The Sunspire winning was easy, governing's harder

Weather: 37°F, light snow (< 1 in.) overnight and in the afternoon.
Note: Set the evening after this thread. 

The grief Rannoch felt was overwhelming.

He laid in the mouth of the den with his head resting on his forelimbs and gaze set in the distance. Since the altercation at the borders had been resolved, Rannoch had opted to consider everything that had happened in solitude. He needed time to reflect, and he allowed himself that time.

Although Rannoch knew there was nothing he could do to change what had happened, he thought of what he could do differently, and how he could be more successful in the future. Rannoch knew that despite all this planning, he had disappointed @Liffey— that was the worst, to Rannoch. They had not spoken since the group had dispersed, and he had no idea what she would say now that they were alone.

Liffey had taken her time returning home that day. Though Rannoch had backpedaled after hearing her argument, she could not let go of his initial decision being what it was. And Terance... She heard his voice over and over, Break his leg. It haunted her. The whole thing haunted her. She had needed time to herself to think and settle her emotions for the conversation to come. She wanted to be clear, and strong. And not the weeping, overly emotional mess that had apparently failed to explain herself to her mate that day they had decided to depart Moonspear. Otherwise, how could this have happened here?

She found him lying at the mouth of their shared den, looking as miserable as she had ever seen him. Her mind had replayed many conversations so far that day, especially the one they'd had before leaving Moonspear. But she hadn't really thought of the part where she'd banned him from ever again thinking that she would leave him. Looking at him now, Liffey considered that he might be breaking that rule.

"Hi," she said softly as she came near and sat down a few feet away from him. The sadness on his features demanded that she throw herself at him, drown him in love and affection and let him know that everything was okay. The fact that things were not okay kept her at bay, for the moment.

Liffey's footfalls caught Rannoch's attention, and slowly, his gaze panned until he found her. Although he had had an entire afternoon to himself, Rannoch still felt unprepared for their discussion. 

"Hi," Rannoch returned after a pause, his voice thick with grief. "I really messed that up, didn't I?" 

Liffey didn't know how to begin this conversation. For as much time as she'd spent considering all that had happened, she had not considered where they were to go from here. So when Rannoch spoke finally, emotion heavy in his voice, Liffey could only stare silently at him for a moment. What was she supposed to say? What could she that she hadn't already said earlier? Her heartbeat sounded so incredibly loud in her ears.

"I just..." she said hesitantly, "I don't understand what you were thinking."

"I don't think I was thinking," he admitted and averted his gaze. "I've been pretty stressed since Titmouse's arrival— which, I know, is not an excuse. I've just been worried about how he will get along with the others since he and Terance hadn't gotten off to the best start." He did not blame Screech for his anxiety. "And then when Redshank tore into the territory, threatening me with, 'f-you, Rannoch! I'm going to f-in kill you!' I-It startled me. I tried so hard to get through to him and to talk. But he wouldn't." 

Rannoch looked up at his wife, his eyes brimmed with moisture. "Redshank wasn't here to talk. He was here to kill me. I knew it, and he knew it." He sighed then, and his ears flattened. "I didn't know what I could do further to get through to him, and I allowed Terance to decide what happened to him. I don't know why he decided to break his leg. I don't think he was thinking clearly either." Rannoch had noticed his friend's sensitive nature since Seabreeze had gone into heat. "I think we were just doing what we could to make sure Redshank didn't get further and hurt anybody. We didn't realize how horribly we were acting." 

"I'm so thankful you were there in time," he admitted, his voice small.

They could at least agree on one thing - that Rannoch hadn't been thinking. She was quiet as she listened to him, timid still of what he might say. She had never felt this worry before around him, but she had never heard him speak a word that had hurt her to hear before either. She didn't know the man that had commanded Terance to punish the pleading boy, nor did she know the one that had told Titmouse he too would be punished if he did not take Rannoch's side.

But this wolf... Liffey felt tears come to her own eyes as she saw those in his. Not for remorse or guilt over how he felt now, but relief. She knew this Rannoch. This one was hers. She wasn't entirely certain yet if she could trust him to stay or if the other would sneak back in, but she was trying. She kept her eyes on his. They kept her steady, though they still did not reveal to her what to say.

"You scared me," she said softly, feeling her arms begin to tremble, "What you said to Titmouse. That he'd be considered an intruder too. It was like.. Charon. What he said to me. Before he..." She shut her eyes as the memory flooded her head, blurred with the one of earlier that day. You questioned my decisions about Gannet. Is that what you call loyalty?, but in Rannoch's voice and not that of Moonspear's alpha. The scar across her muzzle twinged as though it too remembered.

Despite the fact that Rannoch held Liffey's gaze, he could sense her tremble. Rannoch rose hesitantly, his ears flattening as he looked away suddenly out of shame; there was no denying how hauntingly similar he and Charon had sounded. "I was a fool," he admitted, his voice quiet, "I was a stupid fool who was driven by doubt." 

"I've been worried about Titmouse since the arrived here. After everything that happened, I just wanted him to get along, and then he decided to defend Redshank, who was clearly in the wrong—" Rannoch shook his head, "I-I just wasn't thinking. I can't ever think like that again." 

Rannoch looked at her again, feeling tears roll from his eyes. "I know that I hurt you the moment you stepped in, a-and I've never felt worse about anything in my life. I'm so sorry, Liffey. Not just to you, but to everybody I've let down today. I'm sorry I've made you feel this way, and I'm sorry that I made a fool of myself in front of the pack." 

"I will never make you feel this way again. I know it'll be hard to trust me again, and I understand. Please, just know that I will be a better man for you and our pack," his voice broke as he neared the end of his monologue.

"I-I love you, Liffey, and I will do everything in my power to right this."  But even Rannoch knew that actions spoke louder than words, and he would show her that he wasn't the man he had been on the borders.

Rannoch showered her in excuses and apologies, but Liffey struggled to let them all fully sink in. In times like these, she considered that it was possible her mate spoke too much. It was endearing typically, but her emotions were running too high and it seemed to overwhelm her more than settle her. She shut her eyes, letting it all roll past her until the very end - his love, and his promise to make this right. She could just trust him on the rest. He hadn't broken things that far. Not this time.

"Okay," she said softly, exhaustion written on her tone. She didn't move still - she simply sat still, looking overly worn and tired. It had been a long day and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to sleep and wake up fresh tomorrow with all of this behind them. She could only hope it would prove to be that simple.

In time, Rannoch would reflect upon this conversation as a learning experience. It would be a turning point, of sorts, in how he approached Liffey when their views conflicted. Rannoch recognized the exhaustion in her voice, and her agreeing with his winded monologue did not sit well with him. He was left to wonder what was going through her mind, and he did not indulge further in their exchange— he knew nothing good would come of it.

Rannoch hoisted himself onto all fours and teetered a step towards her; he would not step any closer if she did not want him to— he was testing her boundaries and hoped that she'd allow him to come closer.

Rannoch said nothing, but stood to close the distance between them. She didn't move away, but she couldn't bring herself to step forward either. As much as she welcomed her mate's touch in that moment, she was too tired to help him bridge the gap, both literally and metaphorically. She did manage to lift her eyes to his though. She couldn't speak the words, but she hoped that he could see that there was still love there for him. There was nothing he could do to change that. That other Rannoch maybe, but not this one.

Liffey did not reject his advance outright. Instead, she fixed him with a stare that affirmed her exhaustion. Their discussion was over, and they needed rest. "Come 'ere," Rannoch purred as he took a step closer and poked his nose to her cheek. 

"We need rest," he decided, feeling suddenly fatigued from the numerous conflicts, "It's been a long day." He studied her for a moment and smiled softly. "If you're hungry, I can go and get something to eat for us before I join you in our den." 

In the end, Liffey was helpless to resist him. His sweet summons melted the last of her resolve. The tiniest of smiles stretched across her lips at his touch, which she leaned gently into. Her eyes found his again when he spoke and she shook her head. "Just come with me now," she requested softly. She stood then and crept into their shared den, eager to put this day behind them and start fresh again in the morning.

Liffey's wish was Rannoch's command. "Okay," he promised as he stood. Rannoch then followed his wife into their shared den, where he promptly curled himself around her and passed out; he was eager to put all of this behind them and start anew when they both woke.