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Post by Carrow on Nov 28, 2010 9:51:10 GMT -5
Cerinus Apodemus opened the door to the Sick Berth and slipped quietly inside. He normally wouldn't have been seen hanging around up there unless one of his friends had been hurt, such as Caden had been back in August. Even so, he had it in his mind to visit a particular creature: the very one responsible for his albino companion's injury, in fact.
The wood mouse had noticed that the pair of mustelids were getting on noticeably better with each other in the wake of the pine marten's completely unexpected rescue of the floundering ferret at the climax of their first battle. No creature had been more surprised about this turn of events than Carrow had been. Surprised, certainly, but also pleased. Caden had certainly moved on from the incident that had very nearly led to him taking his own life out of sheer despair.
His injury wasn't the only thing that had healed, it seemed: the massive rift that had been opened between the two in the immediate wake of the incident had closed up as well, and they were getting along better than ever before. This might have seemed insignificant (as they'd rarely ever seen eye-to-eye anyway) but progress had certainly been made on their relationship.
Carrow had been left devastated in the aftermath of the ferret's attack on his best friend, and had been prepared to hold a serious grudge against Spender for what he had done. He had soon realised this was futile, however. He may have briefly hated him at the time, but he knew that there was little point in this. There were times when even hatred had its uses, but the mild-mannered rodent had discovered he didn't have it in himself to truly hate another.
Every enemy was a potential friend. He knew that Spender saw him as the enemy, rather than vice-versa. The mouse had changed, though. His opinions towards the ferret had certainly changed, and he'd been wanting to thrash things out with the antagonistic mustelid for quite some time. He would have done so at this point if other things hadn't gotten in the way. They'd been kept busy, to say the least, but now he had time on his paws he was going to put to good use.
He approached a fennec orderly, clearing his throat a little before speaking, finding he had little difficulty in meeting the vulpine's gaze as there was little difference in height between them. Carrow was graudally approaching five feet tall now. "Good afternoon, sah. Might you be so kind as to grant me permission to see Spender Cielciosk?," he asked with the utmost politeness. He was beginning to understand that things like this could actually help a creature go places. He always remembered to be polite.
The vulpine orderly nodded, smiling slightly at the mouse stripling's politness. "I don't know whether he's awake or not. He kept dropping off all yesterday evening; waking for a while, then settling down and going to sleep. So you can certainly try, Seajack Apodemus. The bruising he sustained from that strange injury - self-inflicted, as it turned out - has gone down a little."
Waking for a while and dropping off again. Carrow knew more than anybeast else how that felt. "I'm glad to hear that. We thought we'd lost him yesterday, with that 'dead sleep' thing. He's recovering, you say? That's good. Thank you, sah." With that said, Carrow broke eye contact and continued on past the fennec to where he knew Spender would be stationed. He'd accompanied the ferret up to the Sick Berth the previous day, after all. He gulped, suddenly feeling rather nervous, unsure how his visit would be received.
Soon, he was at bedside. Pulling up a chair, he sat down with a slight sigh. If he was asked to leave, he was unsure how he'd react. If Spender was being his usual stubborn self, it would be like talking to a brick wall; but if the ferret was prepared to listen to reason and hear the mouse out, then they might just end up getting somewhere. "Spender?," he called softly, wondering if the injured creature would respond. There was no turning back now.
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Post by spender on Nov 28, 2010 18:41:25 GMT -5
When Caden had been in the sick berth, Spender had been jealous. The pine marten had gotten to laze about in a hammock all day, never doing any work, getting to eat lying down...
The truth was a lot less fun. The sick berth, as it turned out, was actually full of beasts who were sick. He was sure by now that he had pneumonia, a cold, a flu, and possibly a broken leg. He didn't think it was possible to get a broken leg by breathing in germs from somebeast, but there it was, that constant, itching, pained feeling just below the crook of his knee...
Oh, wait, that was his paddle-ball. How did that get there.
There was not a lot to do. His head hurt too much to try reading his new joke book (not that he could normally), there was no place to set up blocks or chess, marbles were pointless, he couldn't play jacks on his stomach, and so... Paddle-ball.
He was getting better at it. He could hit the ball on the string twice now, before missing and bopping himself in the nose. If he got to three, he could beat his sister's record.
It wasn't all bad. Ocean had come to visit, as had Elliot, and Peskers, too, babbling on about how she had plans for them to... Spender shook his head, trying to clear the memory out. That jill would be the death of him. He still wasn't clear if her name was Ralph or not, too. But... he was starting to suspect that he liked her.
He had The Last Number with him, too, wedged comfortably in his armpit. In fact, he was just playing with him, making the fox doll dance on his chest with a squeaky voice, when he heard his name being said, and immediately stuffed the doll under his pillow and pretended to be asleep. Eep, they were coming!
"Spender?"
Spender wriggled a little, giving away the fact that his sleep was just pretend. That voice... he knew that voice. What did Willard want? To shout at him for not helping with repairs, probably...
The ferret peeked an eye open. And then both eyes. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Did he want to? He wasn't sure. This was just five kinds of awkward. Why on earth would this mouse, of all creatures, come to visit? Wasn't that something... that, well... friends did? Unless...
Suddenly, Spender shrank under his covers, trying to hide. His blanket was caught in his toeclaws, though, and he couldn't get it over his head.
"'m sorry!" he yelped quietly, cringing. His voice was so stretched it was hardly more than a whisper. The mouse had found him weakened! Carrow had come to get revenge for... for everything! "Wot d'you want? I promise, I'll never do it again, I don' even remember wot it wos!"
His hammock swayed dangerously as he tried to curl up, yet keep his eyes fixed on Carrow. He couldn't see a weapon, though... in fact, the mouse was just sitting there, paws on his lap. Spender calmed down just as soon as he'd riled up. He glanced to the other side of his hammock, though, just in case Carrow was merely a diversion... but for whom? That was silly. If Caden wanted to kill him, he would have just not saved him at all.
Settling down, Spender peeked over the edge at Carrow, hiding his nose and mouth from view.
"Er..." he said. "H-h-hello..." There was a slight pause as both creatures struggled to find words. Then, to break the silence, Spender's paddle-ball fell out of his hammock. "Oh," he said, and reached out a paw, dangling it down to the deck to see if he could get it. Of course he couldn't, not from up here. "Could you..."
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Post by Carrow on Nov 29, 2010 7:16:59 GMT -5
Carrow was slightly taken aback by Spender's response. Spender was scared of him. Spender was scared. Of him. What in the name of Dark Forest...?! "Bloody hell! Calm down! Calm down, Spender," he murmured gently, and a small smile appeared on his face when the mustelid appeared to do so. "What do I want? I'll tell you what I want, if you would just shut it for a moment and listen."
Clearing his throat again, the rodent spoke, hoping to comfort the ferret with his words. "Look, Spender... there was a time when I wanted to see you suffer for what you did to Caden. I can't keep silent about that any longer. I thought you would get what you deserved... and well, you did. I'm not here to mock you for ending up injured. Far from it in fact."
The mouse's eyes twinkled gently. "I wanted to say that I saw what happened between you and him, near the end of the battle. He rescued you, and that showed me something. It's pointless to bear any grudges about what happened with the three of us a few months back. So I'd like to say sorry for everything. For what I said about you. I was just distraught because I hated to see my friend - my best friend - in such a bad way."
Carrow sighed, shaking a little as the memory of that terrible day came back to him. "I held you responsible - obviously because you were - but I never really hated you for it. There were times I honestly wished it had happened to me... that you had crushed MY paw because I just couldn't bear to see him so down. I might not have been like that."
Slight tears appeared in his eyes as he stood up, going to the other side of the hammock, bending down and retrieving the paddle-ball. He stood back up, pawing it to Spender. He was meeting the ferret's gaze now. "I might not have been like that because I'd have been so used to things going wrong. So many things have gone wrong for me that I've lost count of them. This would have been just another setback.
"I didn't come here to tell you this, though." Carrow smiled a little, before he spoke words he had never imagined he would ever say outright. "I came up here to see how you were doing. You know, we thought we'd lost you for a while. Thank the fates that didn't happen, eh?" He chuckled a little. "How are you feeling?" Talking to the creature who did his best to make my life hell... wow, just wow, he thought.
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Post by spender on Nov 30, 2010 6:24:40 GMT -5
There were times in Spender's life that he felt uncomfortable, not because of something that was happening to him, but because of something that was happening, or had happened, to somebeast else. Those times were, thankfully, very few. Most of them involved his sisters, and those were easy enough to brush off through sheer sibling perseverance...
But then there were other times. Like the time his parents had tried going to the local church. And the time he had thrown a granny apple at, well, an old granny, and knocked her over, and there was nobeast else around to help her up again except himself. And the time... that one time... sitting in his bedroom, with the police downstairs, and his sisters cooped up in the attic being read to by one of the helpers from the inn, and everyone's voices drifting through the house, because for once everyone was silent enough for you to hear what they were really saying...
This particular moment, right now, lying here with Carrow beside him, ranked somewhere up there at #2, or possibly #3; he couldn't remember how badly injured the granny had been.
It was certainly the most uncomfortable he'd felt since leaving home, and that was enough to rouse his brain from its usual fog of impolite selfishness. For some reason, he could still hear that sermon, too, waffling about in his memory, the priest's voice taking on a warbling, whining tone that was all Spender could remember of how he had talked.
The ferret gripped his paddle-ball so tightly that the handle might have begun to fracture deep inside.
"Oh, um... that's okay, then..." he said, wriggling deeper inside his blanket. His cheeks began to flush a little, as a bit of lingering anger rose up—he had almost completely forgotten what Carrow had said about him, that time Caden had kicked him out of the—kicked him out of here. The reminder stung. The truth always did.
"I'm... tired." Spender blinked up at the ceiling. Tired, yes. Tired of lying around. He'd had the best nap ever, and as a result of that, it seemed they wanted him to sleep all day as well... But he wouldn't complain. "My 'ead still 'urts...th'bandage itches..."
"Whingy-whingy-whingy," cackled a rat lying in a nearby hammock. "Lookit yerself, lad. I don't get ye. Ye nearly drown an' get crushed ter death by a fallin' mast, but yer right as rain an hour after. An' yet a measly knock on yer noggin—self-inflicted, they say!—gets y'down like this... Pahaha! What a beast! What... a beast..." The rat yawned and turned over, leaving the two striplings alone once again. Spender's blush grew, tinting the skin under his fur a wobbly sort of dibbun pink.
He tried to distract himself with the paddle-ball, but after one hit, it missed and bopped him in the cheek. He put it down on his stomach and glanced at Carrow again.
"D'y'wanna... um... play? I c'n watch..."
It didn't seem the mouse was really ready to leave, so Spender sat up, to better give attention (and, instinctively, so it would be easier to defend himself, though he wasn't thinking this specifically). His back rubbed against his pillow, the hammock swaying a little violently as the ferret struggled to get himself situated nicely. In all this commotion, his fox doll fell out from behind the pillow, although unlike the paddle-ball, Spender didn't notice it, so soft was its landing.
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Post by Carrow on Nov 30, 2010 18:05:54 GMT -5
Spender had made little comment on what Carrow had said, which led the mouse to inwardly question whether the mustelid had actually been paying attention to what he'd told him. From what he'd seen of him, the rodent knew that Spender preferred to listen passively. He didn't have much of an opinion on what the field mouse had said, it seemed.
All the same, though, the blush that came to Spender's cheeks did not escape the wood mouse's attention. There was no question that at least some of what he'd said had registered, as why else would have had any reason to blush? Well, aside from the rat's comments, of course. Carrow could make an educated guess as to why this bump on the head had affected Spender so.
Coming out of his self-induced coma (the 'dead sleep' that ferrets were known to enter from time to time) had obviously had more of an effect of Spender than Carrow's fellow rodent had realised - then again, he probably hadn't been aware of what had happened down on the gun deck. By the time Spender had been brought up to the Sick Berth, he had passed into a comfortable slumber, which would have led anybeast to think he was simply tuckered out.
He had been, of course, but only Carrow, Elliot and Willard (though the least weasel had spent most of his time throwing up, genuinely thinking that the ferret had met his death at the paws of an attacker) had been made aware of what had trully occurred before Spender was carried up and put to bed. He wasn't so discombobulated as to not be tuned in to the mouse's words, that was for sure.
Spender's request caught the rodent off guard, though, and he immediately shook his head. "No, not particularly. Not unless you'd be able to play *with* me, see. 's more fun that way." He noticed the device Spender was using, and an idea came to him. "P'raps we could take turns using this thing?," he offered. "That way, we can both enjoy it. It's up to you."
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Post by spender on Dec 1, 2010 5:41:47 GMT -5
Spender shook his head.
"'m tired of it... Been playin' with it all day. 's boring now. Wot's fun is if..." He caught himself just in time—hopefully. A brief grin tugged at his whiskers at the thought of Carrow playing with the toy and getting bopped in the face with the ball. What he really needed right now was some physical humour. A good laugh.
But he was not blind to the wood mouse's problems over the last few months, and his burning moral compass, spinning as it was in all the directions it rarely did, reminded him that nothing good would come of Carrow getting injured by the toy. Certainly not if Spender laughed at it.
"...if we played together, yeah," he finished, staring again at the ceiling. Play together... with a mouse?
But Molly had said... a mouse is really nothing more than a small rat. If he could just... think of Carrow as a small rat... after all, it only took a little imagination. And it wasn't like Spender didn't have that to spare. He looked again at Carrow, imagining darker, almost black fur, more visible ridges in the tail, a rougher muzzle, tatty ears, and grinned a little at the sudden revelation.
The ferret leaned a little closer, eyes peering, mentally re-structuring Carrow's face. The eyes were the hardest things to change—that is, Spender's own eyes. It was easy to take someone's voice and change it in his head, add his own sounds and music to his worlds. He had a good nose for smell, and could recall anything from pine to warm biscuits to his miserable time cleaning the heads. Touch could simply be ignored; it was the easiest by far to fool, as any dibbun knew to craft their own fantasy regardless of what they felt around them. But what the eyes saw, the shape of things, that couldn't be ignored without closing them entirely. And when you closed your eyes in school, you drew the ire of the teacher immediately. Spender had quickly mastered fooling his own vision.
Carrow was a rat!
Suddenly, what he'd said before carried more weight. Spender's grin fell, and he sat back, slightly horrified at himself. For in changing Carrow to a rat in his mind, he had considered the two of them to be on equal terms. While it was true that, at first, Spender had despised the mouse for his weaknesses and species, the sheer amount of time they'd spent together (not together, but on the same ship, doing the same jobs, eating in the same room, and such) had dissipated these feelings considerably. He still viewed Carrow as a bit of a weakling, but it didn't matter. There were other weaklings on the ship, and there were creatures stronger than him, and somehow the pecking order of the schoolyard had ceased to be. There was no reason to bully the weak, just as there was little reason to fear the strong. It wasn't every day that Spender realized this, and some days he forgot it entirely. Those days he often got into more trouble than usual.
But right now, he was acutely aware of their position in life, and bore no animosity towards the rodent. In fact, quite the opposite now. Spender's heart thrashed with the reminder of guilt, and for once, his jealousy and anger didn't fight it away—he was too tired. He gave in.
"I didn't mean t'hurt Caden... I mean... I did... but only a little... it wos just a joke," he said, licking his suddenly-dry lips. "An' I thought... he'd just try t'play a prank back. 's wot I'm used to... But then I got hit an' I got angry an'... I lost control an' I said I wos sorry an' everythin'... an' I got whipped an' Ocean wos mad at me an' Ladorak... Ladorak wos s'posed t'be my uncle, but he wos never nice t'me once we were on th'ship. He wos only nice before, an' after I almost drowned. But he's always nice t'Caden an' I just... I just wan' things t'be fair."
Why was he telling Carrow this? Because he had to ... explain himself. He wasn't a bad ferret. Just misunderstood... That's what his mother had told the police that night. He had to believe that.
"Nothin' nice ever happened t'me since I left 'ome, not 'til recently... but Caden's got Ladorak an' all his friends an' family 'ere... he's got no one t'miss. Everyone likes 'im, but no one likes me." And the one beast who did like him had the oddest way of showing it... "'s not fair... I never got t'have any friends like you an' Selvis an' Elliot. All my friends... are gone. An' they never said goodbye... they were scared of me... 'Cos I..."
The ferret was whispering now, curled up on his side, staring off into space. But he didn't cry. He was simply recalling, as if trying to list the recipe for a difficult cake.
"I only wan' somebeast t'be nice t'me, like you're nice t'Caden. 'm tired of tryin' t'make Elliot leave you guys an' play with me. He likes you better... he's just scared, too... thinks if he doesn't play with me, that..."
He blinked, forgetting. Carrow was a mouse again.
Spender was too tired to care. He sighed, burying his whiskers in his pillow.
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Post by Carrow on Dec 1, 2010 18:31:24 GMT -5
Carrow, who had absolutely no idea how Spender was choosing to see him at that particular moment, listened to Spender's words without comment, wanting to hear the ferret out before he said anything in response. He was basically apologising for what he had done to Caden without saying outright the words, 'I'm sorry'. Carrow knew that trying to get Spender to apologise in that manner for the wrongs he had committed would be like trying to get blood from a stone.
He wasn't looking for that, though. He felt no shame in admitting it, but Spender's speech aroused sympathy in him. Not pity, because he couldn't bring himself to pity Spender no matter how bad things got. The way the mouse saw it, the ferret kept bringing misfortune and punishment down on himself. However, he could certainly see where the mustelid was coming from. He'd had no friends growing up either.
He shook his head, sighing a little as, out of habit (something he did when he was trying to comfort other creatures), he took Spender's paw and patted it gently. "Your friends... left you?," he asked the ferret in his usual soft voice. "I'm sorry to hear that. Really, I am. You know, though... at least you had friends to begin with." Tears began to trickle gently down his face, and when he next spoke, his voice, which had momentarily gained in confidence, was halting and unsure of itself.
"I never had any... before I met Caden earlier this year, the only creatures my age I'd ever had contact with had been those who either completely ignored me or viewed me with varying degrees of contempt. There were even a few who... who..." The next to words were spoke in a haunted whisper that indicated how traumatised Carrow had been by his treatment at school. "Hated me..."
His gaze, which had slowly travelled down to his footpaws, snapped back up as he glanced up at the injured mustelid. "Spender... I know it might sound strange, given how terrible things were between us, but..." He swallowed. How would he take this? "I want to be your friend. You might see me as an enemy, but I know I've never truly hated you. I could never really hate another... not after..." He trailed off. Spender didn't need to know... he didn't need to know...
"There's no point in us being enemies like this. We're going to be together for quite a while... and it's strange I'm even saying this, but I was worried about you yesterday. I was thinking, what if he's dead and I've missed my chance to try and patch things up with him? I didn't want this to come between us forever. So I'm trying to bury the hatchet. I want to be your friend, Spender, or at least get along with you a little better than I did. I don't even know if you want to be friends with a creature like me... a mouse as weak as I am... but, well..." There was also no point in Carrow lying to himself. He was indeed weak. Why else would he have been targeted so much back home?
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Post by spender on Dec 6, 2010 18:12:01 GMT -5
Spender stared away, unable to bring himself to look the crying mouse in the eyes. He found it terribly embarrassing when beasts started doing that at him. He fiddled with the paddle-ball on his stomach, one paw yanking the ball, the other idly twirling the stretchy string around his claws.
But he listened. And he processed. And his brain whirred away, strange new thoughts coming to light.
After all he had done, Carrow didn't hate him? The mouse had to be lying. But then again... when could he ever recall Carrow lying?
He thought back to what he'd discovered after the battle. The complete disassociation between cause and effect in the way beasts behaved. Again, this idea only proved itself more true as time went on. But one thing he hadn't really done was apply it to the past—further, that is, than his coming aboard the ship.
When he did silly things, his parents scolded him, and his friends laughed.
When he did bad things, his parents hugged him at night, and his friends... some of them left, and some of them joined in, and some of them fought him.
When he did good things, his parents ignored him, and his friends became nervous, giving him odd looks, expecting something that wasn't coming, wasn't planned...
All that had been turned on its head since being put in the Navy. No one laughed here. No one joined in with his antics, here. It was all only whips and rattans. When he did do something good... He wasn't so much ignored as not smacked for it.
Trying to cope with these revelations, as well as what Carrow was telling him, was confusing the poor ferret. He needed more time to think, but the only time he had to make a decision was now.
"I don' want friends," he said, "that are scared of me. I don' want friends that ignore me. You... you're already Caden's friend. You can't be mine, too. I don' deserve it. An' you're scared of me, you're only offerin' it 'cos you think I'd be nicer if we were friends... an' I won't be.
"I don' know how t'be nice. There's no point to it. It's borin'. Nothin' I ever do that's good makes things better. I get money whether I'm bad or good, an' it doesn' matter what I do, 'cos I can always buy myself chocolate an' sweets an' I always get smacked by officers an' I don' know why."
Spender sighed.
"I wos bein' nice t'Caden an' I thought... 'cos he saved me... but then 'e never came t'visit an' finish our game... so wot good is bein' nice? Ocean'll visit me, an' I don' have to be nice t'him... an' you came." At last, the ferret looked back at Carrow again. "Beasts only ever be nice t'me when they're scared. I'm tired of it. I want things t'make sense, but they never do. Nothing's fair."
With a listless flail of his paws, he chucked the paddle-ball over the edge of his hammock onto the floor and began wriggling about so he was lying on his stomach, head turned aside to breathe—still facing Carrow, however, although his eyes were closed for the moment.
"Sleepin's th'only thing I can do right, an' I still get in trouble for it here..."
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Post by Carrow on Dec 7, 2010 7:37:27 GMT -5
Carrow sighed again. He would have to explain to Spender just why he wanted to be the ferret's friend, and that'd be painful for him, because he knew he'd have to admit a few things to the mustelid that he wasn't entirely comfortable with admitting. They were of a similar ilk to those he had revealed to Elliot during the battle, but he realised - all too well - that talking to Spender about his past would be entirely different, mainly because Spender might have meted out similar abuse to others in times past.
"OK, Spender, listen. I'm not going to lie to you." The mouse coughed nervously into his paw, grateful for the eye contact as otherwise he probably wouldn't have known where to look. "I *am* scared of you, but it's not your fault. I mean, look at me. I've been scared to death for most of my life. I'm the kind of creature who fears his own shadow. I'm not brave or courageous or anything like that. I'm not necessarily a coward... not anymore at least, but I'm still scared of pretty much everything.
"When we were at gun training I thought I was going to snap. I was terrified of making a mistake. Just. One. Mistake. I was trembling like a leaf in an autumn gale. I thought I was going to have another breakdown, to be honest. And I've thought that at quite a few other times whilst I've been here on the ship. I don't deal with things very well. I used to be scared of living, actually." The rodent managed a rueful smile. "Scared of carrying on from one day to the next out of fear of what might happen. Terrified that something was waiting just around the bend to screw everything up for me again..."
He trailed off for a moment as an involuntary shudder ran through him. After collecting himself, the wood mouse picked up where he had left off, though this time his voice was softer. "Spender, look. I might be scared of you, but that's who I am. I'm scared of bloody well nearly everything. You're not to blame for it. I want to be your friend because... well, that's it. I want to be your friend just so I *can* be. Sure, I'm Caden's friend, but that doesn't mean we can't get along too. You might not be on the best of terms with him, but that can change. I don't care how you'd be if we were friends. All you'd need to be is yourself."
He offered the ferret a small smile now. "You could just be who you are and I wouldn't really mind. That's important, though: to be yourself no matter what anyone else thinks. I wouldn't like to see you pretend, Spender. I wouldn't like you to try to change for any of us. If you feel you need to be different, well, you should change for *yourself*. I should know. I spent years keeping everything hidden... pretending I was fine when I was really dying inside, and I felt I had to, because I was scared of admitting to myself there was something wrong...." Once again, Carrow's voice drifted away until silence remained. He had paled considerably, suddenly feeling tongue-tied.
In his mind, he was seven years old again, and his belongings had been stolen. Hidden away where only his tormentors could find them. They were talking to him in loud, harsh voices. Giving him grief over his dead parents. Insulting him. Calling him a weak, worthless waste of space. It was a game of theirs. Try and reduce the mouse to tears! Oh, it was so much fun! Carrow said nothing in return. Not because he was ignoring them; their words were like daggers in his ears after all. No. It was because he couldn't say anything in response. He was unable to speak, and of course this only encouraged them. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?
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Post by spender on Dec 14, 2010 7:35:21 GMT -5
"So wot's different?" Spender asked. He peeped one eye open, a thin, piercing beam of curiosity that arced across the gap and tried to dig its way into Carrow's mind. "If you're still scared... if y'don't want me t'change... wot 'appened? Wot did I do t'make you want t'be my friend now? Why not last week or last month or before I... 'urt Caden...?"
The answer was not obvious to the ferret, although he'd been circling it for some time now. If anything around here had changed, it had been himself. He had been shown kindness of a sort, when he had first met these beasts at that party, and he had shown them what he thought of their offers—by trying to pour punch on Caden's white fur, by belittling Carrow, mocking and taunting them both to stir up some kind of trouble... because trouble was fun! ... and it had been a really boring party.
Except for the playroom. That had been a blast.
Except for the kits bouncing on his stomach. That had given him wind, and not the good kind used for running around full-tilt.
But now, here he was, seriously considering the implications of a friendship with a mouse. Only he still didn't understand why either of them were eager to see it work. He just knew... that he was, in fact, eager. He wanted what Caden had. He didn't necessarily want it from Carrow, but he was in no position to be picky. Being a mouse was one thing... being Caden's friend was another. It was the division of time that had Spender the most worried. Like Molly had said... when you love somebeast, you love only them, because if you try loving more than one, not enough of your love gets around for anyone to feel like they have enough.
If Spender was a little more observant, he would know that his fears were already more than true enough—that Caden's states of depression were usually caused by the marten feeling that he wasn't up to snuff for Carrow, that the mouse spent more time with Selvis than he, and looked to Selvis more for comfort. If Carrow started spending time with Spender, that was even less of the mouse's time that could be spent with Caden... and thus would the albino marten sink further into his desire for revenge on Spender.
Some revenge, saving his life!
For now, though, the ferret merely let himself wander in the land of confusion. Not alone anymore, though. But he didn't know if this was good or not. Two beasts being confused was just more confusion to deal with. Or if Carrow wasn't confused, then at least he was doing a darn good job of making Spender moreso...
"Can't figger it out," Spender mumbled. "You don't wan' me t'change, even though y'know... I'm mean?"
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