Private Interlude by Lanternlight

[Amnesty Greysoul]

Amnesty choked on her tea. She had taken a sip with the hope it would give her half a moment to gather her routed thoughts. Instead, the hot amber liquid went up her nose and left her coughing, hacking, and spluttering.

She managed a breath. Cleared her throat and managed another. And in the sea of confusion and emotions she had left caged up for so many years, something new rose to the surface like a barrel, still intact, surfacing after the violence of a shipwreck. The condescension, the dismissive air, the biting sarcasm... It felt like a bold assumption, like she was claiming more than had been offered. But in the months she had known the marten, she had gathered that this was how he treated his friends and the beasts he cared about.

Words to the effect of "then I'm not to be thrown from the ship?" came to the tip of her tongue and were then swallowed, forcefully. Instead, she met Arthur's gaze again.

"I have hated myself for what I had to do. It is... strange to me that you do not."

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Arthur frowned with concern as Amnesty choked on her tea, and let out a half hearted chuckle. It occurred to him to say something to the tune of, "Did 'e make noises like that after ya stuck 'im in the back?" -- but good heavens, no. That was far too macabre.

A curious wave of sorrow washed over his face, and he looked off wistfully into the distance. It took him a minute to gather his thoughts, and he pensively leaned back in his chair and clasped his paws behind his head.

"I suppose after the Winter War, I'm a bit jaded. Well, not jaded. I've seen beasts pushed to their limit, and who they become in the moment. Who they become afterward. I suppose... ...Finnian is rather fond of you. And so that at least answers the question of who you became afterward."

"As for the moment? Taking a life isn't meant to be an easy thing, Ms. Greysoul..." he murmured. "If you didn't feel some sort of inner conflict over it, that's where things would get concerning."

Arthur fell silent.

There he was on the shores of Urk, just outside the infirmary tent. Piper stood before him -- not yet crippled, and cradling an infant shrew in her arms.

"Absolutely not!" he thundered, cutting Piper off mid sentence. "I'm a surgeon, not a nanny! Do you want me doing amputations with one paw, while bouncing the rotter on my knee?"

"That thing doesn't stand a chance in the Imperium. The best thing you can do is take your little scouting party back out, find a band of shrews, and leave 'im with them. If'n they don't eat 'im alive!"

Arthur realized he'd been holding his breath. He frowned, and let out a deep sigh. "It must be terribly late..." he said, avoiding her gaze as he gathered up his tea cup to wash it out.

 

[Amnesty Greysoul]

Amnesty's expression softened at the mention of the fox kit and the acknowledgement that he had, indeed, become attached. It was only fair; she was attached as well. But the respite was only momentary, and she turned her gaze back to Arthur and winced once again. There were several long moments of silence between her and the big marten, and the vixen was lost deep enough in her own thoughts that she didn't fully appreciate that Dr Barrett was in much the same condition.

A stilted line of words escaped into the still air of the infirmary just as the surgeon called attention to the time: "Perhaps if I'd used a blade instead of--"

She was late to realize it, but there was something in the way Arthur held himself now that whispered a warning to her. She had seen beasts pull in on themselves like that before. 'Gates. She had spent years doing just that. And perhaps it wasn't her place. Perhaps pushing now could be even more disastrous than confessing murder to her direct superior. Perhaps it was just a symptom of the late evening and the heavy burden of scars that every beast here carried.

Or.

"Dr Barrett?" She didn't reach out a paw to arrest his momentum. That would have been too forward, even for an evening so full of raw honesty and old wounds. But she couldn't just leave it at... that. "You've put your shoulders to my own burdens tonight. Let me do the same for you?"

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Then it had been a slow death. Poison then, was likely -- but Arthur didn't inquire further. He had already decided that Amnesty wasn't the malicious type, and therefore, did not intend to prolong suffering. Rather, whatever suffering happened came about by the pressing circumstances, and was likely still less than what the beast deserved.

Amnesty was perceptive, and caught his evasive manner. Yet, Arthur had feared the vixen would inquire into the events of Urk -- and the last thing he wanted to do was ruminate on them again. The wolf statue had haunted his dreams since then, and had only recently faded. Dredging the past up again might reawaken them, and the marten was happy to keep the thoughts stuffed away.

"Me?" he asked, with a sudden playful air. As if the marten had grown several years younger, a coy grin spread over his face. "A naval officer venting his sorrows to his subordinate? Gates no, it's bad for morale! Besides, I haven't nearly had enough rum."