Though the days had grown warmer, the afternoons brought the chill back to their bones.  If she had to guess, the stiffness and aches that came with the cold would linger.  Another reminder.  Jael understands that she's earned them all.  The scars, the aches, the pains... they're all reminders that she's real, she's alive, she's made it this far.  The girl would cling to that as best she could.  Cling to that for all she's worth.  Maybe that was dramatic.  It does lead her to be among the first to realize when the fire pits need to be lit.  If she had the time to notice it, she had the time to do something about it.  

She'd just been pulling in the last of the wood for the fires when she heard... well.  Some sort of commotion.  It's far enough away that she can't quite hear what or who is involved, but it sounded... not so good.  Really not so good.  There was a sort it out amongst yourselves mentality about them that Jael really preferred.  Scuffles between members are their own business, don't let it interfere with pack business, don't be a shit.  At least, that's how she'd been interpreting it.  Not that anyone much within the pack had caused her any trouble (maybe aside from Sid's unsettling interest in her teeth.)  

In the interest of steering clear of whatever the scuffle outside happened to be, Jael began to move toward Gilgamesh's room with a bundle of extra wood and fire starter.  Not used to being likeable, she defaults to being useful.  

Modesty had gotten him good. The now bleeding and angry wound on his chest throbbed more than he cared to admit. He stood there, blood dripping down his shoulder, watching her leave. She was sick and in no shape to be leaving, but she was her own woman and he wasn't going to argue. There was a fury there that he knew not to mess with. It was one of the things he loved about her so much. Fuck, he loved Modesty. How had he screwed it all up this bad?

Angry, sad, and so many more emotions that he didn't want to feel, Gil waited until she couldn't be seen anymore. The weather was beginning to turn and the fog that rolled in before an oncoming storm made it hard to see all the way across the courtyard. Torn between following her and following through with his own promise, Gil turns from the doorway and heads upstairs. Once he makes it to the landing, he is surprised to hear the scuffle of Jael. The sound of fire crackling in the hearth lures him into his rooms. The wide open living space is lit with warmth as he watches her from the doorway.

"She's gone," he whispers, fighting back his own batch of tears that prickle at his eyes.

"speech"

The weather turns, quickly and violently. She should be used to that by now, the sea and the islands making their own weather. It’s still disquieting. With the shift in pressure and stiff spring breeze forced through the building, Jael can smell him before anything else. Like himself, like his wife, like blood— wait. Blood? On her feet, leaving the chore at hand abandoned, she crosses to the doorway.

His words barely register over the rush of blood in her ears. Aching for the breaking heart in his chest, Jael moved to comfort him. She doesn’t know how, but it won’t stop her. Jael reaches out for Gilgamesh. Feeling responsible for causing it, but then, she’d be responsible for healing it too. More responsible than she understands. "I'm here," the words are breathed. She's here, for him. For whatever it was worth, she would try to help him pick up the pieces.

It’s then that she finds the source of the blood.

A grim, angry wound that should have been for a healer to deal with. Seemed to be a pattern between the two of them. “Let me take care of you.” Jael pressed into the unwounded side of his chest, if he’d let her. Modesty had gone for his chest… she can see it for what it is. She’d gone for his heart because he’d hurt hers. She's not innocent here. Jael can’t focus on that. Not while Gil chokes up in front of her. She’d take care of him. Anxious for both of them, given the extent of the wound and the likely rage that had caused it, Jael’s thoughts begin to race. No, the girl couldn't give them heed now. She has Gil to focus on.

Gilgamesh is in a haze of static, ears muffled by the pounding of his heart. Eyes glazed over, misty and betraying the feelings he tries to shove away. He doesn't notice Jael move closer to him until she reaches out. He almost starts, his body freezing and muscles tensing, hair raising along his spine until he looks down at the small dog. There is a softness, the lines loosening as he registers who it is. Her words send a jolt of electricity through him, but he still doesn't move. He lets her in, allows her to be close, but he can't deny that he also wishes it were Modesty too. What the fuck had he done?

She speaks more words and he lets out a sigh, his resolve crumbling as he nods in agreement. When she presses to his chest, he leans in slightly, but not too much. He can't give in completely. He has others to think about than just himself. That had been a realization that had stung. Was he really that selfish? "I'm sure it'll be fine," Gil rumbles (it won't be, she got him fucking good), finally sliding away from Jael to move toward the fireplace. Crumpling down onto his side with the wounded shoulder facing upward, he lays his head down on the cold stone. His heart is torn into two, one side for each woman, but he's not even sure about that. There's something in there for Jael that he cannot deny and doesn't want to give up, but he loved his wife...

"speech"

He tenses. Jael can’t blame him, but she stills too. Her breath catching in her throat, but the dog doesn’t balk. Waiting out his tension. Gilgamesh lets her in, and she would take that with near religious reverence. Raw and tender and hurting.

Weight on her shoulder, solid. More solid than she anticipated. Tenderly, Jael traces his jawline with her muzzle. There’s so much blood, but he’s hurting in other ways she needs to tend to first. As he slips from her side, Jael moves about the room. The little brown healer had left the bathroom fairly stocked with supplies. A curved needle, one she recognized as her own craftsmanship, and some salvaged line.

It wouldn’t be fine. She knows that much. A bottle of pirate hooch to soothe the pain— Jael isn’t a healer. With a wet rag and a touch so blisteringly tender it could have melted the walls, she begins to clean the wound. Methodical, an eye for detail, but she’s trying not to hurt him further.

“It’s going to take some time to stitch up. I’m sorry.” A little whimper in her voice, reaching to nose worriedly at his cheek. Modesty had done a number on him. Jael is apologetic… she feels responsible.

He feels the gentle trace of her muzzles along his jawline. For a moment, he gives in. That tiny sigh that reveals he enjoys it. That he finds it soothing in the moment. But then he tenses again. No, no, she's not Modesty. He can't be giving in like this... His emotions are still a whirl as he watches her from the side of his gaze. There she wanders, gathering supplies, and he wonders if she has any experience at all. Maybe he should call for Sid... No, he didn't want the pups too much in this mess he created.

He created.

But she was there. That small figure coming closer. Rag in her mouth, booze in the air. Oh, if his wife hadn't just gouged out his chest, he would be behaving much differently... Fuck.

Gil closes his eyes. Feeling the heat, letting out a hissing noise as the first singe of boozy pressure presses against his wound. His tongue sticks out between his teeth as his lips curl up in a sneer of pain. Both ears flatten as he lifts up his head to chatter his teeth in her direction. A warning. Only a warning. She needed to be careful. He was familiar with pain, but he hated being tended to.

Her whimpering voice has him settling back a moment. He didn't want to scare her. Didn't want her to run off. "Don't apologize," Gil returns gruffly, releasing a rugged sigh. "Just give me a swig of that," he rumbles, taking the bottle of booze from her side and nearly inhaling it. The sputtering cough that follows is proof that he wasn't being careful in that moment. Anything to dull the pain while she sews him back up.

Gil still receives her warmly. Through it all, Jael has that to rely on. Warming her chest more than it should, a light smile playing up on her lips. Right, she needs to behave. This isn't the time. This isn't the place. Lingering on her mind until she returns to him, until she gets down to work.

His teeth. Her heart pounding in her chest. No, Jael can't be afraid of him too. Never has she been more afraid to be cast out, given the circumstances. Relying on the fact that Gil had still taken to her as kindly... though her thoughts raced. Mostly thoughts of him, though. Even if he would cast her out, at least let her tend to this first. No-- he's not aggressive anymore. It fades as quickly as it came on. Could she blame a man in pain?

Touch as tender as she could make it, guiding the needle through the wound. He coughs. She pauses, a tender hand over his for the moment. Stillness, while he's in motion. Worrying. "She--" the wound is deep. Jael handles it as best she can. No one else could see him like this. Was that an edge of possessiveness... a small club to witness him at-- was this his worst? Modesty first, then Jael. Her head spun. "It's because of me," the words are whispered, unable to look at him. A question? Maybe. An inference. She focused only on the wound, touch ever tender as she continued to stitch it closed.

At least she pauses when he coughs. The pain still ebbs and flows through him. It hurts. He hates it. Almost too distracted to notice the word she begins to say. His ears perk, chin tilting slightly as he peers at her. A look of huh on his face. Then it hits him. Because of me. Gil wants to say no, but he can't because that would be lying. He's not a liar. Looking away, taking a swig, eyes holding onto the licking flames, he braces for retaliation. "You betcha," he responds, tone grim without any charm or humor.

He doesn't lie to her. Jael can respect him more for that, at least. Her expression grim as it remained trained on the wound. She seizes the bottle as Gilgamesh sets it down, taking a long sip of her own. A little liquid courage to get her by. The weight of exactly what they'd been up to catching up with her... why can't she let him go. The man curled before her on the ground, Jael with her lingering touch as she carefully sews his wounds shut. The work is her very finest. That's what happens when you work with l--

No.

Don't even think it.

Though she wouldn't speak for her feelings this time, it gets harder to bite them back. Guilt weighing heavily on her chest. Jael has been selfish with him, but it won't stop. Doubling down while they are alone together here, fire roaring in the background. "I'm sorry." She isn't blameless. She knows he has a wife. But Jael is, touch tender as she ties off the sutures, clips the thread, does all the things she'd imagine a healer would do though she's unwilling to leave his side.

Satisfied he wouldn't bleed out now, she pushes the the healing supplies away. Jael would handle it later. Not touching him, but not sure what else to he needs... not wanting to walk away from him. Curling up on herself as she waits by his side... loyal like a dog. Gaze on his face. "What do you need?" A hoarse whisper. He was emotionally raw, and Jael was by extension.

When he had expected a slap to the face or a bite to the cheek, it didn't come. He blinks a few times. Surprised, but as he looks down at Jael, he knows she would never do it. Never dare hurt him. Not physically. Not in the way that he expected from the girl he... No.

Again with the apologies. A huff from his nose. Another swig from the bottle. Thankful that the sutures are all tied up now. "Stop apologizing," Gil means business this time. He wasn't going to keep being nice. Hates apologies. Why apologize? Who ever is truly sorry for their actions? There's no denying what is happening between... No.

Another huff, a grumble this time as he watches her curl up on herself. Why did she have to do this to him? Emotionally raw was a fucking understatement. He lays his chin on the floor beside her and looks back to looking at the crackling fire. "I need... Sanity," his lip quivers, a snarl rumbling in his throat as he tries to push down the anger that bubbles in him. It wouldn't do to take out his pent up emotions on her. On anyone, but god dammit. He can feel himself begin to tense.

She can't hurt him. No matter how deep, no matter how complicated the situation... this is Gilgamesh. Jael doesn't idealize anyone. She's never idealized anyone, but then... but then there's him. Then there's the man that rests beside her. She wouldn't retaliate. He is hurting, both physically and emotionally. This isn't his fault. Jael will continue to blame herself. Blame herself, yes, and not let go.

Sanity. The word slipped past his lips, standing out, bold within her mind. His chin resting on the floor beside her-- Jael knows she shouldn't, but maybe the long dredge from the bottle on an empty stomach had done something to her. She tips her head slightly to rest against his, just her temple close to his muzzle. Just resting there, if he'd allow it. Tender. Though a snarl rippled through him, echoing as a tightness in her stomach, she doesn't move. Flinches, but doesn't withdraw. No. Though a little shake, a whimper, rippled through Jael's system... she doesn't withdraw.

Appeasement looked different, here. Tension in him, and she'd try to absorb it. No, Jael can't quite hide away the little whimper as it slips past, she can feel the tension in him. Feeding off it, to a degree. Mirroring it. "She tried to rip your heart out, Gil." No more than a whisper. Jael wasn't passing judgement, she was stating a fact. No, she doesn't blame Modesty here, either. Only herself. "We might be past sanity." But that doesn't drive her from his side. Instead she remains beside him. Mind racing as she tries to figure out how to diffuse him, her posture ringing for appeasement, greater lengths than she'd gone for... anyone? Why?

She knows why.

A switch seems to suddenly flip in him. All the pent up anger and hurt bubbles over, unable to hold it in anymore. The sound of her whimper has his insides warming and twisting unexpectedly. His eyes flicker with danger that she should probably be concerned about. His body seems to grow in size as he lets out a please rumble when she flinches. It is a side of Gilgamesh that no one has seen in a very long time. Without thinking, he moves a paw over her and brings her closer to him. If she wanted to leave, to escape, it was too late now.

"I don't have to worry about that with you, now do I?" His breath washes over her, his muzzle right in her ear right before he trails his teeth down her cheek. Raking through that fluffy fur, he stops right beside her muzzle. He inhales deeply, eyelids fluttering for a moment as he takes in her scent. The fear that envelopes her pheromones is intoxicating. Someone he could control.

"I don't care what she says anymore. You're mine," he speaks in husky tones as he presses his muzzle firmly against her's. Pushing against her, he pulls her in as close as he can. The crackle of fire sounds louder than it had moments before. Every inch of him is alight with electricity as he refuses to relinquish Jael. His eyes beg to le go, to release that fury he held, to let go of pent up emotions on something that wouldn't hurt him back.

The possessive nature coming through, it's enough to make Jael's breath catch in her throat. Leaning into his body, leaning into his side... she doesn't want to cling to him, but she does. Held close to his side, tucking into his body. Her head was spinning. Why is her head spinning? Intoxicated by him and scared. Escape was never an option. From day one, it hadn't. Already his from the get, but now? Nothing was more clear now.

She shakes her head, the softest nuh-uh in her throat. Why did she want to relax so badly? Melting to his touch, giving into the possession. Bending to his touch, though the fear still coursed through her veins. Afraid, but Jael relies on him. She needs him.

Gilgamesh's voice, the way that it washes over her system, it draws her in. Jael can't get close enough to him, can't get enough of him, despite the fact she's still scared. Scared, but more afraid of letting go than holding on. Whimpering softly. Fear and need layered together, but Jael's chest aches. Permissive. Her head dips, muzzle pushing into Gil's. Lapping at the sides, mixed kisses and appeasement.

"I'm yours... I'm yours..." the words are soft, breathy. Permissive, trying to appease him. Though he still bled, this is more important. Eyes wide as she looks up, vulnerable against his side. Jael needed him.

Her words, pleading, hushed, they reach him and he is broken once more. Suddenly pulling away, pushing Jael from him, practically scrambling across the room. He stands up onto his paws with his muzzle grazing the floor, nearly breathless. His eyes are wild, undone at the seams. This wasn't Gilgamesh. He couldn't possibly be doing this... But everything in him screamed that he did want it. That it would be different, would be... no, not better, just different. Jael was the missing piece. Where Modesty was powerful and independent, Jael was feeble and dependent. She needed him. Needed him in a way that his wife or children could not provide.

A seething exhale exits his lips as he rips his gaze away from her and stares at the crackling fire. It's beginning to die. The room is growing cold. His wound is becoming more painful as the adrenaline disappears. He can't seem to catch his breath. Was this a panic attack? Backing up until his rear hit the wall, he crumples. Body slumping until his chin hits the slate tile and he forces his paws over his eyes.

"What have I done?" He can barely choke out the words between heaving sobs. "We can't be doing this," he can't even bring himself to say her name. "She is my everything. I've never wanted anyone else but her. Why do you make me feel like this? As if..." his head shakes, chin rapping against the tile as he fights back the tears. Unable to finish his sentence, Gil closes his eyes as tightly as he can manage, hoping the day would just go back to the beginning so he could try all over again.

He pushes her away, and Jael whimpers. She cowers. Her eyes go wide, unsure of exactly what she's done wrong. Wild eyed and still bleeding, it takes only a moment for the girl to get over herself. Though he's pushed her away, she comes back. Head low, nervous, but slinking closer. Wide eyed. Pleading. Oh how she pleads with him-- written on her face, in her tone.

Distracted by the chill settling over the room, her movements are quick, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. More wood on the fire, draw the curtains, shut the door. No one needed to see him like this. No one needed to overhear this. She's handling this herself, for better or for worse.

Sobbing, shaking, Jael will not leave him to this on his own. Reaching out... but fully ready to be swatted away. Closing the distance between them, she reaches for him. Though Jael quivered, she needed to be by his side. Trying to tuck close, she is the emotional support animal she can only hope he needs. Why does her chest ache?

"Just... just let me take care of you for now," the words come as a plea. He's still bleeding. Raw, ragged. Emotionally and physically. Reaching out to touch him, tentative... fearful. How can she be afraid of him and need him so badly, all at once? Jael needs to close the wound. She needs to be allowed to calm him, though she doesn't know what that looks like yet. "I'm sorry." A whisper. Her heart hurts.

In the midst of his breakdown, he doesn't notice Jael work. How she stokes the fire, piling it with more wood. Moving the curtain and closing the door, providing them with more privacy. Indeed, no one needed to see the Raid King in such a state. He doesn't realize it and will be thankful for Jael in the future. That she is there for him, to support him, help his wounds heal. Even if it doesn't fix his situation with Modesty, it will give him time to think. To come up with a solution. Jael... she couldn't leave. Right? Fuck.

Suddenly he feels her reach out. An attempt to touch him. He stiffens, every nerve under his skin alight with sensitivity. His lips ripple with a snarl, but he continues to be still. Frozen, unable to move, his legs feel like Jell-O. So when she tries to tuck in close, he doesn't push her away. Allows her to be near him, to try and comfort him, but he isn't sure it'll work.

Her pleading words nearly break his heart again. His own heart aches for both Modesty and Jael. How could he have both? Was that even an option? He doesn't answer, simply turns his chin away so he can stare at the fire. Lowering his paws, inhaling a deep breath, he lets the shudders roll through his body. Jael's body temperature is indeed comforting, but he won't admit it, not even to himself.

"Fine, do as you must," he finally says after a few beats of tense silence. Gil hates himself for acting this way to her, but he hopes she understands. They have to keep each other at a paw's distance if he ever hoped to even consider getting Modesty back.

She trusts him and she fears him, that much has been true since she arrived. The tension that ripples through his muscles, that rests heavily in the space between them. Gilgamesh doesn't push her away, doesn't rebuke her. No, but he turns away all the same. Why does that hurt-- it hurts differently, but it hurts. An ache that blooms, spreads through her ribs. For as much as the little dog longs to throw herself to his side, curl up, refuse to let go and take what consequences may come... no. The desire is selfish, and she will bite it back.

More tender than clinical, Jael stitches the wound as an artisan not a healer. The stitches are careful, tidy, as she coaxes the wound closed. Jael moves as she does, taking all the care in the world. Loyal like a dog, though she wears guilt like a yoke around her neck. Jael caused this. Her chest ached from the weight of it all.