Broken Antler Fen i've got fire for a heart

maybe an astronomer thread? :-)

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When the sun has made it’s final, defiant stand against the night and lost Mato slips outside of the den he shares with his parents and siblings, trotting away from it with a creased brow, pausing quick enough to spare a glimpse over his shoulder and a smooth of his ears against his crown as he sucked in his breath and held it, trotting as quietly as he could — stumbling with an knee-jerk “Oof!” to catch his balance as he tripped over a …well something. He does not stop to look as he sucks in his breath again, skin of his cheeks flushed with the heat of embarrassment despite that he thinks that no one saw it (hopefully!) as he ventures to his favorite stargazing spot. It’s a large rock strutting out of the earth forming a small drop-off and though he could see the stars just fine on the ground he liked to sit on the rock and pretend that the world melts away until it is just him and the moon and her stars.

He hasn’t told anyone that he does this often though it’s quite possibly that he’s not as sneaky as he thinks and others have realized he slips out on clear nights at a certain time at night. Mato does not spend the whole night out — only an hour or two, usually in different positions on the rock: sitting, sphinx-like, lounging on his back so that he could draw shapes in the stars — but if anyone notices they have yet to bring it to him. He supposes it’s no real secret for he doesn’t think there’s any particular reason why he hasn’t shared his favorite past time. Other than perhaps because it is his. He finds his rock and his tail wags to and fro lightly against his hocks as he steps upon it, still warm from the sun, and plops down, scooting this way and that for a moment as he gets comfortable before he cants his muzzle skyward and lets his apple green gaze touch the velveteen darkness painted with the moon’s sweet beams and winking stars.

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Liri's nightly patterns have not gone unnoticed.

"It's hard to hide a descent into madness when it leads one to flee their den in a panic. Not to mention repeatedly beating your head against a tree."  The Tiny Voice sounds annoyingly like Aaron tonight.

Needless to say, she thinks on the incident with Pearl with embarassment. 

She is often unable to sleep. There's not much to be done in the empty hours of the night. Most times Liri drifts through the territory in a daze. When the sun rises she freezes in confusion; leaving to patrol the borders or hunt as if waking from a dream...

It's best to keep her mind busy, so she's learned.

This night finds her resting outside her den, pitying the poor wolf who got forced into sharing with her. She sleeps outside most nights now to avoid waking them with her instability.

Liri likes to think that it's a courtesy to do so, just like how the other pack member within doesn't mention the night terrors. It's only polite not to comment on your neighbor's insanity, or so she assumes. 

The pup, however, is a new addition to her insomnia-driven vigilance. She watches him, obviously unnoticed thanks to the snow that matches her fur, as he pads across the clearing. For a moment, he stumbles over something. Liri frets, concern wrinkling her brow, but he is uninjured.

Liri watches him go, curiosity in her gaze. Deciding to keep an eye on him, given his relative youth, Liri rises to her paws and follows after him. 

The child leads her, unknowingly, to a large rock which he perches. His head tips back, obviously looking skyward to the stars. 

Liri watches this from the treeline, considering approaching the pup mostly because she worries far too much and doesn't want him out here alone. Maybe it's some strange effect of her past, but to her it doesn't matter. 

Liri knows what monsters lurk behind seemingly normal faces. She's seen what people are capable of. The idea of leaving this child alone causes knots to twist in her stomach. 

Sidling up beside him, careful to make a bit of noise so as to not startle him, Liri settles beside him. 

She does not speak, mostly because she's never interacted with children outside of her horrible step-brats. Liri has no idea how to speak to children. 

Being in the company of someone else, even someone as young as the ash colored pup beside her, is surprisingly comforting. She can't remember the last time she longed for companionship.

Liri wonders silently if she approached for his sake or for her own.

thanks for joining! <3

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Mato thinks he is alone; so entangled in the intricate constellations that winked from above. He sets a challenge for himself: to find new shapes this time. He thinks he has almost seen a rabbit — a earless rabbit but hey! a rabbit nonetheless — when the sound of footfalls and a body sliding up next to him startles him. On instinct Mato’s hackles bristle and he jumps as he sees her silhouette out of the corner of his eye. He leans away from her as he slips on the rock and stumbles back as he lost his footing — drat these duck paws! — and lands in the cushioning of the snow on his back. He is not a skittish beast but he is gangly and clumsy and he does not realize how slippery his favorite rock is until …well he is on his back in a pile of cold snow. “Oh man,” He draws in a breath and rolls himself over, pushing himself to his paws seconds before he gives his coat a hearty shake to dispel the cool snow and the shiver that rocked his spine.

“You startled me.” Mato gasps, though his tone is friendly, easy-going and entirely devoid of accusation. As if to prove that he’s not angered about it he lets out a laugh that’s a bit breathless as he takes his place back upon his rock, this time, settling into a sphinx-like position, looking out at the stars as opposed as up at them as he had before. He turns his head in her direction, his apple green gaze taking her in for a moment. She is pale: like the moon and scars litter her body. For a moment Mato stares at them, the pink, puckered long healed flesh that he could see before he looks away sheepishly, knowing that it’s rude to stare. “I’m Mato,” He introduces himself to her because though he’s probably seen her in passing he doesn’t actually know her. “You like the stars too?” He asks her because that is the only reason he can fathom that she’d here spending time with him because surely there were a lot cooler kids (and/or adults) she could be hanging out with otherwise.

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He startles, triggering her own surprised flinch. Liri stares with wide eyes as he tumbles backwards into the snow; her surprise and remorse evident. The child seems alright, he laughs as he climbs back atop his rock, and she tries not to let herself feel too guilty. 

He stares at her and Liri stares back silently, curiosity in the tilt of her head. As the first child she has seen in nearly two years she cannot help but compare him to her step-children. He is much larger than they and where they were emaciated to the point of sickness; this pup is endowed with childhood roundness.

He appears healthier than any child she has ever seen, a sign of Pearl and Sebastian's general normality and surprising kindness. 

"I am Liri," she introduces herself softly as he stares at her scars before turning away. She glances down at them for a moment, wondering what others see when they look at her. 

"Yes," Liri answers. Her reasons are not quite the same as his, nor what he suspects. Even as ignorant as she is with children, Liri knows it would probably be best to avoid mentioning the dark memories that keep her awake. 

"I probably don't know as much about them as you," she smiles a bit. "Do you have a favorite?"

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Liri. It was a simple name and easy to remember, which was good for him as he was still in that stage of pup hood where he had the attention span of a squirrel. Ok, well maybe it was a little bit better than a squirrel’s. He had the attention span of a cat. Liable to be drawn away at his own whim (and one day with the sass to match) but also capable of intense moments of prolonged attention. His focus on the stars was one of those “intense moments of prolonged attention”; but this was likely because in the canvas of the sky he was able to paint and write stories in his mind. It kept him occupied for hours on end because he could unleash his creativity and the possibilities were limitless. An ear flickers to her as she responds to his question and his gaze slides demurely to her once more though it does not linger long before he is looking back out at the night sky as his tail drums a short staccato rhythm on the rock, sweeping up the light, powdery snow that is swept upon it by the soft breeze before he stills it.

“No way,” Mato mumbles suddenly embarrassed, the skin of his cheeks beneath his fur warming with the flood of heat and the boy ducks his head. Though he does not dare to contradict her he has a hard time believing that he knows more about something than an adult. The idea leaves him feeling quite skeptical. The truth is that he is only self taught thus far: he does not know official constellations and their stories: only the ones that he has made up in his mind. “I mean, I don’t have a mentor or anything.” He explains himself because he feels obligated to. “I like the sparrow. He carries a throned crown in his feet —” Mato’s paws flex as if he is kneading the rock for a moment as if to let Liri know that he doesn’t know the official word for a bird’s feet/claws (for some reason talon escapes him). He lifts a too large paw and clumsily attempts to trace it with a toe though he is not sure if she, too, can see the sparrow or not.

“— but he didn’t steal it!” Mato is quick to emphasis. “He made it for a prince —” Yeah! That sounded good. “And each night he travels across the sky to crown the prince and that’s where he goes during the day.” It didn’t explain why Mato could not always find his “sparrow” (and likely each time it was a different cluster of stars that he saw it in) but he had yet to come up with a little story for that (maybe star traffic is bad? Who knows). “What about you? Which one is your favorite?” He asks her, eager to hear and attempt to find her favorite constellation.

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There is something endearing in the way Mato refuses to believe that he has more knowledge of the stars than she. Liri smiles briefly, genuinely, finding that perhaps talking to children isn't so hard.

Liri watches avidly as his story unfolds, gazing skyward to the constellation he traces in time to the tale. "Talons," she supplies without interruption, lifting a paw and copying the same kneading motion.

When it is her turn to point out a constellation, Liri chooses one of the few that can be seen year round here. At home in the freezing wastelands she was born into, it had always seemed supernaturally close. As a child, she had believed she could reach out and touch it. 

"That one there. Draco the Dragon," Liri points, tracing the shape of it.

 "My brother once told me that a dragon was a seal that was as large as a polar bear. He said that dragons could breathe ice and make snow take on shapes."

"Draco was trapped in the sky because he was too curious. He wanted to reach the moon. He built a large hill out of snow, and became stuck in the sky when he reached for the moon. The snow melted eventually but Draco could no longer reach the ground."

The story comes out much more wistfully than she had intended. Liri had not realized how much she missed her family, betrayed or not. She found it easier to be alone but loneliness was not something she relished.

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Mato’s apple green gaze flickers to him as she corrects him smoothly. He bobs his head once as if to communicate: “Yeah, that’s it! talons” but he does not speak them aloud, instead carrying on with his story while he was on a roll with it. Not too shabby for pulling it from the top of his head! Or so he thought anyway. He’d never thought of a story for the Sparrow before — though this was largely because he’d never been in the position to need to. Except for right now, of course! The Rochester-Iosila stirs up some more powdery snow with his tail as it brushes to and fro against the rock as Liri takes her turn. She traces out a dragon for him and at first Mato squints at the constellation she has traced out, struggling, before the shape finally took form by the time she finishes. She calls it Draco.

Mato’s attention is rapt as he offers it to her, staring up at the dragon painted in the stars but he listens to her, rather intently given his feline-like attention span. It was selective at best and it just so happened that stars and stories were two of Mato’s favorite things (besides spending time with his dad, of course!). “Breathes snow?” He questions, not because he does not believe but because he wants a confirmation. “Like this?” He asks and sucks in a deep breath to blow at the loose, powdery snow that dusts the rock at his front paws, watching as it lifts upon his exhale and floats lazily like dust motes against the pale beams of the moon. “Does this make me a dragon too?” He asks with a soft, childish giggle. Not that, mind you, he has any idea what a dragon is.

“Why didn’t anyone help Draco get back down?” Mato asks Liri, turning large puppy eyes at her as he thinks that her story went from being cool to …pretty sad! “Must be pretty lonely.” Mato deduces softly out loud, thinking of how lonely he’d be if he was stuck in the stars never able to play with his siblings again.

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Liri composes herself as she turns to Mato. The only trace of her sadness is the soft clearing of her throat and the heavy feeling settled in her chest. 

She smiles as Mato demonstrates his version of a dragon. "I suppose it does," Liri agrees. 

"I don't know," Liri whispers in response to his weighted question. "Perhaps he had a family once...maybe they left him behind," Liri realizes that this is a rather sad thing to say, that it strikes a bit too close to home.

"It's just a story, I think," Liri corrects herself, not wanting to bring her sadness upon this child.

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There is a palpable shift in the atmosphere and Mato feels it and interprets it as he knows how: awkwardly. She smiles as he breathes snow like a dragon but he gets the feeling that it isn’t as genuine as it could be. His ears cup back and slick against his skull as he looks back to the sky, though his attention is on her words as she whispers them and speaks of his family leaving him behind. It creates a weight on his chest as he thinks of his own family and wonders if he got stuck in the stars if they would leave him behind. He likes to think that they wouldn’t but he cannot presume to know. His shoulders slump as he thinks about it, analyzing it, trying to feel the weight of his sadness for the constellation and why he feels it. He tucks his tail close against his hind legs, curling around their path where he lays sphinx-like. It might have just been a story but it was a story with a lot of holes in it and that tickled at him. He wanted there to be a happy ending even though …well… there obviously wasn’t one. He turns his eyes up to her, blinking owl-like as he thinks, the cogs turning in his mind. He would spin this into a happy ending. He was determined to. “That can’t be all of the story,” Mato protests, giving a shake of his head as if to say that he would have none of that. He didn’t accept it as it was and so they would write a better ending. “Maybe Draco’s family tried to get to him but they just couldn’t reach the sky,” Mato says, blinking sheepishly back to the sky. “So they sent him friends that could touch the sky so that he isn’t alone and that he knows they still love him.” He looks at the sky with feverish determination, looking for any sort of familiar shape. “See? Right there at the end of Draco’s tail? It’s an owl.” Well, it was a little funny looking to Mato as he drew it out but he didn’t care. “So Draco has an old friend with him but has lots of new ones too! Maybe the Sparrow is Draco’s friend.” It wasn’t an happy ending of family being reunited but it was a lot happier than thinking Draco was all alone up there.

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There is something about Mato's stubborn refusal of her story that Liri finds amusing. Perhaps the tale had been told to keep children from wandering or to warn people of what happened when you strove for things beyond your reach. Either way, Liri has learned the moral provided. She will remain content to live on the fringes of Broken Antler Fen, never to mate or have children of her own. It's better that way.

Mato brings out a laugh that Liri could not stop if she tried. She nods along with his story, finding she likes this version better. 

"That is a good way to think of it. I'm sure the Owl and Sparrow are Draco's friends," Liri agrees. It is better than thinking that Draco, or she, will be all alone.

this seemed like a good place to wrap this up! it was a cute thread! :D last post for me & mato; feel free to either archive as is or reply once more. <3

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Mato is content with his story and happier yet that he both manages to get a laugh from her and that she, too, agrees that Draco isn’t entirely alone up there. There were too many stars for Draco to ever be truly lonely! As for being lonely, Mato realizes that it isn’t something that he can actually relate to. He’s never been lonely. When he is alone it is because he seeks solitude and knows that with a quick call it could change in a few minutes. His siblings are never far off and even if they don’t want to bother with him he knows one of his parents will or another pack mate. “Someday Draco’s family will find their way to him. I just know it.” He adds one last bit with a resounding nod of his head to finish the story off. There, he thinks. Now it is complete. But that was the beauty of stories though, wasn’t it? If they didn’t like the ending they could just change it. He idles for a few moments, tail brushing against the snow dusted rock a few times as he smiles at the stars before he is overcome with a wide yawn. “Right,” He mumbles seconds before he lets out another, involuntary yawn. “Thanks for keeping me company Liri,” He tells her genuinely, before, shyly, he reaches his muzzle towards her in an attempt to bump the crown of his head to her chin in a platonic gesture. A gesture of friendship. “but I should probably get back before someone wakes up, realizes I’m missing and starts to worry.” He is sheepish as he says this, letting out a small, half laugh. “Maybe we can stargaze again sometime.” Mato partially offers and partially asks, lingering only long enough to catch her response before he heads back to the Rochester-Iosila family den.

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Her eyes remain on Draco. The stars wink at her, teasing or taunting she is unsure. The intensity in her chest is near indefinable but it feels alarmingly like hope. 

Liri cannot find it in herself to agree. She knows not if the story holds any merit but her own family is gone; they've all deserted her for better things. 

Perhaps someday she will find a different one. 

"That's a good idea, it's late. Your mother might worry," Liri finally tears her optics from the sky to look at Mato. 

She smiles, surprised, at the affectionate gesture. She cannot recall having any child warm to her. 

"Maybe," Liri responds, more agreement than open-ended answer. She watches him go, glancing once more at Draco before leaving the sky and its lonely dragon behind.