[attr="class","icon"]

“Look at us! Back at it again.” Fern had to extend up to his top toes in order to hook his arm around Marza’s shoulders. If he was really considering a death wish, he would’ve pulled her down just enough to give a noogie to the top of her head.[break][break]

Alas, he had a rare dinner date that evening. So he needed to stay very much Alive.[break][break]

Retreating before she could fling him across the harbor, Fern moved ahead. The sound of screeching wingull in the distance met his ears. “Did you read the briefing I sent you? Nothing like dock duty.”[break][break]

Not that they actually had any business attend to down at the marina housed in Lilycove. Apart from scouting out an apparent bunker on the list. One of many. They just needed to hang around it. Maybe see if they could get inside. But that also required blending in now, no?[break][break]

Whether Marza got the memo or not, Fern was dressed for the part—looking like he was about to step
onto one of the nicer docker boats for a party out on the water. Like he listened to yacht rock to set the tone.

[attr="class","icon"]

“Fine.” Their agreement is a sullen one, because they would rather leave outright. But they suppose that it’s also a small victory they’d be stupid not to seize upon.[break][break]

Of course, actually getting to the site is easier said than done, and by the time they make it, Fern is just as surly as before. If not more.[break][break]

The separation is one that Fern immediately notices, but unlike their typical desire to remain close, they indulge it. Sourness settles in their mind. Ugly and obscuring.[break][break]

“Yeah. Ok.” They’d prefer he didn’t work more than he needs to, but it’s a battle they don’t want to pick.[break][break]

Instead, they watch the surrounding area, wary distrust for the realm sending their defensiveness sky high. Preemptively, they summon their gengar.[break][break]

Morty floats around the perimeter, phasing in and out of shadows. All the while Fern watches and stews in their foul mood, rather than attempt to bridge any sort of sudden gap forming between themself and Jayden.

[attr="class","icon"]

Frustration burns hot through them and they finally stop in their tracks to look up at him. “You don’t know that,” they hiss back, “You-“[break][break]

-Weren't there.[break][break]

He hadn’t seen the rift open up, spilling spirits as other people—living, breathing people were rended apart like rag dolls and put back together. He doesn’t know what this place holds[break][break]

And still he acts as if he is the only one who knows best.[break][break]

Because this is all for some great cause. For the glory of rocket.[break][break]

They would spit the words out in rejection like something sour and curdled if they could. Solving the answers of these rifts means little to them and their supposed cause if it means the other burns out because of it.[break][break]

They detest being made to feel foolish for something that is not so difficult of a concept. Suspicion and distrust rumble in the back of their mind, not fully buying the way he relents.“Yes, I want to rest. I want you to rest.”

[attr="class","icon"]

Time spent together has grown sparser amid busy schedules and timing conflicts. Though they are busier now than they’ve ever been before, Fern still finds conflict and resistance in how Jayden refuses to slow his own pace.[break][break]

Normally, it’s something they let slide. It isn’t worth wasting the time they are actually able to spend together. Now, though, they feel their patience thinning when he meets their concern with irritation.[break][break]

“Do I know that?” Bitterness rises like bile in their throat, and Fern’s expression shifts in disdain as they roll their eyes and look away.[break][break]

Then something dawns in their expression sarcastically and they raise their other hand to smack against their forehead lightly. “Oh, of course not.” They scoff again, and this time the sound warps toward derisive.[break][break]

“What nerve I must have to suggest that rest would be smart before traipsing into a plane between life and death.”[break][break]

His stubbornness was unreal.

Jayden mutters their name, and Fern can feel the flare it kicks off in their chest. The desire to do more ramping up as they nip at his neck, his clavicle. Fingers slide up into his hair, tugging lightly though it’s unneeded. He exposes his neck to them freely. Offering up that vulnerability .[break][break]

And then they make what they believe is a misstep.[break][break]

“Mischa,” it slips out before they can bite down on it. Murmured against his skin, it lacks any of the teasing smugness that had been used the first time Fern had uttered the diminutive.[break][break]

Instead, now it is only full of desire, affection. Full and wholehearted adoration for the person beneath them.[break][break]

Even so, though, Fern stills as soon as they register what it is they’ve said. It isn’t fear that freezes them in place, but something guilty and immediately frantic to make amends for something should not have let slip.[break][break]

“I-“ They lift up, if only to look at him—eyes glinting with worry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…to.”[break][break]

Their voice is still raspy with want despite that, because of pulling themself so abruptly from their trailing.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] jayden cross | m: festive flirts……[break]

[attr="class","icon"]

His reaction is confusing to Fern, to say the least.[break][break]

Incredulity filters into their expression, blotting out the tendrils of excessive concern. “Uh, yeah. You were there, remember?” They scoff lightly, and shake their head. “Unless you count the whole being there when the rend was torn into reality in the first place bit.”[break][break]

“Of course. I didn’t want you to come here alone.” Any snippiness in their tone fades, ebbing like the tide receding. “Are you that tired, though, that you’re spacing on little things? Maybe we should come back later.”[break][break]

They don’t trust this place. Not in the least. And especially not with Jayden looking as worn out as he does. It’s like openly asking for their minds to start playing tricks.[break][break]

They’re still wandering forward, though. No matter Fern’s doubts.

[attr="class","icon"]

“It always feels weird coming back here.” It’s a quiet remark, but it feels loud amid the sheer silence that has settled on the rift at Mt. Pyre. It used to be a place of solitude and comfort for Fern—wandering the mount with its blanketing, spectral sense. Now, though, they aren’t all too sure if they still feel this way.[break][break]

Not after Meteno. Not after everything that happened here. The near loss of more than one treasured part of his life. The stress that now lingers along with those memories no matter how little Fern acknowledges it.[break][break]

A lot has happened to keep them busy, but they are not quite the same now. And there’s a prevailing sense that they never will manage to get back to being exactly as they were before. Restful sleep finds them less often.[break][break]

And still they’re compelled to return to this strange place. Even after their first expedition, they plan for more. But today, it’s just Fern and Jayden. Something that is both a relief and a grievance. Because they’re more at ease around him, in his presence. They latch onto the steadiness the other provides, and sometimes they feel needy or clingy for that. On the other hand, though, a small kernel of resentment lingers.[break][break]

Because currently it feels like work is the only tether they can latch onto to keep him close for more than a few fleeting hours. It’s the gala on a larger
scale, competing with tasks and meetings and projects.[break][break]

And Jayden is tired, they can tell. It’s an irritant that bleeds into their body language, no matter how Fern tries to disguise it. Hand in his as they traverse the fog, they remain stiff and tense. On eggshells.[break][break]

[attr="class","icon"]

He is a bit out of his element, isn’t he? Not that he would admit openly to feeling like a fish out of water, but even so, it was a bit of a learning curve to be so abruptly elevated in the last several days. The last place that Fern thought he would be in the days following the events after the averted crisis was here, among the upper brass of Rocket.[break][break]

As a result, his normally confident demeanor retreated after his brief introduction. If called upon, he would speak of course, but for now, it feels smart enough to assess the dynamic of the room. And so he sits alongside jayden cross and listens quietly, musing expression occasionally shifting toward the other as the conversation ebbs and flows.[break][break]

When talk turns to what transpired at Mt. Pyre, he sits up straighter–waiting for an opening. A burst of interest falls upon Marza Volchitsa, which amuses Fern to no end. Because despite her terse reporting of the sensation that came with dying, he knows she’s probably a bit rankled by the sudden attention.[break][break]

“I don’t have much else to add that hasn’t already been touched upon,” he eventually comments before his head tilts in Zev Harcourt’s direction. A short nod. “But as Mr. Harcourt mentioned previously, I was able to also recover a primal shard from the crystal when the beam bounced back after firing.”[break][break]

It’s something he produces from his inner coat pocket right then and there, removing it from a protective pouch to set it on the tabletop in front of him. “Thus far, it’s produced no after effects, nor did it have much impact at the time I caught it as the shard collected at Littleroot did. But it is at least in our possession.”