literature

What He Wanted to Know

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It had to have been his fault. His mom never said anything. He didn't have any siblings. It had to have been Basil's fault.

He knew it was stupid to pin it all on himself. A few years old, hardly even grown into his paws yet, tall and skinny and clumps of his fur withering out because of the stress-- what stress? He didn't deserve to have stress. It was just "raising him right, into a big strong hound" his father said. Basil was just weak, too skinny, too without desire to hunt and kill for prey. Maybe it had been bred out of him, maybe he was just a useless half-Dourin mutt with idiocy riddling through his brain with every cuff on the ear.

But he liked to read. Reading wasn't very vesper-like, his father said, and his mother said nothing, and Basil read when he could. There was not a shortage of books. They lived near other races, after all, races who could print and write and teach and he took the lessons. His vision wasn't all that great so he was always pressed snout-up into those books and his Dourin teacher thought it was cute and funny and he was kind and soft and Basil maybe fell in love a little bit but that's not how a hound was supposed to act.

Learning to read, in the opinion of Basil's father, was one of the stupidest things Basil had ever done, closely followed by having feelings for someone he couldn't even have pups with. What a useless excuse for a hound, Basil's father would say. How could he have bothered having feelings for a Dourin, as if Basil could turn those things on or off at will, as if Basil was in control of every aspect of his emotions, as if Basil's father didn't smack him with the bluntrough end of a clawed paw whenever Basil did something vaguely unhoundish.

They were supposed to hunt. Fight. Bleed. Mate. They were not meant for reading or loving or crying or whatever other idiot things Basil was doing in that Dourin city, dirtying his paws in ideas unlike anything Basil's father had ever wanted to know.

Basil stayed for years. His youth a crack across the face, his adolescence the snap of a rib, young adulthood a bite against his throat until Basil couldn't help but snarl back. They fought. They bled. It was everything Basil's father had ever wanted from him, and Basil still lost, and he still cried, and he still left. His mother didn't bat an eye.

He didn't come across the stable right away. No, he went to his Dourin friend first. The one who taught him how to read, the one who was kind to him, the one he loved.

Simon.

But Dourins and dogs aren't really supposed to romance each other, are they? No matter how sentient, Basil was still a hound. Just a hound, bleeding from a wound at his throat while Simon's soft furless hands wrapped round after round of bandages. Concern dripped from his eyes and he was barely tall enough to look Basil dead on but by the gods did he try and he said. He told-- "You're not going back there."

Basil said he wouldn't. "Never again, huh? Not when I've got you." And Basil had butted into Simon's forehead softly, gently, a ridiculous approximation of a Dourin kiss, and Simon finally understood the extent of it. He didn't withdraw immediately. He let Basil stay. They had pleasant talks and Simon let Basil sip out of his hot chocolate until the night Basil got sick and they realized vespers really shouldn't be drinking too much chocolate. Some sort of species-wide allergy Basil had hoped he was exempt from but Basil wasn't exempt from anything, now was he.

There would be no interspecies relationship here. It just wasn't a thing. Friendships, maybe. Soulbonds, maybe. But nobody snuggled up to their vesper around these parts and went "Yeah, we're dating and maybe we're gonna get married some day." Simon didn't want that.

It got more obvious as he pulled away from the affectionate headbutts. Even more so when he kept finding ways to stop talking to Basil during their night time escapades-- not the sexual kind of escapade, gods no, but the kind where they would talk for hours on end about nothing in particular. Simon escaped more and more frequently and Basil felt him slipping and he felt himself slipping and the wounds from his father healed but new ones opened up as he realized what he wanted to know would kill him.

Or, nothing so dramatic. It wouldn't kill him. He'd been through worse.

It would hurt him.

He would cry.

And he would leave.

First, he had to find out the truth.

"Simon," Basil said one night. Nowhere to go. Basil was tall, lanky. He wasn't blocking any exits but his voice was just desperate enough to make Simon pause.

Simon had this little crooked smile he gave when he was nervous. It was cute, especially for a Dourin, with those helpless teeth and the way his lips moved around them, not threatening at all. Perfectly handsome. "Basil?" he replied with that trill of nervous laughter.

"Do you want me to leave?"

It's not what Basil meant to ask and as soon as the words were out of his mouth his lips puckered up like he was frightened, a bit of tooth bared. His own nervous ticks. "Wh-- I mean-- ...Basil," and just like that, Simon was soft and sad and almost-speechless, licking his lips, and Basil could hear the way his heart sped up and the scent of his sadness. "Basil I don't want you-- I mean, no, I just. You want. And I." And the broken words made sense pieces together. Basil ducked his head.

"I shouldn't have just come in here. Imposed. Shit, Simon, I'm sorry," he rumbled, turning in place with his awkward gangly limbs, looking for his things. His things were all over the place because this was his home, but. That question. He'd ruined it with that question, he knew it.

"I'm leaving," Simon blurted, freezing Basil in place. "I mean-- um, I'm going on a trip. It's not because I. I like you Basil. I just. There's a ship. Across the sea, and you know I always wanted to-- but you and the water. You don't like it."

And that made sense too. "...I can't come with you."

"No."

Basil's ears lowered. "Would you have wanted me to?" His voice was soft.

"I-- I don't know. I like you. Lov--love, maybe. I'd-- I'm going to miss you."

Simon was closer than Basil realized, and he touched Basil's muzzle. Very slowly, carefully, on the tips of his toes, he pressed his lips to Basil's dry nose.

Basil's eyes welled up.

He moved out that night.
uhm hello i wrote interspecies romance thats sad and half one-sided and physical/emotional abuse. -thumbs up-

↠ Two: Against the World

The world is not always a calm, peaceful face full of friends and family. There are many creatures and people in the world with malice in their heart, and your Vesper may discover many unfortunate pieces to their land. Depict your Vesper learning a harsh lesson about the world around them, something that makes them realize that not all creatures are good.

vesper-hollow.deviantart.com/art/Basil-200-675370257

hope this is canon-compliant enough!
© 2017 - 2024 Limesparrow
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Trientalia's avatar
Ahh this is so good! :D I absolutely love how you direct the flow of this, wonderful writing once again. And such a sad story; the line about Simon bandaging him up really stood out to me, it was just lovely :heart:

Can't wait for more! Basil is quickly becoming one of my favorite characters in any ARPG haha c: