Wolf RPG

the night had always sung to iaghe, a remnant from her past life.

once, her people had gathered beneath sacred starfall to worship. 

but now, it was a vigil she kept alone.

it was with great care that she left the others within the warmth of the cave, slipping away from the place where their warmth had inched towards tangling into one.

it was a tango that might've been amusing to outsiders, perhaps even to the winterborne in time. some awkwardness or polite keeping of boundaries that kept the trio from crossing lines laid in the sand. 

what did it mean that she'd woken in the dead of the first night to find herself tangled up with andr -- for all of them? 

what did it mean to wake and find her limb stretched protectively over fleur? as if she could save the bubbly girl from what she herself had gone through.

who was whose? 

they all seemed to be treading that line, feeling out such a question. 

iaghe had always gone to the sea when all else failed.

she picked her way through the still night, weaving between shadows, her footprints leaving an easy trail in the snow. 

if that were not enough, she hunted for small things to lay a trail of breadcrumbs. 

bits of stone and stick, fallen feathers, pinecones, and when she reached the shore; seashells, the dry claw of a crab, a verdant piece of sea glass. 

i'm right here. i've not left you again.

she knew her wanderings had the capability to inspire such fear -- especially in andr.

he had reason to fear she would vanish.

flighty, diseased. 

the trail was as much for herself. in case she lost herself to the void again.

tonight, the roar was a dim hum in her mind.

she let her paws lead her to the edge, allowed the cold water to lap at her ankles. until it needled into her skin numbly, scars frigid and stiff as the mist dampened her starry pelt. 

the wildling ignored the cold, staring out to sea.

words came to her.

spirit-speaker. fëa-wë.

the misty lyrics of a hymn rose in her mind, more tune than anything.

and iaghe remembered.

The trio returned to the cave where Iaghe and Fleur had spent the previous night. It was a solid respite from the cold air but lacked the spaciousness Fleur and Andr had left behind in the Sentinels. A sacrifice Andr was more than willing to make to spare Iaghe from dwelling in a place that had caused her such pain.

He'd tucked himself into the corner as much as he could to give the she-wolves the most of what little space was left. Each began as though own little islands, unspoken waters between one another. Whereas his two companions drifted off with the current of sleep and slowly began to unravel, he remained rigid and awake.

The still lingering scent of Fleur's female nature filled the small space and seeped into Andr's nostrils. He attempted to force it out with long puffs, but it was unrelenting. Though more bearable than it had been, it continued to make him uncomfortable. His eyes were clenched shut as he battled against the wayward thoughts stirred up by the scent, when he felt something press against him. He opened his eyes to see Iaghe pressed beside him as though she'd been pulled into his current in her sleep.

He thought about moving, about exiting the cave, relinquishing his claim of this corner out of courtesy and for a chance at some unsullied air. But he did not wish to disturb her slumber and something pulled at him. It was a scent now close enough to contend with the odor plaguing his sinuses. He paused a moment before lifting his head and resting his muzzle against Iaghe's nape. The gentle perfume of the sea carrying whispers of distant shores clung to her coat and captured his scenes. Sailing him out on the sea of slumber.

- - - 

As the gentle waves of his mind became turbulent, he awoke to find himself and Fleur the only bodies resting within the cave. Their once cramped cavern now felt so vacant and his heart pounded with fear. Fear of the past repeated. 

He rose from the cave floor quickly and set foot out into the night. His eyes quickly locked onto the wildling's tracks, before he raced after them. Rushing through trees and shadows. Wondering how far she had gotten and if there was still time to catch sight of her... until the land opened to reveal the shores of the bay.

That's where he stopped. Seeing her in the distance looking off towards the world beyond the sea. 

His breath was heavy, billows of warm air against the cold night, as he tried to persuade his beating heart to slow.

Why was the thought of losing her... so violent?

it came to her in waves.

every bit of it as shallow as the ones that whispered against her joints.

none of it was vital, earth-shattering in nature.

it was the color of her mother's eyes. 

the snorting sound lindalë had made when she laughed too hard.

the smell of the gardens she'd tended, the yapping snarls of wrestling children she'd been charged with. 

the tide pools where she'd learned to swim.

starfall. the sacred mountain. 

iaghe's patchy muzzle lifted, drawing the salted breeze deep into her lungs -- even as a sharp pain pierced through them, an old hurt from the fire. 

for a moment, the urge to leap into the water was almost irrepressible. 

as if she could swim back to aeriön. as if it would all be waiting there for her, just beyond the horizon.

but the spectre did not glide into the ink reflecting the night sky.

she remained fixed upon the shore, a figure torn from those waters and given flesh. letting the echoes of her first life wash over her until they quieted back into the depths of the void.

it was only then that she felt eyes on her flesh, she was alarmed to realize.

good ear pinning to her skull, she turned slowly -- relaxing only when she saw andr's dark form in the trees.

trotting to him, she made to move to his side -- noting with some amusement that he seemed even darker than her in the moonlight. 

regardless of the sea and salt that dampened her pelt, she brushed her temple along the swathe of his chest before nestling in at his side.

"andr," the mute (semi-mute?) murmured softly by way of greeting, a rare smile on her face as her gaze sought his own.

His heart began to slow but it continued to beat heavily in his chest. As she turned to face him the moonlight reflected off her mystifying coat just as it did for the sea behind her. The sight made one question if she were truly born from the water.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting as she approached him. Part of him imagined that the smallest change in his breathing could have sent her running. That at any moment she could vanish again and this time never return.

She may not have known it but the calm reassurance of her touch against his chest is exactly what he needed. Like a kind pinch assuring him this was not a dream, that she remained present beside him. His name spoken like a soft whisper on the wind. With a relieved sigh the tension that had built up within him subsided as he allowed his head to lower and rest against hers. "There you are..." he said softly, his words almost a whisper in the quiet night. The sound of the gentle waves on the shore their accompaniment as the blues of their eyes meet.

somehow, the ghost didn't think the words were meant literally. not entirely, at least.

something in the way andr said them seemed to imply more. 

the curve of her lips softened, scars tugging and throat bobbing as she swallowed against a swell of emotion. 

opalite eyes traced the way the sepia male's lips moved, the way his features lit under the moon as he seemed to relax fully. 

fresh guilt plagued her.

how often had the islander seen him this way? how long had they both been fighting to survive, together and apart? 

she could not recall the last time she'd seen andr light hearted, smiling. laughing with ease. 

she vowed to see more of that, soon.

now, the wildling watched him -- contemplative, seemingly unaware that it might be rude to stare for so long.

at last, the words sighed from her lips, "ennas i tér olë merin nyaldë." she gave him a small, wistful smile. 

fate did love its cruel jests. she'd remembered to speak, could finally answer his questions, but could not speak his language -- not much, anyways.

translation since I never learned how to do the hover thing: "there is so much I want to tell you."

Iaghe may have been staring, but Andr couldn't help but do so himself. He looked into her eyes peering into them as though he could find the answers to all the questions he had. The questions he'd wanted to ask her for so long, but even now couldn't bring himself to ask them. Knew that even if he found the strength to bring them into words, they would fall on ears that would not fully comprehend, and a voice unable to speak clearly.

For now, this was enough. To stand beside her and breathe in her presence, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. But then she spoke...

His eyes opened and widened. The fact that the language she spoke was not his own was an afterthought. The words flowed smoothly from her lips, when previously they sounded as though they were fighting to escape her throat, is what captivated him. A light sway traveled through his tail and a smile came to his lips. 

"I know not the words you speak... but they sound lovely on your voice."

the sight of his joy was almost too much for her. 

the feelings that burst to life in her chest at having given him such happiness by merely speaking. the way his own words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. 

ia blinked rapidly, biting back a sound that might have been a sob or laugh as her onyx head ducked -- the overwhelming emotions visible in the way her tattered auds fell, her body vibrating as she tried to stifle the exuberant wags of her tail. 

when she had regained control of herself, the winterborne looked to him again. 

"iaghe...want. want talk. andr words," she bit out, clumsy and stumbling like a newborn fawn.

When she ducked her head and looked away from him a hint of panic crawled up his spine wondering if he had said something wrong, if his expression had been too sudden for her. His head lowered towards her trying to catch her gaze again but as he did he could see the rippling effects of her pleased tail flowing through her body and his nerves calmed.

He looked down at her waiting for her eyes to meet his again. When they did his ears twitched hearing her speak again. The words no longer as smooth but comprehensible, and sounded just as sweet to him. He took her words as her wanting to be able to speak his language better.

With a faint smile, he said reassuringly "You will. With time, I'm certain of it." In his mind, he thought about how proud of her he was for having gotten this far. How much she had overcome, but also how much more potential she had. "Maybe... Andr could learn some Iaghe words" It would definitely be a challenge for him, but if it meant she would be less alone in the process, it was more than worth it.

the tears would surely have come if she had known he felt pride for her.

that he saw potential in her.

it was a vulnerable thing, being so open and honest with him. to lose the fierce guardedness of her ferality and distance.

and utterly selfish. to remain next to andr when she wreaked nothing but ruin. 

iaghe had lost him once. to grief and guilt and the ramblings of a shattered soul. 

to the unquenchable black fire of vengeance.

selfish and damned though she might be, the acolyte could not pull herself away from him -- tear herself from his life again. she had lost everything but that was a pain she wouldn't be strong enough to endure.

instead, she moved closer. settling herself hesitantly against the earthen side of andr, breathing in the rosewood and tinge of salt on his coat.

the task ahead of them seemed insurmountable but iaghe thought perhaps together, they might be indomitable.

and so she began -- as if they were meeting for the first time.

"iaghe words..."

"iaghe iel-o-ciurān, saeda-o-lomë aranië," she whispered. it felt as if the words sparked something dormant in her veins to life. "iaghe..of ciurān. iaghe of dawn."

He smiled as she settled in beside him. Hesitantly he leaned against her as well. Like a cautious arm around the shoulder, wishing he could wrap his arms around her, hold her in his arms, and make sure no more bad could come to them. But this was plenty for now.

He listened to her whispered words and chuckled lightly. They sounded so pleasant from her lips, but it dawned on him how difficult it might be for him to replicate. Regardless he gave it his best shot. "Iaghe... eel-o-cirian... Iaghe... sauda-lome-arianie..." Close? Not quite, but he would get better he told himself. They both would.