Whatever time had passed, he had lost count. Swept by the currents of the river and nearly drowned, the man had been saved by a pale she-wolf with a nurturing instinct. Day in, day out—her insistence for him to rest had not overruled his need to seek out Arielle—a fruitless effort, and one that had further hindered his ability to heal a garish wound to his flank. Finally, he had relented, acquiesced by the healer though accepting it merely as a defeat—unworthy of his family, much like his father.
His flank ached still—even after so many moons and particularly in the rain and cold. But he stood now, at the edge of the home he had been prepared to build with his mate and family before
@Arielle had gone missing. He had come home empty-handed—the worst outcome. She was simply gone—and now, a ghost of a man stood at the borders of the pack that still smelled of home—of
@Ibis. His champagne eyes scoured the lands, eager for sight of her—needing to seek the comfort of her embrace as he allowed his howl to pass his lips, calling to her—to
@Lilitu--to anyone.
He came to her every night. Striding purposefully through the dark, sometimes flanked by their grown daughters, but always when Ibis fell in to her deeper sleeps, leaving her in the morning at her newborn's first crowing. When Akavir's song came this time she was awake; blinking wearily at the den mouth as the sound passed through the air and caught in her ears.
Roswell was trying to latch on to a teat that was already occupied by Jasmine, with Diantha slumbering in an awkward crook of Ibis' groin after being shoved aside by her hungry siblings. The pinch of greedy puppy gums would have woken Ibis if she had been asleep. It was proof enough to her that this was not a dream.
Strange, though. A sweep of yearning made her heart ache. A distrust of that sound twinning with the urge to rise from where she had hidden herself and the new members of her family. After shushing the hungry children for a few minutes Ibis did rise; she felt guilty to leave them in their moment of desire but she had to see, she had to know for sure that it was him.
The call had come from the fen's eastern-most edge and it would take her time to reach it from the heart where she lingered, and she doubted if there was time to find a sitter. It was reckless — she was heartsick; but the babies would be safe and warm in the den, she told herself, drawing away from them and then racing across the blooming earth.
When she came upon him Ibis felt her body shiver, as if her legs were made of water and she would melt on the spot. She collided with him in a passable bear-hug and was consumed by the smell of his coat, the brackish and wild volume of his body, herself being so much smaller despite the added weight of motherhood. She could not speak and gasped instead, struggling to find words.
How was he here? It didn't really matter, did it? He had been gone so long — where? Where had he been? Where was their daughter, if not with him now? But Ibis couldn't speak, and instead sank in to the warmth of him.
Guiding him home. She barrelled toward him, his own form tense as he saw the streak of pallid fur, unable to stop himself from passing the borders and closer to her embrace. She clung to him—his own muzzle wrapping her as tightly to him as he could, his nose burying itself into her fur—ever so familiar, and yet...
... the scent of milk was deep upon her. Quizzical, the champagne eyes of the shadowrunner roved over her, realizing the softness and warmth of her body was also from the strain of carrying pups.
His heart wrenched, and he swallowed thickly, unable to bring himself to ask—had she sought the arms of another? Worse still, had another forced them self upon her? He exhaled sharply, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers intimately, to press his muzzle next to hers and steal this moment without consequence. I missed you,
was what he could offer, his voice rough from disuse.
Their foreheads touched for a moment, with the man craning low to make up for Ibis' lack of height. The woman remained stunned that her beloved shadow had returned and so she was quiet, biting back the urge to start sobbing right there. Warm, happy tears would have taken up residence along her lash line had she let them; there would be no stopping the waterworks if that were to happen.
There were other things to ask, to talk about. So much to talk about — he could probably tell that she had gained weight, that she smelled of her newborns. A part of Ibis was almost afraid to broach the subject; moreover, she did not want to move from this spot with him, but not out of some deep love (which was present). She did not want to bring him near her newborns. The thought shocked her just as much as everything else.
I missed you,
her husband croaked.
I—
thought you were dead she wanted to say, but couldn't. Was it even true? Having hoped for so long that Akavir would return, but knowing from experience that the universe had other plans for her time and time again, Ibis had not hoped for long. She had not let herself get strongly attached to the idea things might work out for once.
And now, this.
I'm so happy you're home,
she managed, swallowing her emotions as best she could. Guilt bubbled up and burned at the back of her throat.
His forehead remained against hers--the moment too fragile to move from, it seemed, as either remained rooted. Was her heart thundering as much as his? The scent of milk clung to her, stirring at him, though this time, when before it had brought him joy, it caused despair to slowly wrap around his heart.
She stumbled on her words--his gentle Ibis dare not move. He felt as if at any moment she would flee from him. He could not read her--not even if he could see her eyes in this very moment. Had their distance instilled a rift? Worse, he waited, aching to know if the children she bore were to a man she had taken as a mate.
"I'm so happy you're home," she murmured to him, and he could almost taste the iron from the blood his teeth wrought from biting at his tongue. "Are you," he wanted to question, to demand the truth from her. Did he still have a place here?
Instead, he pulled back gently, gaze imploring as he sought hers. "Ibis?"
There was a moment of quiet after she'd spoken, as if he might say something; maybe she only imagined it, wished for it. Wished for him to know what he could not know, to save them both the conversation and the heartache that might result from it. Instead there was that electrified hesitation on both their parts.
When he did speak it was one word, questioning. As Akavir pulled back Ibis thought, he knows, and in that instant expected something; instead there was only his stare, which she met with a fleeting glance at first. Afraid to look at him, to face the situation.
Lilitu was not here to meet her father. She could start there. Would that make him leave again? To hunt not for one wayward daughter but two, at the expense of the wife he had left behind too long already?
Ibis swallows the lump in her throat. Lilitu left to look for you. For Arielle, too. Only a few days ago.
Had it really only been days? A week maybe, or longer, Ibis was not attuned to the passing of time when she had the pressing matter of her newborns to tend to.
I thought you were gone.
She finally admits to herself, aloud though, barely audible. Her voice grows a little stronger as she says, Everyone, everyone leaves me.
Now the tears come, warming her cheeks as they slide down her face. There is more anger in her voice than she wants but Ibis can't help it, she's always been emotional and she couldn't keep it bottled up.
I have a son.
It should have been 'we'.
Her name spoken from him—there is only hesitance that meets him then, and he can feel she is terrified. But of what? That is what he dreads—not the scent that clings to her pelt, but of what she does not say, allowing his imagination to run wild with it. A new man, perhaps? He couldn’t consider another alternative worse, for it would mean something that had been taken from her unwillingly.
She starts—his eyes rapt upon her, his attention snapping back and from his mind wandering down a rabbit hole he didn’t wish to go. Lilitu was gone—the irony of the statement not missed on him. Of course, the absence of their other daughter was different than Arielle’s disappearance, for at least Ibis knew she had gone to do so… Arielle had simply disappeared from them without word.
Next, an accusation—the tears that followed softening the blow only minutely and he wanted to compose her, to soothe her—did he have that right any longer?
Next, the gut-wrenching admittance: a son. She had birthed a son. Another man’s child. He knew it was coming from the moment he could smell her, but it didn’t stop the punch he felt. He didn’t know what to say or what to do—he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
What left his mouth felt completely out of context—inappropriate—and he couldn’t even believe he said it. “Congratulations.”
It feels like she's speaking from the heart for the first time in months. It is surprising to be speaking at all, more-so that she's with her husband, and yet the only reply issued from this long-lost-love was the singular, Congratulations.
Ibis doesn't know what to say, she just stares ahead. It felt like she had sprung a leak, that she might crumble with this new shift in pressure. Her mind is a blur. Why bother thinking at all when feelings are there, burning through her. It is a grab bag of feelings — adoration for this man she thought was gone mingling with the sense of abandonment she has never, and will never, recover from. Rage too, which has no place anywhere. Guilt; she wants to sink in to herself and wallow just as much as she wants to rage and to love.
A-and two daughters,
she struggles to say, sniffling, her tongue feeling heavy. I waited as long as I could for you.
As if this were his fault alone. The crying is less now, the tears streaming soundlessly while Ibis shudders to breathe, grimacing.
Akavir,
she sighs his name, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping to clear them, to look at him properly. There is sadness in her eyes and there is hope, too. Akavir please, please don't leave me again.
More warmth spreads down her face, by now the pale tone of her cheeks holds a buttery sheen.
He remained as still a statue—his eyes studying her, unreadable. Champagne and murky met water-logged aqua. Two daughters, she further explains. Another stab—just like their two daughters.
The true knife, though, was her words next—I waited as long as I could for you.
Incredulous, almost, he numbly stared at her. Words couldn’t even form—so many things he wanted to say, and he just couldn’t even feel his tongue, which sat like dead weight in his very dry mouth. A flash of ivory—the angel that had pulled him from the tumbling waters and to safety. Who had insisted he stay, when he was determined to get back to his family.
“I counted the full moons as they passed,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he try to rid the hoarseness that pressed at him now. “Four. Four long moons, Ibis…”
He braced himself. Steeled himself for another wave of her tears, trying so hard not to add his own to the mix. He swallowed. “I waited for you,” was what he offered then, looking away, the words almost ripping from him like a snarl as he suddenly straightened, his tongue lashing against his teeth as he tempered himself.
But he knew—his eyes sought her out again. Could he really fault her for this? She probably had assumed he had died—he was never supposed to be gone for so long. “I fell. In the water, when looking for Arielle. I was saved when another pulled me out of the waters. She tended to my wounds as I healed.”
He paused, loosing a sigh. She wanted him in her life, still? He regarded her, just wanting nothing more than to find their old den and pull her close to him. Claim again what was his—and then curl up with her tucked against him, as she should have always been. Not in the arms of another man. “Who is he?”
She knew how long it had been. Maybe not with the specificity, since she did not think to count the moons as they came to glow overhead; no, Ibis counted the months in the form of bodies pressed to her own.
Teya in the moonlight.
The coywolf later on.
Penn, when the need became too great.
Desperation wrought each moment. They were greedy moments stolen when Akavir's back was turned. He had not been there and so Ibis had found comfort wherever she could; was that wrong of her to do, when months in the life of a wolf could mean so much?
The timbre of his voice cut through her, mirroring her own words. Ibis' eyes dropped to the flyaway fringe of his coat, watching the wind tremble across it, no longer holding the desire to touch him.
He straightened, she tensed. An explanation followed, deepening the guilt Ibis already felt. She had a nagging feeling to run, now. To go back to her den, to her daughters — her precious boy — knowing they were still alone, in need of her. What would Akavir do when faced with their little bodies? She could not move.
Who is he?
Came the final accusation, falling solemnly from Akavir's lips. For a moment Ibis did not understand; she did not think her husband would want to know about her son, which was the only man in her life now. The auspex raised her eyes and saw the gilded hurt in Akavir's face, which revealed a deeper meaning.
The only answer she could give was a shake of her head. No one; she had no one but her children, and they would never leave her. Her lip trembles but she draws a breath and tries to steady her nerves, searching for words — for anything to remedy this — and finds a deep trench of shame that wants to devour her.
Its only me.
A wiser wolf might have told the frosted shadowrunner to turn and leave. To think before reaction. All he could picture was his own parents—faces wrought with emotional pain as they bickered, quarreling, divorcing.
This wasn’t how he had wanted his own family to be.
A part of him was disappointed the other man was gone. He would have loved to have revealed to him just what he thought of someone taking advantage of his Ibis when she was spiraling. Another part relieved—for it meant he had mattered little to her.
They could be mine, too,
he rumbled, his eyes nervously seeking her own. They would never have to know.
.
Just a small blip on their path, he could argue. They could still be a happy family... assumed deaths and infidelity could be forgotten, couldn’t they?
The silence came back, briefly, painfully. When broken it had the effect like dropping a fine china plate on pavement: adrenaline-inducing dissonance.
He sought her gaze with his. Ibis almost couldn't match it. She needed to think, and thinking was hard for her right now.
They're not yours.
She murmured, shrinking.
How presumptive of him to think he could come back, like he hadn't abandoned her, and be a father to her children. It was all that she had wanted and begged the universe for; someone that would be there for her, love her, never be without her.
Ibis knew her initial reaction was borne more of shock than anything. She loved Akavir deeply, maybe obsessively; at least, the idea of him she had pieced together after he had gone. The version she had mourned for his absence, who she continued to idealize despite how he stood here, before her.
How was his suggestion any different than the trick she had already pulled? Lilitu, Arielle — the very daughter he had hunted the wilds to find, who he came crawling home to, ready to reunite and protect — weren't his by blood either. Was it right to perpetuate the lie?
He had a right to know. To make the decision with everything exposed.
None of them are.
Begged him to stay. He had given her his answer—willing to just move forward as if none of this had truly happened.
Yet she recoiled. The statement they weren’t his yet one more gut-punch. His eyes alight, he wanted to let her know he was very well aware they weren’t his. That she had lain with another.
But he didn’t. He held back, sadness wrenching away to frustration. Bristling, he snorted as she repeated it again, not grasping the truth of what she was trying to tell him in the end—simply believing she was repeating the same of her current litter.
What would you have me do, then?
She didn't have an answer for him. He had done everything he could for their family; protected her over and over again, sought to track down and rescue Arielle, returned when he could. It should have been good enough.
Why wasn't it?
Ibis grit her teeth. She didn't know what to do. Worry for her new children flooded her, mixed with the lack of sleep and the hormones that seemed to outlast all her other sensations, and she was lost. The emotional reunion was spoiled by her biology just as much as her hubris.
I need time.
She blurts, stepping back finally.
My children need me. Its only been... days, they're too little.
She is shaking her head, thinking of them and all she must do for them; retreating mentally from the conversation and leaving him there, stranded, to decide for himself. As she turns from him she pauses, looking almost as if she might heave up whatever rests in her stomach.
Stay if that's what you want. If you can bare to do it. If you love me,
A pause, a step. —but right now I must be a mother first.
And maybe in time, he could become their father.
Stay if that’s what you want. If you love me. Champagne eyes studied her, the wet fur along her cheeks, damp from her tears and the shine of her eyes. Weariness exuded from her, and as she began to pull away, his jaw opened to respond, to demand what had changed when only minutes ago she had begged him to stay with her.
And now, it seemed he was barely welcome.
Exhaustion consumed him as well. Rest. They both needed rest. The idea that she was returning to a den with newborns unguarded did not settle well with him, but he knew better than to push his welcome. Instead, he pulled back, feeling the cold of the evening deep into the intimate place she had buried herself only moments before, now devoid of her touch.
As he drifted from her, turned away by her, something about her words still bagged at him... not seeming quite right. None of them are.