datadiving | if we're fused together who's driving the car

It's still my - our - home. Even like this...

[ Maybe they could go elsewhere, but for what purpose? Without somewhere to come back to, the wandering would seem worthless - for him, anyway. Maybe Avery feels differently about it.

He misses the warmth of having his hand to hold, small though it is. He puts his hand on his friend's, leans against his shoulder.

Not the same as it was, but it's enough. ]

Anyway, I'm not sure if they'd let a fox run a clinic without a license. [ The law firm might be easier, though. ]

You know, technically I make the rules around here, especially if we're sticking around. I could just make it a law that foxes can do whatever they please. Or foxes that are people, anyway.

[He's seen fire spirits try to make their homes in the forest sometimes and he doesn't want them getting any ideas.]

It's not like it's hard.

[ He wouldn't mind, but Avery's always been protective of his forest. (Their forest?) Besides, it's nice to see him be firm on things again, in a small way. ]

I suppose that's fair enough.

Do you still want to stay here? I know there's...places you don't want to go any more.

[He stares down at the dark expanse beneath them: their transformed, twisted, mangled home. A mangled corpse somehow still breathing.]

"The king and the land are one."

[He presses his lips in a thin line and sighs.]

And you're right. This is our home. She can have the manor. Everything else is ours.

[It's hard not to sound bitter. He doesn't even bother fighting it, not when the pain is still fresh, a throbbing pain in his chest.]

[ He can feel the pain as if it's his own (and to some extent, it is; though his love wasn't the same, he'd still cared deeply for Vanessa, and he still does despite everything.)

He leans his head against Avery's shoulder. ]

I'm-- sorry.

[ He doesn't know what he's apologising for; he wouldn't know where to start. There's so much to choose from.

But since there's nobody else to say it, he feels like he should. His heart aches. ]

[Avery squeezes Ekkehardt's hand and takes a deep breath, shutting their eyes. He wants to say it's fine, but obviously it isn't. They both can feel that much.

No secrets. Not like this.]

She won't hurt either of us ever again. I'll make sure of it.

[ Everything is so different now; their home, and all of this. But he's glad, in a way, that he has no excuse to close himself off any more; he'd found himself coming up with more and more of them, over the years, trying to be close and to be distant at the same time.

He/they curl up on top of the tree, tucking tails under their chin, eyes still closed. It's comfortable, at least.

What can he say to that? He's never been good at words, not like Avery was -- not like Avery is, because he has to remind himself he's right there, like it's hard to believe. ]

Good. It shouldn't have happened to you in the first place.

[ A pause, and then: ]

I missed you.

[ If they were separate, he would have shrouded his meaning, closed himself off; "I missed this" or, more likely, saying nothing at all. But there's nothing he can do to obscure himself here; the feelings go deeper than he could ever express. ]

[Days spent out with Vanessa, the stray thought or two wondering if Ekkehardt would like this or that.

The faintest smirk as he slips in a pun or two--a real groaner--just to imagine how Ekkehardt would react.

Doing everything in his power not to let Ekkehardt worry, because after this long he can tell something bothers him, even if he can't quite tell what it is. Everything's fine, even if things are a little different now, see?]

You know what? I missed you too.

[ Oh.

He hadn't really thought that he'd been on Avery's mind that much, to be honest. The surprise is clear, and it's something he's ashamed of, because it's not something that should have been a surprise in the first place.

But everything is -- fine. As fine as it can be, anyway, given everything that's happened.

It could have gone wrong, or worse. It could have resulted in only one of them being here, alone. ]

...I suppose it's lucky that we didn't turn into anything worse.

[ It's not like he hasn't heard the stories, after all. It happened over and over again in the tales he'd heard and read, dark warnings; don't give up your soul, don't consume another's, or you'll be transformed into something unrecognisable - and so on, and so forth. ]

[It's brief, but sharp, a needle of hurt that pricks their chest and fades away. Of course Avery wouldn't forget him. Just because Vanessa was, well... Vanessa, that didn't mean he'd drop Ekkehardt altogether.]

No kidding. Maybe we'll get lucky and find some way to look somewhat human or something. I have a feeling we're both going to miss thumbs.

[ He feels guilty about that pain that pricks (both of) them. It's not something he should have ever thought in the first place, but it's there regardless. All those ugly things he'd kept hidden and never spoken of, because there was nobody to say them to.

It's not like you can tell your best friend you're afraid of what his wife is turning him into, and turning into herself, not when you just want him to be happy. ]

There's no harm in trying, I suppose...?

[ He peeks over the edge of the mushroom and goes for a leap; falling doesn't hurt either. They land lightly on the grass as he seeks out the body of water they'd been looking into previously, just to have something to reference.

Once there, he experiments, trying to shift one of their paws into a hand,or at least something with thumbs. Little steps. It's not particularly successful. ]

[The leap is sudden and startling--for the first half-second. But them he's whooping and hollering all the way to the water, only half paying attention to Ekke's first attempt, too busy laughing and coming down from the adrenaline.

He'd like to be human sometimes, but if that's what they can look forward to, maybe the whole fox business isn't THAT bad.]

Think I see a little less fur. Let's give it a shot together.

[ He quietly tucks that away for later (not that he can hide anything from him); a small, soft feeling of satisfaction. I want to do that again. ]

All right. When you're ready.

[ He waits for Avery to give him confirmation before he makes another effort, bigger than before. Trying to push in the right direction, whatever that might be. ]

Ready.

[Mostly. He has no idea what he's doing, but he knows exactly what he wants to do.

The paw stretches unnaturally, unevenly, and it's a mercy that it isn't accompanied by the crack and twist of bone against growing bone. It becomes difficult to concentrate on the result over the process, enough that he has to close their eyes to continue.]

Here. Let me.

[ Ekkehardt remains quiet, focused. A still point in a moving surface, an anchor in water. He draws on all his knowledge of anatomy to try and shift things in the right direction, making their shared form less solid and more liquid to make things less stomach-turning.

Avery can focus on pushing forward; he was always better at that. He can anchor it here. ]

Keep going, [ he says, focused in a way he wasn't before. ]

[He cracks an eye open, and the relief over this new, less-solid state is palpable. It's easier to stomach, much easier for him to focus.

And little by little paw stretches into hand and their arms become human, changes spreading through their body like a wave over the water.]

It's working!

if we're fused together who's driving the car

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