Home Sweet Home...? [C]

[Casey DeLaney]

Casey crossed his arms and stared up at all they had accomplished. Which unfortunately, didn’t look like much. Their treehouse had a base and a small portion of a frame, which was turning out to be a frustrating step in the process. Casey rolled out the piece of fabric that Redd had drawn their plans on more than two months ago. He’d taken notes on all the steps they needed to do between the Fulsi’s rare visits, but as he stared at his handwriting, all Casey was getting was a headache. Living out in no-man’s land had been a struggle so far. For a little while, the trio had stayed at the Safehouse, scouting for the perfect place to build the treehouse. When they’d come across a dense grove of trees with a river and a cave nearby, there was no doubt that they had found their haven. Weeks of gathering materials and living in the riverside cave had been exhausting. It had been a huge relief to actually begin work on the treehouse; to actually have wood, nails, and ropes in their hands as they worked on the tree. It was hard, complicated work. Redd had helped them figure out rigging and flying maneuvers that would make things easier, but that didn’t stop gravity from fighting them every step of the way. “We’ll get there…” Casey sighed, rolling up the plans again. It seemed like an impossible feat, but he didn’t see another choice. The cave was an alright home for now, but it had never felt safe like a home was supposed to be. At first, he and Sascha had taken shifts all night watching for danger; at this point, when it came time to sleep, they were almost too exhausted to care. He groaned and stretched, trying to shake the ever-present ache in his muscles. “We’ll get there,” he repeated, beginning the trek back toward the cave. It wasn’t far to the river, but there was just enough distance that the treehouse would be safe from the possibly heavy-traffic area. He crossed a few stones to reach the other side of the river, and headed for the side of the towering cliff in front of him. Concealed somewhere beneath the ivy and scrub, some of which they had added to hide it, was the narrow entrance to the cave. Casey no longer had to search around for it, but knew it from habit, and he slipped past the curtain of vines. He crouched and had to shimmy through the almost completely horizontal opening in the rocks, until he dropped a short distance into the cave, which opened up comfortably into a space that easily fit the three of them and their supplies. It was a pain to come and go, but it made the cave feel as safe as a creepy old cave could feel. Fletcher ran up to him and grabbed his leg in a hug, and Casey laughed halfheartedly. He was so tired, but Fletcher had so much energy; but he didn’t want to be that kind of dad, who couldn’t even manage a smile or hug after a long day of work. Casey had experienced enough of that to know how it felt. “Heya, kid,” He greeted, scooping Fletcher up in a hug. “You’re gonna love this treehouse!” “When are we gonna get to live there?” Fletcher asked, an impatient whine in his voice. Casey didn’t blame him; he wanted to be done just as badly. “Soon, soon,” he promised, as usual, as he set the boy down again. “We got the frame started today and it didn’t collapse this time, soo…” That was enough to satisfy Fletcher, who looked excited and ran to the entrance of the cave. “I wanna go fly over and see! I’ll be right back, promise!” The boy shifted and took off, and Casey sighed. He was smart and fast enough that Casey wasn’t completely worried, but he still wished that the boy would wait for answers before he ran off. Exhausted, Casey collapsed onto the pile of blankets and sleeping bags that the small family was calling a bed. He closed his eyes and had almost drifted off to sleep when he heard the loud, echoing thud of someone dropping down from the cave entrance. “Mmh… where have you been?”

[Sascha Stark]

The forest was quiet in the late afternoon sun, too quiet to give Sascha any hope that Casey was on his way. Sascha sighed and pushed off the ramshackle old building he’d found when out scouting for supplies, glaring out into the forest one last time. He’d been waiting for nearly two hours for Casey to show up like he’d promised, judging by how long the shadows had gotten. Sascha wasn’t sure how much longer he was willing to wait, and there was the ever present worry that something bad had happened to Casey. Casey had never not shown up, not like this. He had a bad feeling in his gut that told him it was time to head back. He eyed the supply laden buckets, filled with nails and assortments of scavenged wood and tools for their “treehouse". Nearly two months of searching and gathering supplies and they had barely made any headway on their supposed haven. And here Sascha was gathering even more supplies after an already long day of building. Sascha gave it about ten more minutes before he slid a pair of fairly well kept planks of wood through the handle of one bucket, slung a sack over his back and then picked up the other bucket. They were heavy, loaded with scraps of wood and a few bricks for a possible hearth. There were two other baskets full of supplies to carry back, but they would have to wait until tomorrow for Casey to trek back and get them. It was almost a two mile walk back to camp, so Sascha squared his shoulders and prepared himself for the trek. His arms and legs started aching almost immediately, his body exhausted from overuse. His neck and shoulders ached almost constantly from the weight of his wings alone. Add the exhaustion and fair malnourishment and you got an excellent formula for misery. And Sascha had had more than his share of misery, and almost found that he longed for the relative isolation of his room at the inn, before he had adopted Fletcher, before he had met Casey. He chastised himself almost immediately for thinking such a thing, but he was just so tired of the constant noise and work and sheer exhaustion. Each day that passed only hammered in the fact that they were simply not cut out for this lifestyle. They were not engineers, nor builders, they were not foresters or skilled survivalists; simply put they were not meant to live in the wild. Casey had relied on his Ring for many years to feed him, and Sascha only ever had to worry about himself. They were barely managing to bring in enough food while working on the treehouse which daily loomed over them, a glaring reminder of their failure. Sascha had tried to see each small success as a good thing, as a positive step. But now each success and step seemed smaller and smaller until they were moving at a snail’s pace and there seemed no way of advancing. They were too tired, too hungry, and too unskilled; there were too many fears, too many dangers. Sascha still doubted that it was safer out in the trees. There was more than just the Rings to worry about, much more dangerous creatures walked these woods and Sascha could attest to that. And here he was, alone, traipsing through the woods feeling like a worn out pack mule that had been carelessly and utterly forgotten. How could Casey just forget about him? Despite the naggling worry settling heavy in his chest, he found his aggravation starting to outweigh it. Sascha wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, but he knew the path back to camp by heart now and after a few glances around and a few sniffs of the chilly air, Sascha knew he was only a few minutes away. Despite the steadily dropping temperature as the sun began to set Sascha was slick with sweat from the hike through the hilly forest, beads of it dripping down into his eyes. He made it to the base of the tree where their treehouse stared sadly down at him, and was about to set the buckets down when his foot caught on a root; a second later and he was flat on his face in the dirt, the carefully harvested and organized screws and bolts were scattered about in the leaves. Sascha simply laid there for a long minute, trying to curb the scream of contempt for every last stupid splinter of this treehouse. He slowly got to his feet, dusted off his pants, squared his shoulders and turned towards the cave, ignoring the mess. One of the buckets hadn’t fallen over, and as he passed he flicked out his right wing and slapped the bucket with such ferocity it clattered into the tree. He grunted with a weird sense of satisfaction and slowly made his way towards the river a few meters off and hopped across the stones, too tired to fly over. He slipped on the last stone and tumbled half-fell into the water with a frustrated snarl, drenching his pants and flooding his boots with water. A low grumble of Romanian curses steamed out from under his breath as he hauled himself onto the river bank and yanked off his boots and peeled off his socks. He wrung out the socks that were more hole than anything and stuffed them into his boots. He’d lay them out to dry later. With a huff he hauled himself to his feet, intent on getting to the cave and out of his dripping clothes. But a flash of black and white feathers darting out of the cave and across the river just a few yards away distracted him. “Fletcher!” He called out, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Fletcher! Don’t—“ he started, raising a hand as he shouted, but the osprey shifter was already gone. “—go too far.” He finished lamely, though after a few minutes of straining his neck to see where Fletcher was headed he saw him flapping around the tree that housed their “new home”. Against all better judgment Sascha turned and squeezed himself through the cave, grimacing against the feel of his slick, wet skin against the grimy cave wall. Fletcher was only just across the river, and he was small and quick and knew how to get back to them if there was any trouble. And the forest had been quiet all day, anyhow. It took a good 2 minutes to wiggle his way into the cave, his bulky wings making it an uncomfortably tight squeeze. He used the clawed tip of his wing to grip onto the edge of the stone and lower himself to the ground, like he had so many times for the past two months--but his grip sipped at the last moment and he fell the last foot to the ground. His knee gave out from under him and he landed on the ground in a grumbling heap. How many more times was he going to fall today?! He sat up and glared around the dim cave, searching for Casey. He saw him tucked into the bedpile, all warm and cozy. “Mmh… where have you been?” Sascha stared at Casey in disbelief, his brows shadowing his eyes in furrow of frustration, the corner of his lips turning into a light frown. "Where do you think?" he said, his voice coming out sharper than he'd intended as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the tree house. "I see you got nothing better to be doing except nap while I wait out in the wood alone for you," He said, tossing his boots into the corner and starting to undress so he could change, slowly peeling the drenched denim off his legs. "And why did you let Fletcher go out at this time of day? It almost dark time, Casey!" ooc| DARKNESS, NO EDITING! I will edit later I promise. also it's NIGHT Sascha, NIGHT TIME

[Casey DeLaney]

It took Casey a few moments to try and sort out what Sascha was saying. He blinked and groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes, slowly sitting up on the bedpile. For a while, he couldn’t understand why Sascha was so angry. They worked on the treehouse all day and came home before dark, just like every other day. …Except wait. Casey’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to meet Sascha to scavenge some more supplies. “Oooh… I guess I forgot but—hey!” He added, suddenly frowning at Sascha’s tone. It was so accusatory and so unlike Sascha. “It’s not like I meant to leave you out there alone!” Casey huffed, far more irritable than normal, and currently regretting his snappiness. Yes, he was sorry for forgetting. To say that he’d been napping the day away, however just made him feel cheated. “I was busy! Working on the plans and trying to figure out what we’re doing wrong.” The words continued to tumble out of his mouth, beyond any hopes of control. “Oh my god, Sascha… How many times??” Casey felt the frustration of the day weighing on him, and his will had been weakened far too much. Casey wasn’t sure what was so difficult about the concept to Sascha, but the one word had been tricky ever since the beginning. Every time before, he had let it slide, understanding what Sascha was getting at. But not today. Finally, he couldn’t stop the words that he had always stopped before. “It’s NIGHT. Time. Night time. You’d think the word ‘night’ would be simple enough for you!” Casey froze as his voice reverberated around the cave and sent a chill down his spine. Immediately, a wave of guilt and regret washed over him. Uuugghh..That’s not how that was meant to come out… he groaned in his head, as he cringed on the outside. Casey sighed and pulled himself out of bed, a little ashamed that he had snapped so easily and so harshly. “Ugh, I’m sorry Sascha, let’s just…” He took the few steps toward Sascha and tried to embrace him in a hug. “Why don't we just get some rest and we’ll feel better… not so worked up over stupid stuff, hm?" ooc: casey nOOO

[Sascha Stark]

Sascha sat and still tried to wriggle out of his wet jeans, grumbling when the heavy fabric got caught in a bunch at his ankles. He was prepared to get a knife and cut the damned things off when he finally managed to tear himself free. He balled the pants up and tossed them into the corner with his boots, huffing as he lumbered to his feet and searched for a dry pair of boxers and pants. He glowered down at the dwindling pile of clean clothes before picking out the only decent scrap left before slipping out of his wet stuff and into the dry. He had his back turned to Casey as he rolled out his reasons for forgetting the meeting. Sascha could see how yes, Casey got caught up in the designs and the exhaustion and planning and simply forgot. But it was starting to feel as if Casey cared more about finishing the treehouse than anything else. “What we are doing wrong? It more like what aren’t we doing wrong, Casey. Every time we try to build like the plans Redd gave us, it does not work. The supplies not good, everything too old or too rotted,” Sascha said, still with his back turned. He didn’t feel up to a discussion right now; he too was tired and not much of what Casey was saying really got through to him. Even the insult to his intelligence slid by almost unnoticed. It hurt Sascha for a moment that Casey would say something like that when he knew how much Sascha struggled with English. But the jab was almost immediately replaced, and Sascha turned to face Casey with a frown. “At least I give an effort to learn your language,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “How long we been together now? Two years? And still you do not speak my language! Fletcher only been with me few months and already he speaks Romanian better than you.” Sascha’s eyes followed Casey as he crossed the room, apologizing and attempting to hug him. Sascha brought his wings forward to fold around his arms and pivoted slightly on his heel away from Casey, effectively blocking Casey’s hug. He snorted through his nostril at Casey’s attempt to dismiss the discussion. “What stupid stuff, exactly?” he asked. “That I am left standing in the woods for two hours, or that I have to carry the supplies back alone, that Fletcher is left outside? Or maybe it stupid that tree house not even half built and we been working our finger to bone day in and out for two month?” Sascha threw up his hands, storming to the other side of the small cave. It wasn’t a long walk, only a few feet. “Oh sure, it fine. It fine that you think I am dumb because I can not say night time,” he said, enunciating the word with sarcastic correctness, “And I thinking maybe I am dumb that I went along with this treehouse thing in first place. We should not have done something like this,” he grumbled. “It is never going to get built.” The last sentence was muttered in sharp Romanian, but his tone rang of bitter disappointment.

[Casey DeLaney]

Casey as taken aback and had to step away as Sascha essentially blocked his hug. He crossed his arms instead then and listened, brow raised in irritation. Sascha was far too quick to give up! Two months , even six, would be nothing in the long run when they finally had a safe place to stay. A place all their own that no rogue had known about. They could make it their own, camouflage it, and best of all, stay off the ground where predators lurked. “We’ll figure it out!” He insisted, “I know I’m getting closer… I trust that Redd knows what he’s doing.” Casey cringed as Sascha snapped back about his English, or rather, Casey’s terrible Romanian. “It’s not like I haven’t tried!” He spat, though really he knew that he could have been trying harder. “I haven’t exactly lived with you this whole time…” Casey trailed off as he realized that being around each other so much had only made their weary aggravation worse the past month. And look how it’s turning out now. He thought, grateful that it didn’t slip out of his mouth. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy getting to be with Sascha and Fletcher full time, but the whole situation was just… terrible. Suddenly Sascha was storming across the cave, voice booming off the walls. Casey groaned and rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! Can’t you let that go? I don’t think you’re dumb, but you’re sure acting it right now,” he scoffed, eyes darting away from Sascha. He didn’t want to see the look he’d get for that one. “Why can’t you have some faith in us and Redd’s plans? It’s getting there!” he insisted. “It’s come so far… we don’t have any other choice!” There was a twinge of desperation to his voice before he fell silent. There was nowhere else to go. They had to get this treehouse done. Ooc; short but sassy (like Casey)

[Sascha Stark]

“I do not doubt that Redd knows what he doing,” Sascha said, staring glumly at the cave wall. He leaned a hand against it, hanging his head as he tried to stifle the building frustration. “We are unprepared for this life, Casey. You had the Fulsi for all this time, to help survive. Here there are worse things than Rings. And we barely have enough food. How much longer you honestly think we can last?” His voice was suddenly quiet and calm, his heavy eyelids closing over tired eyes. He shook his head when Casey defended his awful Romanian. He could almost smile as he thought about how bad Casey sounded, and the jokes they’d shared about it. It had never really bothered him that Casey couldn’t speak Romanian, not really, and he knew that Casey was right. They had only ever really spent a few days at a time together, and their time was usually spent on…other things. He turned to face Casey, rolling his shoulders to rid them of the tension. He really couldn’t think of anything to say because Casey was right, he had tried a few lessons and could manage a few words. But, still. He could’ve tried a lot harder. “Yeah but still,” He said with a weak shrug, his lips a thin line verging on a frown, one long fang hanging over his bottom lip. He decided to ignore the jab about acting dumb and decided he would indeed “let that go” even though it seemed to Sascha that Casey did think he was dumb despite the, uh, half-hearted apology. But Sascha was used to those words and though they hurt a bit he wouldn’t hold it against Casey. Maybe. “I don’t know why I don’t have faith,” he said. “Oh wait! Yes I do! Because there is no point to this! There are other places to go, always. But nowhere is safe in this place, Casey, nowhere. And you act like just because we try to build a house in the sky that no one is able to get at us? No! I have lived on my own in this prison, with these stupid wings, with everyone who come across me try to kill me because of them. I was on my own while you had friends in the Fulsi to protect you. You stayed in the same place since you been here.” He paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “But I lived in so many different places, Casey, and none of them were safe. None. A treehouse will not be safe either, I tell you what. Every time is the same. You start to feel safe, like maybe this could be home this time. Then they show up. Could be Carna. Could be Fulsi. Could be rogues, viruses, a pack of wild dog! It always going to be something, Casey, don’t you see?” Sascha couldn’t stop himself, and the words just kept tumbling out. “Nowhere is safe for long. We should find someplace where it will be easy to pick up and leave. That is the safest way, here.” ooc: Sascha just got real deep oops

[Casey DeLaney]

It was all Casey could do to keep his determined expression as Sascha spoke on and on. He felt his breathing quicken with his frustration; he refused to believe that making a home was impossible in this place. Was it naïve? Maybe. It was Sascha’s experience that it was impossible, and Casey couldn’t deny that it would be difficult. But Sascha wasn’t alone anymore, and Casey had to believe that as a family, they could manage to hold onto a place of their own. He sighed and quietly paced the back of the cave, waiting for Sascha to finish. He listened respectfully and mulled the words over, but it didn’t keep him from rolling his eyes at Sascha’s utter pessimism. There was no way they were going to live like prey, scurrying from one hole to another until some predator finally caught them. The thought of being uprooted and starting over, time after time, made him wonder if that was really a life worth living. “That’s the safest way,” Casey agreed, after a moment or two of silence. “But I don’t want to live that way… scared, running. I won’t.” He added, determinedly. He started across the cave again, toward Sascha and the entrance. “We’re going to make a home here, cause like you said, nowhere is safe.” He shrugged as he pushed past Sascha, nudging one of his wings aside and scooting past in the small space. “So you can stay here in this cave that’s unsafe as anywhere else, and I’ll go build the treehouse.” He paused at the cave entrance, and turned to look at Sascha. “Singur.” Alone, he finished in Romanian, awkward and unnatural as it sounded from infrequent practice. But the point was made, and he turned again to leave, starting up the ramshackle stone steps to the gap in the rocks. ooc// oohshnap

[Sascha Stark]

“There are only the two of us, Casey. Two. And we barely made it out alive the last time we were attacked,” Sascha replied. “Life in here means we run scared, always. You do not want to admit it, but it is true. Always someone bigger, stronger out to get you and take what yours. And we do not have strength of a Ring to help us. Only us two to keep our family safe,” Sascha said, the anger tightening his chest now settling into a bleak sense of mourning. He knew he was repeating what he’d already said, but Casey didn’t seem to understand what a waste of time and energy this was, when like as not they would be chased out soon. They were in the wilds, surrounded by countless enemies who would seek to take from them the shelter, the home, they would build. It just didn’t make sense. He watched Casey as he brushed past him, unsure of what to say or do. They had never fought like this before, so opposed it felt like they were magnets, pushing each other apart. It was a strange feeling that made his skin prickle with an uncomfortable heat. He stared hard at Casey’s back, lips parted as he tried to speak; to say something, anything, to make this argument go away. But it wouldn’t, not as long as they were stuck building the tree house. Sascha knew that Casey was right in some respect, that they might as well build it and try to be safe, if no where else was. But it was a false hope in Sascha’s eyes, and a dangerous one at that. But as Casey spoke, his voice seeming to echo through the cave even though it was spoke soft and hollow, Sascha knew that this was an argument he would lose, and was suddenly prepared to lose. The cost was too high if it hurt Casey to the point where he would walk away. It made Sascha feel as if he were the bad guy, and already guilt gnawed at him. But he knew what it was to be alone, to feel alone and unsupported. He would not let Casey feel what he had felt for so many years. He stepped forward, grasping Casey’s hand before he could leave, giving it a soft squeeze. “No,” he said, stepping closer until he could feel the warmth of Casey's back. “Niciodată singur,” Never alone, he said in a soft voice. He wrapped his other arm around Casey and drew him into a hug, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck. "Never." ooc| guilt trips always work!

[Casey DeLaney]

Casey was already regretting his decision to storm away before he had even made it outside. Only his stubborn pride kept him going until Sascha grasped his hand and made him stop. He stood there, still facing the exit, too ashamed to turn and look at him. Guilt gnawed at his stomach; the guilt that he had said so many stupid things and surely hurt Sascha’s feelings beyond forgiveness. He waited for what seemed like ages for Sascha to say something, tears stinging at his eyes and threatening to make him look like even more of a fool. Sascha’s words rang in his ears for a moment before they sunk in; they weren’t angry words or even more arguments. Just warmth, like Sascha’s embrace. Casey’s tensed muscled slowly relaxed as Sascha held him and kissed his neck, a quiet promise that they were going to be okay after all. He exhaled shakily and laid his head back on Sascha’s shoulder, wondering at how they had gotten here. “Îm…împreună,” he offered with a smile. Together, then. Without warning, a flurry of feathers rushed at them and zoomed over their heads, landing behind them. Startled, Casey broke Sascha’s grasp to turn and look behind them, though he kept hold of Sascha’s hand. Perhaps some part of him didn’t want to let go when he felt like they had only just begun to bury the bad feelings they’d dug up. Behind them, Fletcher had shifted back and bounced around with sheer glee on his face. They would have to finish the treehouse now that he’d seen it, there was no doubt about it. Casey sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to tell Fletcher that he couldn’t live there! The boy had no doubts, it seemed, unlike the mass of doubt that weighed on him and Sascha. His enthusiasm somehow made it all seem less hopeless, and Casey turned back to Sascha, draping his arms around his neck. He leaned in and gingerly pressed his lips to Sascha’s, a quick, cautious peck at first, and then when Sascha didn’t turn away from him, another more lingering kiss that was relief and an apology all in one. A giggling ‘eeeeew!’ from behind them told Casey that was enough, and he pulled away with a chuckle. “Te iubesc.” I love you, he whispered, the words in Romanian that he knew the best. “As long as I’m with you, I’m home.”

[Casey DeLaney]

-- END THREAD! --