As usual, Debarre woke alone. End Waking would doubtless be somewhere in the woods, checking snare traps or walking or simply sitting on a rock thinking, having slipped away at first light, quietly and carefully enough not to wake him. Still, they'd gone to bed early enough that the horizon down the hill had only just let go of the sun.
He slipped out of bed and into his pants --- black denim traded in for a dirty green canvas --- splashed some water on his face from the barrel nearby, and started the trek back out to the rock where they'd set the fire, figuring that'd be the most likely place to find his boyfriend.
End Waking was indeed there, crouching before a low fire with a pot for coffee already set above it, but another skunk knelt across from him as well, chatting quietly.
The skunk started, grinned wide, and leaned in to hug around his shoulders. "Jesus, Debarre, you taking lessons from End Waking? Scared the hell out of me, sneaking up like that."
"Can you imagine a disease so miserable?" the other skunk said, waving the weasel back from the coffee pot. "Our guest here finished what was left. You will have to wait, my dear."
He shrugged. "There was a wind storm late last year and a tree fell across my tent. It crushed the frame and floor, knocked over the back wall, and impaled my thigh on a splintered board."
"The trees do not know how to kill me, May Then My Name," End Waking said, frowning. "There is no virus within them. Debarre was right to get me to fork to fix, I will admit, but I would have done so anyway had it landed more fully on me."
When all that greeted this was silence, he sighed and let his shoulders slump. "I am sorry. I have set up the new camp in a location with sturdier trees. I will endeavor to remain cautious."
May Then My Name crawled around the fire to dot her nose against the skunk's cheek. He looked uncomfortable, but tolerated the touch.
"Thank you, my dear," she said. "I do not mean to lecture. I am just...well, if the coffee is ready, please pour yourself a cup, Debarre, and we will talk."
Once they'd settled back down and the kettle was replaced with a pot to cook oatmeal, she began, "To preface, this is nothing serious, I just need to talk with someone who is not Ioan."
"We have not spoken; at least, not more than a few cordial words in passing. However, Ioan has been meeting up with her for coffee once a month since the first news of the Artemisians."
"Ey has been ensuring that things remain polite and smooth between us." She held up a paw to forestall any comments, adding quickly, "I trust em in this. Ey is simply meeting her at a coffee shop where they each work on their own projects. They chat a little, and then do their own things. Ey describes it as 'friendly coworkers' more than anything, which I believe."
"Yes, thankfully. It is just..." She frowned, poking at the packed earth with a claw. "That has been necessary to prevent anger, but it has still not been comfortable. There are plenty of people who I no longer see and do not miss, or do miss and think about with some frequency. It was such an uneasy silence."
"Ey is," End Waking said. "Ey is ensuring that there remains a distance between you two without it being an unbridged distance. That would just leave you to stew, knowing how you work. You would never let it go and spin yourself into a whirlwind of emotion. The Bălans are perhaps a little awkward at times, but they do not lack all social graces."
She frowned, watching End Waking dote over the oatmeal, dumping a pawful of dried fruit into it. Eventually, she said, "I do not know. She has apologized and done what I have requested. She has changed, too, from what Ioan has said. She is trying to be more earnest and willing to engage emotionally. She has been seeing Sarah as well."
"No. I think what is missing is contrition. She has apologized for what she has done to me and Ioan and has maybe even begun to make changes. I do not know how to put it, but it feels like she is being earnest without being sincere. She is sorry, but not contrite. She does not feel bad for what she has done. Her apologies are not backed by understanding."
"There is no penance," End Waking said plainly, dishing out the oatmeal into the mugs they'd been using for coffee. "True penance is borne out of feeling bad about what one has done and wanting to change, to make up for it, not merely about responding to how others are reacting."
"Be wary of your pessimism," End Waking said. "It takes attention and effort, May Then My Name, at least when one has intentionally tamped down emotions to the point that she has. If I could teach her, if either of us could teach her, I think we would, but I do not know that one can learn penance from anyone but oneself."
"It's fine, skunk," Debarre said. "I think E.W. is right that Ioan's doing the right thing. It takes some pressure off of you and lets it...I dunno, be a process or something. You don't have to do anything now 'cause you've got an opening to deal with it."
"Right, I thought not. That's enough of the topic for now, anyway." She waved a paw and took a bite of oatmeal, then pulled a face. "We need to get you some sugar or something."
