---

Mojave had rather thankfully backpedaled in his horrific display of… whatever, which made the situation at least twelve percent less vomit-worthy. It wasn’t like either of them believed what he was saying, but with enough time you could convince yourself of anything. Hmm. There was a lack of queasiness welling in his gut which he took as a blessing instead of an omen like he might’ve done at any other time. Lavender eyes befell their colored light once again. It’s probably the fire, He confirmed. Because I… Licking his nose in a self-soothing measure, he cut himself off there when the long-furred man made his approach, fur swaying gracefully like the lurching of the sea.

Wisps of tan caught his gaze as Mojave walked ever closer, Rancor feeling himself start to brace and stand. To bolt. Unfortunately for them both, there was a popping protest from his back that sent him back to the ground with a yelp.

Wide-eyed and anxious, he watched as paws reached out for him, pressing gently down on each blade beneath his skin. A jolt of sudden pain forced his jaw closed, almost biting his tongue, but it gave way to something tolerable. Hopefully this would not remain just tolerable. Maybe if the smoke inhalation killed them both, he’d be fine with it. Imagine if his father were here right now? Oh, what he’d say!

Come to think of it, why did he even still care? He’d left. He wasn’t going back. EVER. Whipping around to the best of his ability to stare at his companion, the words that came next were certainly drawn out by the fire. I swam back to Ferinine because my father, Chief, the guy who raised my half sisters and I, he told me he didn't WANT me there anymore. Though he was certainly breezing past a lot of the required context, he didn’t care.

Leaning into the massage some, the pulsing ache from his spine had started to fade. For all of his faults, the Arabian wolf’s massive sand-slinging paws were doing wonders for his constant pain. You’re very good at that. Move down some. A half-hearted addition to his rambling, paws tucking in closer so that he was neatly folded up on the ice and soil. I swam away and I don’t want to go back. Partly, I think it’s you who did that. I remember you saying my pack was a little much. Maybe it started to get too much for me. It was not the way of an Ijii to turn their back on their homeland, but it’d never felt like home to him. Home was.. The sea. It was adrift, wherever he could reach it. Home was over that cliff, home was around Ferinine. Home was the turbulent strands of brown fur that pressed against his own, now. He could feel his head turning to mush the longer he sat pretty.

Ceta, am I gay? Gasping, a puzzled look crossed him. Then he looked at the fire. Scapegoat! It’s the fire. We’re- I’M leaving when I’m done here. He couldn’t imagine Mojave would want to follow him. Not that he would’ve wanted him to.

---

MOJAVE

---

It was almost as though Rancor were trying to make the situation worse, as though he wanted to leave Mojave confused and uncertain. Because he what? Mojave was bewildered internally, but expressed it as little as he could manage. He didn't need to make things any more awkward than he'd already made them, lest he make the negative emotions within him mutual ones. Mojave merely did as he was told; unable to suppress a small look of surprise when Rancor suddenly jerked away. Nonetheless, Mojave laid his paws into him now, working at the knots and tense muscles.

Oh goodness. This proximity, this contact, none of it was helping Mojave out as he leaned on Rancor. His thoughts were running wild again, and the aching in his heart grew worse. Oh, he'd fallen for the worst guy, a feeling of regret crawling down his spine now. Until, of course, the swimmer had to go and open his mouth again- at first, Mojave just listened, rubbing firm circles into Rancor's shoulders where he felt tension. It was when Rancor said that it was him who'd gotten him to swim away that he hesitated slightly, both internally and in his massage. So... Rancor did value him? Even if a little bit? Even if he now-

Right. Rancor was waiting. Mojave blinked a few times, nodding quietly and moving down with his paws. The motions resumed, and his silence continued, allowing Rancor to speak. He had asked him to talk about himself earlier, after all. In his pause, Mojave began to reply, secretly hoping that this meant something, It just sounded intense, rigid. I couldn't see you wanting to do something wild, I just.. you seemed a little lost in tradition. I had to follow you around to get you to even talk at all, and... Mojave trailed off, putting a little more force behind his paws as he did. What a slippery slope it was for him to rant; He had definitely been about to say something stupid again. Something dumb about their connection or Rancor's face or how nice it felt to be so close to him.

Of course, the rollercoaster was still far from over. Mojave paused again, staring at Rancor. What? Didn't you just- when I said-? Mojave didn't stop in his actions for long, but damn, he was losing his grip mentally.
I don't think it's... gay to say you took my advice... You're right, it's probably just the fire. Uhm. But if it weren't...? Mojave asked hesitantly, still putting work into Rancor's back. E-either way, something's wrong, I think I'll follow you for a bit.. if you don't mind. Mojave glanced to the fire again, himself. Whatever was in there was definitely suspicious...

---

MOJAVE

---

He’s feeling romantical

---

Unconsciously grinding his jaw, the pain and pressure between his shoulders became more of an afterthought as their conversation progressed. I was the next in line to lead. I was only in Ferinine to fulfil my duty of learning things about the world. It’s a crime that I left again. Tradition is all we’ve got. We being his incredibly secluded pack. If he weren’t planning on being something great in the future, he would’ve never left.

Yeah! It was his father’s fault! If his father never told him that he had to leave and go swim to another island and learn about the natives and take back some of their customs, he would not be gay!

He oggled Mojave again, huffing. I wasn’t there to make friends, I told you that. A stern bark, something he’d certainly been dwelling on for some time. Of course, he was now finding it difficult not to voice his opinions about all of the facts. Which is why I LEFT! You left your job, I left mine, so we’ve both ruined each other’s lives! Yelling for no real reason, he pulled away as the male stopped.

Spinning to face him on the ice, he stared deep into the illuminated eyes of the collared man. Backing away some on stinging limbs, hackles lifted in agitation. You know, I swam back here—wherever the fuck HERE is—because I wanted to find YOU. The filter was finally dissolving, nose twitching as he sneezed from the smoke.

Staring, angry, and as if he had not brought this all upon himself, Rancor growled. What if I AM? Doesn’t wanting to PROPOSE and kiss the mouth of another man make you gay? He sounded terrified of this possibility. And that was BEFORE I ever saw this stupid fire!

Sitting on the ice now, his head was lowered in shame. Uncertainty, and shame.

---

MOJAVE

---

Astonishment ran through Mojave's face, jaw going slack for a moment as almost comical surprise overtook his expression. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, searching Rancor for some sign of insincerity or sarcasm- this sudden shift from his forceful rejection of Mojave to an indirect confession had taken him completely off guard. To be honest, Mojave couldn't get any more surprised than he was now; the snow could evaporate around them instantly, and Mojave wouldn't bat an eye.

Coughing, Mojave forced himself to swallow, not taking his eyes off his Rancor. He was being serious!? That's, ah, Still standing where they'd been together moments prior, Mojave sat down, swallowing again. A lot to take in. You came back to... propose to... me? His brows were raised, his tone as uncertain as Rancor's energy was. You just- just got done calling me a 'freak of nature,' What would have been confused anger instead became butterflies in his stomach, the fire putting in all the effort of saving this interaction. But... are you saying you feel the same way? A smidge of hope dared make its way back into his voice, tail starting to wag behind him.

I don't think you ruined my life at all, Mojave continued after a long pause. I didn't think you... Mojave hesitantly put a paw forward, not quite shifting his weight onto it or leaning forward so as not to scare Rancor off. He had to stop again, trying to figure out the best way to word it.

A half-lie, perhaps. It doesn't necessarily make you GAY, Mojave said, watching for a reaction. If it's me you're talking about, those are the same sentiments I wanted to tell you. It... wasn't the fire talking, at least, not fully. Mojave glanced over at it as he spoke, feeling warm all over, like he could melt into the floor and be happy there. Rancor did care about him..! Even if it was in his weird, stuck-up, Rancor way.

I'm sorry if I freaked you out. Mojave forced himself to pull his paw back. Maybe I was coming onto you too suddenly. I think, if you don't mind me saying, an ear flicked as he tried to keep his composure despite the conflicting mess he'd become internally. This is another part of your past you should let go. You know how you said I made you rethink being with your pack? And the life it entailed? I do think this... um, hate, of yours, is a part of that.

Mojave gave Rancor his space fully, quieting down and forcing his attention elsewhere, turning to look back into the fire. Mentally, though, he was cheering. Rancor wanted to PROPOSE? To HIM? Wanted to KISS HIM? Was this just internalized hate? He couldn't stop the excited wagging of his tail now, and his expression was cracking a little.

---

MOJAVE

---

---

Through all of the romantic heavy-lifting the fire took off of him, the inability to speak was replaced with bone-deep nausea, creeping up from his gut. To his throat. Mouth watered, skin tingled and itched like thousands of fleas and ticks were biting him all at once. Rancor idly scratched himself, reflecting on the situation. He feared he’d said far, far too much. Urgh. Settling on those as his words, he doubled over and pressed against the ground.

With his chin and lips pressed against the icy flooring, he tried to chase away that numbingly warm feeling on his face. Which was hard when he was made specifically to stay warm when touching the ice. Eyes blinking slowly, large circular pupils followed the paw that was placed forward. There was no current attempt to snap or bark. Just a sense of mortified helplessness, dragging him down more than any water could. (I did say that. And aren't we?) Thinking slowly as words were picked up and shooed off in the remnants of his mind, the man sighed. Oh, don’t say it aloud! Wailing now, he could only imagine the displeased looks from his family.

None he cared about as much as the shaking, terrified face of his poor old father. And he’d been so close to making him proud.

Black and blue paws suddenly lifted, nose yanking off of the ice and sleet to now rest beneath cowardly grasp. It’s- He gagged. I can’t even think about it. I can, but OH, I CAN’T! Stomach lurched, he heaved again on an empty stomach. Curling up and rolling onto his side, his eyes shut tightly. Do you know how many WOMEN I’ve been with? Not a single one is still in my head. You stayed there for YEARS even when I KNEW it was wrong! He should have been able to control his thoughts. To not think about it, shove it down and keep it away. But now look at what he’d done..! They were Ceta-knew-where, all because he thought that he could skirt by one of the most important things he’d learned because he’d been good.

He did not want to think that everything he'd done to obey this rule was complete bullshit. No. He was awful, and so was Mojave.

---

MOJAVE

---

Mojave was largely silent, eyes wide. It was getting increasingly hard to tell what he should be flattered by and what he should be offended by, and the words he wanted to say all sounded wrong in so many different ways. All the admissions he wanted to make, all the things he'd been going to say- all of that would certainly upset the swimmer more. There wasn't a way for Mojave to comfort him- not that he thought Rancor wanted that, anyways.

I didn't think you would have remembered me. I worried that if you did return, you'd not be sure who I was at all- Don't you think it's some sort of sign? I mean, that has to mean something, Surely, the part about the 'many women' he'd been with wasn't too important- Mojave'd gloss over that for now. I mean, you did make a suggestive remark that one time, but I only realized what you meant months after and it was, I thought, sarcastic humor,

Does the concept of liking me make you ill? OBVIOUSLY, it DID, but Mojave had never heard such blatant homophobia from him. Just a general sense of self-superiority and no patience for others. ... What sort of thoughts have you been thinking about me, then, if you're so against these feelings?

---

MOJAVE

---

---

Rancor’s whole body was shivering and trembling as the desert man failed to say or do anything at all helpful. It wasn’t like his mind was being helped by the smoke, anyway. Nauseous, heart thrumming nonstop in his chest, tail twitching like it wanted to wag. He blinked hard, and then threw his head back onto the ground. I don’t recall, A narrowed eye glared his way. He did not want to. And I only remembered who you were because of your collar. If you’d have taken that off as well, maybe we wouldn’t be here. The blame on himself pushed aside, the dual-colored wolf started to shakily stand again.

Not that he stayed up for very long. Obviously, The whale-hunter gagged through his teeth, throwing a shifty glance back at tassels of flame behind him. We need to get away from this fire. Maybe not now, but before nightfall. Can you travel in the snow? You’ve got long fur. Of course, he did not expect much from a sand-slinger. Mojave was never quite cut out for the wild, either..

Speaking of, his second question went unanswered as he stared up at that red collar. He was… practically useless. He could scout, but anything Mojave could do now was something Rancor had learned years ago. He was.. Fairly certain he was older than he was in the first place. Which meant, according to his own pack’s beliefs, that brown-furred fellow was basically a woman. Right? He looked to the side, then, reasoning that any female in his pack was never expected to do anything, ever. It was all the responsibility of a male. Now assuming their stay on Ferinine would go the same way, all grasp on his sensibilities seemed to vanish.

After all. If it still fit within the traditional family values he'd learned, Mojave was just an.. Infertile lady! You are a woman. To me. The words stumbled out more sloppily than he intended, but he could not stop himself. I think of... Treating you like a woman.

---

MOJAVE

---

He listened to the costal wolf's words intently, even if they were not the ones he had wanted to hear. By now, everything was in a rose-colored tint- he'd almost forgotten by now Rancor's bitter remarks, too enamored and too hopeful. Nodding to what was first said, Mojave mumbled something along the lines of, Well, that's closer to what I expected, but seemed to have his mood turned around. I suppose I'm glad I left it on, then. It's just a token of my time at the boxes, a fond memory to keep with me, but now I suppose it's an identifier too.

Mojave glanced at the snow. As pleasant as the warmth of the fire was, he was aware it was messing with him, and clearly it must've been messing with Rancor, too. He was being much more open than he'd ever seen him, and the better half of Mojave urged him to make their stay there as short as possible. I think so... There's a reason I'd largely avoid Blizzardclan territory, but when I think I managed myself fine. Once I've dried off, we can get a move on? He tilted his head as he made the offer, pressing his paws into the floor beneath him to try and center his thoughts.
What came next took Mojave off guard again. A woman? What ever did that mean? Was that Rancor's way of justifying how he felt? Was it more of that bitter side that Mojave'd just been shown for the first time? It took him a while to respond in any manner, the crackling of the flame filling the silence in the meanwhile. Treating me like a woman...? Mojave had nothing to gauge what that meant to Rancor, no reference to compare those words to. Mojave had never seen Rancor around too many women during his time on Ferinine- although, Mojave had also not seen Rancor for much of his time on Ferinine. Perhaps the only time he'd seen Rancor with another, would have been that fox fellow, just before one of their first proper conversations. What does that even mean? Err- nevermind, actually, I suppose I've asked a few questions in a row now. Something told him he might appreciate those words more if he didn't understand them.

---

MOJAVE

---

---

Jaws parted to pant half-heartedly as the man plucked himself up to pad away from the light. Making his way closer to the swirling mess that was the brunt of the snowfall, he faced back towards Mojave. He couldn’t stand to stay so warm when the topic at paw was—

Eyes widened again, and he shook his head quickly. White brows bunched and knit together when the man accepted his escape. Good. Get dry then. The faster they were gone, the faster he could stop having to think about this all. Though something told him this feeling would linger with him for a long while after.

Ceta, he was dizzy. Still nauseous. Still tired. Shuffling some distance closer, he barked a command. Actually, come here. He tapped the ice before him, inviting his companion to take a seat. I’m too tired to walk right now, so I’m going to use you as a pillow while I'm taking a break from that swim. No ulterior motive.

His tail thwacked to the left and his lips curled. You’ve asked a lot of questions. I should ask some more questions. Such as, whatever happened to Amorak? I thought you two were– Rancor flicked an ear, perking a brow. You just gave me an impression. Truthfully, he’d always KNOWN Mojave was not a straight man. He just presumed that the apple of his eye had always been his coworker. It was him who was always interrupting them, and now where was he? You let the zombie eat him?

---

MOJAVE

---

Mojave hesitated at first, then listened to him once more, making his way back to Rancor's side once more. Settling down beside him, Mojave avoided making first contact- after all, he didn't want to seem too eager to listen to Rancor. Nor did he want to freak the other male out again, not when he was making what he considered significant progress. That is, of course, compared to the amount of 'progress' towards a proper bond in the past. Long distance, right? It was a genuine question. Mojave knew Rancor came from far away, but he'd never had a great idea of just how far the swimmer had come. I don't mind. Mojave tried to relax himself, not wanting to feel as tense as he'd been internally. These last few minutes had been a real rollercoaster...

Mojave's brows raised in kind as Rancor asked his question, and he scoffed audibly when he made his insinuation. I thought I made it very clear that we were purely coworkers, He said, frowning now. That guy was... I mean, I knew him for a while, but I'm not sure he used his brain all that often. He shrugged now, continuing on. Last I saw him, he was talking about quitting. Far before I ever seriously considered it, actually, so he probably skittered off to carve a spot for himself like I did. We did still meet out of habit for a while... but he kept disappearing. Would vanish for hours at a time, and come back smelling terrible. Much LIKE the zombie, really. I haven't seen either for a long while, so I've written it off as Amorak getting eaten and the zombies finally perishing. For as crazy as he knew he sounded, Mojave still spoke with full confidence. In fact, it helped take his mind off of... EVERYTHING else that had just happened, finally grounding him some. Even if he was definitely getting all sorts of conflicted feelings in the back of his mind, he could still confidently say that the zombie he spoke about was very real, and very dangerous.

I will say, though, it has been nice not having to watch my back. That thing very much was capable of holding a grudge... I don't want to know what would've happened to me if I had been caught even once. Mojave shuddered, eyes trailing over the landscape as though he were expecting something to pop out from behind a rock. What terrible times, purposed ones with some fond memories, but terrible times nonetheless. He snapped out of it a second later, attempting to ease the mood a bit. Why're you asking, do you miss him?

---

MOJAVE

---