she wakes up before the dawn comes, an uncomfortable sensation stirring across her entire body. it takes her several long moments, but - when she recognizes what's happening, she leaves her den and creeps down to the river. better that the younger members of their family aren't around her right now, and better still if gawain and @Elijah stay far from her.

she's going into heat - and it's best she stay far from the group until it's over. of course, as the hours pass and she lies hidden away inside a small den she'd carved out in secret by the river, the heat only gets worse. it rises, curling inside her and unsheathing terrible claws and baring horrid fangs.

soft whimpers escape as it escalates into pain, ripping and tearing at her until she half expects to see blood dripping from every pore. wheezing, she paces her small secret den, body and bones aching horrifically with need that leaves her desperate. she can only hope no one finds her, not until it's over, but by then it might be too late.

underweight as she is, having not been taking care of herself, her body collapses under the strain; she's left gasping on the den floor, wheezing and struggling as the pain grows more and more violent. help, she gasps, her voice not loud enough to carry more than a foot or two from the den entrace, help me. oh, but herbs won't help her now, not when she's this far gone.

it's been long, long hours since dawn, and this is only going to get worse before it gets better.

He is no stranger to that curling scent, nor the simmering heat that accompanies it.

Others often suffered for it in Darkstone, and he had done what he could to dampen it. Stifle that part of biology to keep them comfortable and most importantly, to keep them safe. It is almost second nature to default to that now as he catches her scent on the breeze. It's unmistakable -- both as to who it belongs to, and what it might mean.

@Mononoke.

He takes his time in gathering whatever herbs he thinks will come in handy. Tries to think of what he can do to help besides... well, the obvious. Something to help break the fever will be needed, and something too to coax the pain away. Some wetted moss for the fever too might be nice, and some food for later. But he knows the urgency that comes with this time, and grabs the parcel and is on his way before he can think better of it.

Maybe it would've better -- smarter? -- to send gawain, since he wasn't as close with her. But at least this way Elijah would know she was okay, and was safe. She's nested close-by ( not close enough, his mind hisses ), and he huffs softly as he approaches. He is but a man but he does his very best to ignore the stirrings low in his stomach, exhales out against the oppressive smell of want and need. Momo? He calls, voice straining a little -- holding himself tense, a step away from her doorstep. He does not want to come any closer, does not want to press where he is.. unwanted.

I brought you some herbs that can help.

OOC; phone post I'm sorry I couldn't wait LMAO

@Elijah's voice stirs the flames in her higher. How could it not? She loves him, has loved him quite possibly since their first meeting, and she is more than defenseless against the pull he has on her right now. Croaking weakly, she invites him in. Come... in... oh, she hopes his herbs can help, but there's no dampening this now, not as long as she's let it go on. Late afternoon now, where it started before dawn - no, the herbs might mitigate the pain, but it won't subdue her body.

Shuddering, she rolls her eye up to the entrance to watch for him, muscles twitching rapidly beneath her pristine pelt. She needs, worse than she ever has before. Something's... wrong, she gasps, her eye rolling uselessly for a moment before refocusing on the entrance of her little den. She's never felt like this before; her heats have always been mild, calm, easily subdued with herbal medication. Then again, perhaps stifling her heat for the last few years is the reason it's so bad this time?

Her body tenses, as she catches sight of him, entire frame going rigid and still, gaze locked on his face. She is both the wary and the wanting, the predator and the prey, and her expression is as hungry as it is lost. Please, she whispers, but even she isn't sure what she's asking him for. She's frozen, lying submissively and yet tensed as if to sprint away from him - torn between conflicting desires and emotions. She wants him, and yet she cannot imagine the consequences will be good ones.

She cannot think past the need curling in her gut, past the desire clouding her brain. Please, she whispers again, and this time the tension drains out of her figure. She's left watching him with a hungry gaze, no conflict left in her expression; the heat in her body has won out over good sense, and she needs. One way or another, Momo will find a way to assuage that need - and some small, still-sane part of her recognizes it would be disastrous if it were with anyone but him.

she invites him in, and perhaps it isn't a good idea -- for either of them. but the little healer is dutiful and knows how to look past his own needs in favor of hers. or, at least, he hopes he does. the air inside is stifling, rank with her scent -- it makes it hard to breathe. he shifts to breathing through his nose, in short little bursts that have his nostrils flaring as he stares at her. a deer in the headlights, frozen just past the doorway -- as if only realizing now what a mistake this has been.

but there is no alternative. if it was not him, then it would be someone else.

it's okay, he murmurs with a low voice, gentle like he's talking to a wild animal. and -- isn't she? @Mononoke looks at him like she wants to eat him alive, like she wants to be eaten; it is so wildly off-base of her typical expression, and it shakes him to the core. she says that something's wrong and he's keen to believe her, but there is little he can truly do in this moment -- aside from the obvious. so, like any good little healer would, he nudges the parcel forward -- eyes never leaving hers. here, eat some of this -- it should help. hopefully, with fingers crossed. they should, at least, take the edge off -- but it will take some time. and until then... well.

Her desperate please is hard to ignore. Impossible. His muscles clench and quiver, leaving him to tremble where he stands. close, but certainly not close enough. Momo... he says, a whine eking into his voice, threading with the desperate thrum. he knows what she asks for, knows it before he's even stepped foot in this den. and he wants to, oh how he wants, but... his heart and brain argue and howl. I - I can, but.... he trails off, unsure.

he does not want to risk her, this thing between them.

he will not risk it.

ears tip forward, expression caught somewhere between a slathering dog and a kicked one. are... are you sure?

lord knows a stranger might be easier, might be less... fraught, but it wouldn't mean as much, and it wouldn't be as safe. @Elijah would never, ever hurt her, but the same cannot be said for a stranger. it's okay, he says, and she wants to scream. it's not okay - how can it be okay? - and she's so afraid this will ruin everything, or she would be if she could think past the fog in her brain.

he gives her an order, though, and like a dutiful patient she follows it, scarfing down the offered herbs with as much haste as she can manage. it's a tense several moments that follow until the pain in her eases, but the heat only spirals higher until a choked whine escapes her throat. i can, he says, and she could almost sob with relief, but... and she could almost scream with frustration.

she needs, so much so she cannot even remember why this might be a bad idea. she cannot think of all the reasons that they shouldn't, only feel the weight of desire gone long unquenched. the pressure of her want for him, finally - somewhat - satiated. spirits, she needs him. are you sure? he asks, and she lets out a soft sobbing laugh.

elijah, she starts, using his actual given name for once, this isn't... an ideal situation... but if you don't know by now - she swallows thickly, her expression vulnerable and starving all at once. if you don't know by now that i want you, with or without this happening, then you haven't been paying close enough attention. oh, he should know by now - heat or no heat, she's his.

she's always been his.

he is glad that she does as she's asked ( told? ) and takes the herbs without much of a fuss. that makes him feel better, though none of this was about him. with those in her system, at least, it will start to help -- it'll take time, yes, but better to take them sooner rather than later. in any other situation he might be thinking ahead, already planning what to grab for her for the next time, but now... now it is all he can do to stay here and stay put.

he wants to run, but cannot decide between going towards her or away.

he knows which might be easier, though.

she laughs at him, sounding more like a cry than anything else. it hurts him to hear, hurts to hear her in pain -- even in pain of this nature. he steps forward, one tiny step towards her but stops there. as long as you're sure, he murmurs, happy to be a broken record. there is a certain care that needs to be taken here -- he would rather gnaw his own paw off than ever hurt her, or take advantage here. as long as you know what you're asking for. another step then, drawn in -- a sailor lured to the rocks by a siren song.

any other time, any other situation, she'd be glad of his sweetness. she'd cherish it, appreciate it - probably say aww and give him a kiss. right now? sweet is not what curls inside her and unleashes claws - need is, and it drives her up and off the floor towards him. she slinks, glides, her movements built to seduce and call like siren song as she approaches. and then she tiptoes up, her lips a breath from his, and whispers, if you don't want me, then leave. so i can find someone who does.

it's not something she'd have ever said ( or at least, never this bluntly ) had she been in her right mind, but she's wild right now, staring him down with flames blazing in her eye. take me or don't, elijah, but do something. she's too far gone to care now, those flames burning brighter and brighter, challenging him - demanding he act. time to do what she needs or leave her here to find someone who will, @Elijah - one way or another, this terrible burning need inside her will be assauged.

she turns away from him, then, and lays back down on the floor of her little not-so-secret-anymore den, looking back at him over her shoulder and flicking her tail-tip impatiently. if he does not want her, that's fine - and it will, at the very least, confirm her idea of trying to move on from her feelings for him - but he needs to say so now. she can't keep clinging to this hook, always waiting and hoping that someday he'll feel the way she does; she can't bear it anymore, not for a single second, and if he leaves... if he leaves, she can finally move on.

but if he stays...

she moves with a sudden, fluid grace -- coming his way and elijah takes the smallest step backwards. he is but a man and his instincts scream at him, but she means more to him than just a quick fuck. his composure fractures, crumbles to the ground, as she gets close enough to kiss -- her voice a mean little whisper. if you don't want me, then leave. his blood boils at the implication, the unspoken words hanging heavily over them. he is not a jealous man, nor a possessive one, but the idea of her leaving in this state... no. absolutely not.

she is furious with him ( or with herself? it's hard to tell where the line is ) and moves away, pointedly turning away and laying back down. he swallows, his throat thick and his mouth dry as he watches her, a little keening sound rumbling from his chest. okay, he murmurs, voice soft -- for her comfort, or maybe his own. no, i will stay. just... please don't hate me.

he would not blame her, if she did.

it feels a little like a dream as he walks forward, beckoned by her. still he cannot help himself, lavishing her shoulders with kisses as he goes, true affection in every touch even if she is too far gone to truly believe it. the first touch is electric, sets his blood to boil. he moves over her, settling where she needs -- where they need. it is a shared madness, surely, a fever pitch that he hopes will not burn them both.

fade to black

Even if he had been a jealous man, she would never have expected him to be jealous over her - even in circumstances like these. Maybe especially in circumstances like these. Still - when he approaches her, that restless tension in her body eases, and the first touch he offers her threatens to burn her alive.

This is both a relief and a new kind of pain in and of itself, because she knows when it's over they'll go back to being just friends - no matter how affectionate he is in this moment. So she soaks up the attention, leaning into him, breathing in his scent and committing this to memory; if it's to be the only time between them, she wants to remember it.

The way he lights her up, remembering isn't going to be the problem.

- fade to black -