ukan | IC CONTACT

Jon will take the moment to take the licking and even to wrap his arms around Lark a little, hug him. Jon’s not a hugger, not hardly, but in this moment, after asking this, Lark-

Lark needs to know. That he’s loved. That he doesn’t know what he’d do if he thought he was dead permanently.

Then he swallows, audible enough and slips away, setting his leg meat up over the garbage bag.

Lark has jaws that can bite through metal. He has jaws that have pulverized bone in a single snap. He has teeth that don't break or chip, teeth that are meant solely for tearing soft flesh apart.

So the hard part isn't getting over any reservations about hurting a close friend, it's in making sure he doesn't do anything that will require either the infirmary and its magic, or a cane.

And in going fast enough that Jon won't be tense, which would make the damage worse. He lowers his nose, watching Jon breathing, and on an exhale he bites down on Jon's calf, all the way to the bone but merely scraping it, turning his head a little to tear the flesh a little deeper. It needs to scar.

It hurts.

It hurts a lot.

It bleeds as well, because Lark is what Lark is, because those jaws are made for this, and his healing will go slow.

He would have screamed, if he didn’t have a hand over his mouth already. He’s definitely crying, because he’s terrible with pain. But the bleeding ends quickly enough, because he’s what he is and the Eye doesn’t want him bleeding out. The garbage bag catches almost all of it and the pattern on the bedding, well... no one else will probably even notice.

He’s shaking, though, as he goes to grab the first aid kit to get himself bandaged up. Ah yes, this will... this will definitely scar. Thank goodness.

It's one of those times where Lark wishes he could change back fast and do the bandaging himself. But Jon has a handle on it, and so he sets about licking up the scene, as methodically and medetitatively as he has cleaned multiple crime scenes.

When the bag is spotless but damp, he moves to investigate Jon's leg.

Jon's leg has stopped bleeding. It hasn't stopped hurting, probably won't for a couple of days, but it has stopped bleeding. And he's got it mostly bandaged up at this point.

Jon will spare a hand to rub his ears, even though his face is tight with pain.

"Thank you, Lark."

He paces, whining a bit, and then lets himself out the door, changes back, pulls on pants and comes back pulling on his shirt.

"Let me help you back somewhere to rest."

Jon won't even argue with him. He's going to nod, neaten up the first aid kit, and spread out an arm to be helped to his feet.

Lark picks him up bridal style instead, giving him a smirk. The reason is serious, though. "I bit deep. We don't want to open it up again."

Jon is... remarkably okay with this, really. He's not really much for concerning himself with his pride in this particular aspect.

"No, we don't. Martin's going to be livid as it is."

And... maybe he'll lean against Lark and breathe a bit easier. Some of... all of this is starting to filter out of him. Also, it's Lark. Lark is a remarkably constant comfort to him.

"Let me stay and talk to Martin?" It's a request, one he's ready to have denied. "I don't want him to think I did this for any reason except to help you."

Jon nods and breathes in deep. Breathes out slow.

"He'll know it was me. But I would never tell you- it's fine. He'll be livid at me. I'll make sure of it."

"He can be angry at me, too." Lark, to his mild surprise, doesn't want Jon to take all the blame on himself. He doesn't want to be the reason his friend's relationship is strained, even if it's just for a few days.

"You have enough people angry at you," he says fondly with a shake of his head. "But mostly, it's just- he's very protective. And he's been having enough trouble connecting with people here. I'd rather he not be upset with you."

"People are always angry with me," he says, the same way he'd say 'my eyes are brown'. "But all right. I'll let you face his wrath alone. If he makes you sleep on the couch just keep your leg elevated."

"Of course," though he didn't add anything more defensive than that. "And that's my line. Though I suppose that does explain quite a lot."

"Now what does a nice archivist like you do to piss people off?" Lark grins. They're at the elevator, he bumps the button and waits, Jon still comfortably in his arms.

"Ha. ha. ha." Very funny. "...you know, I haven't actually upset anyone in some time. I'm starting to wonder if there's something wrong with me."

"You haven't been shaking enough cages," Lark agrees, grinning and maneuvering them inside the car. "I can't do it all by myself, you know. Can you hit the floor button for me?"

He reaches over and does just that.

"Yes, well," he huffs out, "you end the world and then un-end the world and you need a bit of a rest up before you're ready to bother people."

"What brought you back here after saving the world, anyway?" He's never asked. Jon's world is worse than hell, as far as Lark knows, and he hasn't wanted to dig at any wounds that might have a chance to heal.

“Because I’m going to need another deal to defuse the bomb that went off,” he explains. “Namely me. At the moment, I could go back and have the same bloody thing happen all over again. A more… decisive solution needs to be implemented.”

He knows how complicated Jon's world is. There are some worlds he knows he needs to just sit down and map out, make flow charts of: Jon's and Archer's specifically. But this is a problem he wants to understand better now.

"What, specifically, will your deal be?"

"Close the Entities off from my world," he says quietly, "off from every world. Restore all of the avatars to their humanity. However awful it might be...

"At least they'll have a choice as to whether be that awful. And even if it builds back up again, happens again..."

He rubs at the back of his neck.

"Hopefully it'll be centuries after I'm long gone before it happens."

"And if it does, you can at least leave a road map for someone to follow then," Lark says, always seeing the long game before he sees the details.

"Will it change anything in you?"

"...theoretically, I'd be human again. I'm, uh," he glances towards the door as his mind goes elsewhere, "I'm exploring options for that, just in case, however. I'd much rather not die if I don't have to."

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Tw blood

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