[P] *now or never; [tw]

[Tarquin]

There's a haunted quiet to his expression as he gazes out at the expanse of mountain region and what it might signify. Enclosure. A shudder slithers down his skin, and he peers out into the darkness behind him. He's being hunted, but that part thrills him. The idea is dark and delicious; this game that they play. The absence of feline forms doesn't get to pry that pleasure from them, and it hasn't. Quinn was very aware that he doesn't have long left until he's found, because he could feel the nearness of the hunter, and the looming mountain range that would prevent speed being on his side. The air would be thin as he climbed as well, and there was no magic to protect him from that anymore. All the magic and abilities had been leeched away, and it left him feeling all too brittle. He hated that part of it, but he would survive. He always seemed to take what he got and endured it. His only salvation was the hunter that would arrive at any moment. Quinn heard the distant hoofbeats on the more rocky and dirt packed terrain, ears folding back not due to aggression or stress, but for the fact that it felt that this hunt had been cut abnormally short. A span of only a few days, and here they were. Quinn also knew that this was the borders of some herd territory; he could smell it. Smell the mingled scents of bodies that roamed here and there. Days without running into herdlands, and that had ended adruptly, the same way that this hunt was ending. He doesn't look back at the sound of approach, simply staring ahead at the mountains, contemplating, waiting it out. And there had been other things that had clouded his mind while he had run along, leading the chase away from the lands before here. Names. More specifically, the leaden weight of a question regarding one name that Quinn had been dancing around for awhile now. It had come to the point where the question had festered for far too long. The seconds ticked by -- tick, tick -- and he counted the steps behind him. He was caught. A coy, inviting smile curled at his lips as he turns to lock eyes with his hunter. "Vhetiveer—," The Irish lilt twisted elegantly over the name before he reminded himself of his question at the tip of his tongue; his inquiry, "Choke." Bluntly, but lovingly all the same. There's hesitancy in his expression, and he proceeds carefully, "We've never talked about it, if you'd like me to use that name— or not." He reached his nose out to where Vhetiveer was; imploring with the gesture. Quinn's stumbling over what to say next, because he isn't sure if it's a touchy subject or not. They had both stayed away from it so far, but it had been grating at the edges of his mind because he wanted to know. Vhetiveer had been the name given when they had met, and so regardless of the fact that he had known of the other name -- Choke -- he hadn't spoken it aloud yet. Until now. I'M READY TO BLEED TO MAKE AMENDS *tarquin

image credits: yokamycelium

@Vhetiveer

[Vhetiveer]

Laughter is contagious .. or so they say.

I'm not sure what I believe anymore.  These days it feels like we all wake up just to see if the lottery we bought into the night before is the winning ticket that sets us free.  Let us not sit and dwell on all the reasons why that might be a bad way to think about things - because the way I see it, the glass is always half full.

No matter what.

The Rampaging Rabbit is gone, no more, the comfortable life of living with Tarquin and our troupe of misguided and mismatched men and women who just didn't fit in - gone too - the life as I last knew it had been the best one and it is gone now.  Gone.  'Vamanos!' - as my youngest son would say.  How do you tell your soulless kid that your life has disappeared-you because of them out of kind manner?  You don't -

Then again, you shouldn't leave without telling anyone where you are going when you live somewhere that Alexander Graham Bell does not.  If you do live there, leave a message in a conspicuous place in black ink. Especially if you choose to  - on a whim - willingly get yourself kidnapped by a caravan of criminals that will either take you to the place you need to be .  Or maybe they will just eat you for dinner instead because you've tricked the fools with a crazy parlor trick of turning yourself into a rabbit.

I was always a gambling man.

This is the truth, I swear it.

I say it again, my life is over, The Rampaging Rabbit is gone, my roadside brothel is gone.  Quin is missing - again - and I only have myself to blame for being so curiously drawn to getting into another journey.  One right after the other -- Please! -- keep them coming!  I am so self indulgent!  But more laughing and less self-loathing, of course, I am who I am so why-ever should I deny my heart all the things that it loves?   I cannot imagine a more perfect world than the one that Quinn is in, for he knows me - he knows my heart and still?  

Still, he loves me.

I'll find him or I'll haunt him if I should die along the way.

* * *

For energy's sake he picked a rare form he had long since been estranged from since the days of Desesperos. Somewhere between here and there he forgot most of the names of those he took this form for.  Whatever it had been (he longs to forget the reasons why) it did not mean well for the anticipated target.  So many skulls had been crushed between the hulking jaws of a panther.  Too many bellies split open like his victims were pumpkins to smash apart on Halloween.  Guts everywhere - yucky - but he didn't care as he'd spend every night licking himself clean of the sins he'd committed as if it were that easy.  How fitting for Vhetiveer to rely on that very same tool he used for murder to now hunt down the ones he loved.

As if Despesperos was still alive and well, the panther purred for him.  

He must find Tarquin quickly and retire this body soon - it felt unstable in the wilds of Novus - as if the very magic that made the world which surrounded him now knew he was invading with a magic unknown.  This is how it always started, first the nausea then the headaches - then the body flu-like symtoms to follow.  After that the blurred visions and the ever-distracted mind.  The power that let him manipulate his form was leaving him - the third eye that kept a firm hand in the Neither-reaches (neither alive or dead - purgatory? perhaps?) felt weaker and weaker the farther he went to track Tarquin's trails.  

Losing his Site was the first thing to go, and halfway through the Arma mountains Vhetiveer's psychic chord on Tarquin shorted out entirely.  After that, the panther wandered confused until he realized that Ajna had closed herself on him and shut Vhetiveer out.  That is when the man knew he had hit foreign soil, when the black fur started coming off in patches he was far more calm than any other might be.  Especially when that body began to rot apart even though he was alive - very much alive.

Needless to say, at some point the magic reserves he had-had run out.  What Vhetiveer had lead him close enough to Tarquin and he would rely on this world to deliver him to the one he sought to find.  As the panther's spirit withered into the decayed remains of what once was - from it a copper bright horse emerged.  Somewhat grudgingly as it crawled from ruins onto four unsteady legs.  Lopsided at first as his mind took a moment to catch up to all that was happening, Vhetiveer was quickly moving along again, quietly worried that it had been the Rift all along.

The game was over, Vhetiveer now spooked into thinking it might be that same nightmare all over again, he decided to run instead of walk.  The distance between him and Tarquin was subjective - it depended on how many times he got lost along the way.  That - and if he could keep his wariness of all things that seemed too good to be true at bay.  Some routes he simply didn't take even though it was clear that it was the right way - nope.

It was a hard two hours before he saw the ghost of what might be Tarquin travelling in the same direction Vhetiveer was going, he mozied as long as he could before he couldn't handle it anymore.  The second the pale figure stopped moving he loped forward to catch up, the hunt long over the second he felt his whiskers fall off when he tried to lick them.

Tarquin was smiling and calling him by a name that refused to abandon it's owner, Choke.  

"None other."  He replied before sidling up beside him.  "And of course you can -- anything for you," Vhetiveer rumbled before dipping his nose into the lavender hair of the man beside him as if testing to see if he was real.  

"I found him."  He breathes at long last, something that he has waited to say for a very long time about their son Ucal, the one who never got the chance to 'Be', is.

"His first word was vamanos."

[Tarquin]

Quinn was more than a little tired of traipsing through new lives and places, but he could still see the good in some of it. He had gained from some of those once unwanted lifetimes and places that he hadn't wished to be. Quinn had not wanted to be in the Rift; he'd been over it before it began. Watched with disinterested eyes as the lands fell into themselves and changed. He had seen the one land flood over and the shell-island rise up from the middle and the sight had not stirred him. It meant more to him later, and now. Because of what had happened there, as mixed as his emotions still were over it. It had paved the way for what he had ended up feeling and who he had ended up with. He'd plucked a barnacle from the insides of the larger one he'd been led to, and he knows that he's not the only one who had. Quinn doesn't wear the necklace that he's attached it to, because he worries over it. More often than not, Quinn simply found a place to bury it for a time. It had been enchanted to keep, to not decay or fall apart, and Quinn trusted in that. Had to. He was comforted by the fact that his wedding ring was still attached to him in this form; now a band right through his ear that would need to be ripped out to be lost. It was the one thing he had of a material sort that he did not want to lose above the other things. The one other item like that, however, was lost to time. Yet this much was enough to keep him content, though he would give it up to have the one who had given him the ring back for good. It felt like something had been torn out of him when Vhetiveer was gone for too long, and he did not like the resounding ache of it. That it had began wrong between them -- Quinn's mistake, his quiet shame that he cannot find total regret for; never for Ithiel, or for their lost Ucal -- doesn't change what it had become. He doesn't quite understand how, but he was still grateful for it. And he silently mourns the fact that what they had built had finally crumbled to dust and ashes. Yes, the Rampaging Rabbit, the brothel, was gone. The titles and powers were gone. Quinn isn't sure what he feels about that absence that he had grown so accustomed to. That those abilities had become so much a part of him that it was like missing something vital with them gone. Not as vital as his missing husband all that time, no. But it still made a difference, an impact. Changed his very outlook on life and all that he could and could not do. He isn't pleased at the limitations of this form, at being equine. Though if it brings Vhetiveer back to him, then all of those losses were worth it. He would not regret giving up the powers and limitations to be with Vhet, and it is what keeps him going, pushing on through. Makes him keep up the chase of the hunt; to draw Vhetiveer out, and back to him. Were there those little worries that this might be the Rift again to claim another life? Certainly; he was pressed back into equine form and moving through unknown lands with the scents of others all along it. Perhaps scents that he sort of remembers and wishes that he didn't. Yet he doesn't think that he would be powerless back there, not when he had been so very strong the last time he stood there on Rift lands. He had not ended from lack of power, no. Quinn had trusted that even his memory lacking son was no threat to him; a trust crushed the same way that Remriel's teeth had crushed and pierced Quinn's windpipe. He had fallen and he had dragged Remriel with him through space and time. Then Quinn had gone his own way; lost and bleak and searching for anything to fill that void again. The battles and blood, the distractions. Then there was Vhetiveer and everything had changed. It wasn't a rush and all at once, but it wasn't slow, either. There was pain and need and the grasping for comfort; learning about Ucal had been harsh and difficult, and Quinn had been upset and understanding all the same. He had held the box of ashes and listened to the story, feeling like he was being carved from the inside out and wishing that he knew how to fix things. He had never found out how to do it, though. His searching had come up with nothing, though he had still kept his ear open for any word at what could help. He had been tempted to take a reaper job, if only because of what he had already endured, and that he felt that he was qualified for it; and of course because he'd been alone again and suffering. At the edge of all that, though, was to find out more for Ucal's sake. His questions of Ucal had been the very reason the job had been offered to Quinn. A push that he would learn for himself these things, but the path hadn't been as clear as Quinn wished it to be. He did not know if he could do it, be what he needed to be to do that sort of job in truth. To guide the dead and lost souls to wherever they needed to go in the after. He did not think he had the right personality for it, the compassion one might need to do it. So he hadn't done it, and continued to wonder if that had been a mistake. Vhetiveer hadn't been there to ask the opinion of, and now? Quinn no longer had the option, and maybe having that choice taken away was a comfort to him now. He didn't like that truth, but he knew it for what it was. Another flaw. But Vhetiveer seemed to love him, flaws and all, and that was what kept Quinn going these days. Why he was looking at the silver linings in the hand he'd been currently dealt with this limited form and this place. He would make due with it, because Vhetiveer was near. Because the three eyed, coppertone stallion was here, finally, and Quinn could ask that lingering question that pushed at him. Vhetiveer responded to the name, to Choke, and sidled up beside Quinn, telling him that of course he could call Vhet that. "Do you want me to?" He asks, but the copper stallion's nose was in Quinn's hair, and he flicked his left ear with the wedding band in it; pleased to show off that it remained on him, even in this form. It had not escaped him, either, in these few minutes that Vhetiveer's was now formed into a band through the stallion's nose. He supposed that the look suited Vhetiveer well enough. Those thoughts were drawn away by the next words that Vhet breathed at him, and Quinn stills. Found him. Quinn knew what those words meant, that Vhetiveer had been seeking a way for Ucal to live again. To live at all. The first word Ucal had spoken isn't something Quinn knows, and he merely peers at Vhetiveer and rolls it around within his mind. "How is he? Where is he?" Because Quinn wanted to meet that lost son of theirs; wanted to know more. And then Quinn's thoughts turn dark and churning, remembering how Ucal's end came to be— and the boy's beginnings, too. Reminded Quinn of just how fragile some of this felt to him still. How delicate the cornerstone of their relationship seemed in Quinn's mind when Vhetiveer had been gone from his side for so long. How much he did not deserve Vhetiveer beside him now. "I still wonder how, sometimes." The words were so quiet and uncertain. He takes a wavering breath and he continues; "How you can still love us, love me, when it was loneliness, lust, deception and—" He struggles for a moment, eyes shuttered; "force, that I used to create Ithiel and Ucal with you." He was simmering, burning on the inside over everything it stirred up within him. "And I don't know how," His mouth is a pressed line, he shakes his head once. "I can't regret it." And he thinks that maybe he should, because Vhetiveer should never have been thrown into that situation, and yet, if he hadn't been, then none of them would be where they were today. If it hadn't happened, then Vhetiveer wouldn't be with him now. Ithiel and Ucal wouldn't exist. It was difficult to regret how that had come to pass. I'M READY TO BLEED TO MAKE AMENDS *tarquin

image credits: yokamycelium

@Vhetiveer

[Vhetiveer]

His heart slows down from Tarquin's questions rather than speeding up to the pound-pound-pounding of love's desires.  His patina-green eyes blink slower yet as he tries to understand where Tarquin may be coming from after having been away for so long.  Is it because of that?  -- Exactly that? -- That Tarquin feels the need to reclaim all the reasons why Vhetiveer chose to look past the disastrous beginnings that brought them together?  Has his absence driven a wedge between them?  

Vhetiveer stands calm and resolute despite Tarquin's obvious turmoil, his eyes remain gentle yet thoughtful as he takes in the whole picture of his mate.  He has kept himself well (for that alone, most of Vhetiveer's worries dissolve almost instantly) -- and it is easier to smile at Tarquin, a genuine, golden smile.  A soft sigh escapes him as he bumps the man more affectionately.  Forgiveness took strength and courage, to rise up to the challenges that it brought with it and at last - to conquer.

"It gets easier every day to forget the reasons why when I can see what joy it has brought me.  And as you know Que, how is one to discern joy from all else without pain and suffering?  Haven't you suffered enough for this?  You must release yourself from the past - it is over and I am here."   Vhetiveer was never good at reassuring someone who was upset that all was well - for one, he himself had never been very solvent and it was almost always Tarquin trying to calm him.  Yet it had been months and months since they had last seen each other and Time had found Vhetiveer in a better place.

"Ucal will be with us soon, he is alive.  He is very well.  He is...young."  He still couldn't believe it.  "I'll tell you exactly where I've been and what I have been doing - and I am very sorry I left without warning but you weren't home when the caravan came to our tavern.  I couldn't let the opportunity to find our boy to pass - and with the ashes gone..."  I was desperate, his look says as he fixates a pitiful look on Tarquin. 

"They were talking about an Oracle up in the mountains, one who granted miracles for the right price.  I tricked them into taking me on board - I used my lucky rabbit routine and they bought it.  It took forever to get there but no one else I met knew the way but these men had a rare map in hand.  I tried to steal it and go on my own but it was enchanted to work only for the driver."  By now Vhetiveer was grinning, the heat from the fire in his eyes over how exciting the adventure had been radiated like sunshine from him.  "It took months to get there - by the time I was presented to the Oracle I had decided to forfeit my magic to her in exchange for our boy." 

But why wasn't Ucal here now?  Vhetiveer wasn't prepared to answer such a question but before Tarquin could have the chance to ask it - he tried to explain as best as he could.

"I have a guarantee that he will come when he can.  The power that it takes is Great and the Oracle said as soon as I felt the magic leave me and as soon as I found you that she would fulfill her promise to me.  Until then, we should try to find ourselves a new place to live.  I don't think we'll be fitting into bunny burrows any time soon."  He said with a wry grin, trying his best to lift Tarquin's spirits.

[Tarquin]

Absence is difficult on him, this much was far too true to deny in any which way. Quinn is concerned for what they'd been, all they'd gone through, and what they now were. Quinn frets over what about himself might have changed the way his form has changed. He doesn't know what Novus will make him, and he's always critical about his own worth and if that had diminished by being here. Being powerless, weaker. If that would matter to Vhetiveer. Quinn wanted to be enough, and Quinn could too often be sharper, crueler if he deemed himself to have any gaping weaknesses (or if he was in pain). What would Vhetiveer do if he saw more of that side of Quinn? It undoubtably would show up here. If he even bothered to be near anyone else, that is. He still had to figure out if there was anything here for him to do, to make some sort of living out of. He'd been struggling so much with equine life the last few times that he had been thrown into it, so why should he think this time would be any different? Vhetiveer being here would keep Quinn grounded -- and that was a vital thing to be sure -- but Quinn was terrible at being idle and without direction. His ambitions had the risk of turning to darker things where nothing productive was found. Quinn wanted to avoid that sort of thing, though it did not include the hunts and killing, as that would remain regardless. It was who Quinn was, and he could only force down so much of what and who he was. Quinn wasn't even sure that he could show Vhetiveer all the darkest corners of himself, though in retrospect there really wasn't much that hadn't already been seen or said or obvious. It was the distance, bringing up all of these insecurities and concerns. Absence did not make the heart grow fonder; it made Quinn fear that he'd changed too much, or that something had been lost along the way. Quinn was aware that this was a sort of pathetic outlook to have, and certainly not helpful at all; but there it was. Quinn trusted Vhetiveer to see it all, even through the worries. For better or worse and all the insecurities that go with it. He calms at the affectionate bump, the smile that Vhetiveer aims at him. It settles him. As do the words that Vhetiveer speaks on the matter, jolting him back to the reality of what all of it had become. He was safe in this, in what they had. "Perhaps my suffering keeps me in line." He responds, his smile impish, but his tone was light, a gleam in his tri-colored irises to go with it. Quinn reaches to nibble along Vhetiveer's spine, though it's more a teasing scraping of his sharper teeth at the skin there before he trails his nose to Vhet's shoulder and pauses there to listen on the situation with Ucal. He was glad that Ucal was alright, alive, and impatient to meet their son, but there was a tightness in his chest at the mention of the ashes having gone missing, of how Vhetiveer had left. Quinn pushes that aside, because it was over now. There was a good ending to all that, and he would focus on that now. He understood why Vhetiveer had done it, and couldn't be angry for it. Plus, how could he chide Vhetiveer with that look in the male's eyes, that grin? Quinn knew what that sort of thing had felt like. It makes him miss war, though he supposes that's not a good thing to miss. Good and right never had all that much sway on him to begin with, though. Vhetiveer had spoken of the forfeit of magic for Ucal, and Quinn wondered if it had taken his as well, if that was where it had gone. That idea made him feel better over the loss of it. The idea of giving it up for their son. If anything, he hopes that's how it went. Try to find a new place to live, but not a bunny burrow, since they wouldn't be able to fit. Quinn rumbles at that, amused. "Perhaps a cave, then? Something with tunnel systems in it, so it's close enough?" Quinn isn't sure there would be such a thing here, but it didn't hurt to look, if that was what Vhetiveer would like. Quinn wouldn't much care where they lived, though. "Whatever you decide will be fine. You are my home." And that was that, as far as Quinn saw it. He could sleep right here night after night so long as Vhetiveer would be with him. Quinn pushed his nose to the curve of Vhetiveer's throat. "I missed you, mo chroí." He crooned, the irish lilt heavy in the words. I'M READY TO BLEED TO MAKE AMENDS *tarquin

image credits: yokamycelium

@Vhetiveer