Might be interesting for him to meet Lestan?
@Lestan
----
Riordan had been following Reverie's scent for hours, his nose leading him along a winding path down from the cliffs and toward the beach below. As he traversed the rugged terrain, the smell of salt and seaweed permeated his senses, and he could feel the faint mist of ocean spray on his face. The waves crashed against the cliffs below, creating a constant roar that echoed in the distance.
As he crested a steep incline, Riordan stopped in his tracks, surveying the breathtaking scene before him. The beach below was a pristine oasis of white sand and turquoise water. The sun was setting on the horizon, spilling golden light over the tranquil scene.
Without hesitation, he let out a howl, the sound carrying across the water and bouncing off the cliffs. He started to head down to the beach, dark eyes scanning the length of it for any sign of movement.
hello!
the majesty of the coastline only soothed lestan somewhat. reverie's brother had gone, leaving her reserved and silent as the little family traveled.
they had not yet spoken of what she had said she must tell lestan, for he was too tired to hear it, too focused on getting she and blossom to the plateau.
but the arcing voice against the sky stopped him, and he glanced around the cliff-faces, seeing where a ledge of ancient stone jutted, darkening the sand with shadow. "let's rest there," he said of the overhang. "i'll — answer."
since everett had gone, lestan suspected this was riordan. he would find the man striking, larger than he, and with pale emphasis around his eyes that reminded the mayfair bitterly of arric. in comparison, he felt he was found greatly wanting. what were these things that riordan knew of reverie? "hello." his bluegold eyes were inquisitive and yet guarded. "will you be joining us?"
jealousy scudded its twisted claw against the inside of his ribcage.
Just a cameo! <3
Reverie was beginning to falter.
She hid it well, hid it out of necessity; they were so close to the end of their journey now, she did not want anything to jeopardize it. But her supply of milk was dwindling, propped up for now by herbs and drawing on reserves she no longer had. The excess weight she'd carried was gone, and any further weight loss would see her thinning to a sickly frailness. For now, she took comfort in the return to her pre-pregnancy figure, even as the energy drained from her.
She was so focused on keeping herself going, she almost didn't register the howl or Lestan's suggestion. Reverie stopped and blinked at him, and then down at Blossom. It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears of relief.
Rest. Yes, she desperately needed that now. She nodded and took her daughter, curling up beneath the rocky overhang. She no longer cared if Riordan accompanied them; part of her almost hoped Lestan would come back without him. But either way, it didn't matter. All she wanted was to sleep.
Nothing would rouse her for the next fourteen hours.
Hi!
----
Riordan descended the path leading to the beach, eyes fixed upon the sands that spread before him.
Movement caught his attention, and he saw a slim dark wolf approaching, carrying the scent of the woman he once knew. Riordan assumed that this was the man she had chosen for this world - Lestan. He cast a critical eye over the other man, taking in his lean frame and mild manner. Riordan saw why Reverie felt she had to protect her family; he wasn’t convinced this one had it in him.
He watched closely as Lestan approached, noting the eye-catching features and charming accent. Riordan could appreciate the man's appeal under different circumstances, but he could not afford to be distracted by it. He knew all too well how possessive Reverie could be, so he kept his own guarded look and gave a brisk nod of acknowledgement.
"Yes," he answered in a low voice. "I take it you're Lestan. What happened?"
lestan's laugh was low and bitter. "a woman came down from the cliffs and drove us out. or do you mean why we left, why we are here." not so much a question as he cast his eyes to the eternal dome of sky and drew a long breath. "i found a place, a bay, inhabited by a husband and wife. i think it's safe enough and small enough for us to s-start over."
the sky, the sea; now lestan looked to the man. "riordan, correct?" who was he, royal poet indeed? something gathered in his eyes, a glistening remembrance of the darkness he had witnessed and internalized during his time in the taiga. "who are you to reverie?"
let riordan speak, and speak well.
Riordan's gaze was steady on Lestan, watching him turn his own eyes to the sky and the sea as he spoke. His bitter laughter told the story of a man at his breaking point, and the tired cast to his features spoke further of defeat. But when the multi-coloured eyes found Riordan again, there was something darker there that unsettled him even more than the question Lestan posed. He nodded, and considered his next words before he voiced them.
"I've been many things to her," he began, "but right now she needs a friend and a mentor. I don't know what she's shared with you, about where she's from and what she is. There's so much she still doesn't know. But I can teach her."
Now it was Riordan who looked away, dark eyes scanning the waves, and he contemplated the heavy potpourri scent of kismet that surrounded them. The sundancer by the sea was a vision that still haunted him at night, but Reverie didn't dream of him any longer. She dreamt of this man now, this Lestan, and a softer life than Riordan could ever provide.
"Has she gotten sicker?" He asked without looking at Lestan.
lestan did not like this, did not care for how riordan was speaking. there was no offense in it, nothing that would indicate that the mayfair should react. and yet all the same his hackles wished to flare, for there was an intimacy in how this perfect stranger spoke of lestan's golden wife!
the vagueness; i've been many things to her.
something reverie needed to say.
something he had put off, and now lestan could only assume it looked at him now through the eyes of this man. he knew. lestan knew, and he could hardly fathom it.
riordan spoke and his truth reached into the haunted heart of the witchling spawn. how could he know? and yet he did. "sicker and sicker. she t-tried to hide it, several times. but —"
but it was why lestan lived in a state of sickened worry over reverie, why he had barely thought of touching her; not for lack of want but excess of panic, solidified each time he caught the scent of her bleeding.
"i'm hoping she will see a healer, at saltshore. the one our leader in the creek sent to us, well; we didn't ask for him and he g-gave reverie something, wouldn't tell me. i wanted to kill him."
Riordan nodded in silent acknowledgement as he listened to the explanation, his eyes fixed on Lestan. His expression grew tense, his lips pressed tightly together, and a flicker of something unreadable passed through his darkened gaze. Deep down, he knew his suspicions about Lestan were justified. Reverie had already suffered enough under his care, and Riordan couldn't fathom leaving her alone with him any longer. It was a stroke of luck that he had found her when he did.
"Healers won't be of any help," he remarked grimly, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "As you've seen. She pushed herself too far, that's all."
"I'm looking into solutions," he continued, determination etched on his face. "Make sure she doesn't wander off." With a final nod of acknowledgement, Riordan made his intention clear: his conversation with Lestan had come to an end. There was nothing more to discuss with this stuttering man who had audaciously claimed and mishandled what rightfully belonged to him. Lowering his head and flattening his ears against his skull, Riordan briskly turned away, purposefully veering inland.
as lestan watched the man leave, a dark welling of something indescribable turned his tongue to wormwood.
jealousy. anger. frustration. and now the faintest lacings of a perhaps misplaced hatred, its coils stirring in the bleak places below his soul.
at length, lestan turned away to hunt along the beachline, miseried and filled with a thousand things.