Deep in the thick boughs of the cascading weeping willows the dark wraith hunted. He'd had his breakfast and after that had hunted to contribute to a cache before he'd taken to continuing his fulfillment of the promise he'd made Banner: add to her feather collection; though specifically he had in mind the more recent promise: he'd find her a colorful songbird to celebrate her promotion that she could gleam feathers from — surely a delicate project due to how small they were but that was why he let that process to her and just brought her the corpse. The songbird had been hopping through the short grasses between the cascades of willow vines when Buchanan spotted it: it's blue hued feathers standing out in stark contrast against the green and brown of the world around it. The male cerulean warbler was small, bearing colors of cerulean blue, black, white and teal within it's plumage.

Buchanan wasn't sure how long he waited there, crouched in the shadows, waiting. Waiting until it was distracted wrestling a writhing, fat, pink worm from the soil before he launched himself at it, caging the small songbird in with his paws. It fluttered and screeched in terror, both of which gradually became weaker though this went unknown to the assassin as he busied himself with how to execute his plan. Killing it would be a delicate matter in and of itself, he knew, not wanting to present Banner with a horribly mangled body. Except as he spent time contemplating the best way to go about it, the fluttering and torrid screeching ceased and the bird was eerily still in it's cage. Slowly, he bowed his body down and moved his paws slowly, ever so slightly to peek to assess. The bird had died whether from heart failure from it's fear, or suffocation Buchanan couldn't be sure. For a moment as he moved his paws back to ensure that the bird's chest wasn't moving — it wasn't — the assassin frowned down at it.

It had suffered and in part, the dark wraith felt bad about that. He tried to execute quick deaths: to minimalism the suffering. The guilt was easy to brush off, however, in lieu of the fact that he had been intending to kill it anyway and it's death had been clean. Gathering the stunning warbler's corpse lightly betwixt his jaws, his grip light and easy upon it's delicate body, he made his way towards @Banner's place, unsure if she'd be there or out and about tending to her Beta duties. Regardless, Buchanan thought it was probably a good place to start.

Banner's place was empty of it's owner Buchanan realized as he neared it. Though Banner's scent was prevalent to this particular area the scents were not fresh enough to signal to the assassin that she was in residence or had been for hours. He assumed then that she was tending to pressing leadership duties, unaware that she had been sleeping in. Buchanan was an early riser and very rarely slept in what could be described as “soundly”. Conditioned courtesy of The Officer who had wanted his young prodigy to rise quickly in case he was needed to protect the elder. It was militaristic, in ways: noises were enough to rouse him from sleep, triggering his fight or flight instinct with an acute sharpness. Thus, when the dark wraith had made his way out of The Crook plenty of the Marauder's had been sleeping still.

He padded closer to her tree, affirming what he had already known to be true (just to be sure) before he sat down upon his haunches and with a gentleness was a juxtapose to the tally mark akin scars on his shoulder that relayed his (still inaccurate) kill count he laid the fragile and small songbird's corpse at his large paws: a eye catching jewel against the dark mahogany of his fur before he lowered himself to the ground into a sphinx like position, prepared to wait for Banner, confident that she would make a trip to her tree at some point through out the day. He considered calling for her but in the end decided not to because she was the Beta now and she had priorities that needed attended to, and the matter was not urgent. He and it could wait.

It wasn't too long of a wait, however, when the sound of approaching footfalls caught the assassin's attention. His ears perked atop his skull. His mercurial gaze studied what he could see through the willows, hoping that it was Banner. The Beta in question came into his view. For a moment he struggled to swallow around the lump that was his breath where it had caught in his throat, but he rose as she drew nearer and inhaled deeply greeting her softly with, “Banner,” dipping his head low in both acknowledgment and in submission. “I brought you that pevchaya I promised you.” He slipped in the Russian knowingly this time, a tiny little grin tugging at the edges of his lips. Granted, presenting her with the songbird was not his sole reason for seeking her out, but he'd been trying to give her the space she wanted and/or needed following the events of their night patrol; but keeping to his promises to her kept him busy besides aiding in the search parties for their missing members. Hunting birds for Banner's feather collection was for himself as much as it was for her and the assassin did not mind the “alone” time that often accompanied the hunts.

Buchanan leaned down and nosed the cerulean warbler's corpse towards her, mindful of it's delicacy.

A soft chuckle slipped from betwixt Buchanan's lips when Banner attempted to repeat the Russian word for songbird. Her attempt had been ...cute, Buchanan found. Extremely so. He studied her boldly for a moment, mercurial gaze admiring her before the assassin blinked and glimpsed down at the small songbird, embarrassed for a few moments, that he'd been staring so unabashed and also because she was his superior and that, according to The Officer he had no business even looking at a superior's paws — which was ridiculous to Buchanan if only because he wanted to look at Banner, wanted to see her reactions and be captivated by the green of her irises over and over again.

She did not reach out to take the warbler from where he'd nosed it, and for a moment he worried that she didn't like it, or that it was too small, before she claimed that it was beautiful. Buchanan's gaze lifted to her face, a warmth spreading through his chest. Her gaze touched his, striking green meeting the cool silver of his own gaze and the assassin did not avert his gaze. She had been the one to make the eye contact after all so Buchanan was content. “I found him hopping among the willow boughs,” He told her freely and admitted in a low murmur, “he was distracted trying to catch a worm.” Otherwise, he would have put up more of a challenge and there would have been a good chance Buchanan would not have had a gift to present to her.

“Do you like it?” He inquired, gaze rising from the warbler to Banner, where it rested upon her hopeful that his lovely companion did, indeed, like the gift even though it was small.

Buchanan felt himself smile widely at her quiet exclamation, affirming to him that she loved it. Knowing that he'd been able to make her happy with something as simple as gifting her birds to add to her feather collection it warmed him, it caused a swell of affection in his chest. It was such a small thing: feathers. Yet, knowing that she adored them that only served to charm the Marauder's Beta to the assassin even more, and further solidified his desire to keep to his promise and bring her the birds that he was able to catch to her. There were endless birds in the Wilds and if Buchanan spent the rest of his life catching them all and gifting them to her then that was more than enough purpose and he would be very much okay with that; but it wasn't that Buchanan was all that selfless. As much as he delighted in seeing her add to her collection, it also allowed him to steal moments of her time, like he was currently. No doubt there were more pressing things for her to attend to but at the moment he couldn't bothered to be overly fussed with guilt about it. Surely, if it was overly pressing someone would call for her.

Buchanan watched her as she drew nearer, navigating around the cerulean warbler to close the distance between them. His docked tail gave a few unimpressive wags, his eyes closing the second he felt her nose press against his cheek. Instinctively, his head lowered a bit so she did not have to stretch quite so far. Buchanan responded in kind to her low, affectionate growl with a throaty rumble, a pleased purl of affection of his own starting in his chest and ending in his throat. He drew in a deep breath, consumed by her scent — easily the most pleasing to him. Already, Banner's touch was familiar to him and he reveled in it.

A soft shudder slithered up his spine when he felt her nose rub along his jaw, peeking a silvern eye open to glimpse down at her when she thanked him and told him that he hadn't needed to bring her the songbird. “I know that,” He affirmed for her softly. “I wanted to.” Buchanan emphasized, his attempt to reassure her that he wholly did it out of his own free will.

Buchanan's lips tugged into a grin spread wide upon his muzzle when Banner admitted to liking that he wanted to hunt and bring the warbler to her. His docked tail gave a slow, deliberate wave, a phantom feeling shivering through the severed tail bone and muscles where they both tapered off. The muscles had mended around the severed bone, fur and skin had regrown albeit scarred. He did not often feel those phantom sensations and Buchanan was quickly distracted by the feeling of the crown of Banner's head following the curve of his throat, her touch descending to where her cheek pressed against his chest. Her touch brought small shivers to his spine. Buchanan recognized those little shivers to be positive and he hardly minded them.

His ears perked as she made an attempt at murmured conversation, and for a small while Buchanan was silent, as he smiled down at her nape, mercurial gaze flicking from her back to the territory around them, unable to help his hyper-vigilance. Though they were well into the Marauder's claim the need to watch and to protect was too far ingrained within him. “Even if it had,” Buchanan began with a teasing guile to his tone before he sobered up. “you're worth it.” Giving all of his time to Banner was something that Buchanan would have done happily and willingly and he knew it. He deflected her contemplation but there was truth to what the assassin had spoken her, even if it was not a direct “yes” or “no”. He didn't want her to get upset by assuming that it had taken up all his morning, yet at the same time he didn't want her to think that he hadn't put thought or time into the gift. He'd been looking for a couple of days for the right bird, knowing roughly what he was looking for but not knowing which one would be the songbird until he saw the cerulean warbler.

The dark wraith could feel his heart's pace increased like a rising crescendo of a deep war drum within it's prison of flesh and bone as she purred at him, attempting to salve the embarrassment of his racing heart when it dawned on him that she could probably hear it. He could not help how his body reacted to her, he only wished that it wouldn't betray him. The sound that the Beta had made had been enticing, as was the further compliment she made in a husky tone. “Mmm,” The assassin drew in a soft rumble of a hum. “I may have accidentally either scared him to death or suffocated him.” Buchanan couldn't be sure and it would remain a mystery as the corpse could not come back to life and tell either of them. He supposed it didn't matter, in the end: his goal had been accomplished. Still, while he appreciated her compliment he didn't feel right taking all the credit for this one.

Kind? He toyed with the word inside his head for a moment, twisting and turning it over and over in his mind as if he analyzed it enough he could dissect it. He hadn't been speaking the words to charm her, and he hoped that she knew that he meant it. He only told her as he saw it: the truth. She was worth it to him. The Officer expected the truth from his subjugate despite that the elder himself often was deceptive and as they fell in the same vein, lied to him often. Buchanan might have been naive in social (and other) aspects of life, but he wasn't an imbecile. “It's the truth.” He insisted softly, hoping that he was communicating well enough though the assassin appreciated her appreciation.

Buchanan ghosted back a step as Banner pulled back, creating some distance between them, and he glimpsed down at her, amused that she was insinuating that he still had killed it even if it hadn't been through a preferred method. In a way, the dark wraith mused silently she had a point. He had still killed it even if it had been via an unorthodox and unintended manner. “Hmm” He drew in a contemplative hum, his docked tail giving an exaggerated twitch of contemplation. “You have a point,” He voiced his previous thought aloud, with an easy smile tugging the corners of his lips upwards to her “a win's a win” statement. “The kill might have lacked in satisfaction,” He had spent time watching and waiting only to crash down from the hunter's high when he realized the songbird had perished on it's own while he'd been considering how to best end it's life without mutilating it beyond recognition. “but it was clean. No blood soiled feathers, so that's a bonus, right?” He grinned again, letting out a small chuckle.

Buchanan supposed it was all about seeing the silver lining in situations. He might have been disappointed that he hadn't been able to see the hunt through to it's end that most successful hunts had it was still a success. He'd caught her a songbird, and it was in pristine condition. And most importantly: she liked it. He might have deviated from the plan but his mission had still been accomplished with success. “Well,” Buchanan drew in teasingly. “The Officer never tolerated lying, so I don't do it,” He admitted softly, his voice low, a small furrow to his brow for a few seconds before he smiled down at her again. “Besides, your pevchaya would be unrecognizable as a bird ...if things would have gone differently.” He chuckled with a lofty shrug of his scarred shoulders. Buchanan wasn't used to killing such delicate things and never for the purpose of collecting it's feathers.

Buchanan offered a cheeky twitch of his lips upwards when she agreed that the songbird's corpse, in pristine condition, was worth some points. Like his smaller companion, the assassin wasn't all to clear on what points he'd been earning, and brushed it off with the consideration that such was the point. It was a saying he'd heard during one point in his life, at least, and that had seemed like a good place to use it. She thanked him again for the gift and the dark wraith offered her a sage nod of his head, his cheeky smirk smoothing into a warm smile — just for her. “You're welcome.” He offered with a slight cant to his head as he studied her with unbidden curiosity in his mercurial gaze once more.

He offered her a soft nod, sticking to his silence when she mentioned that she would tuck the songbird away. That was probably a good idea, lest it attract another predator or if one of the other Marauder's came about, though Buchanan doubted anyone would try to steal it while they were present. Except for maybe, he considered, Tambourine who as he was to understand it, was still just a little boy; but realized that wasn't a fair assumption to make considering he had yet to meet the child. As it was, Buchanan's knowledge of young children was zero for the most part. He'd never spent an extended amount of time around them, and as he'd been the only one The Officer had successfully kidnapped he had grown up without proper socialization and without other children to play with.

A sheepish grin formed upon the dark wraith's lips when she told him she would pick the feathers when she wasn't distracted. His mind began to work then and his sheepish smile ghosted into something a bit more guileful. He rocked on his paws for a moment as he contemplated that in his mind, chest puffing ever so slightly as the intense urge to tease her overtook him. He wasn't sure where the playfulness came from didn't, for once, question it. “Huh,” He drew, silvern gaze twinkling as he looked at her through his lashes for a few seconds. “So I'm distracting, am I?” He nearly purred to her, after her playful huff and affectionate woof, taking those as social cues that it was alright to tease and flirt — even though he had no idea what he was doing. Maybe it was best to not over think it: analyze it later and just enjoy it in the moment while it came naturally.

Banner's faux glare didn't go unnoticed by the dark wraith who grinned at her but shrugged out of the long, tangling boughs of the willow, ducking though the gesture was useless as the spindly and cascading limbs of the willow tree feel like a curtain to the ground and there truly wasn't any ducking to avoid them. A soft, amused snort of a noise left Buchanan when she called him handsome. Was he? He didn't really know. He supposed he had to be somewhat attractive as The Officer was careful to never scar up his face. It was one of the few places where he did not bear any, not even beneath the short fur that covered it. He had the noticeable tally scars on his shoulder and of course the permanent brand of ownership: the docked tail; and then there were the scars that no one could see: the psychological damage perceived as “lessons” by The Officer. The hostility towards strangers, the hyper vigilance, the instability when dealing with strangers, flashbacks or anything that he generally viewed as a threat. Not to mention the acute Stockholm Syndrome he still found himself suffering from despite that he'd freed himself despite that it hadn't really been for himself. Did those things make him handsome? Or was it just a general term? He drew in a soft breath, realizing that he'd been over thinking it. Right. He wasn't supposed to over think.

And then the second half of her other sentence took precedence. Gentleman suitors. Were there more? Buchanan couldn't claim that it would surprise him if there were other males pursuing her beyond himself. She was beautiful and there were so many admirable qualities about her. Her low purl did not assure that the dark wraith that she was teasing him precisely, but Banner didn't strike him as the type to lead on several guys at one time. Or to lead on guys at all. “At least I've got that going for me,” He offered her a cheeky sort of grin, his docked tail giving a few quick wags.

She sought his gaze, and Buchanan found himself unable to look away from her bright eyes — that would possibly always remind him of the northern lights, as repetitive as it was it was the connect he made every time she met his eyes. Instinctively, his subservient mind whispered at him to look away. That as his superior, her gaze meeting his should have been an act of dominance, just as his gaze seeking hers should have been a challenge. Buchanan understood that her seeking his gaze was not her trying to dominate him and it was because she had sought it for a different reason entirely that he did not look away. He inhaled deeply, as she spoke, taking in her words, her voice heavy with her emotions in carefully.

She had a faith in him, perhaps, he realized. She knew what he had done, who he'd been. To an extent he hadn't had a choice, it was true, but he hadn't stood up and disobeyed The Officer either — not until a line had been crossed that shouldn't have been. He had taken the lives of those innocents without question before the child. Hell, he'd even enjoyed it. But Banner knew this. Buchanan had made no moves to hide it, had told her of it himself. A lot of his progress forward, working towards the giant abyss of unknown that was his future was credited alone to Banner. Without her, it was extremely likely he'd be stuck trying to replace The Officer as he had tried and failed to do with Phiipa. Being honest with himself about what he'd done — he held himself accountable for the lives he'd taken.

“That's good,” He murmured lowly, giving a sage nod, though some unidentified emotion had risen in his throat, and he swallowed with effort, almost breathless. “because I don't think I could stand it if someone else won your heart.” He admitted softly. It was a selfish thing. He was selfish. But Banner was good for him and she meant something to him. He'd grown to care for her quickly, quicker than he thought was possible. He hadn't even meant to, really. Caring for someone meant they were a weakness, and it meant that they could be used as leverage against you. “I'm-” He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry if that's too, ah, forward.” She'd asked to take it slow, though it was still unclear to him whether she'd meant them or the walk that night and knew that it was safe to assume both. He didn't want to ruin it, didn't want to scare her off, and he diverted his gaze worrying that by being as forward as he just was that he might have done just that.

He'd never done this before; but then again Buchanan had never felt like this about anyone before. The Officer had turned him into less of an individual to the point where wanting things like this was lost to him under his command. If he'd ever thought about a picket fence life with a wife and kids, full of love and laughter it had long been crushed and tossed into the oblivion. Then again, he'd been taken by The Officer very young when girls had still had icky cooties. Despite this, Buchanan wasn't entirely blind to the lives that “normal” wolves lived: he'd seen it plenty of times over with each pack he infiltrated for The Officer. In a world where there was only the mission and the mission that would soon follow Buchanan didn't stop to miss what he hadn't and had known (at the time) that he'd never have. The endless possibilities of his future were a bit overwhelming for him at times and he tended to keep himself in the present because of it.

The present where Banner was telling him not to apologize, telling him that he hadn't been too forward though her startled voice didn't exactly reassure him. Though, he understood. He'd kind of dropped that bombshell, and kind of all at once let her know how he felt about her. He wasn't ashamed. No, because even if it would have been too forward at least it would have been out in the open. It was easy to accept that he didn't want to lose Banner: not in general and not to another man because Buchanan wasn't sure that seeing her with someone else wouldn't cause him pain. He was pretty sure that it would hurt. He wanted to assure her that she didn't have to be scared but how could he when he was scared himself? The Officer had been concise when he explained that “love” was a useful weapon. It could be exploited and though Buchanan had discovered that he very much enjoyed being a philanthropist that didn't mean that someone wouldn't hurt her to get to him. It put her in the crosshairs, too.

“I understand,” He spoke thickly when she admitted that her anger issues were why she didn't let anyone in. “I told you about how certain things will trigger me and I'll have flashbacks where I can't tell what's real, what's present and what is memory.” So, though, they suffered from different things he thought that it made them somewhat alike. He understood in the way that he knew how and he certainly wouldn't ever hold it against her. It was out of her control, just like his triggers, just like the flashbacks. His heart nearly skipped a beat when she admitted quietly that she thought he could handle her. “I think I can handle you, too.” He agreed in a quiet murmur of his own.

Buchanan watched as she moved closer, a few steps but not close enough to touch and respectful of that the dark wraith remained still, though unbeknownst to him he yearned just as much to close the distance as his lovely companion. Mercurial gaze swept over her where it rested, warm and affectionate despite the cool, pale coloration of his irises. “I know you can,” Buchanan's concurred in regards that she could handle his flashbacks and the psychological scars that The Officer left him with just as he could handle her rage. He didn't mean it suggestively. His ears slicked back when she mumbled about him knowing what she meant, and he felt the heat rush to his own face. God, his face was so warm. He wanted to re-assure her but given that he wasn't sure it was appropriate or how to even do it in a chivalrous manner he thought it was better that he didn't speak. Was there any way to talk about being intimate in a polite, non suggestive manner? Probably. But he hadn't been socialized enough as a child to be able to put together how to do it without sounding like a pervert or embarrassing the both of them in the process, figuring that his agreement could serve a dual purpose.

Yet, their confessions — if that's what they were — left a singular and big question unanswered to the assassin; and followed by series of smaller questions. His ears cupped forth and he ghosted forward a small step, closing a small sliver of the distance left between them. Were there customs for this sort of thing? Oh, Buchanan knew what he wanted well enough but he wasn't sure how to go about asking it or even if it was appropriate to ask it now. He'd already knew he wanted to be with her, to spend his life with her; but that was just him, his wishes. There was a whole other person to think about. “I have to admit I have no idea about courting or anything,” On the aspects of a “normal” life The Officer had intentionally never taught him. He was embarrassed to admit it, but it was the (probably quite obvious) truth.

At this point, there seemed like only one logical thing for Buchanan to do. His stomach roiled and knotted with a sudden anxious flutter of nerves. He resisted the urge to lower himself into a submissive pose. Now wasn't the time for that, besides Banner was his Beta, it was true, but she wasn't The Officer. The Gamma took a deep breath and held to the belief that only the best things in life were worth the risk. “Will you-” He took another deep breath and offered her a smile. “-will you be my mate?” Not a question he would have ever seen himself asking, and because the nerves threatened to suffocate him he cleared his throat and spoke, “You can think about it if you need to, and if you're not ready that's — I understand.” And if you don't want to, I'll understand that too. God, he was awful at this. Way to go Buchanan, you probably made the most awkward proposal in history.

Buchanan's heart beat was loud in his ear, so loud that for a moment it was effective in distracting him, in drowning out everything out. Nerves were not anything he'd ever experienced aside from the kind of nervous when he reported back to The Officer. These nerves were ...different. Sort of. He didn't fear Banner as he'd feared The Officer but that didn't mean that he didn't fear her rejection. Part of him was braced for it, despite the conversation that had led up to his proposal. As it was, Buchanan was a simple beast: one plus one would always equal two to him. He didn't often contemplate his thought processes too much, whether it had to do with his lack of socialization or just a trait of The Officer he'd picked up he didn't know and supposed that it didn't matter. He didn't need to analyze his feelings for Banner: it was obvious they were there and they weren't going anywhere, and that in time they would only strengthen. He'd already fallen for her and he wanted to be with her; and it was truly that simple.

She did not respond at first, and the anticipation built like an itch in his muscles that he couldn't scratch. She closed the distance that the two of them had slowly been closing and Buchanan felt the press of her nose to his chin. A bizarre gesture to the dark wraith, to the subservient who wanted to shrink away from the gesture he instinctively thought to be a submissive one. Her satisfied purr told him a different story; yet still it wasn't enough to assure him that she wasn't just being kind. Trying to let him down easy. He said that he'd understand but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt. Naturally, he played through the worst scenarios in his mind, an instinctual conditioning of being The Officer's peon, his inferior for years. Omega's didn't get things. They were nothing and therefore they had nothing. It was the natural order of things. Surely, he'd upset some cosmic balance by being so audacious. Surely.

You're nothing, boy. Just a ghost. He was brought back, the illusion of his dead overlord's voice shattered by Banner's light nibbles along his jaw. He drew in a deep breath, expelled as a pleased rumble in his chest. So focused upon the way her light bites caused shivers of warmth down his spine he almost missed her answer. Yes. Yes? Yes. She'd said yes! For a moment he couldn't quite grasp it, but she'd said it — he'd heard it. He let out a breathless laugh, elated. Happier than he'd ever been in his life. It was still amazing to him how one small woman could make him so happy. But she did and he wouldn't trade it for the world. The dark wraith ducked his head to draw his tongue against the soft fur of her cheek in the wolven equivalent of a kiss, offering her a soft nip of affection shortly after.

“I'm pretty sure you've made me the happiest man on the planet.” Buchanan admitted in a quiet murmur, making to draw his muzzle against her ear; because he doubted anything could ever compare to the euphoria he felt currently.