Bear Heart's snout wedged between the small gap in the door, sniffing excitedly. Night Sky opened it so he could rush out, scooting around Barcus and bounding down the treehouse steps.
"Sorry about him." She murmured, glancing down to Barcus. She looked tired, and that usual spark glimmering in her eyes seemed dulled. "I'm sorry, sweetness. I didn't mean to worry you." She knelt down, arms extended, opening herself for a hug. "Come here."
He freezes briefly, willing to let the dog look him over, but instead he just runs past, which leaves Barcus looking mildly confused. He's not used to surface animals. But whatever, they can talk about canine behavior later.
Instead, he turns back to her and hastens into the hug, squeezing her tight. "I'm just glad you're...well, not all right, I don't think. Not really. But you're here and that means we can work on 'all right', going forward."
He holds on for a long moment, perfectly willing to stay close until it seems like she wants to retreat.
"I'll be okay." It wasn't her first rodeo. Granted, it was her first rodeo where her friend killed her in front of two of her lovers, but she had felt death's icy grip before, so surely it was fine, right?
She held on for a long moment, fingers flexing against his back, chin resting atop his head. Sometimes, she worried she was a terrible friend, for making them so concerned for her wellbeing. She was such a disaster, and people like Barcus were so sweet, they didn't deserve the hurt.
"You want to come in? I was just going to make something to eat."
Barcus has not yet begun to get used to the way he fits neatly into so many peoples' arms. Until coming here, he would have thought he'd be uncomfortable around so many people twice his size and bigger, but he's getting used to it now, and getting used to the idea they don't think of him as lesser just because he's smaller.
"You're my best friend," he says quietly. And that's really all he's got, it's not like he can make bad things not have happened, but he can care about her feelings and give her his own love.
"Yes. I'd like that. I don't know about you but I could handle a little company just about now."
His best friend? He was going to make her cry. Night Sky squeezed her arms a little tighter around him. "You're my best friend, too." She murmured. And it was true — he was one of the first people she thought of for so many things: her new animal transformation, finding odd rocks about Caldera, wondering if he knew she had died and the merits of not mentioning it at all. She should have figured he would find out eventually.
"It won't be amazing food, for the record." She managed to laugh as she finally loosened her grip and motioned for him to step inside. "Do you eat meat?"
Shame she can't see the smile that lights up his face at her response. Barcus is all too accustomed to having warm feelings about people--platonic and otherwise--that aren't fully requited. It's nice to feel that with her. That they mean equally as much to one another.
He might be a little misty-eyed still when she lets go, but there's too much genuine joy on his face for it to be worrisome. "I wouldn't know what to do with amazing food, anyway. 'Decent' is all I ever ask for. And I'll help cook."
"Yes, I eat meat. More fish than red meat, but I don't object to either."
"Oh, we have plenty of fish, then." Between her and Halsin, it was a whole lot of game meat and fish, especially on days where Night Sky wandered off to go camping and just hunted for food while she was out. Saved on Bones, if nothing else.
She headed inside and toward the kitchen. The treehouse was not overly decorated, but it had a lot of flora about; vines and leaves and flowers sprawling across the ceilings and walls; the branches of the tree used, essentially, as pillars to hold the weight of the home. She crouched down to light a fire under as small kettle. "I have onions in the pantry, if you want to start dicing one for me? Here." She pushed a chair over toward the counter with the cutting board so he could reach it. Luckily, the basket of onions was right at his eye level whenever he went to get them.
"Sure, I can do that," he agrees readily, and locates said onion relatively quickly, only to turn back and laugh softly at the sight of the chair by the counter. It's appreciated; he hops up lightly and helps himself to a knife.
"I didn't do much cooking over a stove or fire until I left the Underdark," he tells her, but he seems perfectly comfortable with cutting up the vegetable. "Smoky fires could be risky. We tried not to draw monsters to us, or raiders. Most of our meat was dried and salted, or pickled."
"I've gotten a taste for a fresh, hot meal since living in the city, though. I'll never get tired of hot soup."
"Makes sense." She said while cutting up the salmon she had slapped onto another part of the counter. Spending most of her life out in the woods, catching her own food and preparing it, she removed the scales and bones with relative ease and quickness, the meat cut up and set to the side so she could work on the other ingredients. "Fires are dangerous, but I always risked it during the later seasons, otherwise I was going to freeze." She shrugged. "I make a mean fish stew. Feels good in the stomach, too." Homey and warm.
She was silent for a moment, the smell of garlic in the air. "Thanks for coming, Barcus. I think I needed this."
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"Sorry about him." She murmured, glancing down to Barcus. She looked tired, and that usual spark glimmering in her eyes seemed dulled. "I'm sorry, sweetness. I didn't mean to worry you." She knelt down, arms extended, opening herself for a hug. "Come here."
no subject
Instead, he turns back to her and hastens into the hug, squeezing her tight. "I'm just glad you're...well, not all right, I don't think. Not really. But you're here and that means we can work on 'all right', going forward."
He holds on for a long moment, perfectly willing to stay close until it seems like she wants to retreat.
no subject
She held on for a long moment, fingers flexing against his back, chin resting atop his head. Sometimes, she worried she was a terrible friend, for making them so concerned for her wellbeing. She was such a disaster, and people like Barcus were so sweet, they didn't deserve the hurt.
"You want to come in? I was just going to make something to eat."
no subject
"You're my best friend," he says quietly. And that's really all he's got, it's not like he can make bad things not have happened, but he can care about her feelings and give her his own love.
"Yes. I'd like that. I don't know about you but I could handle a little company just about now."
no subject
"It won't be amazing food, for the record." She managed to laugh as she finally loosened her grip and motioned for him to step inside. "Do you eat meat?"
no subject
He might be a little misty-eyed still when she lets go, but there's too much genuine joy on his face for it to be worrisome. "I wouldn't know what to do with amazing food, anyway. 'Decent' is all I ever ask for. And I'll help cook."
"Yes, I eat meat. More fish than red meat, but I don't object to either."
no subject
She headed inside and toward the kitchen. The treehouse was not overly decorated, but it had a lot of flora about; vines and leaves and flowers sprawling across the ceilings and walls; the branches of the tree used, essentially, as pillars to hold the weight of the home. She crouched down to light a fire under as small kettle. "I have onions in the pantry, if you want to start dicing one for me? Here." She pushed a chair over toward the counter with the cutting board so he could reach it. Luckily, the basket of onions was right at his eye level whenever he went to get them.
no subject
"I didn't do much cooking over a stove or fire until I left the Underdark," he tells her, but he seems perfectly comfortable with cutting up the vegetable. "Smoky fires could be risky. We tried not to draw monsters to us, or raiders. Most of our meat was dried and salted, or pickled."
"I've gotten a taste for a fresh, hot meal since living in the city, though. I'll never get tired of hot soup."
no subject
She was silent for a moment, the smell of garlic in the air. "Thanks for coming, Barcus. I think I needed this."