Larksong Grotto I don't want to be king, I just want to sing a love song

at the edge of the grotto, @Mirabelle

He does not mind stepping out of Drageda for a moment now that Ephraim is comfortably adjusted with the other children. There is a lingering peace over Drageda, the calm aftermath of the war that seems to linger longer than he'd hoped for. There is no longer the threat of the Sound hanging over them... and he has built roots deeper than he ever thought he could.

His movement is relaxed and confident, a near-swagger. He passes north of where he found the boy, looking for signs of Mirabelle, hopeful she has done as she said she would and remained close enough that he can find her -- and if he doesn't, well. It is worth the search either way.

she has let etoille down many times, and it would not be uncharacteristic for her to have left the wilds entirely by now. but there is something about them that calls to her. perhaps it is the man himself, but perhaps it is the children that are now in her care. she had never been a mother but she had always had those doting instincts and it was nice to see them pay off somewhere.

the glacier is expansive. its territory includes two peaks, two separate glaciers, and one forest's edge that when she scales down into the grotto it is not beyond reach that she could still have her two back paws in the northerner's territory.

but the further she goes, the more she realizes the possibly treacherous mistake she has made. she makes a mental note to steer the children away from this side of the glacier (if they ever roam that far) before something catches her attention.

or someone. etoille. she does not even call to him before she places herself directly in front of him, head over her shoulder as she greets him with a playful smirk.

As if summoned by his thoughts she appears, startling him enough to take a step backwards, his usually blank expression drawn upwards, mouth a small o. He finds his voice as she smirks, a pleased "Mirabelle" rumbling through him. Where had she come from? He hadn't smelled her until she was nearly on top of him --- his eyes try to trail the movement she'd arrived on, upwards briefly, but ultimately he ends up looking back at her with a face best characterized as: ????

Aloud he says, "I was not expecting you," both a reference to her manner of appearance and his uncertainty if she'd remained closeby at all. A smile curves his mouth as he speaks, warmth overtaking him now that he's done being surprised (for now). Perhaps this time there will be something between them -- fragile and new and complicated, but.. he does not mind having hope.

she playfully steps towards him as he steps back, now facing him straight on. etoille, she echoes as they have done every time they have met like this, to wander the expanse of the teekons until they stumble upon each other as if they can will it that way.

and maybe they can. is it coincidence that they keep finding each other like this? if she believed in a higher power, she might have thought it was god. but she simply believes that no matter what becomes of them (as a pair, as individuals) that they are woven into the fiber of each other's being. it was meant to be this way.

i did tell you i would stay, as if it were the plainest thing in the world — i said it, so it must be true. tacked at the end of her sentence was an invisible "for you," that she was still too skeptical to admit out loud. you travel far from drageda today.

How strange that the thing they have said to each other the most is their names -- the way Mirabelle weaves the syllables feels more intimate than any confession could. This is what they have, their names in each other's mouths. He could be content with that, as he could be content with a great many things.

"You did," the titan confirms, like a private joke. It would be rude to own that he does not trust it, for that means he does not trust her and it is not so simple as that -- he does not trust Fate, for she seems intent on keeping them at distance, slowly circling but never touching. To her observation he smiles and shrugs. "The children are getting older," he says, as if without context that is an explanation, "and I am not so useful in times of peace." It sounds self deprecating but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes suggest this is a good thing -- he knows he's got it easy, and he wants to embrace that.

More pressingly, he can smell unfamiliarity on her fur. "Where are you staying?" He asks, unsure if it's pack-scent or just picked up from travels -- and also wanting to know if -- and where -- he will be able to find her, should she let him.

there are many things about etoille that cross her mind, and most of them come to her in the dead quiet of night. the ice is.. encompassing, and sometimes she feels trapped there. often, she moves to sleep in the forest.

and it is there aided by cricketsong that he comes to her, or at least his memory does. she knows that he is loyal first and foremost to his drageda, and she also knows that she would not thrive there. but truly, does she thrive anywhere?

she barely knows him. over the course of more or less an entire year, they have engaged briefly only every once in a while. and although she has a worrying heart and wandering feet, she wonders if that could be enough for her.

because it is obvious to both of them that there is something that lingers there beneath the surface that neither of them are willing to touch. at least for now.

i never got the chance to ask about your children. i am caring for some here, but it is.. not the same. it is a subtle way to pry, to catch a glimpse into his personal life. she might not have cared if she was his second... but this man did not seem like he had the energy for two women.

the glacier, she says with a sweep of her nose. with a band of northerners and their young ones. they are fleeing something, but i do not know what.

The glacier. He follows her gesture, making sure to commit it to memory -- a part of the map he has yet to venture, as his travels northward ceased once he joined Drageda. He is curious, but her question seems more pressing.

"There are four," he says, warmly. "Les petits. They belong to our Heda and her wife, so I see myself as -- oncle, a guardian, even though we share blood." His explanation is not meant as reassurance, for such a thing would not occur to him to need to reassure. It is simply the facts of their complex relationship. "I've also taken a ward, a boy named Ephraim I discovered not far from here, alone." Here his voice softens: poor Ephraim! Étoille hopes his heart is full even if he can never replace whatever family he's lost. Furi he does not mention -- Mirabelle has not met her and she is not present, and so cannot be counted.

Now his curiosities: "They treat you well?" he asks, glad she has found stable company. "What they flee is not a threat to you," he adds, a typical half-question of his -- the answer he assumes is oui, or else why stay with them. No?

oh! that is certainly. a predicament. so they are his, but they are also not his, and although she does not like to admit it she finds some kind of.. solace out of this. there is no, ah, woman in the picture. he explains this to her with many words she does not understand, some french and some dragedasleng. but she can piece it together well enough.

ephraim's story draws a smile from her lips. i am happy for you. there is a girl here, currituck, who looks very different from the rest of them. i have not asked, but i think they picked her up somewhere along the way. i like her very much, and i think she has taken a liking to me, too. perhaps they are not so different after all.

they do. they are tired, for now there is not much going on. they have come very far from the south. a dark wood. i assume the woman had her children down there. they had to be carried here. it is.. better for them here, but i do not think that where they hailed is a threat any longer.

Her story of little Currituck warms him further. It is nice to know she cares for children as he does, for truthfully this season has brought into light a stronger desire to bear his own young that he did not think he had. Age finally catching to him, perhaps, or a better understanding of himself and what he cares for. (This is, of course, quite presumptuous on his part, and more forward-thinking than he tends to be, so as quickly as he finds he is relieved he abandons the thought.)

Mirabelle's description is an alarm bell in his head. There is little doubt that she refers to Blackfeather Woods, for what other dark forests lay to the south? But he wonders from what they are fleeing: they'd won the war months ago, driven them from their homes. Had they returned and met some other unfortunate fate?

"I see," he says, expression drawn but not betraying his thoughts, yet. "I once lived in a dark wood to the south. Perhaps the very same," the titan murmurs at length, the most he will dwell. At either rate, "it would be good to meet your Northerners," he tells her, thinking of pack diplomacy and of establishing reason to visit her once again. After all, "I would like to see you again." And more than again, in fact.

there are a great many things that mirabelle is content not knowing. but she cannot help the question that bubbles on her tongue, do you know then what they are running from?

she averts her eyes from him and feels a warmth come to her cheeks. she offers him now a genuine smile. whatever frosty walls she had put up to protect herself (or better yet, to protect him) had been easily torn down... not that she had taken much effort into building them.

i would like that very much. they seem kind. your drageda.. are they well-equipped for visitors?

Her question stumps him for a moment. "I do not," he tells her, "but they were a dark people." Étoille still does not hold Blackfeather in the same evil regard as the rest of Drageda -- having lived amongst them, he thinks they are the same as any other, their culture neither morally sound or unsound. Harsh, perhaps. Unfit for children, he feels.

The Steltrona does not dwell, unable to offer her a better answer, even if it colors his vision of her northerners a little bit. Perhaps he can speak to them about it... learn some information. Her question makes him smile slightly and shake his head. "Drageda is... stern," he says, avoiding the word hostile. "Towards outsiders, particularly. I think it would be best to.. avoid the issue, for now." He pauses, licking his lips. Will it offend her? He hopes not -- he does not see the issue in keeping their homes separate for now. Étoille will not leave Drageda but nor is he willing to give up on Mirabelle. And if things become... serious between them, well: then he can broach the subject with heda, but at the moment it seems unworth the risk.

"I will come to you," he offers, "as I am a scout, at any rate." It is a decent cover -- and no one has minded when he goes missing for a day or so yet.

She does not mean to make him uncomfortable, but it seems as if she has done so anyway. She shifts uncomfortably, soaking both this and the information about the dark woods in as she tries to figure out how to save this. I am also a scout, she supplies. It is not quite a lie; she is not a scout, but why shouldn't she be? She travels enough for it. I will speak to the northerners. We do have children, I am not sure how they will like a stranger so near. But perhaps they wouldn't be opposed. They have surprised her already. Why not? We can meet here, again, too.

He understands well enough why the Northerners may not want his strange presence near their children, but dips his head, accepting gratefully Mirabelle's offer to speak with them. "I like children," he says, as if this character trait would prove winsome to them, "I would not wish to unsettle them." Her other idea seems the most straightforward choice. Glad she suggested it, he reaces forward to embrace her briefly if she should allow. "I would like that," he murmurs near her ear, drawing back with a handsome smile. "In the meantime, tell me a little of your travels, s'il vous plait." An afternoon spent in her gentle company is his simple desire today.

He is more charming than he gives himself credit for. There is warmth when she settles into his embrace and fire when he lingers at the curve of her ear, and she is dizzied momentarily when he breaks their touch.

She has traveled far too much to tell him a little story. She lets a small laugh through her nose. So much has happened, she says, I can scarcely remember where we left off when we met last. Mostly because her player would like to forget that happened. *quickly shuffles it under the rug*

I left Morningside without notice — it was not wholly intentional, but it is also not worth getting into — and left the Teekons for some time. I don't think I was ready to settle down anyway, she admits, and she is not sure she feels much different now. IkKanattuk feels different, but she is not a woman to make promises she can't keep. This is only part of what the world has to offer. Did you know there are lands where it is mostly sand — so much sand! — and no water? Red canyons, flowered hilltops. I ran free for so long.

She drew her gaze to the sky for a moment. There is so much more out there. But then, there are no glaciers where I came from, either, and the Wilds have that. The Wilds have you.