Dante had had a difficult time keeping track of his packmates as of late. It wasn't that he had gone suddenly blind or had lost all sense of direction within the territory (not that that wasn't a common occurrence- what could he say? The willows got proper confusing sometimes,) but rather that the rain had been so incessant recently that it had begun to become harder to track the scents of fellow faeries. Ever the adaptable young man, he'd found other ways to manage to figure out the location of his peers. This mostly consisted of trotting around the territory as often as possible and observing the most popular resting places, which was not as easy as it may have sounded (he never said it was an efficient alternative). Lumiya, though, was by far the easiest to find despite the showers. It seemed almost as if there were a part of her, just the smallest piece, lodged somewhere in Dante's heart, always being pulled towards the woman by some odd magnetic force.
It was this magnetic force that found Dante making his through the willows that day, a strange tug in his chest (which some might believe he'd only imagined- after all, how could he possess such a sixth sense?) setting him adrift in the territory. He was wandering, sure, but it was as though there was something to be found that he just hadn't quite discovered yet. When the trembling melody of her cries found his ears, Dante was certain he'd come across what he'd been unknowingly searching for.
His step picked up instantly, the boy moving on fleet feet to the cries of his love, only to be led to the exact tree under which they'd professed sweet words of fondness to each other many a night ago. The sight coupled with the current situation sent an ache straight through Dante's being as he pushed his way through the lavish curtain of fronds. The vision he beheld only made him hurt more than before; his wisp had draped herself against the base of the tree, tears flowing down her face. Dante glanced to her feathered companion, throwing him a worried look before rushing forward, wet pelt and all, and pressing his nose under her chin, gently nudging her face to meet his. Keep your head up, love,
he whispered, the playful tone he attempted coming out more sad and fond than anything. What's happened, darling? What is it,
he continued, his words cloaked in concern as he did a brief check for injuries on the woman. It seemed as though her pain wasn't physical, but something weighing on her mind instead, and he desperately wished to relieve her of her burdens. Searching her wildflower eyes, Dante awaited her response with gentle patience apparent on his face, apprehension seeping through.
Dante curled himself further around the woman as she spoke, nosing at her wet fur gently and breathing warmth against her body. He focused sharply at Orlaith's name, drawing his attention away from making himself a living blanket as the situation was explained. His brow furrowed slightly as he mulled over it, confused; Orlaith, though she may have carried a fiery temper and a taste for conflict, had always been quite loyal to the court, or so Dante had thought. He reconsidered it now, mouth growing sour at the idea that perhaps Seelie had been simply a way for her to validate her actions. While perhaps she hadn't done maliciously, he could see the possibility that the pack had become a vessel of sort by which she could carry out her scuffles and have a support system to back her up.
Shaking his head fiercely, the young man fixed Lumiya with a stern yet empathetic look, speaking in a hushed tone, Lumi, love, hey. Look at me
. Once her attention had been given, he continued in the same soft but firm coo, Lumiya, it was only a matter of time. Orlaith, she... she has fire in her spirit. And that's okay- s'great, really, it just... Seelie Court wasn't made to contain that sort of fire. We're, I mean, we're peaceful, aren't we?
There was a slight question in his voice, only because he wasn't one to mansplain to the queen herself what her court stood for. He believed with the prompting he'd given, she'd say the same thing herself. Deep down, the woman must've known that Orlaith's recklessness was not the way Seelie Court wanted to represent themselves. Still, he empathized with her. Orlaith had been a friend to her, a right-hand-woman in a way, and Dante understood that losing such a bond could feel sometimes as though one was really losing a limb. With that in mind, he snuggled closer, murmuring, I'm sorry you lost a friend, love. It's not your fault. Friendships, they wax and wane. You'll find your way to each other's paths again. For now, she needs to grow on her own. It will be alright,
.
Lumiya,
he began, shaking his head and smiling at her sadly before she'd even fnished her last sentence. You are the queen, and you do, to some extent, have responsibilities over your faeries. But you can't expect yourself to be able to see into their souls, it's not fair to you or to them.
His brow furrowed with concern and jaw shifting slightly as he thought, Dante's eyes flickered over the wisp, trying to figure out how to express what exactly he was trying to say. She couldn't have just known what Orlaith was feeling, and the woman had never seemed the type to bare her heart to others. She'd had an iron guard around her, in ways similar to the one Dante was certain Lumiya had carried around her own heart and secrets for a very long time.
It's like...It's like, some people's hearts are like water, you know? Like, you can expect yourself to be able to see through water, there's an ease in understanding what they're feeling. Others aren't so easy- they've got stone around them. I think... I think we can't allow ourselves to believe we have the power to crack through anyone's walls. I think they have to lower them down themselves,
he trailed off into something faint and thoughtful, his eyes blinking shut for a slow moment. I think you had walls, too. And even when people cared for you, or were kind or thoughtful, you couldn't lower those. It took,
a fond look played over his features, It took a very certain connection for you to be able to do that. Maybe it's the same for Orlaith, and you're just not the person to give her that connection. You can't fault yourself for that,
he finished with a hum, gaze flitting over her odd one once again before he tried to bury himself back into the fur of her neck, hoping his words might have reached the girl the way he meant them to.
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The question Lumiya posed struck something deep inside the young man. She really did seem to trust Dante in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever been privileged enough to experience before; the little epiphany left the mousy boy stunned only momentarily, his maw hanging just slightly open before he blinked and managed a soft response.
I don't know,
his gentle voice murmured, ears twitching lightly. He slumped closer to the girl and sighed a low, I hope so. Orlaith has a certain loyalty in her, you know? Maybe... Maybe that loyalty will lead her back here someday.
He pondered it silently as they rested against one another, a vision of the fiery fae and Lumiya in the throws of a quarrel making his jaw set a bit tighter. As much as he wanted the woman to return, if she were to cause such fray to his love's mind once again, he wasn't sure he'd be so forgiving. Hissing out a soft breath, the boy closed his eyes on that thought, pressing his forehead to Lumiya once more.
He was right... Orlaith had been nothing but loyal to the court. Perhaps that was the problem - she was loyal to the court, but not their queen. Wanting power simply for the status if gave you was wrong... But she couldn't help but think that maybe this desire stemmed from a trauma or event from her past. She'd grow over it, Lumiya hoped, for the best of both of them.
Thank you...
she sighed softly, a bit relieved. Still, thry both knew Lumiya well - the girl couldn't relax to save her life. She'd probably worry about Orlaith and their fight until she would have the chance to make it right.
Even after the young woman had finished speaking, a finality to her thanks, Dante's eyes wandered over her face. There was a certain tightness in his chest; he grieved not for Orlaith the way Lumiya did, but there was an undeniable poignant feeling that had struck him at seeing someone he- loved?- in such pain.
Even after his lingering gaze had turned its focus away, Dante had settled in closer, only hoping that the the empathy which had rung out in his body would find its way to her through his tactile gestures. With the pitter-patter of the rain filling his ears, the young man ghosted a soft breath of a sigh over the top of Lumiya's head and said no more; sometimes, there were no words left to give.