The moment that Eirlys had broken the treeline he hadn't wasted a single though on @Chusi. Why should he? Let her finally have a repercussion for her behavior - Ceallach had Eirlys, and that was his priority. Ceallach hadn't stopped running, keeping himself between Eirlys and any followers, until they'd made it back to safer grounds. He didn't go into the ravine entirely, instead, stopping by the mouth and focusing his attentions on the river. It would give them a chance to make sure they had a water source and maybe even some food if he could catch some fish while he let Eirlys rest some. He turned his attention to his sister, giving a soft sigh at the wounds on her muzzle and haunch. "@Eirlys," He said with a frown. "I'm so telling Mama you tried dying again." 

It was mostly in jest - really he wouldn't run tattling but then again, Hemlock wouldn't need to be told. The writing was on the wall, so to say, once the duo returned to their family's camp. "You'll have a new story for pienet sisarukset." And no doubt Droman would puff himself up and want to stalk off to battle the enemies while Reed would probably just scoff. He reached out gently, pressing his muzzle against his sister tenderly before he began to clean off her snout. "You scared me, Kultaseni." He admitted after a moment. Losing Eirlys would be the last thing keeping him together. Still, the headache that had started earlier made Ceallach wince just at the thought of Eirlys being gone; she hadn't even meant it but regardless the risk was there. 


She was the last tie that he had to their mother and father. Unaware that Arturo had been near the family camp, and then was along coastline now. He knew that they had Hemlock, Tapat, and Droman and Reed but it was different. She was the only one who had been there with him. She had lost their brother and sister, mother and father, she understood him like no one else did. Ceallach turned his gaze up to meet hers, breathing out slowly. He could calm down now that the risk was gone. She was here, with him, and safe. 

Eirlys was Eirlys, always had been, always would be. She was steady even in her attempts to weave worlds and personas the way that their mother had. Ceallach's gaze grew fond, his expression relaxed a bit (although the pounding in his head still sounded like stomping) and he let her flop to the ground and chose to tend to her wounds. "And at least four more wolves each time. Although you'll get all the glory, won't you?" He asked with a laugh, at least there was that. The littles would savor the story all the same, and in Eirlys there would be that spark of Lotte growing slowly stronger. Ceallach didn't think he favored either parent, he was his own being and in a way the black sheep of the quartet. He looked nothing like his mother and most days it made him sad.


"Im not mad at you." Ceallach promised. It wasn't her fault. He had moved to her flank to begin cleaning the wound on her leg, her blood on his tongue a strange mixture of revolting and exhilarating. Ceallach turned his eyes to find Eirlys' and breathed out slowly. He'd focus only on her, almost not hearing (or more appropriately choosing to ignore the sounds of Chusi and her paramour) until Eirlys tried to shift up. Ceallach blocked her physically, stepping over her and pressing her back with a shake of his head. He was quiet for a moment after hissing for her to hush and tried to put his big ears to good use. He'd never quite shook that childish notion that his larger than-average-ears should also hear better. 

He couldn't hear them chasing anyone out, he didn't hear the scuffle and scramble of a fight. He had to trust that it was fine and he had to pretend that he even cared but he wasn't like Lotte. He didn't have a thespian bone in his body. "If they did she brought it on herself." He muttered grimly as he focused his gaze back on Eirlys. 

 

The low rumbled sound that left Ceallach was only for Eirlys, picturing her as a wife - her thick plush covered with someone else's body. He snorted and then moved to picturing her with babies suckling at her teats; that was far more agreeable. "But I will just scare them away - my 'friend' doesn't care much for company." He quipped as he teased his snout along her jawline, giving a breathy sigh. "Where you go, I go, Eirlys - I am not your Dagfinn but there will never be a time when you must question if I am there."  

Ceallach moved so that he could circle her, pressed close against her plush with his long legs stretched so she could get comfortable against him. "Someone will have to give Mama grandchildren." Ceallach teased, drawing his teeth through her scruff to settle her fur. "And your babies would be far prettier than mine." He chuckled then, at the idea of being a father, a husband, no - he was not sure he'd had the best examples of family. What they had was theirs, and they protected it, the children set far more to the job than they should have been. They had never just been able to play and be childish. 

What Ceallach didn't want to - didn't dare to - say was that he wasn't her Roarke. He wasn't made of the same stardust, cut off the same cloth, they weren't bound to one another by souls. He was not her twin and he was not made to fill that spot the way that Roarke should have. Ceallach couldn't contest her logic, however, he had stayed and he would remain with her. "I'll never leave you." He said earnestly; how could he stand losing the last part of his family? surely, he would entirely be lost to whatever breast paced in the recesses of his mind. If Arturo could willingly give into Witchdoctor, Ceallach had to hold out hope that he could be stronger and he could be better. Eirlys deserved that. As Eirlys' emotions swept her into a tizzy he tucked himself around her closer, one limb shifting to pull her flush against his form. He was far too tiny to provide the warmth she probably needed but he would try. "We won't." He promised. They wouldn't talk about it anymore. "Kultaseni - I can't lose you. Ever." How could he stand in her way though? No - he would step aside when the time came but he would never leave her.