His picture over here: https://inkbunny.net/s/1789262",
"writing": " It was surprisingly exhilarating to hunt something so substantial. The creature in question looked like some kind of crossbreed between the sharks and squids that Anselm spoke of with such joy. Even if these were among the small side, Sebastian was sure that his companion would love it. Maybe it would also mean he'd love him.\n\n Twisting and turning like a dancer in the water the brown and yellow wyvern seemed entirely at home in the water. He seemed to sail through it on large wings as he used his long tail to turn and speed through it like a bird in the air. He zeroed in on his prey and struck from behind. Fear and anger surged from Bastina, his nether dragon, but he ignored her. This was something he was doing for himself, and he was sure he would be fine. When his fangs and claws landed, he ripped at the flesh of the creature beneath him. His body twisted free to ready himself for the second attack when pain lanced up his leg. Red blossomed from him as he jerked back to see his prey and the tentacle coming back. As the limb slapped towards him, he gripped it in his jaws and wrenched it free as the creature turned and bit at his flank, causing more pain and crimson to blossom from his side. \n\n The next few moments pass in a haze. Somewhere, he can distantly sense Bastina's emotional scream as he tried to disentangle himself. Lunges were met with bites and those cruel tentacles. With his vision blurred and body tiring, he saw an opening and slashed down with his claws and with a painful wrench from those limbs he slipped between them. His mind lost track of events as he swam away and felt his blood fill the water around him, his prize clenched in his muzzle.\n\n Light came as he reached the surface and breached the waves for air. The coast seemed so far from him, but he waded towards it with Bastina coaxing him along with a constant, worried cry. Darkness began to invade, and he barely noticed as something large bumped against him, and he reflexively lashed out at it. A curse in a semi-familiar language echoed from beside him, and the last thing he remembered is seeing the object of his affection.\n\n Anselm was not having a good day. First, the hybrid woke up to find his usual fishing partner gone from the cave. Then, he found said fishing partner bleeding out on the beach carrying what looked suspiciously like a cephelasmo tentacle in his jaws. No, he was not having a good day.\n\n Bastina was chattering on at length about... something. Conrad, his nether dragon, could take care of it, so he quietly dismissed her from his thoughts and focused on the wyvern in front of him. He did a quick inspection and determined that the first thing that was needed was to stop the bleeding. With a curse to himself, he walked to the beach and began hastily collecting seaweed.\n\n What idiotic motivation could have led the male to fight one of those beasts? Even the small ones were a battle for a demigod such as himself, let alone a much more mortal creature like Sebastian. Another curse punctuated his thoughts, and he sped up his collection, gathering a decent supply of seaweed which he draped over his tail and carried back to Sebastian.\n\n The wyvern had not moved from where he laid and a brief moment of panic flitted through Anselm's heart that only was laid to rest when he confirmed that, yes, Seb was still breathing. As he chastised himself for being slow, he brought his tail closer and summoned water to his side.\n\n Preparing the seaweed was easy enough. Violently agitate the water with magic until it boiled, boil the plant, add a bit of boiled sand to the back of it. The hard part was applying it.\n\n The wyvern showed a fair bit more life as the plant was pressed to his wounds, writhing about and requiring some rather forceful intervention to prevent him from dislodging it. Finally, he pushed the sand into the malleable, boiled plant which bonded them together and creates a tough bandage fitted to the wyvern's hide. Said wyvern received a none-too-pleased bite to one of his ears as he tried to scratch it away. He finally subsided into some kind of disgruntled hisses as Anselm played nursemaid to him.\n\n As he worked on the fool, Conrad began to fill him in on what had happened, relayed from Bastina who wished, rather emphatically, to note her opposition to the plan.\n\n \"He apparently thought that doing so would win your... affections,\" came the high-pitched voice in an accent reasonably resembling that of the people in the northern isles from his home realm. His companion, Bastina, a slightly smaller and more brightly colored nether dragon, gave both of them an accusatory look at the statement. For his credit, Anselm did feel a bit of shame. Still, words that could be said later would be eventually. For now, he needed to work out how to move Sebastian without breaking open the wounds anew.\n\n He cast about his mind for ideas as he looked around to take careful stock of what he had available to him. Eventually, he settled on the idea to make a makeshift stretcher which he carefully, and with winces every time the wyvern cried out in pain, put Sebastian onto and began to drag one end towards the tree line.\n\n He cursed softly at the wounds that made swimming to the cave simply impossibly until Seb could move properly. With that, though, remaining where passing ships or predators might see him was even less an option. At least in the trees, Anselm could create shelter.\n\n That short distance seemed to go on forever with each bump causing a cry from the wyvern. Anselm was drained by the time he had the other under the safety of the trees. If anything, he welcomed the mind-numbing repetition as he began weaving signs that caused wood to grow and bend until they were surrounded by heavy branches.\n\n At some point during the process of dragging him here and creating shelter, the wyvern had passed out. Anselm dearly hoped he had passed out during the latter portion and not due to the pain of being moved. Now he snored gently, occasionally having a pained twitch as his scored flanks moved.\n\n The dragolf gave a deep sigh and nuzzled along the other's neck.\n\n ``Why did you do something so stupid, fish breath.''\n\n Words unspoken hung heavily in the air, but there was a time for them, and it was not now. Instead, he gave a look to Conrad who lowered his ears and nodded before climbing atop Seb's head. With that formality done, Anselm slipped into the woods with an ease that was belied by his otherwise aquatic appearance.\n\n To him, the woods were as much home as the seas. A place of wild things and simultaneously a strict order and hierarchy, one of which he was firmly at the top, as he found several deer which he dispatched with simple, ruthless efficiency. Red meat for the healing and he made sure to grab several herbs and plants along the way back.\n\n He lugged them all back to his makeshift dwelling to find Seb still asleep and his little sentry looking around alertly.\n\n ``Any change?'' he vocalized, more for Bastina's sake than his, as she fretted near Conrad over her bonded companion's condition.\n\n ``No worse,'' came his reply. Thankfully Conrad picked up on why Anselm had wanted to speak aloud and helpfully making Bastina release just a little of that building tension.\n\n Formalities out of the way, the dragolf got down to the business of preparing what he had brought. Fire had never been his element, but even a beast of the waters had to occasionally know how to bring it to life. He barked his orders at both nether dragons, and Conrad led Bastina in kindling flame to life.\n\n Clever. Keep her busy.\n\n He gave as gentle a churr as he could to the female nether dragon to reassure her as he got to the business of butchery. He cut up each deer with simple goals. The offal would be ground up and added to the broth with a few of the more invigorating herbs. The marrow of the bones would be removed for the same reason. The meat though would be used on its own, simply smoked and left mostly intact, save for the blood which was drained for use later.\n\n Even as he cast his mind about to remember lessons taught in millennia past, he internally found himself giving his parents thanks, for the first time in his long existence, for teaching him the art of medicine. Blood and the same herbs as the stew, which would increase blood flow and replenish lost nutrients, was then mixed with pure water to keep it to the consistency of syrup. Nettles, carefully ground into a fine powder, with bone meal ground from fire dried bones along with some ash, then mixed with water into a fine paste created a numbing and better healing bandage.\n\n He kept his mind focused on each task even as some corner of it was yelling at him that he was avoiding thinking of Seb. Of the role, he played in leading him to such a task. Had he encouraged it? Did he in some way make the wyvern think this was what he had to do? Doubt clashed with guilt which fought with worry. All were pushed aside to leave pure oblivion where emotions had been.\n\n It was with that simple sense of emotional numbness that he finished his work and preparation. Conrad had long since finished creating flame, and Anselm let out a quiet apology for breaking his 'parole' again before using his powers to completely purify the water and force it into a clay pot summoned from the ground itself. There would be time for penance later, for now, there was Sebastian to consider.\n\n A single critical eye was all that was spared to assess him. The improvised bandages were holding; blood caked down the sides needed to be washed off more thoroughly, his breathing was labored but steady. Good, all good. With a nod to himself, he leaned in and licked the other's neck gently.\n\n ``I'm not sure if you can hear me, but this will hurt. I apologize.'' \n\n Without waiting for any count, he blasted the not-quite-boiling water over the bandages and ripped them free before dousing the wounds in conversely cold water to prevent the heat from causing more damage. The screech from the wyvern caused him to flinch into his ruff, but he gritted his fangs and did it again. And again. And again. Until all the bandages were removed and the wounds flowed freely again.\n\n Bastina glared daggers into his skull, but this was dismissed from thought. The tricky part was now here. First, the paste pressed into wounds alongside numbing powder. Blood staunched, wounds closed, a second layering of the paste without the numbing agent to cover the wounds entirely. Inwardly, he cursed at not being able to find any disinfectants, but the infection was a secondary concern to the blood loss.\n\n Finally, he wrapped up the procedure and took a step back, eyes sliding along Sebastian as he did. Breathing rougher, fully awake, both to be expected. An apologetic lick was almost reflexive as he acted on autopilot and made everything seem like the actions of someone else rather than himself.\n\n Mechanically, he began the second process. Food, teas, herbs. Blood mixed with herbs that dull pain and increase blood flow. Seb seemed to rankle at the unfamiliar taste as he dipped it down the wyvern's throat. He coughed violently, but luckily, he did not regurgitate or reject it. Good, the next step would be less pleasant. The herbs this time were offered on their own after mulching them down to a paste. They were also hellishly bitter.\n\n Sebastian's head jerked back and knocked away both of the nether dragons as the herbs hit his tongue. Before he could spit them out, Anselm grabbed the wyvern's nose and tilted his head back, forcing him to swallow down the bitter concoction. A high whine echoed throughout the made clearing as it managed to go down and left Sebastian sagged to the ground.\n\n \"Easy there, easy,\" Anselm whispered and gently eased him back into position. From there came the thankfully easier part of throwing the meat into the herb pot and beginning the boil. The smell seemed to revive Seb a little, and idly Anselm felt his tail curl up under the wyvern's head. \n\n He nuzzled along the other's flank and transferred the broth to another clay bowl which he gently pressed to Sebastian's lips.\n\n \"Drink, your body is weakened, and this should taste better than the herbs.\"\n\n He received an almost thankful look in reply before the bowl was drained down to the last drop of broth in one eager pull. A good sign, if there was any, and he refilled the bowl from the now-boiling broth and let it cool for a bit.\n\n \"We'll need to be here a while. You are in no condition to swim, but we should be safe from any predators of the four or two-legged variety here.\" He was more or less talking to himself, filling the dead air for the mute wyvern.\n\n Both males settled into companionable silence from there. The dragolf had long drawn past his usual level of social graces and now merely lay there and listened to the labored breathing of his companion while occasionally hunting and feeding the wyvern as the sun and moon traded places in the sky.\n\n After a while, he simply ceased to count the days that passed and seemed to go on forever. Sebastian's wounds had ceased to heal properly despite his ministrations, and a faint fetor had begun to come off it. Every night the wyvern thrashed a little more as his fever started to creep up and Anselm found himself at a loss for how to proceed, unsure how to use his limited healing knowledge to prevent this from getting worse. A trail had been worn down around the wyvern as he paced in circles around him. Everything had gone wrong since day one with this, and now he found himself unable to do more but lay there and wait in impotent frustration.\n\n In this mounting frustration came another feeling alongside it. Anger. Anger at Sebastian for daring to do something so stupid, rage at this world for not having all the herbs he needed, but above all fury at the Hel-scorched she-god that had restricted him so from doing anything with his powers. He was a Jotun; gods damn it. Heir to Ragnorak and Oblivion, son of the world eater, nephew to Death herself. The anger swelled, and finally, he sat up sharply to a worried look from Bastina... and a shocked one from Conrad.\n\n The air dipped several degrees as he felt the power surge through him: the familiar thrill of destruction itself as everything seemed to narrow down to naught but the feeling of chill and ice. And then, he dived. Few if any mortals could travel the lane of their soul to its origin but he was no mortal, he was Jotun, a God, a being who solely existed as soul. So down he went, tunneling through his connection to Conrad, down into the depths, down until he felt his presence land with a thud.\n\n She towered above him. Immense in her presence, her power, her very existence causing even him to balk in its weight. None of that mattered, and he roared his challenge while beginning his plea. What occurred was not a conversation. You do not converse with a hurricane; you do not debate with a volcano. You merely survive it, weather it, and seek what you want regardless.\n\n He carved out an exception, a single chance to break the rules. Was there a cost? Likely. He had ceased to care when he made his challenge. Her presence, her form, her existence. They crashed down upon him, and he claimed his victory regardless of the cost even as his senses came crashing down to the ground once more.\n\n The smell of burnt flesh hung loosely in the air, and some small part of his mind acknowledged that it was his own. The price paid in full and far higher than that which it was buying and yet utterly worthless compared. The air hung heavy with ice, the tropical beach coated over by frost and every labored breath from the wyvern in front of him brought mist to the wind.\n\n Anselm clambered to his feet and vaguely was aware of the sound of falling flesh and meat as he clambered over to the other's form. His senses were ablaze. Every heartbeat, every breath, every tiny movement of the wyvern magnified as their bodies beat in time together and the hybrid pulled himself atop the other.\n\n ``You are mine, Sebastian,'' snaked his voice into the air, oddly disconnected from his mind as he spoke. ``Mine alone and mine forever.'' Claws made of ice and rock caressed the other's chin as he ground back onto the Wyvern's lap with a low purr of pleasure. Everything had narrowed to a single point, a single concept. Amplified by Jotun magic, leaving only two states. That which was had and that which was wanted. \n\n \"Now give me what I am owed, dragon mine so that I may give in turn.\"\n\n Power surged and filled the form beneath him as the Wyvern's body reacted in turn. Another purr met the air as Anselm ground back on the length that slid past his rump, and he trailed the talons delicately along the other's chest even as he ground a bit harder, a bit slower. \"You thought to impress me. Did you not realize I already viewed you as worth so much, as something worth more than anything?'' He pushed back, sliding that length into him with a moan and he leaned forward to lick along the Wyvern's neck, leaving a trail of growing frost along the area. ``You. Are. Mine, Dragon mine. My dear dragon, my everything.\"\n\n He punctuated his speech by beginning to ride the wyvern. The dragon's shaft pumped into him as he rocked his hips back, never quite hilting the length but always pushing it deeply even as his paws got a bit more aggressive and leaving marks along that flesh. The air dipped even lower as he did with the trees beginning to wither as he pulled their life towards him... and sent it all into the dragon beneath him.\n\n He slowly sped up, grinding and sliding that length deep and hard, pushing the wyvern closer and closer to climax as he got into it himself. He rubbed his length along Sebastian's belly with a rumble of his own contentment before sitting up and surveying his claim, his dragon. The wyvern's breath now came in steady gulps with his higher pitched moans echoing off the ice surrounding them and his body writhing in pleasure as he was ridden.\n\n `I will give you my all, pay my price. And you will -always- be mine, dear Sebastian.'' The hybrid purred out once more, slamming his rump back and hilting that length within him with a grunt and moan as he felt that length begin to twitch inside of him. ``Come now, let us seal our little pact, your body for mine.''\n\n With a shudder, the wyvern let out a whine and hit his climax. Seed pumped into the dragolf, and he reflexively humped up into him as his paws tried to grip the hybrid above him. Anselm merely purred again and lowered his front down with his neck embraced against the others and grinding himself harder on shaft and belly.\n\n With one final shudder of his own, Anselm too hit his finish. His seed coated the belly and chest of his claim and lover while Sebastian still found his own continuing, amplified by the very magic that coursed from Anselm to him and lengthening the experience beyond any prior until there was naught left and the wyvern sagged to the ground. Only then did Anselm unwind his neck and lean back, features changed in the height of his power to something halfway between what he had been and some sort of being made of rock and ice.\n\n Sharp lines stood in contrast to his regular sleek appearance as vines intertwined with `flesh,? and he leaned back in close to the wyvern. A low rumble echoed deep from his chest as slowly the ice melted away, and rock turned to flesh once more, and the dragolf looked down more gently upon Sebastian. His claws trailed along the area wounds once were and now rested only scarred flesh, and he licked across the wyvern's nose wearily as he curled up against him.\n\n ``I am yours, and you mine, you mean more to me than life, dear Sebastian. More than breath. I will never allow you to come to harm, even if it means sacrificing everything.''\n\n Light faded to dark as silence encompassed their little clearing, one rested against the other in a quiet embrace.\n\n Light slowly returned to Sebastian as he shifted up from where he lay. A pain in his leg made him wince and give a startled yip, and he found himself suddenly embraced in a warm, furred presence. \n\n ``Careful, Sebastian,'' he heard in a familiar tone and a comfortingly familiar scent surrounded him.\n\n \"You were unwell for a few days; I am glad the fever broke.\"\n\n `Always so courteous.' Sebastian thought before he gave a fishy smile up at Anselm and licked over one of the other's fins. Anselm, for his part, merely smiled at him and gave a lick back before offering some kind of liquid.\n\n ``Come now, drink. I managed to catch some nearby fish so you should enjoy this more than the venison.''\n\n With a happy noise from him in reply, he drained the entire bowl at once before panting happily as the taste of delicious fish once more met his tongue. He felt a weight settle near his head.\n\n ``So you know... Sebastian. I care for you.''\n\n Sebastian. Sebastian was having a good day.\n\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": " It was surprisingly exhilarating to hunt something so substantial. The creature in question looked like some kind of crossbreed between the sharks and squids that Anselm spoke of with such joy. Even if these were among the small side, Sebastian was sure that his companion would love it. Maybe it would also mean he'd love him.
Twisting and turning like a dancer in the water the brown and yellow wyvern seemed entirely at home in the water. He seemed to sail through it on large wings as he used his long tail to turn and speed through it like a bird in the air. He zeroed in on his prey and struck from behind. Fear and anger surged from Bastina, his nether dragon, but he ignored her. This was something he was doing for himself, and he was sure he would be fine. When his fangs and claws landed, he ripped at the flesh of the creature beneath him. His body twisted free to ready himself for the second attack when pain lanced up his leg. Red blossomed from him as he jerked back to see his prey and the tentacle coming back. As the limb slapped towards him, he gripped it in his jaws and wrenched it free as the creature turned and bit at his flank, causing more pain and crimson to blossom from his side.
The next few moments pass in a haze. Somewhere, he can distantly sense Bastina's emotional scream as he tried to disentangle himself. Lunges were met with bites and those cruel tentacles. With his vision blurred and body tiring, he saw an opening and slashed down with his claws and with a painful wrench from those limbs he slipped between them. His mind lost track of events as he swam away and felt his blood fill the water around him, his prize clenched in his muzzle.
Light came as he reached the surface and breached the waves for air. The coast seemed so far from him, but he waded towards it with Bastina coaxing him along with a constant, worried cry. Darkness began to invade, and he barely noticed as something large bumped against him, and he reflexively lashed out at it. A curse in a semi-familiar language echoed from beside him, and the last thing he remembered is seeing the object of his affection.
Anselm was not having a good day. First, the hybrid woke up to find his usual fishing partner gone from the cave. Then, he found said fishing partner bleeding out on the beach carrying what looked suspiciously like a cephelasmo tentacle in his jaws. No, he was not having a good day.
Bastina was chattering on at length about... something. Conrad, his nether dragon, could take care of it, so he quietly dismissed her from his thoughts and focused on the wyvern in front of him. He did a quick inspection and determined that the first thing that was needed was to stop the bleeding. With a curse to himself, he walked to the beach and began hastily collecting seaweed.
What idiotic motivation could have led the male to fight one of those beasts? Even the small ones were a battle for a demigod such as himself, let alone a much more mortal creature like Sebastian. Another curse punctuated his thoughts, and he sped up his collection, gathering a decent supply of seaweed which he draped over his tail and carried back to Sebastian.
The wyvern had not moved from where he laid and a brief moment of panic flitted through Anselm's heart that only was laid to rest when he confirmed that, yes, Seb was still breathing. As he chastised himself for being slow, he brought his tail closer and summoned water to his side.
Preparing the seaweed was easy enough. Violently agitate the water with magic until it boiled, boil the plant, add a bit of boiled sand to the back of it. The hard part was applying it.
The wyvern showed a fair bit more life as the plant was pressed to his wounds, writhing about and requiring some rather forceful intervention to prevent him from dislodging it. Finally, he pushed the sand into the malleable, boiled plant which bonded them together and creates a tough bandage fitted to the wyvern's hide. Said wyvern received a none-too-pleased bite to one of his ears as he tried to scratch it away. He finally subsided into some kind of disgruntled hisses as Anselm played nursemaid to him.
As he worked on the fool, Conrad began to fill him in on what had happened, relayed from Bastina who wished, rather emphatically, to note her opposition to the plan.
"He apparently thought that doing so would win your... affections," came the high-pitched voice in an accent reasonably resembling that of the people in the northern isles from his home realm. His companion, Bastina, a slightly smaller and more brightly colored nether dragon, gave both of them an accusatory look at the statement. For his credit, Anselm did feel a bit of shame. Still, words that could be said later would be eventually. For now, he needed to work out how to move Sebastian without breaking open the wounds anew.
He cast about his mind for ideas as he looked around to take careful stock of what he had available to him. Eventually, he settled on the idea to make a makeshift stretcher which he carefully, and with winces every time the wyvern cried out in pain, put Sebastian onto and began to drag one end towards the tree line.
He cursed softly at the wounds that made swimming to the cave simply impossibly until Seb could move properly. With that, though, remaining where passing ships or predators might see him was even less an option. At least in the trees, Anselm could create shelter.
That short distance seemed to go on forever with each bump causing a cry from the wyvern. Anselm was drained by the time he had the other under the safety of the trees. If anything, he welcomed the mind-numbing repetition as he began weaving signs that caused wood to grow and bend until they were surrounded by heavy branches.
At some point during the process of dragging him here and creating shelter, the wyvern had passed out. Anselm dearly hoped he had passed out during the latter portion and not due to the pain of being moved. Now he snored gently, occasionally having a pained twitch as his scored flanks moved.
The dragolf gave a deep sigh and nuzzled along the other's neck.
``Why did you do something so stupid, fish breath.''
Words unspoken hung heavily in the air, but there was a time for them, and it was not now. Instead, he gave a look to Conrad who lowered his ears and nodded before climbing atop Seb's head. With that formality done, Anselm slipped into the woods with an ease that was belied by his otherwise aquatic appearance.
To him, the woods were as much home as the seas. A place of wild things and simultaneously a strict order and hierarchy, one of which he was firmly at the top, as he found several deer which he dispatched with simple, ruthless efficiency. Red meat for the healing and he made sure to grab several herbs and plants along the way back.
He lugged them all back to his makeshift dwelling to find Seb still asleep and his little sentry looking around alertly.
``Any change?'' he vocalized, more for Bastina's sake than his, as she fretted near Conrad over her bonded companion's condition.
``No worse,'' came his reply. Thankfully Conrad picked up on why Anselm had wanted to speak aloud and helpfully making Bastina release just a little of that building tension.
Formalities out of the way, the dragolf got down to the business of preparing what he had brought. Fire had never been his element, but even a beast of the waters had to occasionally know how to bring it to life. He barked his orders at both nether dragons, and Conrad led Bastina in kindling flame to life.
Clever. Keep her busy.
He gave as gentle a churr as he could to the female nether dragon to reassure her as he got to the business of butchery. He cut up each deer with simple goals. The offal would be ground up and added to the broth with a few of the more invigorating herbs. The marrow of the bones would be removed for the same reason. The meat though would be used on its own, simply smoked and left mostly intact, save for the blood which was drained for use later.
Even as he cast his mind about to remember lessons taught in millennia past, he internally found himself giving his parents thanks, for the first time in his long existence, for teaching him the art of medicine. Blood and the same herbs as the stew, which would increase blood flow and replenish lost nutrients, was then mixed with pure water to keep it to the consistency of syrup. Nettles, carefully ground into a fine powder, with bone meal ground from fire dried bones along with some ash, then mixed with water into a fine paste created a numbing and better healing bandage.
He kept his mind focused on each task even as some corner of it was yelling at him that he was avoiding thinking of Seb. Of the role, he played in leading him to such a task. Had he encouraged it? Did he in some way make the wyvern think this was what he had to do? Doubt clashed with guilt which fought with worry. All were pushed aside to leave pure oblivion where emotions had been.
It was with that simple sense of emotional numbness that he finished his work and preparation. Conrad had long since finished creating flame, and Anselm let out a quiet apology for breaking his 'parole' again before using his powers to completely purify the water and force it into a clay pot summoned from the ground itself. There would be time for penance later, for now, there was Sebastian to consider.
A single critical eye was all that was spared to assess him. The improvised bandages were holding; blood caked down the sides needed to be washed off more thoroughly, his breathing was labored but steady. Good, all good. With a nod to himself, he leaned in and licked the other's neck gently.
``I'm not sure if you can hear me, but this will hurt. I apologize.''
Without waiting for any count, he blasted the not-quite-boiling water over the bandages and ripped them free before dousing the wounds in conversely cold water to prevent the heat from causing more damage. The screech from the wyvern caused him to flinch into his ruff, but he gritted his fangs and did it again. And again. And again. Until all the bandages were removed and the wounds flowed freely again.
Bastina glared daggers into his skull, but this was dismissed from thought. The tricky part was now here. First, the paste pressed into wounds alongside numbing powder. Blood staunched, wounds closed, a second layering of the paste without the numbing agent to cover the wounds entirely. Inwardly, he cursed at not being able to find any disinfectants, but the infection was a secondary concern to the blood loss.
Finally, he wrapped up the procedure and took a step back, eyes sliding along Sebastian as he did. Breathing rougher, fully awake, both to be expected. An apologetic lick was almost reflexive as he acted on autopilot and made everything seem like the actions of someone else rather than himself.
Mechanically, he began the second process. Food, teas, herbs. Blood mixed with herbs that dull pain and increase blood flow. Seb seemed to rankle at the unfamiliar taste as he dipped it down the wyvern's throat. He coughed violently, but luckily, he did not regurgitate or reject it. Good, the next step would be less pleasant. The herbs this time were offered on their own after mulching them down to a paste. They were also hellishly bitter.
Sebastian's head jerked back and knocked away both of the nether dragons as the herbs hit his tongue. Before he could spit them out, Anselm grabbed the wyvern's nose and tilted his head back, forcing him to swallow down the bitter concoction. A high whine echoed throughout the made clearing as it managed to go down and left Sebastian sagged to the ground.
"Easy there, easy," Anselm whispered and gently eased him back into position. From there came the thankfully easier part of throwing the meat into the herb pot and beginning the boil. The smell seemed to revive Seb a little, and idly Anselm felt his tail curl up under the wyvern's head.
He nuzzled along the other's flank and transferred the broth to another clay bowl which he gently pressed to Sebastian's lips.
"Drink, your body is weakened, and this should taste better than the herbs."
He received an almost thankful look in reply before the bowl was drained down to the last drop of broth in one eager pull. A good sign, if there was any, and he refilled the bowl from the now-boiling broth and let it cool for a bit.
"We'll need to be here a while. You are in no condition to swim, but we should be safe from any predators of the four or two-legged variety here." He was more or less talking to himself, filling the dead air for the mute wyvern.
Both males settled into companionable silence from there. The dragolf had long drawn past his usual level of social graces and now merely lay there and listened to the labored breathing of his companion while occasionally hunting and feeding the wyvern as the sun and moon traded places in the sky.
After a while, he simply ceased to count the days that passed and seemed to go on forever. Sebastian's wounds had ceased to heal properly despite his ministrations, and a faint fetor had begun to come off it. Every night the wyvern thrashed a little more as his fever started to creep up and Anselm found himself at a loss for how to proceed, unsure how to use his limited healing knowledge to prevent this from getting worse. A trail had been worn down around the wyvern as he paced in circles around him. Everything had gone wrong since day one with this, and now he found himself unable to do more but lay there and wait in impotent frustration.
In this mounting frustration came another feeling alongside it. Anger. Anger at Sebastian for daring to do something so stupid, rage at this world for not having all the herbs he needed, but above all fury at the Hel-scorched she-god that had restricted him so from doing anything with his powers. He was a Jotun; gods damn it. Heir to Ragnorak and Oblivion, son of the world eater, nephew to Death herself. The anger swelled, and finally, he sat up sharply to a worried look from Bastina... and a shocked one from Conrad.
The air dipped several degrees as he felt the power surge through him: the familiar thrill of destruction itself as everything seemed to narrow down to naught but the feeling of chill and ice. And then, he dived. Few if any mortals could travel the lane of their soul to its origin but he was no mortal, he was Jotun, a God, a being who solely existed as soul. So down he went, tunneling through his connection to Conrad, down into the depths, down until he felt his presence land with a thud.
She towered above him. Immense in her presence, her power, her very existence causing even him to balk in its weight. None of that mattered, and he roared his challenge while beginning his plea. What occurred was not a conversation. You do not converse with a hurricane; you do not debate with a volcano. You merely survive it, weather it, and seek what you want regardless.
He carved out an exception, a single chance to break the rules. Was there a cost? Likely. He had ceased to care when he made his challenge. Her presence, her form, her existence. They crashed down upon him, and he claimed his victory regardless of the cost even as his senses came crashing down to the ground once more.
The smell of burnt flesh hung loosely in the air, and some small part of his mind acknowledged that it was his own. The price paid in full and far higher than that which it was buying and yet utterly worthless compared. The air hung heavy with ice, the tropical beach coated over by frost and every labored breath from the wyvern in front of him brought mist to the wind.
Anselm clambered to his feet and vaguely was aware of the sound of falling flesh and meat as he clambered over to the other's form. His senses were ablaze. Every heartbeat, every breath, every tiny movement of the wyvern magnified as their bodies beat in time together and the hybrid pulled himself atop the other.
``You are mine, Sebastian,'' snaked his voice into the air, oddly disconnected from his mind as he spoke. ``Mine alone and mine forever.'' Claws made of ice and rock caressed the other's chin as he ground back onto the Wyvern's lap with a low purr of pleasure. Everything had narrowed to a single point, a single concept. Amplified by Jotun magic, leaving only two states. That which was had and that which was wanted.
"Now give me what I am owed, dragon mine so that I may give in turn."
Power surged and filled the form beneath him as the Wyvern's body reacted in turn. Another purr met the air as Anselm ground back on the length that slid past his rump, and he trailed the talons delicately along the other's chest even as he ground a bit harder, a bit slower. "You thought to impress me. Did you not realize I already viewed you as worth so much, as something worth more than anything?'' He pushed back, sliding that length into him with a moan and he leaned forward to lick along the Wyvern's neck, leaving a trail of growing frost along the area. ``You. Are. Mine, Dragon mine. My dear dragon, my everything."
He punctuated his speech by beginning to ride the wyvern. The dragon's shaft pumped into him as he rocked his hips back, never quite hilting the length but always pushing it deeply even as his paws got a bit more aggressive and leaving marks along that flesh. The air dipped even lower as he did with the trees beginning to wither as he pulled their life towards him... and sent it all into the dragon beneath him.
He slowly sped up, grinding and sliding that length deep and hard, pushing the wyvern closer and closer to climax as he got into it himself. He rubbed his length along Sebastian's belly with a rumble of his own contentment before sitting up and surveying his claim, his dragon. The wyvern's breath now came in steady gulps with his higher pitched moans echoing off the ice surrounding them and his body writhing in pleasure as he was ridden.
`I will give you my all, pay my price. And you will -always- be mine, dear Sebastian.'' The hybrid purred out once more, slamming his rump back and hilting that length within him with a grunt and moan as he felt that length begin to twitch inside of him. ``Come now, let us seal our little pact, your body for mine.''
With a shudder, the wyvern let out a whine and hit his climax. Seed pumped into the dragolf, and he reflexively humped up into him as his paws tried to grip the hybrid above him. Anselm merely purred again and lowered his front down with his neck embraced against the others and grinding himself harder on shaft and belly.
With one final shudder of his own, Anselm too hit his finish. His seed coated the belly and chest of his claim and lover while Sebastian still found his own continuing, amplified by the very magic that coursed from Anselm to him and lengthening the experience beyond any prior until there was naught left and the wyvern sagged to the ground. Only then did Anselm unwind his neck and lean back, features changed in the height of his power to something halfway between what he had been and some sort of being made of rock and ice.
Sharp lines stood in contrast to his regular sleek appearance as vines intertwined with `flesh,? and he leaned back in close to the wyvern. A low rumble echoed deep from his chest as slowly the ice melted away, and rock turned to flesh once more, and the dragolf looked down more gently upon Sebastian. His claws trailed along the area wounds once were and now rested only scarred flesh, and he licked across the wyvern's nose wearily as he curled up against him.
``I am yours, and you mine, you mean more to me than life, dear Sebastian. More than breath. I will never allow you to come to harm, even if it means sacrificing everything.''
Light faded to dark as silence encompassed their little clearing, one rested against the other in a quiet embrace.
Light slowly returned to Sebastian as he shifted up from where he lay. A pain in his leg made him wince and give a startled yip, and he found himself suddenly embraced in a warm, furred presence.
``Careful, Sebastian,'' he heard in a familiar tone and a comfortingly familiar scent surrounded him.
"You were unwell for a few days; I am glad the fever broke."
`Always so courteous.' Sebastian thought before he gave a fishy smile up at Anselm and licked over one of the other's fins. Anselm, for his part, merely smiled at him and gave a lick back before offering some kind of liquid.
``Come now, drink. I managed to catch some nearby fish so you should enjoy this more than the venison.''
With a happy noise from him in reply, he drained the entire bowl at once before panting happily as the taste of delicious fish once more met his tongue. He felt a weight settle near his head.
