mona's greeting snaps him out of his head back to reality. he may not be as prone to fits of sulking but he does still carry that tendency to slip into his thoughts, unaware of his surroundings. maybe not the best quality for a leader to have, but whatever, he's squishy and introspective.
delight hasn't seen much of the little red girl, prone as she seems to be to her little scouting trips -- it hardly bothers him, she still shows up when he calls and scouts are handy things -- and so he is not expecting to see her new adornment. "hey, m-" the androgyne starts before his eyes land on the collar and, startled, her name dies in his mouth.
"mona." he finishes, forcing his eyes off the foreign thing and back onto her face, scanning a bit anxiously. she looks as uncomfortable as he feels looking at that thing. "what is that..?" delight asks, trying for even-tempered lest he make her feel worse about it -- but really, what the hell is that thing?
he listens to her description, not sure what to make of it: some creature he's never heard of, a silver bird? it's difficult to believe but mona wears the evidence on her neck that something happened -- as strange and unknown as the collar is, he's willing to believe pretty much anything happened, no matter how far fetched. the poor girl looks so distraught (why is it every time he speaks to her he catches her in the middle of a crisis? he's not equipped for it) delight makes a sympathetic whining sound.
"there's gotta be a way," he says soothingly, hoping he sounds more sure than he feels. cautiously he takes a few steps closer, giving her room to stop him if she doesn't want to be crowded, but wanting to see if he can examine it a little better. "does it hurt?" delight asks, eyes flicking briefly to her face in worry -- if it hurts they'll have to work more quickly than if it's just painless but unwelcome.
up close he is no better able to discern the collar's secrets. the material is thick and inorganic, nothing he's ever seen before, and while he's reassured by her saying it doesn't hurt, he agrees it has to go asap. gingerly he extends his nose to touch it -- and pulls away, surprised by the texture. "maybe we could bite through it?" delight suggests, hesitant to invade mona's space and put his teeth so close to her throat, even in the pursuit of ridding her of this mysterious menance. but if she gives permission, hell, he'll give it a try.
she doesn't speak so neither does he even as he bears down on her cautiously, careful to keep his teeth as turned away from her throat as possible. thankful that she's small like him so it isn't too hard to reach, he tries to gather the collar into his mouth, his jaw hooked around it near her nape. it feels tight against her and he mumbles a muffled "sorry" lest he accidentally choke her. the taste is still foreign, wholly unpleasant, the material tough and strange, but he gives it a sharp tug, trying to tear it from her neck.
mona does not seem angry with him for his failure to remove the wretched thing, but he feels guilt anyway, watching her shrug small at the ground. whatever it is, it's a burden she shouldn't have to bear. he does not have time to linger on his own feelings of inadequency for long -- she abruptly switches the topic on him. startled, the morwinyon raises a paw as if to step back, only to place it back down, scuffing the snowy dirt awkwardly. who is mato to him? there'd been a moment, hadn't there, where delight had seen a vision of a future that seemed to have borne no fruit. "my previous home was destroyed in an avalanche," delight explains, "mato was the first i met after that, and he immediately took me in." he swallows, feeling the words heavy in his mouth. "he was. is. my morwinyon," the androgyne manages, feeling heat flood his cheeks, fearing he's already revealed too much even in that chaste description. his feelings are not exactly a secret to any, but he does not like to advertise them nonetheless -- especially not when there's no chance of reciprocation (or rather, any chance he had at that having been dashed out with the light in mato's eyes).
ooc: phone post will format l8er :3
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for all that delight will whinge and worm at talking of his feelings, he relishes the opportunity, taking secret pleasure in the interest of his wolves in his affairs. being morwinyon is maybe a little too good for his ego.
still: "ah," he begins, immediately fumbling. how does he explain it? "i don't know -- his ex-mate brienne, him, and i -- we were playing out a sort of classical romantic tragedy. brienne disappeared, mato... he's got a way of - of closing himself off, turning his feelings off. when she returned to us he ... did not restart their courtship. we -- we had a moment, but -- something changed with him. i think the weight of brienne's disappearance and burke's declining health on top of the pack was too much for him. he's still very young -- younger than me." delight looks at his paws then, a little embarrassed, a little relieved, and adds, "so.. nothing happened, but not-nothing happened as well. does that make sense?"
slowly his unease melts away, buffed by mona's attentive reactions and his own flair for the dramatic. it's not a story about his life, it's just a story, a beautiful dramatic love triangle, and it's etched into tindómë's bones too. when the androgyne lifts his moonbeam eyes again, his expression is open, brows raised. "she was looking for her brother," he explains, "beyond our borders -- and she was captured. i've never pressed her for details, but i can only imagine." delight takes a breath, pausing, letting the imagined horrors brienne suffered flicker briefly across the space between them.
he glances to the borders, as if he himself bore witness to her return. "we did not know where she went -- we should have searched for her, but our numbers were slim and i deferred to mato's feelings, and we -- we grew closer. there was a moment where i thought..." his voice dips. he swallows. "but i was wrong. and brienne's return brought guilt -- i don't believe mato rejected her feelings for me, but i had a hand in it. while she was suffering i was climbing hierarchy. i certainly don't blame her for deciding to leave on her own terms again, though i hope we can find a way to reconnect some day."
and mato, well: he remains delight's enigma.
mona's words earn a full body blush, hidden under deep-tinted fur. how is he to take that? delight's prone to a certain air of ... not arrogance, but self possession. underneath that, though, he is fully and utterly convinced of his own incompetancies. he is not a good person. he is selfish and un-empathetic and prone to fits to ennui and insecurity. how is his heart great?
"he's..." the androgyne doesn't even know how to answer that question. mato lingers like a ghost. "i don't know. we haven't spoken much recently -- he's in mourning of a sorts." it's a kind way to describe it, but delight doesn't have it in him to give up on the prince just yet, not so long as he's physically present. they had a whisper of a moment and he'll hold onto it as long as he can, he thinks.
no worries! sorry for mine!
beneath her touch, she felt the subtle gathering of muscles, and drew back to regard the closing expression on delight's gentle features. for a long moment, mona allowed the silence to pass — delight ended its slipping with a question to which the mayfair did not truly have an answer.
"i ... because i didn't like the idea of you being alone," she rejoined in a small voice, murkwater eyes finding delight's own gaze for an iota of time before she turned them toward her small scarlet forepaws and their cardinal brightness against the snow. "i don't want anyone to be alone." and now the quiet stretched between them ribbonlike, tautening as mona wondered if she had overstepped in any way.