hell had he been talking to just now then? Shaking his head to recalibrate his senses, Saracyn put on his stern face and stood, nearly falling onto the feast table, and marched after the tiny thief with stumbling steps.

It took him some effort, but Saracyn was able to follow Scylla's trail around the lake into a quieter section of the woods. He peered around the empty clearing, brow furrowed in confusion while he rounded a rock. Where the hell had she gotten to? A "Blech!" from his side drew his attention, and rounding the rock some more, he spied her tucked up with the wine bottle to her lips. "Aha! There you are, you little sneak thief!" he declared with a triumphant grin on his lips, ambling his way around to corner her against the rock. "Thought you could get away with stealing the good shit, huh?" Sara gave a tsk tsk with his lips and reached out to take the other unopened bottle from her, popping the cork with his sharklike teeth before downing a long swallow. "Well, if you're gonna steal from us, then I'm gonna steal it back! How d'ya like that, Little Miss Badger?" There would be no denying that Saracyn was well on his way past tipsy by this point, but that didn't stop the dire-sized adolescent from flopping back to his haunches to continue drinking the wine he'd pilfered back from Scylla. She couldn't drink it if it was already inside him! Checkmate, Badger Thing.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

She heard the crash of an approaching form before she even saw Saracyn and when he burst into the clearing, his words were completely idiotic. The small wolf wrinkled her nose in distaste, flashing pristine white teeth momentarily. Stealing? Her? She'd merely wanted a bit of privacy so that Cerberus wouldn't tell her father that she'd been drinking. There was always the possibility that Kione would catch her and keep her from drinking too. She absolutely had to avoid that. Stealing though? "You're stupider than you look, you big strawberry," the girl snorted, glaring daggers as he took the second bottle and began to drink it. "This is a feast. All of that stuff is free, including this." She gave her bottle a little shake in his direction, splashing some of the grapey drink on the large boy.

Heat was filling Scylla's cheeks and her vision was a little swimmy, but she was intent on finishing her bottle of wine, if only to spite the bastard in front of her. "Why did you follow me anyway? You don't even like me." Not many did. She remembered their encounter in her home where he'd been an 'intruder' and had invaded her own room like some kind of creep. She'd hurt him then but had offered to fix him after she learned that he was a guest. The two hadn't seen one another since then, but they'd both grown a bit. Scylla would never be large, but she was thinning out. Losing that layer of baby fat. When she was of age, she'd be sleek and slender. Right now, she was somewhere in between.

Each drink seemed to make Scylla's mind a little fuzzier. Her vision a little blurrier. Was she supposed to be able to feel her lips? Because she couldn't. Her whole body was tingly and a little snicker of amusement left her before she moved the bottle to her lips again to take another drink. Only... there wasn't another drink. Or was there?

Tossing her bottle aside, Scylla rolled to her paws. Using the rock as a backboard, she sprung forward, her forelegs wrapping around Sara's neck as her hind legs kicked, trying to push him over. With one paw, she reached up and took the bottle right out of his paw, instantly bringing it to her lips to drink deeply of the liquid that now tasted like ambrosia. Still struggling with the red boy, she threw her weight against him, trying to knock him onto his back. If she succeeded, she'd simply stay there while she kept drinking from the bottle. She'd been the one to stea...liberate it, afterall.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

Saracyn breathed an irritated scoff when Scylla reminded him that, as part of a feast, all of their libations were free. Yeah, he didn't need to be reminded about that. "Oooooh nooooo, you called me a strawberry again. How devastating!" he mocked the mutant rodent, waving his paws about in a dramatic display of being spooked by her. He took another long drink while Scylla interrogated him on why he'd followed her, accurately claiming that he didn't even like her. "And you don't even like me, yet here you are, skulking about my home, stealing shit and creeping away into the shadows like some kind of gremlin. So why are you here anyway, hmm?" Her presence at the festival had come as quite the shock to the Mendacium prince, especially after their less-than-warm welcome back on Fenmyre. Now she was waltzing onto his family's island like she was lifelong friends and hadn't tried to slice his nose off.

Eyeing Scylla with an almost arrogant air of superiority, Saracyn took another swig of the rich red wine, barely paying attention to how his body had begun a gentle sway to and fro as his equilibrium was impaired. He stared down at the Fenmyrian girl, only barely remembering what she had looked like several seasons ago. Saracyn had gone through his own changes as well, puberty treating the prince kindly as the puppy fat had begun to melt away to sleek, taut muscles that had been developed over his time climbing the island's mountains and chasing down its prey. He would bulk up as he got older, but a part of him would always maintain that lean athletic build, a blend between his dam's slender build and his father's heavily toned frame. Like her, he was somewhere in the middle of that transition. Not that she'd notice. Just like how he definitely wasn't noticing how she had begun to thin out around her sides while forming a more feminine shape. Definitely not noticing that.

What Saracyn also definitely didn't notice was Scylla positioning her body to launch herself like a rocket at him, catching the crimson lad completely by surprise. He yelped in shock, caught mid-swig of wine and splashing some of the liquid across his fur as he tumbled backwards. Scylla wasn't all that heavy, and had he been more prepared and less unsteady, he likely could have caught her with ease. In his current drunken state, he easily tumbled back with her clinging to his neck and hind legs kicking at his torso until he was on the flat of his back and had wrestled the bottle from his grasp, looking around in mild confusion, as if totally unaware of how he'd ended up in this position. Sara lifted his head and looked up at Scylla, who was currently perched atop him like he was a cushion, drinking his wine.

Oh hell no! Lips peeling back in a threatening snarl to show off rows of jagged teeth, Sara sat up and lunged for the bottle, trying to pry it back from her grasp—but ultimately missing, having reached instead for a blurry mirage in his swirling vision instead of the actual bottle. He flopped back to the ground, gazing at his empty paw with abject bewilderment. "Get the fuck offa me," he growled out, attempting to reach up and wrap Scylla in his strong forelegs so he could reverse them and try to pin her to the ground. She'd struck first, now he'd be able to fight back—and Saracyn wasn't shy about hitting a girl.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

At his insistence that she didn't like him either, the slate and cream girl wrinkled her nose again. "Who said that I don't like you?" She didn't like him much, but that didn't mean that she hated him. If his disposition wasn't so sour and he didn't have this high and mighty attitude, he might be more well liked. As he was though, believing that he was superior because he was bigger than she was... oh no. That didn't work with Scylla. She was small, but inside, she was bigger than he was. It showed when she launched herself at him to take her wine back.

The big boy fell onto his back, flailing a bit and grasping at her but failing. Scylla drank and drank only stopping when she needed to breathe. Saracyn cursed at her and the girl responded by placing her dexterous digits over top of his muzzle and pressing downwards, placing his chin against his chest rather than leaving it open to bite her. Breathing heavily as she pulled the bottle away from her lips, the young wolf's ribcage rose and fell, pressing against the belly of the big boy beneath her. She held the bottle out to him. "I saved you the last drink."

Scylla's world swam and her vision looked similar to when she opened her eyes underwater. Things were... floaty. Mismatched eyes blinked as she looked down at the boy, her paw still on top of his muzzle, though gently. She fought to focus on his face as her vision swam and heat filled her tiny frame. A little chuckle pulled from Scylla and the paw on his muzzle slid down its length in a gentle stroke before she let him go. "You know, you're not bad to look at when I can't see your face." A little hiccup shook the girls body atop his and she giggled at herself, albeit softly.

Scylla made no move to get off of the prone wolf beneath her. He was softer than the hard ground that she'd been laying upon. He was big like Albi, so she knew that he was comfortable. Gravity pulled the blue girl a bit lower on Sara's frame until she was almost sitting in his lap. Eventually she rolled off of him completely, ending up on her back beside him, their sides touching. The girls paws drew up to her chest in a somewhat kitten-like manner and she stared up at the slowly moving sky above them, though it was blurry as fuck.

"Why don't you like me?" Her voice came softly and there was a vulnerability in her tones. With the onset of her first birthday had come the beginnings of girly hormones. Scylla had been dealing with a plethora of emotions lately and feeling like she wasn't good enough was one of them. The warmth from the alcohol was making her a little sleepy and there were no longer any inhibitions. Scylla brought her long tail up, curling it around herself. She then shifted onto her side so that she could rest her cheek against Sara's burnished shoulder. A sigh of content pulled from her and lids dropped to half mast. She was tiny, so the alcohol had hit her fairly quickly. Her body practically buzzed. She still wasn't sure if she liked being drunk or not, but she'd figure it out later.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

As they fought and struggled, Scylla demanded to know why he thought she didn't like him. That would've been laughable if Saracyn weren't already in a growly snarly mood. It was obvious that she didn't like him! Why else did she leer at him from across rooms and make passive-aggressive and directly aggressive comments towards him? He didn't care, of course; Saracyn was no bitch and he'd hold his ground against anyone, no matter how puny or massive they were. All was fair in love and war. The larger adolescent snapped his jaws at Scylla—only to feel a petite paw wrap around his snout and push it down into his chest, cutting off his growl with a muffled sound. Cobalt eyes blinked in surprise, taken aback by the abruptness of being silenced that he didn't immediately struggle back. Sara squirmed some, wrestling his head against Scylla's grip, but her surprisingly dexterous and unusual paws had a firm hold on his muzzle. He huffed in frustration and fixed her with a pointed glare and bleary eyes, trying to focus on the wavy shape of the tiny girl atop of him while she caught her breath and drank deeply from the wine. She relaxed into his belly, enjoying herself far too much, but Sara found a sudden lack of coordination in his limbs left him unable to do anything but squirm underneath her. Had he been more lucid, he'd have tossed her like a rag doll. With the alcohol affecting his coordination and motor skills, Scylla might as well have been a boulder keeping him pinned.

Gradually, Saracyn felt Scylla's grasp loosen on his muzzle, relaxing until she was left just resting her paw on the bridge of his snoot. She giggled and ran her dainty paw down the length of his muzzle from bridge to nose, making an off hand comment about him being decent looking when she couldn't see his face. Sara gave a husky growl in response, but was still having too much difficulty focusing on one of the many Scyllas he saw to retaliate. "Pfft, I'm the best looking brute you'll ever see," he retorted, words slurred between heaving breaths that made his broad chest rise and fall in steady rhythm, lifting and lowering Scylla on top of him as he breathed. Saracyn lay still while the rage burned away, giving way to his inebriation and leaving him feeling very relaxed and his body heavy. He felt Scylla's smaller form leisurely slide down his belly, making something in his instincts twinge and tense in a way he hadn't felt before as she came to virtually sit in his lap. That tension didn't last long though, as the Klein girl slid smoothly off his side to flop next to him, her tiny form curled up into his side. Almost immediately, Sara felt like something was missing, though he said nothing about it.  

Saracyn was left still on his back, gazing up at the stars with equally glassy eyes and intoxicated mind as he and Scylla settled from their short scuffle over the wine. He lifted the bottle, looking at the last swig she'd left him in it, and then huffed as he passed the bottle back to the striped wolf at his side. "Here..." It was the kindest response she was going to get from the dire lad. She'd better take it too. He was being nice, and that was a rarity from him, so she'd better damn well appreciate it. After some silence passed between them in the cold winter night, Scylla spoke up, asking in a soft voice why he didn't like her. Saracyn pursed his lips and tried to run through all the reasons he didn't like the minuscule wolf—except he couldn't come up with any. Well, maybe because she'd tried to cut his throat on their first meeting, but he was actually more mad that she'd gotten the drop on him in the first place.

"I don't like anyone," he muttered in correction, closing heavy lids over his eyes as he released a deep exhale. "You attacked me. I don't like losing." Really, Scylla had committed no offense other than cutting his nose, and even then he was more mad that he hadn't gotten to slaughter the rat-wolf in revenge than he was that he'd gotten hurt in the first place. He was a Mendacium, dammit! They were an elite family, rare beings chosen by the ancient spirits. To get ambushed by the likes of Scylla... "I think about that day a lot," he admitted, his eyes still closed as he spoke. Mostly he thought about how the hell he hadn't been able to see her ambush coming, or imagining what he would've done to her if his sister and her brother hadn't intervened. It brought a wicked little smirk to his lips.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

Scylla had no problems with touching the angry red tomato of a wolf. She had no fear when it came to him. Really... the only thing that the girl could think of that she feared was... bears. Saracyn was nothing compared to the bear that had almost killed her. He proved that when he handed the bottle back to her. The drunken girl flashed a grin and took the offered bottle, quickly draining the last dregs and tossing the bottle aside. His comment about being the best looking brute was met with a soft scoff. He wasn't a brute. He was still a kid like she was. He was barely older than her. Dumb boy.

They lay there together, sharing warmth on that cold, winter's night until Scylla questioned him. It took the boy a while, but he eventually answered her. He didn't like anyone, apparently. No surprise there. He wasn't exactly easy to get along with. Then again, neither was she. Scylla was an odd one and not many people understood her. Albion and Cerberus accepted her. Her mother loved her. Kione understood her need to kill things. Did anyone really understand her fully though? No. She couldn't say that they did.

The black and red boy admitted that he was upset that she'd bested him on their first meeting and Scylla smiled silently. She certainly had bested him. Just because she was small didn't mean she wasn't powerful or skilled. Scylla had been defending her home. There was no foe that she wouldn't throw herself against to protect what was hers. There was no way that she'd apologize for doing what she'd done. Had the situation repeated itself and had she not known him, she'd have done it again.

It was obvious that losing to her had bothered him simply by the tone that he used. The inebriated girl sighed and curled up more tightly against his side as though trying to give him some comfort, but she was also just a little cold despite the warmth that the wine brought to her body. "Think of it this way," her brows drew together as she fought to form coherent words. "You could have lost to a slave or to a nameless nobody..." The girl smiled again. "Instead you lost to me, a princess of Fenmyre, one of the most cunning and powerful of packs in all the land." She firmly believed that.

Scylla grunted as she rolled to her side, trying to stand up. She failed, sitting back down hard as the world spun. Wow, she did not like this feeling at all. Her whole body tingled and she had so very little control. Mismatched eyes narrowed as she tried to pinpoint which Sara was the real Sara. In the end, she just had to reach out and touch him to find out. With her paw on one thick foreleg, she moved forward. Scylla didn't want him to be sad or upset about what had happened. They were both drunk and she was pretty sure that they should be enjoying themselves. So how did you make someone else feel better? Well, her mom always gave her dad a kiss, so that's what she would do.

With her paw still on Sara's foreleg, Scylla leaned in and placed a surprisingly gentle kiss upon the side of the boy's muzzle with soft, navy lips. "Let it go," she told him. "You'll be able to get me back some day." With a yawn, she curled up against him, draping her small, soft body over his shoulder to lay her cheek on his chest. Who knew wine would make you tired? Scylla's lengthy tail curled around her hip and slid up to rest across the boy's lower stomach. Already her eyes were closed and sleep would find her quickly if he didn't keep her awake and alert.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

When he had mumbled out his answer to why he didn't like her and the slate striped squirrel wolf merely sighed, it irked Saracyn a bit. He wasn't the type to open up to anyone, save for maybe his twin sister from time to time, and she didn't seem to realize just how bloody nice he was being by not yeeting her straight into the frigid lake instead of humoring her curiosity. Scylla tucked up closer to his side and began musing about how it could have been worse, how he could have had been beaten by a slave or a nobody. She was trying to find a silver lining to the dark cloud over his head, but frankly, it was a wasted effort. It was far more than just being beaten that twisted him up. He didn't care about that, nor the fact that he'd lost to a tiny girl really. What mattered was that it was just another thing in a long line of affirmations that he wasn't supposed to even be here. He was a living anomaly, an outlier to the expected norm. He didn't just need to be good, he needed to be the best to prove that he deserved what he had.

Saracyn huffed, then sighed and stared blankly at the stars overhead in the clear night sky. The warmth of the alcohol coupled with his thick fur helped keep the chill out of his body, radiating heat for Scylla to draw from. A diminutive paw touched his foreleg, drawing his cobalt eyes back down to watch as Scylla got to unsteady paws and leaned in to plant a gentle kiss to the side of his muzzle, then slid her languid tail across his lower belly. Something inside him clenched again and his heart stopped with a jolt before resuming, but he gave no visual response. He didn't even understand what he was feeling right now. Effects of his overindulgence in alcohol, no doubt. Scylla reassured him that he'd get her back one day and to just let it go, but Sara just huffed again and looked back up at the sky from the flat of his back. "You don't get it..." he muttered under his breath, each syllable creating a thin cloud of steam from his maw where his hot breath escaped. "It's not about losing to you, or the fact that you're tiny and a girl, or anything like that. It's because I'm just all wrong."

Tightening his lips into a fine line, Saracyn released a muted growl and lifted his head only to let it thump back down onto the hard ground. He didn't feel any of it though, thanks to the liquor in his bloodstream. "Mendaciums are only allowed to have one pup a litter. I'm not even supposed to be alive. Some weird rare exception or something, I dunno... But I wasn't supposed to still be here." The red boy scowled and stared blankly off into space while his world slowly spun around him, half dizzy from drink and half sullen from their conversation. It was the root of all his angst and anger. Did she even know what it felt like to wake up every day knowing you weren't supposed to be there? Sure, his parents loved him, but they doted on his sister. She was the one they chose, she was the heir and future matriarch. He was supposed to have been culled long ago simply because he had a cock and balls and wasn't mutated enough. That's why he had to always be the top dog and why his aggression manifested the way it did. He was a living mistake left behind by some loophole in family traditions.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

Scylla was falling asleep, the lull of the wine making it feel as though she was being rocked back and forth. Saracyn's voice brought the girl's eyes open once more and she blinked sleepily, but made herself listen. What he said was... sad. He was all wrong? The boy continued, explaining the ways of his family. Scylla found it all rather odd, but she was rather odd, so she accepted it as truth. Not her truth, but their truth. In the world outside of Elysium, it would be a very silly practice indeed to cull one's children just for numbers or some silly tradition.

The girl blinked hard and gave herself a shake, forcing herself awake, though the shake almost sent her reeling. She grasped Saracyn with her paws to keep the world from spinning. While he lay, she sat beside him, staring down into his black, red and white marked face. Her brows drew together as she fought to really focus. No doubt she looked like a madwoman, but this was important. She could tell that it really bothered him. So... she would do something very un-Scylla-like.

"Lisssten to me, Saracyn Mendacium," she began, her S's a little slurred. "I was born so tiny that a lot of wolves would have killed me just for being such a runt." She could understand that aspect at least. "But you're big and strong and..." her brow furrowed even harder, "the best looking brute I'll ever see." She threw his words back at him. "It doesn't matter why you're here, it only matters that you're here." The slate and cream girl nodded as though what she said was absolute fact. "Fate decided that you should live, so don't let her down."

Thoughts were hard right now and there were many times where Scylla began to speak, but shut her mouth again, furrowing her brow and thinking hard. "If the odds are stacked against you, then you have to work hard to topple that stack to the ground." The girl's gaze became serious as she stared into the boy's oh so blue eyes. "My father told me that and he built his empire from the ground up. He's the smartest wolf I know." My, she hadn't planned to get into such a deep conversation this evening. It was starting to hurt her head. Or maybe it was the wine. Who knew?

"I think you're special. You think you weren't supposed to live, but you obviously were because here you are." Scylla, in all of her fervent, drunken belief, punched Saracyn in the shoulder, though she didn't even realize that she did it. "I'll bite anyone that says otherwise." The girl wrinkled her nose for a moment then brought a paw up to her thumping head. "Now take me to bed. I'm tired."

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

Saracyn hadn’t been expecting much in the way of a reaction from Scylla when he began complaining about his lot in life. Maybe a sound of acknowledgement at most, but really nothing would have been a closer estimate to what he expected. Instead, he felt tiny paws clinging to his fur as Scylla pulled herself into an upright position over him. All of a sudden, his blurry vision of the night sky was blocked by an equally blurry version of the tiny striped girl as she leaned over him right over his face. She had a firm, almost crazed look in her eyes while she stared at him, but Sara wasn’t intimidated. He’d nearly been killed by a bear; the tiny honey badger was nothing compared to an angry Kodiak. He stared up at Scylla from the flat of his back, glassy cobalt eyes doing their best to focus on her petite face, studying her unexpected seriousness.

Scylla began to speak to him with a slur to her consonants, explaining how she had been so small at birth that most wolves would have just let her perish. Then she went on to compliment him, and compliment him in excess. The diminutive girl called him big and strong and the best looking brute she’d ever see, teasingly mimicking the words he’d used on her earlier. It brought a rueful smirk to the yearling’s lips as a low chuckle rumbled in the depths of his chest. Scylla decreed that it didn’t matter why he was here and still alive, just the fact that he was here and alive gave him a purpose. She was quiet for a minute, seeming to struggle with words, but it gave Saracyn a chance to absorb what she had said. He frowned, struggling to find truth in her words, but not outright dismissing them as he normally would. There was a part of him that wanted so badly to believe her, to find validation in what she was telling him, but he was both too stubborn and too drunk to see things much differently right now. Perhaps if he remembered any of this conversation in the morning he would feel differently.

As he silently mulled over his damned feelings, Scylla found her words and explained how he had to push harder to overcome the odds stacked against him. That’s what her father had done and he had founded an entire pack from the ground up. Saracyn looked back into Scylla’s mismatched blue and slate gray eyes, having difficulty focusing on anything she was telling him when all his limited attention span could pay attention to were those contrasting jewels in her face. Her words pricked his ears to attention, despite the drowsy expression on his impassive face. She thought he was special? That was quaint and adorable... He still didn't rebuke her though; that would require too much effort. Instead, he just glanced down to where Scylla playfully punched his shoulder, barely feeling like more than a nudge to the massive adolescent boy. Then she demanded he take her to bed. Saracyn raised a curious brow, smirking with juvenile amusement and snickering. "Whatever you want, Your Majesty," he quipped back, rolling to his paws—and promptly face planting into the grass as his front legs gave out.

The Mendacium prince snorted and huffed, struggling to get back up on wobbly legs, a sight very unbecoming of the firstborn son to the alphas, but he was too wasted to give any fucks. Once he was upright and sure he wasn't about to topple over again, he rounded on Scylla, peering down at the small girl before reaching down to scoop her up by the midsection with one toned forearm and sling her across his back. Saracyn didn't know which of the many guest dens she had been assigned to, so he turned his head to peer back at the ferret wolf on his back. "Which den are you staying in?"

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

What had she just been talking about? The girl's face screwed up as she tried to get her thoughts in order. Scylla blinked hard and looked down at the blurry form of Saracyn. Had he always looked so fluffy? By tomorrow, she most likely wouldn't remember the serious conversation they'd just had, which could or could not have been better for both of them. It was no secret that they didn't particularly care for each other. No doubt there would be some embarrassment involved if they remembered speaking about feelings and emotions and whatnot.

Sara rose to his paws to take the drunken girl to bed and promptly fell on his face. Scylla placed a paw over her maw to keep from giggling aloud. Once he was on his paws, the slate girl rose to her own, stumbling a little bit as she did so. The red marked boy turned and stood over her and Scylla's gaze firmly met his own. Despite their size difference, there was no fear in her, even drunk. A moment later, Sara scooped her up, slinging her over his back. A little gasp pulled from Scylla and she instinctively slid forward, wrapping her forelegs gently around the big boys neck.

As the boy asked which den she had chosen, Scylla wrinkled her little pink nose. She hadn't chosen a den. "None," she spoke. "Yours. I don't care." She didn't know where Cerb or Albi happened to be and if she was going to be on her own in a new place like this, she'd rather sleep beside someone that she knew. Another yawn brought the girls maw opening and closing and she slid her cheek along the young brutes neck. "Just somewhere to sleep. Take me to bed." She wasn't picky.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"

Once Saracyn felt Scylla's little legs wrap limberly around his neck to secure herself on his back, the drunken yearling began to slow process of shuffling and stumbling back towards the mountains where the dens and caves were. All he needed was for her to tell him which direction to go in and trust in his legs to not give out from under him again or for his paws to unintentionally walk them both into the lake. Except he was given even more frustrating ambiguity when Scylla said she didn't have one. The fuck...? She didn't have a den? All of their guests had been given dens to stay in for the night. More than likely, she was too drunk and couldn't recall which one she'd been given to stay in. Great... just great... Scylla told him she didn't care, then told him to take her back to his and take her to bed. Sara cast a nonplussed look back to the lithe badger wolf thing, quirking an eyebrow. Though he knew what she meant, he couldn't help but be amused by the diminutive girl telling him to take her to bed. If he weren't so tipsy and tired himself, he might have ragged her a little more about it.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want," he mumbled with a scoff. The dire lad then began the arduous task of trudging back through the dark forest and toward his family's den. Navigating his way up the winding mountain paths was trickier than he thought, but with great care and the occasional stumble into the rocky wall (thank the gods he hadn't veered toward the ledge!) they arrived to his family's spacious alpha's den. Saracyn grunted and wobbled into the darkness of the den, listening around for a moment to see if anyone was here or still awake. The cave was quiet; he'd be able to sneak Scylla in without worry. Sara heaved a sigh and took the path that branched off the den's main chamber and off to the sleeping dens, making his way with uncoordinated steps to his private alcove. He didn't know if Scylla was still awake or if she'd fallen asleep, but it didn't matter much. He carried the girl like she were a stuffed animal, easily hefting her petite body into his bedchambers and onto his spacious bed of plush, warm furs. The red-furred boy slid to his belly and carefully rolled Scylla off of him onto the bedding beside him, Saracyn rolling to collapse onto his back with a heavy sigh. Tired body relaxed into his bed, eyes gazing blankly into the darkness that surrounded them.

For a long while, Saracyn didn't say anything. He lay in the dark, listening to his breathing and Scylla's in the stillness of the winter night. His head was still spinning and swimming with the alcohol in his bloodstream, but he already felt much better lying down than he had been trying to walk a straight line. "Scylla...?" he called to her in a hushed voice through the darkness, his head shifting to tilt her direction. Thank you... I'm sorry... Saracyn didn't say anymore though. Instead, the massive adolescent just shifted to curl his body carefully around the tiny fae, wrapping her up in his form to keep her warm. The cave and furs would do well to keep the chill of winter out and away from them, but in his inebriated mind, he was now responsible for her. It wasn't like he liked her now or anything, he just didn't want her to get cold and sick. Plus he still didn't exactly like sleeping alone... not that he'd ever tell anyone that.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"