Hushed Willows [m] Every song that I've ever loved

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For @Nimbus!

The true tragedy was always in the aftermath, Marina had found. Easy enough to see something noble in the suffering of the moment, to say: I fought and I wept, and something was taken from me, but see how high I still hold my head; see how sure my steps are as I walk away. Easy enough to put on that show of stubborn survival for a day, even if only for her own benefit.

Yet the days wore on, and defiance faded into exhaustion, into the overwhelming sense that she was now the one taking something from herself with each day she spent in silent melancholy. When she wept it stung like salt and sand; like a cracked hourglass, like shores torn apart by rain and wind. Marina ate little, and kept often to herself, though she dedicated no small amount of time to the care of the wounded man she'd found. What else was there to do?

Marina traced a path down the slope from the mountainside den, thoughts drifting unbidden to the pale man whose face she hadn't seen at all. She'd only caught a glimpse of his eyes, yellow eyes, more like some evil old cat than a wolf. Perhaps he hasn't been a wolf at all; it would not have been the first time she'd been plagued by spirits.

nimbus moved through the whispering willows like a ghost, his pale coat blending into the muted palette of winter. the breeze stirred the long branches above him, their hushed song pulling at the frayed edges of his thoughts. he stopped at the crest of a gentle slope, his gaze drawn to the valley below. the willows swayed in unison, their shadows long and sharp against the frost-bitten ground. 

he had been here before, in another time, or perhaps in a dream. the place felt like a memory made manifest, something familiar and yet just out of reach. it gnawed at him, the sensation of recognition, like the faint trace of a scent he couldn’t place. 

the sharp sound of a branch snapping underfoot pulled him from his reverie. his head turned, ears flicking toward the source of the noise. for a moment, he thought it was the wind playing tricks again, but then he saw her.

he remained where he was, standing amidst the willows, watching her approach. she carried an air of solitude that mirrored his own, and something about that stung more deeply than he cared to admit. the breeze ruffled his fur, and he exhaled sharply, as if trying to expel the weight of thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. 

when she neared, he said nothing at first. the stillness stretched between them, his pale yellow eyes unreadable but intent. then, in a voice as low and rough as the distant waves, he spoke, didn’t think anyone would come down this way.

She could not have known him, silvered wraith that he was; a man with eyes oddly familiar, but Marina had never seen him before. Of this she was certain. It seemed that the willows only whispered their song for those lost souls wandering the world, for the stranger wore an air of melancholy not unlike her own. She was reminded sharply of the other men she'd met, each bearing wounds of his own.

At a glance this one seemed healthy enough, but long experience had taught her better than that. Marina, friendly but cautious of hurts she could not see, smiled her own tentative greeting. I didn't, either, She countered, leaving it unsaid that she had chosen this place just for that reason. Still, she wasn't so opposed to company; But it seems like these willows are where the lost souls come to be found.

nimbus regarded her with quiet curiosity, his gaze lingering just long enough to read the careful lines of her posture. she spoke like someone who knew loss, who wore it like a second skin, though her smile carried a softness he hadn’t expected. it unsettled him, though not in a way that felt dangerous—more like a mirror held too close. he shifted his weight, the branches above whispering faintly in the wind, as if they, too, were watching.

maybe, he rumbled, his voice low, carrying the rough edge of someone unaccustomed to easy conversation. his topaz eyes flicked briefly to the willows swaying around them. don’t feel much like being found, though.

there was no bitterness in his words, only a kind of resignation, a weary acceptance that came from long days spent walking toward nothing in particular. still, her presence kept him rooted to the spot, a faint tension in his frame betraying his reluctance to leave just yet. 

he tilted his head slightly, studying her again, as if trying to place something just out of reach. you don’t seem lost, he added after a beat, though his tone suggested it wasn’t a question. not the way most are. 

that was as much as he offered for now, his gaze trailing back to the willows as if they might offer answers neither of them had spoken aloud.

I don't think we always get to make that choice, Marina murmured, but her tone was sympathetic. She started back on her path after a moment, beckoning for the man to follow her if he wished. Her silence stretched a few small moments before she added: There's more than one way to be lost.

But maybe you can help me find something, if you're not too busy, Her dark blue eyes found him as she said it, sparkling with a touch of mischief. It was obvious to her that he had nowhere better to be — but her teasing wasn't cruel. Was she not similarly adrift, unaccounted for? Perhaps they could find some solace in pretending otherwise, if only for an evening.

nimbus's ears flicked as marina's words lingered in the air, their weight settling on him like the soft press of twilight. his pale yellow eyes, cold as a mountain's peak, tracked her movements as she began to walk. he hesitated, claws flexing against the earth as though deciding whether to follow. but when she beckoned, he let out a low, rumbling sigh and fell into step behind her, his large frame moving with surprising quiet.

lost isn't always a bad thing, he said finally, his voice a gravelly drawl that carried both weariness and wisdom. his gaze briefly drifted to the sky, visible in patches between the canopy of trees.

when her teasing tone reached him, a flicker of amusement softened his otherwise stoic expression. he regarded her for a moment, his head tilting slightly, the hint of a smirk curling his lips. what is it you're looking for? he asked, his voice low but not unkind. you don't strike me as someone who asks for help lightly.

his pace slowed as he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, thoughtful. but i suppose, for now, i've got time to spare. lead the way.

A plant. An herb, Marina thought for a moment on how to describe it, and went on to detail the size of it, the shape and color of the leaves. It was no easy task she'd set before him. Even here, closer to the sea, it was so cold. How could anything grow here? Some stretches under the willows were less frosted than the rest, but still grey while the land awaited spring.

Unlikely in this weather, I know, She added. But I have to look. If not here, closer to the sea, maybe. Suddenly she found that she would rather speak of anything else. Have you ever seen it? The ocean.

nimbus listened in silence, the faint whisper of the willows above framing her voice. an herb she spoke of seemed as unlikely to him as finding warmth in this barren cold. only one other could have been a greater help but he quickly pushed the thought aside. but he was too slow and so he thought of how many times he’d chased impossible things—answers, peace, places that didn’t want him—and found nothing but emptiness.

can’t say i've seen it, he admitted, his voice low and rough. the ocean, i mean. been close enough to smell it—salt on the wind, heavy and sharp. like it’s alive, watching you. he glanced at her, studying her briefly. figured i’d keep away. things that big don’t care what they take.

as the words passed his lips he could not deny the appeal of waves lapping around him, dragging him out to its watery depths. maybe then he would find peace, maybe then he could see her again.