nothing more for me

For a long while, things were quiet. The throbbing of his injuries was soothed somewhat by the cold water at his back, while the setting sun still offered an inkling of warmth that Jethro was conscious of, dancing across his face. It was pleasant, but even that would be extinguished soon, though, just as he hoped his existence would be. If this were to be his last evening, Jethro supposed it was the best place he could’ve hoped for. He did not want to be around to see another sunrise.

Weak as he was, the sound of approaching steps was still apparent when he heard them. They were loud, heavy, distinct – growing closer. Not from the same direction he’d come from, either, so he didn’t think it was another Sanzin. His body tensed, although whoever was out there seemed to hesitate as they got closer, and before too long, the steps were fading away again. Probably some loner that wanted nothing to do with it, then.

He did wonder if the Sanzin would ever find him. A portion of his mind doubted any of them would be bothered to follow him here, to find out, but he could never know for certain. More than likely his corpse would just be left to be consumed by nature until nothing except a skeleton was left. Which, at least, would mean it’d be useful for something. More useful to nature in death than in life. A twisted smile crossed his countenance at the thought of it, a soft huff escaping him.

The action sparked pain, and Jethro clenched his jaw against it, although once more, the sound of steps interrupted his thoughts. His eyes parted just enough to see the figure of quite possibly the biggest wolf he’d ever seen in his life approaching. Bastard was a bloody giant, and silhouetted by the sun as it was, the blurry figure was made even more ominous. Like a harbinger of death, sent along to speed up the process. Perhaps his hopes were answered.

The giant closed the gap between them in a hurry. When he was closer, he stooped over for a moment, and Jethro was sure he’d feel pain, but he didn’t. Weakly, he twisted his head around, squinting up at the gargantuan individual, as he just.. stood there. Probably savoring the kill to come.

A soft growl of defiance escaped Jethro at that, as he attempted to twist his torso enough to gather his fatigued limbs beneath him. ”C’mon.. bastard, do it. I ain’t fucking afraid of… of you…’” he taunted lowly, utilizing the small burst of anger and adrenaline to fuel his attempt to rise. Clamping his jaw and trying to ignore the pain, Jethro pushed himself up, and for a few moments he managed to rise, albeit teetering on unsteady limbs. Ultimately though ended up collapsing and tumbling back deeper into the water. It nearly submerged him at this point – seemingly sealing his fate, one way or another.

If this guy didn’t kill him, he could ensure drowning would. At least either way, he expected it to be quick.

—feel free to powerplay Jet as needed if Arsa goes to drag him out of the water or something. He wouldn’t be able to put up any significant resistance.

There was scarcely a moment’s delay before the gargantuan male moved forth after Jethro. He could hear the quick movement of large paws trudging through water, and it seemed the big guy was intent on claiming the kill for himself. Almost immediately the guy was grasping at the back of his neck - though curiously, Jet felt very little pain. Rather than being held down as he might’ve anticipated, the guy pulled him up, out of the water. All at once, he was coughing and breathing again, while simultaneously being dragged forward. The giant pulled him seemingly without struggle, like he was no more of a challenge to handle than a fucking rabbit.

Instinct bid him resist, although he accomplished little more than a desperate flailing of his limbs, kicking up bits of water and then dirt, as he was taken away from the water and to a dry patch of grass. The giant placed him down upon it carefully, his motions so delicate and precise that they caused very little pain, leaving Jethro in the same situation he’d been in moments before.

Exposed and vulnerable, cold and bleeding. Any sort of movement was out of the question as he struggled even to breathe, feeling incredibly cold at that moment, shivers rocked his battered frame. The guy had wasted little time doing something, as Jethro once again felt a slight pressure upon some of his wounds. But still, no pain. Nothing this guy had caused through his actions directly. Jethro’s taunting had done nothing.

If the guy’s intent had been to kill him, there was no reason for him to be going through all of this trouble. No reason to save him from the water, or to gently place him on this bed of grass. Which could only mean…

”No.. please, no..” Jet pleaded, feebly attempting to again twist away from the guy, though his cold limbs were numb, and he could barely accomplish more than scrabbling at the ground. ”Die.. just let me die. Please..” He begged desperately, weakly. He was so close to it. Even if this guy were to save him now, the Sanzin would punish him even worse later. The inevitable was just being delayed, at best.

There was a look of sternness and disapproval that had crossed the countenance of the gargantuan guy, but no anger. No hate, like he was accustomed to seeing from the Sanzin. The guy looked anguished, saddened as he studied Jethro’s form and desperate pleas for death. But he did not grant them. Instead, he apologized, and pressed his giant nose against one of Jethro’s paws, making his intentions clearer than before.

And that made the Sanzin joker angry again, even more so that he could do nothing about it. He could not do a damned thing. He tried again, attempting to rise as the other moved, shouting after him. ”No! Please, just..” once more his words trailed off as pain flashed through his body at the attempt to move, the irritable outburst ending in a pained cry.

A cry that morphed into faint sobbing as the emotions and pain - physical and mental, could no longer be suppressed. Jet felt absent the strength to even keep his eyes open, and he didn’t try to resist, hoping that death would somehow take him before the giant could get back and continue his work.

The guy was back before either sleep or death could take him, though, and he proceeded diligently despite the sobs that rattled the battered frame of his patient. Clearly, the giant knew what he was doing, much to Jethro’s displeasure. He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there, sobbing faintly, half aware of the efforts the other put forth. Slowly, though, some of the pain ebbed, along with the flow of blood. Anger remained, and an inkling of energy returned. Maybe enough to try one last thing.

Jethro was brought back from the darkness when his would-be savior spoke again, providing a name. Each word he spoke after fueled the fire of rage. The low sobbing tapered off, and Jethro opened his eyes again, fixing them on the other. ”Well.. asshole,” he huffed out resentfully and with one more sniffle, attempting to mock the giant’s introduction by replacing his name with a far less pleasant substitute. Jethro flexed each of his limbs, testing them for readiness. ”You’re… not saving me,” he growled defiantly, "you're.. making me suffer more. They’ll.. just do it again. Hurt me again, just like they always do, and you.. won’t be there, next time... so.. fuck you.”

Utilizing the spark and small burst of adrenaline his anger provided, Jet jerked his body to one side, enough so that he was able to collect his limbs beneath him. He found the pain and his exhaustion were still too great to rise completely, so he lunged forward as best he could in a crawl and aimed to clamp his jaws down on the closest part of the giant’s body he could reach, one of his forelimbs.

If words alone would not unsettle or dissuade the guy, perhaps the threat of injury would.

The countenance of the gargantuan male appeared to remain almost completely unphased, the only indicator of unease being that he had stood up, mere moments before Jet lunged at him. He should’ve suspected it, that a guy like this would be the type that was not easily frightened. The giant didn’t even really move, except to steady himself and maintain his balance as Jethro succeeded in grasping and tugging at one of his limbs. Instinct bid him take advantage of what was likely to be his only advantage, to tug and tear as hard as he could, cause as much damage as possible in his efforts.

But lingering in the Sanzin joker’s mind was an unwillingness to risk causing too much harm to someone that’d actually been trying to save him, even if Jet hated the man for it. The guy.. didn’t deserve that.

Within a few moments, though, the giant was moving again. Twisting his limb away from and out of Jet’s grasp as he maneuvered himself out of reach. At the same time, Jet felt jaws grasping at the back of his neck, and knew the man intended to use his size and weight to pin and subdue any further effort to resist the Sanzin joker might make.

With adrenaline still surging, and an expectation that the giant wouldn’t hesitate to use his advantage to inflict further injury, Jethro struggled, first attempting to buck the other man or twist his head away, and when it became apparent that wasn’t possible - to simply crawl away. Even if he’d been in top form, Jet would’ve been skeptical of his ability to succeed in that. So in this condition? There was no hope.

There was no point in resisting, anyway, not if death was what he really wanted. But again, the man defied expectations and did not so much as inflict another scratch, once more demonstrating his unwillingness to cause harm. He only rested there, firmly but.. almost tenderly restraining Jethro as the last of the fight left his body. Slowly, the adrenaline faded. The hurt returned, and his weak struggling morphed into soft, pained sobs, energy spent. If there was but one benefit to it though, it was that the giant was warm, something the Sanzin joker became aware of once the warmth was removed. Jet closed his eyes, as if not looking at the fellow would somehow spare him just a bit of the shame of being so completely and utterly humiliated.

But then the guy - Arsa - spoke again, and that only added to it. There was anger there, too, but he was far too weak to do anything other than offer the slightest of indignant huffs, as the guy chattered on for far too long about his motives and duties. There was one part about all of it that didn’t make sense though, the longer Jethro mulled it over, bringing his grieving to an end.

”S..selfish? You’re.. not that.” An asshole, maybe. But selfish? Where the hell was that coming from? Trying to help someone, even after they’d tried to attack you and expressed a desire to perish was the furthest thing from selfish. Arsa could’ve walked away, spared himself an injury and the time, but hadn’t. Sucking in a breath, and wincing at the hurt it caused, Jet allowed his eyes to part, and gaze up at the concerned individual. It was hard not to be disgusted by the looks of pity, there.

The guy asked about who’d done this, which Jet supposed was a natural progression. And at this stage in the game, he didn’t see any reason to deny the man information. ”Sanzin. My pack. They’re.. selfish. Not, like you. I’m.. a scapegoat. A plaything.. for anyone that.. enjoys a power trip. Avoid them.” This guy seemed pretty fucking smart, and could probably reason things out for himself, from there. Especially if he was already familiar with the Sanzin and their ways. Jethro couldn’t help but offer a self-deprecating grin at that, though the expression didn’t last long as the hurt from injuries he’d agitated again during his movement flared up.

Brow knitting, Jet clenched his eyes shut to take a few breaths, willing the hurt away. When he looked up towards the other again, his expression was pained and pleading. ”Could you.. would you.. come closer? You’re warm, and I.. I’m cold…” probably due to the combination of blood loss and falling into frigid lakewater. There was no ploy this time, no intent to lure the man close enough to try something else. Only a pleading desire for some sort of relief. It was… painfully obvious by now, that Arsa wasn’t going to grant him a death wish so, he supposed it didn’t hurt anything except what little pride he had, to ask for a little bit of comforting warmth.

The giant did not have anything to say about Jethro’s story, or his pack. Perhaps the man knew of the Sanzin, perhaps he did not. It seemed clear, by his knitted brow, that he was at least familiar with things of this sort. It made the Sanzin Joker wonder it would have been like to exist in the sort of environment he imagined Arsa had been brought up in. He had heard the occasional rumor, whispers from other Sanzin Jokers, of those that had fled.

Those that had found someplace better, amongst packs that were far more tolerant, peaceful, and even.. welcoming. Even the higher-ranked Sanzin spoke of the Vertok, a supposedly benevolent pack - usually with disdain. A part of Jet had always wanted to believe in that kind of thing, but the older he’d gotten, the less likely it had seemed he would ever find something different than what he had been brought up in. For, if even his own family and pack hadn’t seen value in him, why - or how, could anyone else?

This man, a complete stranger, was the first one Jethro had ever met that just seemed to care for the sake of caring. And he was not sure if that made Arsa incredibly fucking dumb and foolish, or courageous and strong. Maybe a little bit of both.

It did not take long for the giant man to grant his request, though. The healer moved closer, and this time his was notably lacking any kind of concerned look or pity. There was just.. kindness there, as he settled in much closer, now. With that action, whatever pride the Sanzin Joker had stubbornly held on to seemed to melt away. Jet did not bother to resist the urge to press his face into the giant’s shoulder, relishing the warmth provided by the other’s closeness, deciding it was by far preferable to being cold.

He supposed he should’ve anticipated a question about food, next. Though the temptation was there to make some kind of sarcastic remark, Jet resisted that. ”S’been a while. But, I’m used to it. You’ve.. already done enough.” He didn’t want the guy to have to tend to his meals now, too. Although.. ”I doubt that’ll stop you, though,” he mused, unable to resist one little quip. Based on what he had seen so far, Jethro imagined he probably could’ve told the guy to fuck off again, and he’d still end up coming back with half a deer carcass or something.

There were other things that had been nagging at him, though. And these thoughts prompted Jet to raise his head up just a little bit, briefly pulling away from the warmth he’d pressed his face in to study the other man’s face as much as he was able. ”If it’s.. your duty to serve, why.. couldn’t you serve me by.. letting me die? Or by.. givin’ me somethin’ to make it quicker, or whatever?” Jethro paused a moment, sucking in a breath, before continuing.

”And.. what the hell, d’ya see in me, that’s worth savin’?” He added on, genuinely puzzled by this. Specifically the second part. The first, he could reason was due to some kind of code of ethics. But the second? What had Arsa seen in his small, hideous, battered frame that was worth trying to save?

The giant sounded.. almost amused by Jethro’s last little bit about the food, a soft laugh emanating from him. The Sanzin Joker could almost feel the laughter formulating in the giant’s chest, with their closeness, and he believed he could almost hear the wry smile, without having to look for it. To share in the amusement with someone was a rare thing for him indeed, but it felt nice. He could not help but flash a slight half-grin, returning the shoulder bump with a soft touch of his nose.

”Sometimes,” the joker admitted softly. ”When you do go.. whatever ya get, don’t bring it all the way back. I wanna walk, maybe even just a few steps, to feel like I earned it.” He knew, with his wounds, he would scarcely be able to scavenge, let alone hunt, for a while. Like it or not, Jethro knew he did need the aid. And a few steps for his part wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing at all. And it was probably a compromise they could agree on.

His follow-up questions, though, seemed to silence Arsa, for a short time. It was a look Jet was becoming more familiar with, something serious, contemplative, and Jet could appreciate that the guy took some time to formulate his response with care. It made him seem more genuine, believable. If he’d come back quickly with some sort of automatic response, the joker doubted he would’ve thought that. Arsa thought there were two types, those who sought to destroy, and those who sought to preserve. That was a philosophy Jethro could agree with. He supposed his pack would be a part of the former group, those that sought to destroy in all manner of ways, for their own personal gain. And now, it seemed, he had met someone that belonged to the latter category, too.

”And you.. choose to use that knowledge, and power, to preserve things. That’s.. honorable.” Yet another word Jethro was unaccustomed to thinking or saying. If there was one word to summarize all of the traits he’d seen on display from Arsa so far though, it was exactly that. In him, the giant said, he saw a will to keep going, which was what was worth saving.

It was impossible not to tear up just a little bit, at that, prompting the joker to once more press his face into the other’s side. There wasn’t much he could think of in response to what Arsa had said. Maybe only one thing, felt appropriate. ”I.. thank you. I.. am sorry.. for injuring you. And for.. what I said.” Arsa hadn’t deserved any of that, he knew. This man was good. Truly good. The first example Jet had ever seen of such a thing, and so much better than he deserved.