Numb (ily)

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

I tried to handle it on my own, the memories, and the emotions that they made. I considered myself a strong man emotionally, able to tuck away the aches flawlessly. My mother had always said I was such a happy child, despite having seen the darker side of the world during my short time in the training facility before father rescued me. I had bottled up those images of decapitated and mauled felines. The images of good, kind folami being tortured and killed because they didn’t have murder in them were all locked away in the heavily guarded safe at the back of my mind. I refused to let them haunt me. I had added my parents’ death, and all the horrors the pack gave me in that same armored chest. It was how I dealed with things on my own.

Early on I had realized that my vault was becoming overwhelmingly full. It wouldn’t be able to hold all the pain on its own. I was still in the pack when I discovered a remedy to the agony--a way to deal without asking for help from mortal or gods. Grief-stricken, I had began eating berries. I did not know a thing about plants, but I understood some of the fruits they bore were lethal. I would eat them in large amounts, just wanting a passage out of the life I had began to hate, but not wanting to see it coming. It was during one of my explorations that I was given an answer that wasn’t exactly the one I was looking for.

See, after some time berries turn. Some just taste sour and cause an upset stomach but nothing more. Then there are others that hold a tainted scent beyond simple rot--a sweeter scent. These are the ones that have carried me through all these years. When ingested, they leave the mind in several different stages. A few berries will help open the portal to a happy ending. An optimistic twist turned on every event. This was a pleasant stage, but depending on the level of depression, it can prove useless. If you are truly upset over something, a few berries fail you and simply exemplifies the negative feelings. You have to be a good judge on your own emotional level or else you could doom yourself with the fermented berries.

When a large portion of ingested, honesty takes over. Suddenly everyone around you is your best friend wanting to hear your life story. This is helpful for those suffering--sometimes it is fear of being vulnerable that keeps the oppressed from being open. Often, having someone know is enough to lift a burden. The berries also help make people more open to hearing of another’s woes. They are good for therapy sessions. This was the best stage for the clinically depressed.

The final stage is when you eat far more than your body would ever want. It makes you numb. This was my stage of choice, for I had never had anyone I wanted to laugh or tell truths with.

But as I wove my way, foggy minded and stumbling slightly, through the wooded terrain, I could hear muffled sounds of another damaged soul. I was prepared to walk up and make a fool of myself to try and make the person find a bit of amusement, but my eyes set heavily of the form of Geoff. I stared for a long moment through the brush, probably not as silently as I thought, wondering how to approach this situation. I cared a great deal for Geoff. Him and Gus were the most important dogs in my life. To see either of them upset was something I could not just go and ignore.

I turned around, cracking twigs and rustling leaves, making my way slowly back to the bush I had been gorging on a few moments prior. I broke off a heavily berried branch and stumbled my way through the brush, leaving fur behind in the greedy branches, dropping the branch by the gray wolf’s body. “Here, it’ll help. Eat 'em.” My voice was slow and my eyes tired. I was in a stage between two and three.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to go numb today.

[I L Y I C H]

They were a gift really, and I was glad they were with us. Children would give my supposed adult's more maturity, or else I hoped. Besides they had needed us. I wasn't going to let them go get themselves killed because they were small and weak and no one was there to protect them. Even with us to protect them they were still in danger. Still so very fragile. So easily torn apart. The very thought had sent me into near hysterics not an hour ago, having made quick clever excuses to Jack. Not that it mattered. Jack was distracted having taken Ryan and all of the children to teach them how to fight. First steps towards being not so fragile. Walking the path towards strength. Safety.

Shaking lightly in my hiding place I dropped my head to my paws. I didn't know what else to do. The guys didn't need to see me break down like this. Not over something they didn't know about, and I found it doubtful I would ever be able to tell them. How was I suppose to explain to a group of folami who trusted me to protect them that I had never been able to protect anyone? I'd failed a long time ago, and this game of trying to keep my family safe now was just a fraudulent game. I would die for them, but would it ever do anything good? Big strong Geoff who couldn't even save his own fucking family.

I did so love having the pups among us. So much energy had been infused into the Hunters. As of late that normal energy had left, been chased away by anxiety and fears. It was nice at least to have it returned. Comforting. Yet it stung so very badly. The nightmares had intensified over the last couple of days. Replaying nothing but the truth of the past and dear Skoll did it burn. There were nine adults here to protect these kids. Nine fully grown very determined folami, but there had been just as many lions last time. And they had all been torn apart or chased away.

I could almost feel the heat of a second body so close to mine. Still remember the whisper of her voice. Still feel the upturn of her sarcastic grin. Everything that had been was so close. Always so close, and the tears pressed heat and self loathing against the back of my eyes. I could still hear their laughter in the rain sometimes. Combined and mulling between themselves as they always had. A matched set. A shattered set. Gone. My breathing was ragged and gasping, fighting away the burn desperately. I'd never been able to fight back the sorrow for very long, but it had always been quiet. More whimsical then passionately violent. All because I couldn't look any of those five in the eyes and not see my daughter looking back at me.

Was this how Michael felt on a daily basis? Having it shoved in his face constantly that he couldn't save the people he loved? What sympathy I had for the man turned into vicious empathy. Understanding his eating disorder was quiet a bit easier then I thought it would be. I was jolted out of my thoughts and away from the tears pressing tracts into my fur by the heavy sound of paw steps. Going stiff I listened as they moved about, clumsy to a massive extreme. Utterly uncaring. My muscles were heavy with fatigue, not wanting to be seen in this state by anyone but no longer really caring. My eyes locked on Burnie the moment he came forward, though I tipped my head away in an effort to maintain some of my pride.

As if I had any left but still.

Cupping my ears back slightly, I watched the older man. What the fuck was this? Aggression was starting to creep past the sorrow. I didn't want anyone around to see me like this. I'd done a dandy job keeping all this shit to myself and I didn't need to be forced to explain. But Burnie's voice was slow and his eyes were half lidded. He looked drunk, though I wasn't sure how. Man had his liquid that did such things, but we were not allotted that relief out here. Or at least I hadn't thought so. Wind brought the sickly sweet scent to my nose and I turned my head just enough to look grudgingly down at the branch at my side. Was this how it was then? Two old men gonna get drunk in the fucking woods? Well one old man, Burnie already looked pretty fucked up.

But I knew it would help. Make things easier. Synapses got a bit smoother with the liquid connecting them. So I took in another heavy breath, trying to still my ragged breathing and greedily took what I could handle for the time being and only really half chewed it before swallowing. "And here I thought you were all sorts of seriousness Mr. Burns."

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

The beast moved in slow motion, aggression leaking past sorrow but my brain not really comprehending. It was brief, anyway, that mild hostility. It was clear on his face he recognized the stages--man was commonly in my state. Maybe they felt guilty for being sacks of complete shit. I doubted it, though. They probably were selfish enough to think they had it tough, so they drank away their petty woes. I judged that Geoff knew what drunk was, knew its wonders and blessing hands. But such things had always seemed out of his grasps. I would never have known if I hadn’t been weak enough to attempt suicide. I had never been so grateful for my frailty until that day.

I watched him eat them quickly, sitting my rump down before all but collapsing and rolling onto my back. I closed my eyes and just lay there in the soft earth. The ground felt like clouds and the moist air felt crisp going through my nose as I breathed. The birds started talking quietly again. My stumbling around had silenced them, but they were reasurred by my getting off my paws. Even the creatures of the sky feared my kind--monsters created by demons. I had half a mind to think folami were worse than humans. Humans were naturally evil creatures, by my memory, while folami had a sense of right from wrong but allowed themselves to be brainwashed. Well, most of us did. Of course, it really was all in how one is raised. My parents had raised me well, so I was not a human puppet.

The world is just cruel, and I guess I should just leave it at that.

I opened my eyes and barked out a rough laugh. Serious. Yes, I was a stick in the mud. Or was that Gus? Ah, no, Geoff had said it so it was true. When had that happened? Oh yeah, when my parents had been killed and the pack adopted the poor little orphan. You don’t have fun among corpses and murderers. At least I don’t. I had lost my will for fun and games in that time. “Course I am. The world has gone to shit and you want me to fucking play tag? This berries are what keep me serious enough not to murder something.” I was giggling it, though, words slurred but still quite comprehendable. I had never been the babbling drunk. My mind had always remained clear enough to speak clearly and think through things. Yeah, my vocabulary got a little more colorful, and my tone quite a bit more exaggerated depending on my mood, but I was never the nonsense spewing alcoholic my humans had been.

“Come now, Geoff my boy, tell me what is on your mind? Or tell me anything. Just talk and let your heart do the thinking.” I rolled over again with this, sitting in a mess of muddy gold fur on my stomach.

And by heart, I mean berries...but that doesn’t sound quite as nice.

[I L Y I C H]

I could feel it seeping into my blood, the cloying apathy of alcohol. It seemed oddly stronger now. Man made shit wasn't as strong as the real thing. Maybe I shouldn't have swallowed down as many of those berries as I had. Not that I had much time to linger on the idea. I'd always been such a horrible drunk taking in all I could and it always hit me like a damn light switch being flicked. "Oh holy shit man." I paused in my own suddenly, falling back into Burnie's voice when he finally stopped giggling and responded to me. Which only made me giggle. "You murder deer don't you? Shit gets killed all the fucking time." I frowned at the thought, mind drifting dangerously back into depression zone. No. No this was the fucking point. Run the fuck away. Focus on the sound of your blood in your ears. Pealing my lips back away from my teeth I fell back out of laughter and into depression. Just as abruptly as I fell from sobriety to drunkenness.

"Shit gets killed all the time" I repeated, turning sad eyes to my muddy paws as I smacked the unhappily against the ground. I didn't want to talk about it, but it was right at the end of my tongue hovering desperately. None of the guys knew about it. Maybe I just wanted to vent just a little bit. Just spill my guts and hope Burnie was too far gone to remember in the morning. Oh jesus the mud was moving way too fucking fast around my feet. Stopping the sloppy motion I shifted throwing my head spastically back towards the golden man, blue eyes narrowed. Yeah. It's not like he would remember. Old fucking man. Ate to keep the thoughts at bay so maybe enough to keep my own shit away. It was really fucking sad that I was far gone enough to be half nodding along with my thoughts. Nice masking techniques there.

"Dont fucking know man." Dropping my head down to the muck I shuffled around coating my jaw in it. And I broke just like that, the feeling of the cold mud against my jaws enough to make the tears spill over again. "My fucking kid. My wife." Paws lifting to scratch violently as my muzzle I smashed my heavy body into the ground as if it could swallow me up. If it would fucking swallow me up. That would be nice. Griffon. My precious perfect fucking lover. There was never a hint of cruelty in her, despite her hard edge. Not a drop of meanness. She hadn't deserved the way she was killed. Murdered. Executed. Protecting our daughter because I hadn't been close enough. Protecting our family. I hadn't even found their bodies. I knew I was out right sobbing now, and I couldn't find the path in my brain to command it to stop. "I didn't even get to bury them" My throat hurt and my eyes were starting to sting.

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

My eyes rolled open at his comment, smiling drooping. Oh fuck. “I’m never eating again.” It gurgled past my lips. Just because the deer spoke a different language, didn’t exclude them from the right to live. I was a killer, despite all the years I had tried to stay pure. “Damn, and I fucking love rabbits. Maybe they will just let me groom them instead...” I was rambling now and some little voice in the back of my skull told me to shut up. I almost ignored it, my brain fried from the epiphany that had just been forced down my throat But then Geoff spoke more and began to cry and suddenly I didn’t know what was happening anymore.

I moved rolled over until I was leaning against the sobbing man. If I had been blessed with the vocals of a cat, I would have purred, but alas, I could only hiss soft sounds to resemble the comforting language of my mother’s tongue. I was not too far gone that I would fail to realize this pain was strong enough to have been bottled up. I was clearly the first to hear of Geoff’s history and I made took a moment to push into the deepest crevice of my brain that this secret had to be kept. If I woke in the morning and still remembered what happened her, I had to be sure the fact that it was between the two of us was also able to be recalled. I understood the need to fight your demons alone. All Gus knew is that my parents were dead, but not that they were murdered. He didn’t know that I spent time in the pack against my will, not as an act to survive. He was unaware that I hated my species more than loved them. He did not know that if he had been born the same species as his family, I would never have saved him that day. I would have watched him die and simply mumbled 'good riddance’, despite feeling guilty over the matter.

My father was a good man. The dogs at AH are good dogs. Carska was a good woman. But I hated them. Gus and my mother were my only real loves.

Blinking several times, I forced myself back to the weeping wolf, pushing my nose into his cheek. “Let it out, man. It has been held back too long.” Obviously this was a 'before AH’ pain, and Gavin had said he and Geoff came from a human home. It was before any of that that Geoff’s life had been ruined beyond repair. Too long. The pain had been in his heart too long. “Tell me about them. Shit, I know it hurts, but remember how beautiful they were? Tell me those parts. The good ones. Remember that.” My tone was quiet, if not a little desperate. To see my fearless leader cry, I knew I had to help it stop. Not make him hide, but help patch up those tears in his heart. The scar would never leave him. but I wanted the good to be at the forefront. I wanted him to think of their perfection when their names cross his mind, not their deaths.

I remembered how beautiful my mother’s fur was when the the sun’s rays hit it while it went down in the evening. This was the image I thought of when her name flashed across my memories, not the point where the life faded from those beautiful chocolate eyes.