DO THIS ON MY OWN // JOINING

[OLLIE]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"][ ❁ ] "Give it here, you little shit."

He dropped the rabbit long enough to say, "That's a bad word!" before taking it back into his mouth and scrambling behind a tree. The wolf he might have stolen the hare from exhaled heavily and followed, though Ollie had already set off to weave between the other trees. Ollie knew he wasn't the fastest kid around, but his parents needed the rabbit, so he had to be- had to be the fastest kid and the smartest, to throw this guy off since his mother and father weren't in any condition to do it themselves.

All they needed was a bit of food, right?

Biting down hard on the hare, he shot into a clearing, heading for the other side -where it didn't smell like so many strange people, where his parents would be- but he was pulled up short by a sudden force yanking backwards. Ollie dropped the rabbit with a startled shout, and a gray paw nudged it out of his reach. "Hey! I need that!"

"So do I." The wolf came into his line of sight, picked up the rabbit, and set off without another word.

"My parents are sick! You gotta help 'em!" There was only a snort, and the stranger kept walking, like he didn't care, like he didn't believe Ollie. Mounting frustration and fear had his eyes burning, his next breath a hiccup, and he scrambled back up to his paws. This place smelled like other people, so maybe he could ask one of them for help? Mind made, he turned away from where his parents were and ran deeper into the trees, and on the other side was a big field. No trees at all.

His throat worked, ears flat against his head. What if they were just like the wolf? What if they didn't want to help? No, no. Ollie couldn't just quit. His parents needed him.

"Is anybody there? I need help! Please, somebody! My parents're sick!"

[ORPHEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Orpheus didn't believe in luck or fate, but there are always moments in life that make him want to change his mind. The day his dad found him, the day he met his friends. Even though the world has a way of turning things against him in the end, the coincidences themselves are beautiful things. He wouldn't change a thing about his past even if he was given the option to — maybe that was his problem, how stubbornly he pushed through whatever came to him. Maybe he should wish he could start over, change the decisions he had made. Would it matter?

It doesn't now, he supposes. Life has made him into something strange, with the idea that he could help anything stuck in his head. That's where the idea of luck comes into play. He had been out hunting too — more successfully than Ollie, thankfully, though his stomach started to churn if he thought too much about what he was doing. The squirrel wasn't sentient the way that he was, they were, The Ascendants were, but he still found himself wishing he could survive off of grass sometimes. Too soft, that's what some people he knew would say, putting a squirrel above himself.

At least it makes more sense to put a child before himself. When he hears the cries, Orpheus drops his prey in an instant to jump towards the call, paws light on the ground and quiet in the grass. It takes a few ridiculous bounds to get a better line of sight and a moment to search, but urgency drives him there quickly. He knows what it means, what it's like to feel so small and hopeless, cut off from who mattered. Projecting his history onto Ollie isn't healthy, though, so he does what he can to swallow down the memories. "Hey. Hey? What's wrong? Why are you alone?"

[OLLIE]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"][ ❁ ] Ollie couldn't explain what it was that came over him when he saw the other lion, with his stripes and bright eyes, but whatever it was, he felt like he was unbalanced, and his teeth were...fuzzy. He ran his tongue over them, finding nothing actually there- they just felt that way, and he felt the impending cry in his chest ebbing back. He hiccuped again, staring up at the lion with unblinking eyes. If asked, Ollie wouldn't know very much about fate, about being in the right place at the right time, but something about standing here, feeling so small, was familiar. A piece slipping into place, like one of the puzzles he would do with his father. He just couldn't see the picture.

Another breath shook him out of the disconnection, and he jumped forward, tugging at one of the lion's paws with gentle teeth. "You have to follow me! They're sick, they need help!" Ollie beckoned again with a jerk of his head, and then he was off at a run, never even glancing back to make certain the stranger was following because he knew he would. He had to.

Ollie tore through bushes, oblivious to the bits of his fur he left in his frenzy, and his gaze ran over the landscape, searching for- there. The flower by the bush, and behind it would be a tiny clearing where his parents slept. "Through here!" He pushed through it, and his parents were right where he'd left them, curled together.

Ollie darted forward, pressing at their shoulders, before abruptly stiffening and drawing back. They felt- they felt wrong. "Wake up, it's me. I brought help." He huffed into his mother's face, which would always wake her up, always, and there was nothing. Not even a little bit of a smile. Ollie knew she was sick, knew his dad was sick, but they were- they were different earlier. They were warmer. "You gotta wake up. Please." His voice broke, and suddenly an inexplicable, searing anger poured into his small body, and he violently took his father and shook him. "Wake up! This isn't funny! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

[ORPHEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]The things in life that felt right tended to be — he doesn't believe in fate, but he believed in that. Orpheus stays soft as he stares down at Ollie, a little kid that he could curl around even though he's hardly big himself. His heart does something strange when he hiccups, his paws twitching with the urge to comfort him, to do better than what he was doing now. Because what he's doing now is not enough, almost nothing. They're both missing the bigger picture, but isn't he always? He's lived his entire life lost in limbo. All he did was roll with what was thrown at him. What was one more thing? But like with Ollie, something about his eyes and the way he tugs to get his attention felt like the idea of fate that he doesn't quite believe in.

He remembers being curled up under one of his dad's paws with his head on the other, rattling off words he'd learned and asking questions about Shakespeare. He remembers asking about his own parents, and the quiet "good" he'd whispered when Brigand told him the truth. This wasn't the same. Ollie had someone to miss.

So he follows, ducking his head to avoid branches the child could easily miss and weaving around areas that were too tight to navigate. He doesn't have to ask him to slow down and he's not sure he would have anyway, not with how urgent he seemed, but Orpheus's pace finally slows as they break through to the clearing. Maybe the kid was too young to recognize the smell that tinged the air; he's not. A more protective part of his heart wants to pull him back before he has the chance to reach them, though he's already too late for that. The bright lion stands there with the sun on his back but his paws frozen to the ground, his stomach clenching.

"Kid," he whispers. He's sure that he should hear the snap of ice when he manages to take a step, but he doesn't. "Hey." One large paw gently moves to tug him back, touch small and gentle on his chest. "Don't do that. Come here." The lion's voice is soft and thick, heavy the way a weighted blanket or winter jacket is.

[arcy]

In theory, Link thinks he can understand grief. He thinks of flashes, of memories of grief and tears, but they just feel so different. Unreal. It’s … not him. He’s not the Link of then. He barely feels like a Link of now. … It makes relating to people’s plights very difficult, when he has no world experience to base his responses on.
Even so … Well. He’s a little far away to help as immediately as Orpheus, but that’s probably for the better, anyways. The canine’s ears had pricked upon hearing the child’s shout, and merely follows from a hurried distance, a little spark of curiosity there, but mostly concern.
.. He wriggles past Orpheus just as Ollie starts screaming. It takes a few moments to register that the bodies on the grounds are, in fact, corpses. His chest weighs heavy -- he’s never liked seeing this stuff. He didn’t like the ruins around Hyrule, he never liked seeing bodies. Especially … now that there’s somebody actively grieving for them.
A soft, sad little chirr-like sound escapes from the canine as he takes in the scene with a strange expression. Sad, yet almost clinical. He eyes the upset child somewhat nervously, ears lying flat on his head. What was it like? What was it like to lose someone? He looks somewhat helplessly at Orpheus. What did people even do with bodies of strangers? He turns away, approaches the bodies. He sniffs the bodies tentatively, before, softly, nosing the child away with what he hopes is a soothing sound. .. Orpheus probably knew what to do. Just in general.

➵ NOW I BEAR LITTLE RESEMBLANCE
TO THE KING I ONCE WAS