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[northling]

She does not. She does not remember much until she woke here once again. [She squeezes his hand in return.] Though it is perhaps at odds with my wishes for my own memories, I hope that remains the case.

[Fragments of what happened in October have returned to her, but they are few and far between and only serve to place an itch where those memories should reside.]

[feistro]

[He grunts.]

I can't say which I'd prefer, aside from not losing myself to the Souls at all.

[Which is a very current fear of his; even now he swallows down a pang of hunger. Better not to address it by dodging onto a tangentially related topic.]

Rowan is worried about you, you know.

[northling]

[Northly flinches, hunching her shoulders.] I am well. They need not worry. I have you and I have them and others also.

[feistro]

You say that.

[There's an implied but somewhere in there.]

It's just... you know you can talk to us.

[northling]

I talk to you often! [They are talking right now!

She knows that's not what he means. But... ]

We must go fishing.

[She doesn't like thinking about Rowan worrying, Pom worrying. Because she knows he is — knows that he raised Rowan's concerns to bring forward his own. A disguise for his thoughts.]

[feistro]

[Pom eyes her, his brow knitting.]

Now?

[northling]

Soon. [She will allow him to let Mel and Gale know he will be absent.]

[feistro]

Northly.

[He's equal parts gentle and stern.]

[northling]

You are hungry. [And she can fix that. Fill him with fish of all kinds.]

[feistro]

And you're dodging the subject.

[Two can play at this game, Northly. He stops, crossing his arms.]

[northling]

As are you! [She really doesn't like talking about herself, okay!] When were you last satisfied?

[feistro]

I ate this morning. Gale feeds me three times a day, you know.

[Not that he's a pet. He's Gale's partner.]

[northling]

[She jabs a finger into his chest, pouting.] Which did not sate your hunger.

[feistro]

Ain't the first time I've been hungry. It won't be the last.

[northling]

I will feed you. [Fish. Lots of it.]

[feistro]

[He's not budging.]

I don't want to eat. I want you to talk.

[northling]

For what purpose!? There is reason to feed you. That can be helped! [Her mind on the other hand? There is nothing to be done. And she doesn't want to dwell on it.]

[feistro]

What, and you think closing yourself off will help you?

[Pot, meet kettle, but whatever.]

[northling]

I am open! I am talking! I am fine! [She is lying.]

[feistro]

[He snorts audibly, forcing a breath through his nose in an indignant huff.]

If you were fine, you wouldn't keep telling me and Rowan not to worry. You wouldn't change the damn subject to steer clear of talking about yourself! You wouldn't keep struggling to say something nasty about Patho-Gen and what they did to you!

[northling]

It is not important! [She is not important! Not like that!]

[feistro]

It is, and you're gonna talk about it right here and now, or I'm not moving. Not eating, either.

[He'll stand right here and starve if that's what it takes to reach her.]

[northling]

Then I will go alone! [If Pom won't go to the fish, the fish will come to Pom! And she turns to leave, darting forward.]

[feistro]

Hey!

[She's fast, but despite his size these days, he's fast, too - faster than even he thinks he ought to be. He seemingly appears in front of Northly in the span of a heartbeat, blocking her path, a faint trail of heat and dragonblight the only remnant of his path.

So much for not moving; his temper gets the better of him as he grabs at her wrist.]

I said you're gonna talk about this.

[northling]

[She smacks into him.] Oof! [Glaring, she attempts a stern look, but it's rather undercut as she rubs her nose, which took some of the impact.] You are faster. [How dare he.]