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“This wasn’t in the forecast,” Cor grumbled to himself, glaring at the heavy clouds. He’d planned everything about this outing down to the last detail — and written all of them up, too, to get permission to even take it — and at no point in all of that meticulous planning had anything like the storm that was threatening even been hinted at.
Nyx didn’t respond, didn’t seem to even have heard Cor, instead staring out his own window at the darkening sky, his leg bouncing as if he could get them to the next haven faster by running. For all Cor knew, he likely could. Nyx’s coeurl form was massive and powerful and fast, the few times Cor had gotten to see him in action. But there were several people who would have Cor’s head if he ditched even Regis’s least fancy car without good reason — his own innate horror at the wasteful negligence aside — and unfortunately giving into the urge to let the man he was attempting to court drag him the rest of the way to Duscae while transformed into a surprisingly soft massive death cat wasn’t a good enough reason.
“We’re almost there. We will probably beat the rain,” Cor said into the silence, fighting the urge to shift guiltily. The Galahkari used hunting trips like this to prove compatibility, he had heard, which had taken him aback at first before he’d felt the truth in it. A lot of of the Galahkari customs were like that — bafflingly opaque until he’d seen them in action, or watched them enough times, or listened to Nyx drag out the words to form the shape of them. Then they still didn’t fully make sense, but Cor could sort of feel what they meant to the people doing them just at a step removed, and each time it made him want to step even closer.
But if trips like this were meant to test compatibility in the islands, Cor had meant to use it to prove first how well he knew Nyx already and second that he was responsible and steady enough to trust with the small things. He was halfway trusted with the big things, in an odd way — the firm press of the beads of his bracelets where his arm pressed against the window said as much — but those big things were basically that he could be a decent person and step in when injustice was blatant, like a hoard of stolen artifacts right under his nose. But the small things, the really important things, like the ability to follow through on his word, to take care of the tasks he had set for himself, to be there when it mattered — the little things that built to the big things, like being trusted with the heart of someone as beloved in Little Galahd as Nyx — in that Cor knew he still had a lot of work to go.
But nothing about this trip had gone correctly from the start.
“Would you like something to eat?” Cor offered, somewhat hopelessly. Nyx hadn’t said much since the storm had started to become obvious. Normally the silence didn’t bother Cor, but this was Nyx, who’d always been oddly easy to talk to, and this was a shipwreck of a trip that could make even the most patient of souls annoyed. He didn’t need Nyx to be hungry as well as mad at him.
Nyx hummed a tone that Cor recognized as a question. At least he’d responded, Cor consoled himself, ignoring how that sounded like he was all of twelve again.
“Ah, no thanks. I’m not really hungry right now,” Nyx answered a beat later, sounding a bit more present but still not looking away from the window.
“Okay,” Cor said, forcing himself to keep staring straight ahead at the road. “I have some date raisins or jerky if you do get hungry,” he added, somehow compelled to keep speaking, even when it was inane. “The raisins are from the store, but the jerky was made by one of the Crownsguard officers whose husband wouldn’t let anything from their hunt into the house, and half from someone Murus recommended.”
Nyx finally turned toward him, blinking faster. “I…what kind of jerky?”
“Ahh…Murus’s contact, from clan Dala, had a pretty good selection so I got a little of most of it. They wrote the type on the bag, so I’ll let you decipher their writing if you’re interested. The guard’s jerky is from an anak they took as part of the hunting season.”
“Hunting season?” Nyx’s focus was like a weight, but Cor was just glad to be able to get words out of him. And, he supposed, that he hadn’t committed some major faux pas after all.
“Yes. The Hunters take care of thinning the population through most of the year when they get out of hand—aided by the Guard and Glaive when they need it,” Cor conceded with a nod of acknowledgement. “But in the fall there are special permits opened up to allow Insomnians some fresh meat and to keep the herds more manageable for the winter. Especially in Leide and Cavaugh, given the drops in regular human population.”
“I’ve never heard about it,” Nyx said, hunching and leaning closer slightly in a way that felt entirely feline for all that his pelt was draped over the back of his seat.
“The nobles get the majority of the permits, to let their kids plan trips and demonstrate they can actually provision themselves. But a few go to the Guard and Glaive or go by lottery. I think Drautos usually auctions off most of the Glaive’s as a fundraiser and to earn favors,” Cor mused. Or at least he was pretty sure Clarus had mentioned that during budget season one year.
Nyx made a noise that sounded pained but didn’t say anything further.
“Why is that a problem?” Cor prompted, trying to soften his voice enough that it was an invitation rather than an order.
Nyx still didn’t answer, but out of the corner of his eye Cor caught him turning his head to stare forward, body held stiffly.
If they weren’t trying to outrun the storm, Cor would have pulled over there and then to talk to him directly. Unfortunately, as was becoming the norm, they didn’t have the time. Instead he kept his attention on the road and did his best to wait Nyx out.
“Hunting is pretty important in Galahd,” Nyx said at last, the words rumbling from his chest.
When he didn’t continue, Cor flicked a glance in his direction. Nyx’s whole body was rigid, and he was very carefully unclenching his hands.
“I am somewhat aware. That is, ah, why we are here, after all.” Cor offered, hoping that was what Nyx meant.
“You are?” Nyx actually relaxed some as he turned back toward Cor, his voice still strained but curiosity starting to win out. It made Cor want to smile fondly at Nyx’s somewhat predictable reaction to a prospective puzzle and the idioms that conjured that were perhaps too on-the-nose given his coeurl form, but Cor kept it off his face out of deference for their previous discussion and its apparent seriousness.
“Yes,” Cor answered with another glance at the approaching storm and then at their speedometer. “When we were at the last Storytelling, I heard that it was the next step in seeing if you, ah, match well with someone.” He flexed his fingers slightly on the wheel and hoped that would be enough of a distraction so he could get his burning ears under control.
“Oh?” Nyx said, sitting up straighter and turning completely toward Cor. He sounded excited, or at least Cor hoped so. “You, you did plan this on purpose, then? Wait, do we have a permit?”
The last question was asked much faster than the second, and was accompanied by Nyx twisting around to face the back of the car, as if he could see their paperwork through their packs. Armiger access was a privilege and not a guarantee, after all, especially after a long day of fighting, and the Glaive had the right idea about not trusting your basic weapon to the whims of magic and battle stress if you had the option.
“Well, no,” Cor admitted, though if he’d known Nyx was so interested he might have to see if he could track one down for next year at least. “It’s getting closer to winter, now, so the season is over. I thought you might appreciate more of a challenge, anyway, so I asked Dave to find us something that needed hunting that wouldn’t be too far of a drive and was worth our time.”
“Dave?” Nyx asked, distracted. Cor made note of the subject to return to later. Something about this conversation was throwing Nyx off much more than Cor would expect. Normally Nyx was more focused than this.
“Dave Auburnbrie. He’s the head of the hunters, more or less.” The succession issues and whatever family drama was behind them was not really either of their business at the moment, but he didn’t want to lie to Nyx either.
“And you—” Nyx began, voice incredulous, then cut himself off. “Nevermind. So this really is courting? Dating? Whatever the Lucian term is?”
Cor nodded mutely, suddenly nervous and feeling like a fool for it. He’d thought he’d made his intentions obvious, but clearly he still needed to work on communication.
A rumble of thunder, still soft and far-off, drew Nyx’s attention back to the storm for a long moment.
“Then why the, ah, colorful choice in commentary?” Nyx asked, smirk audible.
Cor didn’t slump against the steering wheel but he truly wanted to. That had been just one more thing that hadn’t gone according to plan. First the car he’d chosen and inspected had been pulled for an undercover operation, and then his credit card acting up, and then the thrice-blasted audio guide and now the rain. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear it was part of the Astrals’ grudge against the Galahkari interfering in his attempts at a nice date.
“Not that I haven’t enjoyed it, but it doesn’t exactly scream romance,” Nyx continued, the teasing growing stronger. Cor comforted himself that at least Nyx didn’t seem opposed to the idea of romance, and hadn’t been thrown off yet.
“It was supposed to be a good overview of the history of the region in a more story-based style,” Nyx snorted at that, “which I thought might be more interesting. It was highly recommended and was endorsed by the university. I did attempt to research it first.”
Cor was a safe driver and a warrior in complete control of his own actions, so he didn’t slap the wheel or even choke down his grip. But it was tempting. “I listened to the first fifteen minutes to test it and it was fine!” he didn’t snarl.
“Right, because the food guy didn’t show up until the recording for the second site.” Nyx was all but laughing now. “And the other guy actually knows his stuff.”
“That is correct.”
Cor went over the route and eyed the storm again. Even if they made it, they would likely barely have enough time to set up their tent at the haven before the rain started. He mentally reviewed the different tent types he had stored away: how much space they would leave and if they had the rain flies still vs how long they took to set up with one person or one person familiar with them and one who wasn’t. It was more productive than thinking about the absolute drivel the second “historian” had spouted.
“Where did they even find that narrator?” Nyx asked, but thankfully kept talking before Cor had to find a response. “I mean, I get why they wanted a second guy. Broader appeal for a car-full of people with different interests, and he is certainly entertaining enough. But who - on purpose - sought out a man who can talk for fifteen minutes about figuring out what the rations were like during the Great War as if there weren’t plenty of veterans he could just ask? Is this an Insomnian thing, to act like writing down a story magically makes it more legitimate?”
Nyx paused for a moment, and Cor opened his mouth to defend his culture, grateful for a return to familiar ground, but then Nyx was off again. “And the other guy knew his stuff, and the legends were pretty interesting, but—”
A flash of lightning forked across the sky, still bright even if it was far off. Nyx’s head snapped around to watch it quickly enough that Cor automatically followed his gaze to make sure Nyx hadn’t spotted something more immediately dangerous.
But there was nothing except the silver wall of rain rolling in and the silence filling the long seconds until the declaration of Ramuh’s rumbled command reached their car.
Cor reached down and adjusted the heat up slightly as Nyx shook himself and settled back in his seat. One had came up to almost absently stroke the coeurl pelt behind him and Cor suppressed the twinge of envy. It was one thing to pet Nyx when he could move out of the way if he didn’t want it. It was probably another to pet his pelt when it was an object, vulnerable and static and separated from him for so long. Even if his fur was truly, ridiculously soft. It was still Nyx’s to choose who did and didn’t touch it.
The rest of the race to their destination continued much like that, with Nyx almost vibrating in place as he stared down the storm. He did advance the audio guide to the next section when he realized they’d passed the proper mile marker for it, and smirked at Cor when it somehow mostly involved the idiotic "scholar" reading bad poetry about oranges that was supposedly traditional. At least Cor had been able to amuse Nyx, if this accomplished nothing else.
But that was unnecessarily defeatist, even for a day like today, and so Cor pushed the thought and his mood aside as best he could, concentrating on the drive and keeping them as safe as if he were driving Regis. Even if the roads weren’t yet wet, the gusts of wind were enough to keep him occupied.
True to his predictions, they made the haven he’d planned on staying at just before the storm did. Nyx nearly burst from the car as soon as it stopped, staring across the highway at the approaching storm and breathing in the smell of the rain. Cor wondered idly how well Nyx could pick up smells as a human and if the pelt slung over one arm amplified his senses any via contact, before shaking off his distractions and getting started unloading the car.
Nyx helped Cor haul their packs up the ramp, and tried to help set up the tent, but he was uncharacteristically clumsy as he fumbled with the poles, and so Cor sent him to grab some firewood before the rains hit them. Nyx all but ran from the haven as soon as he had permission, so Cor supposed that was the correct call. If they couldn’t work on a task together, at least they could work in coordination. That wasn’t nothing.
Cor was just finishing setting up the lean-to for the firewood and hopefully a place to cook when Nyx darted back onto the plateau, running just shy of full tilt. Cor had his sword in hand and was rushing to meet whatever was chasing Nyx before he processed that Nyx was giggling – a joyful thing that lit up his face and soothed the edges of Cor’s adrenaline and embarrassment.
“Special delivery!” he all but chirped, spinning on his heel before he saw Cor’s shelter and dumping the pile underneath it. Cor must have let out some sort of noise at that, because Nyx jumped slightly and hurried back to the pile, carefully restacking it and glancing over his shoulder at Cor as he worked.
When he finished he faced Cor as if waiting for inspection, and as soon as Cor gave him a nod of approval he was off again, slinging his pale coat around his shoulders. His powerful rear legs pushed off the edge of the haven as he launched himself at a run toward the approaching line of the rain, then spinning around like a top as electricity crackled off of his whiskers.
Cor blinked after him, moving toward the edge of the haven to better watch Nyx frolic like a child on a sugar rush. Or, perhaps more relevantly, like a kitten just woken up from a nap.
Suddenly a lot of Nyx’s uncharacteristic behavior on the trip was starting to make more sense.
He allowed himself watch Nyx’s antics for a few more minutes before he forced himself to finish the work that needed to be done before the rain hit the haven in earnest, but the smile still lingered as he puttered around the camp.
When even Cor had to admit he was reaching the point of diminishing returns, he sat down in his chair under the shelter and let himself enjoy the show until the storm passed them by.
A somewhat damp white coeurl hauled himself over the edge of the haven ten minutes after the rain had truly left. The sunset was lighting up the underside of the remaining clouds, and Cor was content to the let silence linger as he took the kettle off and prepared them both mugs of hot chocolate. He’d splurged on Nyx’s and gotten him the real thing, but Cor was fine with the artificial stuff. It was warm and tasted close enough to bring back the kind of memories that warmed as well.
Nyx shrugged out of his pelt, shaking his head as if to throw off the remaining water once he had hair again rather than fur. Cor tossed a towel at his head, and he caught it with something more like his usual languid grace rather than the wired tension from before. The grin he shot Cor from underneath it was calmer as well, for all that it stayed fixed on his face as he sauntered the rest of the way to where Cor had set up drying racks and a second chair.
He accepted his mug of chocolate with a mutter of thanks after he’d hung up his damp skin and jacket, and seemed content to sip at it as they watched the sun set side by side in silence.
“Thank you, Cor. Truly,” Nyx said as they reached the ends of their mugs. He was still staring out at the fading colors rather than at Cor himself, but there was a peace settled in his limbs that made Cor grateful for the chance to observe it at his own pace. “I really, really needed this,” he added, gesturing with both hands to the area around them.
“My pleasure,” Cor said, and meant every letter.
After an appropriate pause, he asked, voice absolutely neutral, “So was that your version of the zoomies?”
The look Nyx shot him could have curdled milk, and the way he hunched his shoulders looked so exactly like a cat puffing himself up that Cor couldn’t hold it back any longer. He laughed, a full belly thing that soon had Nyx joining in despite his offense, which just drew out the whole episode until they were both gasping for air.
By the time Cor collected himself, the sun had fully set and Nyx was smiling softly at him as he cradled his mug in both hands.
Perhaps the day wasn’t a complete wash, after all.