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+--- Thread: Sawtooth Spire Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body (/showthread.php?tid=42018)
Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Wylla - June 14, 2020
Backdated to approximately June 11th. Could be all welcome or a read only depending if anyone wants it or not!
Frantically scouring the rendezvous site and surrounding forest had turned up no traces of Thade, so Wylla expanded her search, and spent the better part of two days combing every inch of Sagtannet's inner territory. She couldn't spend great lengths of time searching for her young son at once, much as she wanted to, because she also had a daughter who needed her now more than ever. She checked in frequently on Phaedra, keen to stave off any feelings of inadequacy the girl might suffer in her absence. She agonized every minute that she wasn't out there searching for her boy, but she wouldn't—she couldn't—abandon Phaedra in her time of greatest need.
She'd already lost one parent. At least, Wylla was now certain that Phaedra felt that way. She couldn't be the cause of more hurt in her girl's life, even if it meant being unable to search for Thade as thoroughly as she wanted. She had to trust that Mahler would make the effort on her behalf, although that was difficult for her to do. Her trust was paper thin these days.
Phaedra was with Stag today, freeing Wylla up to search higher on the mountain, where the stone was icy underfoot and snow persisted even in the warmth of June. The Eisen surged up the slopes, nose tilted into the breeze, hungry for any hint of Thade's scent. She didn't believe the boy was strong enough to make this kind of climb yet, but perhaps it was a discredit to him to assume he couldn't. He could've gone anywhere... his scent in the forest had simply disappeared, and she hadn't found a trace of him elsewhere. Who was to say he hadn't fled up into the mountains? She had no other leads, and he wasn't anywhere within the valley.
Several hours later found Wylla on a flat shelf of rock near the summit, breathing hard and whipping her head around frantically. Nothing. No sign of him. Not even fresh paw prints to suggest anyone had come up here recently. The small Eisen collapsed on the rock, exhausted, and struggled against the self-loathing that threatened to consume her. She'd always been excellent at being alone—not an introvert by choice, but by necessity—but now loneliness rose up and quietly strangled her.
Damn her for opening her heart to a man.
Damn her for letting him ever touch her.
Damn her for trusting him to be a good father to her children.
Damn her for not being enough for Thade—whom she was sure had run away from home, even though none of the evidence added up to that conclusion. She descended the mountain, mired in her thoughts. Her boy had always been more closed off with his emotions, seemingly okay in spite of his father's distance, but how could that be possible when Phaedra was so deeply affected? Maybe it had been a quiet, festering wound rather than Phaedra's open and bleeding one. Maybe Wylla had taken for granted that Thade was okay, when really, he was hurting just as much... and not getting nearly as much of her attention to soothe his hurts. Maybe that was why he was gone.
It's his fault, her inner voice hissed, determined to keep up her confidence. It's his fault for not caring enough about them. Boys need their fathers and he's been a terrible one.
It's your fault for letting him do this to them.
Before she knew it, she was back at the rendezvous. Unseeing, Wylla slumped beside a tree, buried her face in her arms, and wept.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Mahler - June 14, 2020
time was marked by the last hours that mahler had seen thade. it was notched by fits of self-hatred, anger that his son had run into the night like a fool — it was weighed by the bites of meat he took and chewed like an automaton, fuel for a fire mahler refused to let be snuffed.
speckled with new greying hairs, bedraggled, tangled; the man did not allow himself the relief of an orderly appearance. he had not earned his respite.
such times ripped back the heavy door h had closed upon his memories of the first children, of their small and lifeless bodies gathered close to marigold as she gasped out her last. had that been how it had happened? mahler bit his lip for the second time; the stab of pain broke away the image and he was able to stumble forward once more.
he forced himself upward again, despite having searched for any small trail thade might have left; he climbed the crags until a slice of mountain cut his nail and he was forced to descend, swearing as he blunted the bleeding with moss and stalked to see phaedra.
his schatzi had refused his fatherly nature, and at any rate, the gargoyle was quelled at once to see wylla in a state she had hardly ever allowed herself. rage and shame vied for twinned places within his heart; mahler was seized with the great need to embrace his beloved, to beg that she turn upon his broader shoulders the breadth of her anger and her grief.
the graphite ears fell backward; mahler issued a lowly whine and took one step, a second, then stood helplessly pinned in his own path as he silently begged for wylla to see him.
speckled with new greying hairs, bedraggled, tangled; the man did not allow himself the relief of an orderly appearance. he had not earned his respite.
such times ripped back the heavy door h had closed upon his memories of the first children, of their small and lifeless bodies gathered close to marigold as she gasped out her last. had that been how it had happened? mahler bit his lip for the second time; the stab of pain broke away the image and he was able to stumble forward once more.
he forced himself upward again, despite having searched for any small trail thade might have left; he climbed the crags until a slice of mountain cut his nail and he was forced to descend, swearing as he blunted the bleeding with moss and stalked to see phaedra.
his schatzi had refused his fatherly nature, and at any rate, the gargoyle was quelled at once to see wylla in a state she had hardly ever allowed herself. rage and shame vied for twinned places within his heart; mahler was seized with the great need to embrace his beloved, to beg that she turn upon his broader shoulders the breadth of her anger and her grief.
the graphite ears fell backward; mahler issued a lowly whine and took one step, a second, then stood helplessly pinned in his own path as he silently begged for wylla to see him.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Wylla - June 14, 2020
Out onto her worn arms, she wept away the pain of recent weeks, the forsaken feeling that had taken up residence in her breast, the feelings of unworthiness that grew and grew with every passing day. Her inability to be all that her two children needed, and her unwillingness to accept more disrespect from the third she was expected to care for. Confident as she was, she'd always disliked herself, but now it was tenfold what it used to be.
An inadequate mother.
An inadequate woman.
Mahler's whine tore her from her misery; she lifted her narrow head to pin him with teary eyes that went cold the instant they landed on him. Abruptly, she choked off the well of sorrow that spilled onto her cheeks, blinked away the tears, and let her hackles lift threateningly. How dare he. How dare he come upon her like this and have the arrogance to hang his head that way, to look as haggard as he did, to behave as though his entire life had been turned upside down, when he had made himself too busy for them. Unavailable to his cubs who yearned for him. And she had been the one left to take care of everything while he spent his hours with another woman and their offspring, and she hadn't been enough.
She gathered her legs beneath her and launched herself across the distance Mahler left between them, not desperate for his embrace, but desperate to rend his head from his neck. She stopped just short of striking him, puffed up like a pissed off cat, and snarled,
go.He had no right to be here and witness her pain manifest, not when he'd been so busy with his new family that he'd neglected his old one, and now his son was gone. Now he wanted to be here for her, when it was far too late. She had asked him to prove that his contract was just a contract, that the family he had with her was more significant to him. He'd done the exact opposite.
She loved him, but he was breaking her heart, their childrens' hearts, and now one of them was missing.
She loved him, but right now, she despised him more.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Mahler - June 14, 2020
"i already hate myelf for this, vylla, you do not need to do such a good job of it in every moment."
the words jumped from his wounded jaws, beyond the rein of control mahler had always maintained, even in dreadful situations. but the rift between he and she had deepened, split further, until it was a tangible fracture of energy in the air they shared. the lightning of her eyes struck tinder in the dry purpled forests of his own, and mahler found himself brimming with misplaced anger.
he did not speak again; he licked the edge of his mouth pensively, willing away the taste of brimstone.
"i have searched the lands below sagtannet, but i vant to go farther." if she did not wish his company, then he would withdraw, report to her only a fellow leader and the father of her children.
child.
mahler's features twisted with grief; he turned his shoulder to her and gazed off across the feral respite they had chosen for their pair. or perhaps, that she had chosen. his accolades for her motherhood transcended beyond what the gargoyle could convey. but pride kept him dour, and unsurety of how to approach her blunted his willingness to be vulnerable.
"i should have been there," he mumbled, quite unlike himself, a barrenness slipping to rest where anger had flared. jaw hardened; he blinked several times to bar the tide that threatened his cheeks. mahler nodded to punctuate what he had said, not daring to look toward wylla again. she would only continue to lever her rapier through his chest.
he swallowed, fought back the last. "today i vanted to take phaedra for a svim. she should have some sun, it has been ..." tones trailed off; he did not know how to finish the thought, nor did he wish to. instead the gargoyle was silent, clearing his throat as he awaited the answer to his wish, something to which mahler knew he was not entitled, but wanted all the same: time with their daughter to remind him of the sunlight that had once lit their grey skies.
the words jumped from his wounded jaws, beyond the rein of control mahler had always maintained, even in dreadful situations. but the rift between he and she had deepened, split further, until it was a tangible fracture of energy in the air they shared. the lightning of her eyes struck tinder in the dry purpled forests of his own, and mahler found himself brimming with misplaced anger.
he did not speak again; he licked the edge of his mouth pensively, willing away the taste of brimstone.
"i have searched the lands below sagtannet, but i vant to go farther." if she did not wish his company, then he would withdraw, report to her only a fellow leader and the father of her children.
child.
mahler's features twisted with grief; he turned his shoulder to her and gazed off across the feral respite they had chosen for their pair. or perhaps, that she had chosen. his accolades for her motherhood transcended beyond what the gargoyle could convey. but pride kept him dour, and unsurety of how to approach her blunted his willingness to be vulnerable.
"i should have been there," he mumbled, quite unlike himself, a barrenness slipping to rest where anger had flared. jaw hardened; he blinked several times to bar the tide that threatened his cheeks. mahler nodded to punctuate what he had said, not daring to look toward wylla again. she would only continue to lever her rapier through his chest.
he swallowed, fought back the last. "today i vanted to take phaedra for a svim. she should have some sun, it has been ..." tones trailed off; he did not know how to finish the thought, nor did he wish to. instead the gargoyle was silent, clearing his throat as he awaited the answer to his wish, something to which mahler knew he was not entitled, but wanted all the same: time with their daughter to remind him of the sunlight that had once lit their grey skies.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Wylla - June 14, 2020
Maybe you should stop giving me reasons to, then,spat Wylla in response, as reflexively as her slighted colleague delivered his gripe. But she didn't think to feel any remorse for the outburst. On the contrary, she wanted to say a lot more: it would've been easy to pour all of her anguish and torment onto the flames of anger and turn upon him.
Miraculously, she held her tongue instead, though her eyes bored into his with an accusing intensity. Why shouldn't he hate himself? He'd inflicted pain on the ones he claimed to love, left her alone to look after three cubs—one a heartbroken little girl, one an obstinate little orphan, and one a quiet and strong boy who hadn't got the attention he needed—so why shouldn't he suffer the guilt of that? Wylla believed it was wholly deserved, and said nothing to absolve him of it.
Well, you weren't,she coldly retorted. What he should've done didn't matter, only what he'd failed to do. He could regret his choices all he wanted, but unless something changed, regret was meaningless to Wylla. She was too severe a wolf to sympathize with should've and could've. She held everyone, including herself, to impossibly high standards.
Which was why she also blamed herself, even if it was unreasonable to expect one wolf to watch over three cubs practically by herself. The most help she had came from Stag, which was probably the only reason Phaedra hadn't come completely undone at the seams by now.
She's afraid of the water.You should know that.
I am not going to force Phaedra to spend time with the father who broke her heart,Wylla said coolly, looking away from Mahler lest the ichor of her many wounds take wing from her tongue.
You can ask her yourself, and pray that she still has time for her papa. But our son is missing. Shouldn't that be your priority?Because Phaedra was already hurt enough, and Wylla did not want her to receive her papa back for a single day only to lose him again for an untold amount of time while he fawned over other children, or searched for his missing son. She feared deeply that it would drive Phaedra away from home as well, and Wylla couldn't take another loss.
Why aren't we enough for you?she seethed abruptly, throwing back her ears and stubbornly fighting back the wetness of grief from her eyelids.
What does she have that I don't? What do her children have that ours don't, that you would spend so much time away from us, with them, that our son—She couldn't finish the thought. It was choked off by a mournful sob that wracked her thin shoulders.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Mahler - June 15, 2020
her sharp words brought thorns blossoming under his tongue again. mahler stared stonily to where phaedra perhaps roamed, and then his hard gaze flicked back to wylla. "i know that she does not like vater. that is vhy i vant her to see it is to be respected, not feared." he lifted his chin with a rage of pride. why should he explain himself? her talk of their daughter's wounded heart rankled the gargoyle with a stab; he knew these things. he had admitted them. "and i have been looking for our son. every day since he has been gone."
it was her dew-flecked glare that reminded him of all his failures anew, and mahler felt the weight of them as he looked unblinkingly upon her. darkened lilac thunder rolling in coreheart; and now the storm moved again.
mahler dug his claws into the earth, willing the muted loam to steady him, fair begging for some taut handle upon himself, but alas, none such came.
"i communicated all of this to you, at the first," came his rejoinder, rimed with ice. "i never vonce gave you the illusion that it vould not be this vay. i cannot change your heart, but i vill not be blamed for a decision you had equal part in making."
sides billowed with a long-held breath. the man knew gravely that he had overstepped some unsaid thing, stumbled across a tripwire of some sort, but per the masculine order of himself, only prickled in the silence that followed. glowering, lavender to sungold, irascible, arrogant, wounded, wrong.
it was her dew-flecked glare that reminded him of all his failures anew, and mahler felt the weight of them as he looked unblinkingly upon her. darkened lilac thunder rolling in coreheart; and now the storm moved again.
mahler dug his claws into the earth, willing the muted loam to steady him, fair begging for some taut handle upon himself, but alas, none such came.
"i communicated all of this to you, at the first," came his rejoinder, rimed with ice. "i never vonce gave you the illusion that it vould not be this vay. i cannot change your heart, but i vill not be blamed for a decision you had equal part in making."
sides billowed with a long-held breath. the man knew gravely that he had overstepped some unsaid thing, stumbled across a tripwire of some sort, but per the masculine order of himself, only prickled in the silence that followed. glowering, lavender to sungold, irascible, arrogant, wounded, wrong.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Wylla - June 15, 2020
Don't you think she's dealing with enough right now without being forced to face her fears, too?Phaedra was a fierce little thing, equal parts deeply warm and wildly passionate, and Wylla didn't doubt for a second their daughter could overcome any fear ordinarily. But she was in such a terrible state these days that adding more stress to her plate could only be a bad thing as far as her mother was concerned. She disapproved. But she would leave that decision in Phaedra's hands, and wouldn't interfere in Mahler's attempts to connect.
He didn't answer her question, which she thought was pretty typical. More and more, she was getting the impression that Mahler only wanted to be involved with things that were easy for him. If something wasn't going his way, he simply walked away from it, or danced around it, refusing to answer a deeply vulnerable question. Maybe he didn't realize how much it hurt her.
But what he said instead? He was terribly, horribly wrong.
Bullshit!she shrieked, affronted that he would even try to turn his choices around on her, like it was her fault that she'd imagined his love meant more than this.
You told me that you loved me! You told me, when I was afraid you would leave for someone else, that you didn't enter a contract with me. That this was real. You said it was what you wanted for so long! You made me believe in that love, you made me think that I mattered! That our kids mattered, that this would be something good! You made me think that they would be your priority.
Yet you've been spending more time with someone you made an agreement with, and kids that were the product of an agreement, than you do with me! Or with them! Wolves you claimed to love!She sucked in a breath and only then realized that she was trembling. Only then realized that her cheeks were wet with tears again. God damn it. He didn't deserve to see her break down.
And then you, what, propose to me by saying we could legitimize our litter, not y'know, I want this family forever? What the fuck do you expect me to think? I asked you to show me that what you have with her is just a contract, like you said it was, before I was willing to commit my life to yours, and every day since then you've shown me that we're worth so much less to you.He could say until he was blue in the face that it wasn't true, but Wylla was a believer in actions first, and his actions spoke loudly. Since the birth of Nyx's cubs, the only time she'd seen him was when they moved the kids to the rendezvous. There'd been nothing to suggest anything other than what Wylla had told him she feared most:
That he had abandoned his love for her, and found it in Nyx instead, and the kids they'd brought into this world that both of them had wanted were now just broken pieces between them, and each of them affected irrevocably by it.
And now Thade is gone because I couldn't do it alone, I wasn't there for him and you weren't there for him and I lost him,she wailed.
Is this the sum of your love, Mahler? Or has that changed, too?
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Mahler - June 17, 2020
until these horrible moments, mahler had thought himself well-versed in the scourings of wylla's tongue. he had been mistaken, however; he stood grimly hunched beneath her righteous onslaught, a fractured wall of ice under the blade of a crusading paladin. to that end soon his greyblack ears slid back; he continued to listen, but with guard hairs beginning to stiffen with a flaring life.
for all her valid criticisms of him, mahler was not violent, and would have never considered using force to end this firefight. a prickle of guilt followed the involuntary reaction of his hackles, but again, pride planted its damnable flag in his throat. and so he said nothing, nor sought to soften himself.
arrogance — something he had thought he might stamp out, spawned in great armies all along his soul. and though logos sounded an alarm against pathos, the gargoyle began to feel ground down. it was as if her cascading voice turned to the powerful gallop of sea-waves against a stone, wearing at him until his heart felt cold.
wylla cut her verbose fangs more deeply into mahler, suddenly, suddenly, that he turned to face her, great and terrible with his silvershot ruff bristling in a torc of anger and shock, veins of amaranthine revealed along his mountainous visage. "you have built all of your anger upon assumptions, vylla. vintersbane is gone, many of sagtannet departed. both of you have children," and now he sought to rankle her, carelessly throwing off her title. she had rejected his; she, mahler felt viciously, would never be satisified with his love unless she was able to throw its imperfection at him like a projectile.
he stared at her for a long moment, gaze gone fickle and narrow; wylla stood tameless before him, resplendent in her pain and her wrath, her smaller stature expanded by the ferocity of her very marrow. he let out his breath in a churlish rush. "you assume i have been spending every moment of my time vith nyx?" pricked ears. "you believe that i have just fled off? vhy, vylla," mahler demanded in a low rumble, "have you never vonce respected who i am, who i vas before you ever came back?"
may his own spears shatter her porcelain heart. "my agreement to her vas something i made prior to your return. her loyalty has been to diaspora and then to sagtannet. she has been faithful to her leaders. she has earned this. it vas, and never has been, anything to do vith love." a lifted lip. "but no matter how many times i tell you this, have not believed me. not vonce."
"vintersbane is gone. phaedra and thade are young. nyx' brood is younger, and now ve have more on the vay. have you considered, VONCE!" and now his voice gathered a great volume, eyes shards of lilac in the haunted details of his face, "that you drive me avay from you, but that vhen i stay avay, i am not vith her? that perhaps vhile i am sacrificing such precious moments vith all of you in service of this verdammt place, it is not to spite you. vhy do you believe so so deeply that i could not possibly do it for purposes that are unselfish?"
"if i have a contract vith anyvone, it is vith you. that is the vay you have treated me. you are the only vone who makes me feel so low, and yet i love only you."
his voice weighed there, the toll of it in his heart; he was hurt and wearied and ashamed and now vengeful. "do not ever insinuate that i do not care for my children, vylla," he rasped in a bruised tone. "i offered vhat i did because you insist they be recognized above all else, to the point that i must deny my other daughters the title of sibling." his gaze flickered finally with a sudden rivulet of warmth along his cheek. "i am sorry i have not loved you as you vished me to love you. now thade is gone, because i vas not there. but it has nothing to do vith my heart."
for all her valid criticisms of him, mahler was not violent, and would have never considered using force to end this firefight. a prickle of guilt followed the involuntary reaction of his hackles, but again, pride planted its damnable flag in his throat. and so he said nothing, nor sought to soften himself.
arrogance — something he had thought he might stamp out, spawned in great armies all along his soul. and though logos sounded an alarm against pathos, the gargoyle began to feel ground down. it was as if her cascading voice turned to the powerful gallop of sea-waves against a stone, wearing at him until his heart felt cold.
wylla cut her verbose fangs more deeply into mahler, suddenly, suddenly, that he turned to face her, great and terrible with his silvershot ruff bristling in a torc of anger and shock, veins of amaranthine revealed along his mountainous visage. "you have built all of your anger upon assumptions, vylla. vintersbane is gone, many of sagtannet departed. both of you have children," and now he sought to rankle her, carelessly throwing off her title. she had rejected his; she, mahler felt viciously, would never be satisified with his love unless she was able to throw its imperfection at him like a projectile.
he stared at her for a long moment, gaze gone fickle and narrow; wylla stood tameless before him, resplendent in her pain and her wrath, her smaller stature expanded by the ferocity of her very marrow. he let out his breath in a churlish rush. "you assume i have been spending every moment of my time vith nyx?" pricked ears. "you believe that i have just fled off? vhy, vylla," mahler demanded in a low rumble, "have you never vonce respected who i am, who i vas before you ever came back?"
may his own spears shatter her porcelain heart. "my agreement to her vas something i made prior to your return. her loyalty has been to diaspora and then to sagtannet. she has been faithful to her leaders. she has earned this. it vas, and never has been, anything to do vith love." a lifted lip. "but no matter how many times i tell you this, have not believed me. not vonce."
"vintersbane is gone. phaedra and thade are young. nyx' brood is younger, and now ve have more on the vay. have you considered, VONCE!" and now his voice gathered a great volume, eyes shards of lilac in the haunted details of his face, "that you drive me avay from you, but that vhen i stay avay, i am not vith her? that perhaps vhile i am sacrificing such precious moments vith all of you in service of this verdammt place, it is not to spite you. vhy do you believe so so deeply that i could not possibly do it for purposes that are unselfish?"
"if i have a contract vith anyvone, it is vith you. that is the vay you have treated me. you are the only vone who makes me feel so low, and yet i love only you."
his voice weighed there, the toll of it in his heart; he was hurt and wearied and ashamed and now vengeful. "do not ever insinuate that i do not care for my children, vylla," he rasped in a bruised tone. "i offered vhat i did because you insist they be recognized above all else, to the point that i must deny my other daughters the title of sibling." his gaze flickered finally with a sudden rivulet of warmth along his cheek. "i am sorry i have not loved you as you vished me to love you. now thade is gone, because i vas not there. but it has nothing to do vith my heart."
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Wylla - June 17, 2020
Did I say that?Wylla ground out, cutting him off, or trying to. With her life falling to shambles around her, it was the only way she knew how to be heard, before the force of the battleaxe he wielded to cut her down could chase any words from her throat.
I said you've spent MORE time with her than with me since her brats were born. Regardless what you're actually doing in your free time, you've made us your lowest priority. I haven't done fuck all to her or said she didn't deserve anything.
Wylla had allowed him to complete his contract with Nyx, despite how much she disagreed with it. She hadn't harmed a hair on Nyx's head, or her cubs. She'd kept well away from the woman and intended to continue doing so. It wasn't about whether or not Nyx deserved anything. Mahler believed she did, and so Nyx had gotten what she'd wanted, and Wylla hadn't interfered, no matter how much she disagreed. It had nothing to do with Nyx.
It was about Wylla feeling forgotten and tossed aside as a result of it, and it was about Wylla having to deal with the tumultuous emotions of her cubs as a result of it, and having absolutely no reassurance that this was temporary, and it was Mahler gaslighting her for expecting more from him when he threw words like "love" around. Now he cut her down, swinging his sword carelessly again and again to harm her, and she slammed shut the doors of her heart, fearing desperately that to open them ever again would be the death of her.
He framed everything he'd done as a sacrifice, but the only ones making sacrifices were the kids themselves, Phaedra especially, starved for her father's attention while he kept himself away.
You've given me no reason to believe you,she snarled.
I don't care what anyone says, Mahler. You can say anything you want, but what you do matters more. And what you've done is treat me and our kids like lesser since hers were born. If you loved me or cared about them then you would be here whenever you could, so Phaedra doesn't have to feel inferior, and I don't have to do this alone and wonder if everything you ever said really was a lie, because that's what it feels like! There's no excuse for that.He could fault her for jumping to conclusions and he wasn't wrong to do so, but if he thought his grand proclamations of love and his assurances had prepared her for—or were enough to soothe the hurt of—being left on her own the second his new kids came into the world, he was dead wrong. Her heartbeat thudded hard in her ears.
If you care for your children, then do better! You've neglected them,she hissed, shuddering with sobs.
Phaedra wets herself at night, she cries regularly, she has bad dreams. I've had my paws full trying to reassure her while you fuck off and do your duty while neglecting us. Thade suffered for it, and even now that he's missing, you have such a massive fucking ego you have the balls to blame me!
On the subject of denying his daughters the title of sibling, she snorted a billowing breath.
Her kids being your kids does not make them kin to me or mine. I did not make an agreement with Nyx to be family, and she did not make an agreement with me. Your desires do not supercede that.For Wylla, only blood was family. Nothing less. Maybe Mahler never realized that, which was probably her own fault. Another thing they'd not known about one another prior to making their stupid decision.
If you feel low, then maybe it's because you're BEING low!
Skimming back her lips to flash her teeth, she choked,
your love is poison,and turned and stomped several feet away, trying her best to calm down, but the bludgeoning blows of his cold words served only to stoke the fire of her wrath higher, so high that it consumed her in a tidal wave of tears that came without warning, forcing her to her knees.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Phaedra - June 17, 2020
ahahahahahahahaha hi cameo
phaedra's lie that she had plans with stag went without trouble. she had been playing with caintigern all afternoon, and was romping with him through the fringes of their rendezvous site when she came on the scene of a galvanic conflict between her parents, the air and ground under her feet fraught with the energy of a lightning storm as words clashed and clanged like glaives. the pads of her feet harvested the energy they sowed and sent a bolt of fear up her legs.
on paws as quiet as the stirring of leaves she slipped into the cover of ferns to eavesdrop on this meet. "these your parents?" cain asked. phaedra could only nod, unable to break her eyes away or dare utter a word. "they seem nice." she hushed the marten, worried she wasn't the only one who could hear him.
wylla was other, oscillating between shrieks of rage and sobs of despair; it was such a frightening production, and seeing her mother like this planted a seed of fear that burrowed deep in her chest.
on word of mahler; her pupils narrowed and seemed to flee from the expanding whites of her eyes as his voice grew and grew and grew until a great clap of thunder burst from him. phaedra instantly straddled the earth, wetness strewing from beneath her tail. was she dreaming? to reality test herself, she pressed a claw into the pad of her other foot ... when it didn't pass through, she knew she was not having a nightmare. this was a daymare, one she only wished she could awaken from.
she remained prostrate, in the puddle of her own making, too shocked and mortified to move, not to mention that damned wind blustering against her. she would fall right over if she tried to back away and run at once to a safer place. howsoever, when she peered through them, the ferns were only softly breathing against a leeside tree. it was the adrenaline dump bringing forth the wind that shook her body with such vigor, not any act of nature.
she flinched at every expletive, yet found she also flinched at every soft-spoken word. both of her parents had revealed themselves to be terrifying, and she wasn't sure how to immediately reconcile that within herself to feel the comfort she needed to feel. is this how all grown-ups are when they think we're not watching? she asked herself, standing to trembling legs and feeling a cold finger run down her spine as the pee soaking through her fur to her skin felt the sigh of the breeze speak against her body.
she could smell herself. they would smell her soon, too, and the thought of being caught spying on their private "conversation" made her stomach double-back-handspring with anxiety. she'd heard enough, and while shame burned under the fur of her cheeks when her mother made manifest that she'd wet herself at night, anger too flared up. and here she was, standing on another platter of piss, best served cold.
"c'mon, we'll find a place to clean you up." the marten whispered against her lobe before trouncing away.
what was wrong with her? she wanted to cry, but she chose defiance: she wouldn't shed a tear, not in the presence of cain.
wheeling on her heels to follow, phaedra's streaming tail carelessly disturbed the ferns, but she had longer legs to carry her farther faster now away from the homilies and stream of abuse, and secret alcoves in which to hide after she forced herself to bathe in the shallowest stream they could find.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Mahler - June 22, 2020
mahler had endured her scorn, her hate, her wrath, her ire, her bite, but he could not stomach what came last.
the ironbar stripped, idled; shifted — something deep inside mahler cracked. it was not that he deserved no part of wylla's words. it was that mahler finally met the end of his chain in her choked epithet; he was filled with a man's shame for being too weak, in any regard, but the greater part of it was that he could simply bear it no longer.
a spiderwebbing of fractals across the plain-ice fields of his heart. titanic plates shoved along the edges of one another, crushed a new spire-reach of iron mountains across the stitching that had woven his soul to her own.
mahler said nothing, for wylla had said it all. he had no rebuttal and no fight; it leached out of him like poison sucked from a new wound with a reed, spat hastily into the mud alongside one's foot.
an undeniable aching, but mahler cut it coldly off with an inner hammer's-thud of the forge and the anvil, soldering that edge in him which wylla had melted with the passion of her being. clanging of the blacksmithy beating sparks from that weakened point of his soul until it was cool, dashed with a tepid water, oiled with the final sense of his own grief.
he did not look at her, his attention spent in a feral way toward the sudden juddering of green-feathered leaves, awareness suggesting it was unfortunately a small pitcher with big ears that had gotten too large a glassful of the bile between them.
a slow, pained blink, and the gargoyle opened his wearied, cold stare upon wylla at last. she shook with tears, and there was the fading tremble in his breast that whispered he must try again, that he must go to her.
this time the shadowpriest ignored the glissade; he closed the gates with finality around his stoneworked features, latching them from within. "i go back to searching for thade," was all he said, before his large self shifted toward the way he had come.
mahler did not expect her to stop him, but waited for it all the same, dark ears cupped forward toward his chosen path.
the ironbar stripped, idled; shifted — something deep inside mahler cracked. it was not that he deserved no part of wylla's words. it was that mahler finally met the end of his chain in her choked epithet; he was filled with a man's shame for being too weak, in any regard, but the greater part of it was that he could simply bear it no longer.
a spiderwebbing of fractals across the plain-ice fields of his heart. titanic plates shoved along the edges of one another, crushed a new spire-reach of iron mountains across the stitching that had woven his soul to her own.
mahler said nothing, for wylla had said it all. he had no rebuttal and no fight; it leached out of him like poison sucked from a new wound with a reed, spat hastily into the mud alongside one's foot.
an undeniable aching, but mahler cut it coldly off with an inner hammer's-thud of the forge and the anvil, soldering that edge in him which wylla had melted with the passion of her being. clanging of the blacksmithy beating sparks from that weakened point of his soul until it was cool, dashed with a tepid water, oiled with the final sense of his own grief.
he did not look at her, his attention spent in a feral way toward the sudden juddering of green-feathered leaves, awareness suggesting it was unfortunately a small pitcher with big ears that had gotten too large a glassful of the bile between them.
a slow, pained blink, and the gargoyle opened his wearied, cold stare upon wylla at last. she shook with tears, and there was the fading tremble in his breast that whispered he must try again, that he must go to her.
this time the shadowpriest ignored the glissade; he closed the gates with finality around his stoneworked features, latching them from within. "i go back to searching for thade," was all he said, before his large self shifted toward the way he had come.
mahler did not expect her to stop him, but waited for it all the same, dark ears cupped forward toward his chosen path.
RE: Wanna believe, wanna believe that you don't have a bad bone in your body - Wylla - June 22, 2020
Wylla's expectations would simply never be met by Mahler, it seemed.
She imagined him understanding the razor's edge of pain in her accusations. She imagined that he would realize how shitty he'd been to her lately; hell, the man made more of an effort with her before she'd reciprocated any of his feelings than he did now that she was the mother of his children, and a hard worked one, at that! She'd imagined that perhaps he would realize the harm he'd done to their young daughter, would sweep her into his arms and apologize, bear the vulnerability of his soul, offer up an acceptable reason why he was gone all the time (it wasn't like he was the pack's only leader, no matter how much everyone pretended he was!) and swear to do better.
Instead, Mahler did what Mahler did best in Wylla's disillusioned eyes: he offered a single sentence, no remorse or acknowledgement whatsoever for anything she had said, and turned to leave.
Really?!she wailed after him, having failed to notice the rustling of the leaves where Phaedra huddled, nor the telltale sounds of departure.
You're just gonna walk away from me? Again?!Back when Mahler owed her nothing, back when she was only here to search for Tiercel, she'd speared him just as thoroughly, she thought, and he hadn't turned away from her. His patience was that of a saint, then. Now, he was as cold as a sharp steel blade, and seemed hellbent on refusing any responsibility for his actions, at her expense. She remained blind to the part she played in driving him away again and again—she felt justified in her anger, her pain.
What had changed, besides Wylla holding him accountable for his part in what was meant to be a partnership? For expecting more of him? Her idea of love was old-fashioned, perhaps, built on an assumption that despite her father's total absence in her life, Lusca and Tachyon had loved one another above all. Whether it was false or not, she'd always believed it. She'd believed Mahler's love would be transcendent, once she began feeling similarly. If she'd known that it would be like this...
Well, she hadn't, and now she paid the price for that.