Coconut Grove dard-e-dil

@Hamartia

things had changed for him, over the past moon. izel was gone, much to his dissatisfaction, but he had made a few new friends. the seawolves from the bay: lovely lilia and imperious ford, his cheeky brother rannveig, their companion dalia. and then there was his own. . .flock? no, that sounded much too preachy.

troupe. he remembered the word lucas had used to describe his old band. he liked it fine, and thought it described them well, even if they didn't perform tricks.

yes, he was happier than he was a moon ago. it wasn't difficult--he couldn't have gotten much sadder. but the progress heartened him. today, he strolled through the thicker part of the grove, further inland, where the palms mixed with more common trees, evergreen and deciduous. he wondered if he might find hamartia here.

he was intrigued by her, the primary factor of that drive still unknown. was it her sex, or something else? should he feel the same pull, were she male? all he knew now was that what he saw in her eyes was something he felt in his soul, but until he spoke to her about it, he would never put it all together.

staying a teeny bit vague

sif's words roll around in her like a treasure hidden in a forgotten bottom drawer. should she be more frightened, she wonders, of govinda's apparent deeds? but to do so would be to ignore her own particular histories, things sif does not know, things that make her a bad wolf indeed. if anything hamartia feels more tightly bound to the golden would-be killer, for she holds his old name and his sins neatly under her tongue. 

what she's going to do about that, she hasn't decided.

govinda had been right about the groves. the palms, anachronistic as they are, play deceptive tricks, fooling her into feeling removed from the rest of the teekons and the steps she's walked before. she does not think she will allow sif to cross her path again; as much as she values her old sister-wife, sif belonged to poet, a creature she is not. the thought fills her with mourning, and it is in that vulnerable state govinda comes upon her. quickly she pulls her sorrows back to herself, turning canny yellow eyes on him with a lazy smile, an easy question. "need something?"

her voice turned his ears, and he smiled, pivoting to face her. nothing in particular, he said easily, rolling his shoulders and beginning to walk her way. i was looking for you, though. govinda stopped within a tail-length of hamartia, gazing down at her small frame, those cool eyes. how are you? he asked.

her eyes were cold--too cold. it made him wonder what she had seen, and why. maybe he was reading too much into nothing.

rather feline she stretches, flexing her toes. despite the chill the sun is pleasant, perhaps another affect of the unusual foliage, and she is in no rush to move to greet him more properly. "oh?" hamartia hums, her voice taking on a teasing hint, "do i linger in your thoughts?"

maybe it's unfair to play with him, even if it comes from genuine connection. connections, nonetheless, govinda himself is unaware of. she won't tell him today, she thinks. "i am here," she says, the resolution making her voice warmer. carrying someone's secret history does not need to be tragic, she thinks. "and it is nice here. what of yourself?"

he gave no answer to her first question, only a smile. that was all with which he would dignify it. women like her knew their charm, and knew it well; he would not say what they both understood to be true. instead, he wagged his tail gently at her compliment of the grove, and gave a shrug of her shoulders to her next question--one much more worth answering.

i am well, for the first time in a while, govinda said, his words candid. it's been a long time since i've been able to say that without lying through my teeth. it has been nice, having you and lucas around, as well as some others, here and there. he finally felt as if he had a foundation, something to build from.

what have you been up to? he asked. he didn't see her much, but he had always assumed she was doing her own thing. what was that thing, though?

a warm smile creases her mouth. strangely it is nice to know that her company, in part, has brought him some solace, some lingering desire from her previous days. and, well, if she must admit it, she rather likes govinda. not just for the weariness he carries, so alike to hers, but his caution in handling her. perhaps she likes being handled rather than handling those around her.

his question, though, is more loaded than he knows. hamartia takes a moment, running her tongue flat against her lips. "i went up the coast," she says, truthfully, "thinking.. i don't know. curious to see if my old footsteps lingered, perhaps." sighing, the woman lifts her shoulders in an elegant shrug, as if to say foolish of me, i know. she does not want to tell him about moorhen, does not want to give away the game yet. instead she says, voice firm, "i'd much prefer to look to the present and future than the past now, i think. don't you agree?"

his eyes fixed on her suddenly, wondering. . . well, he wondered if she saw right through him. wondered if she'd already pulled open all the doors and let the skeletons free. i used to like to reminisce on the past, he said gruffly, still holding her gaze. but no longer. what's done is best left behind, without another thought.

and the ghosts would haunt--they would never stop. ignorance kept them at bay, though.

i would caution you against walking in your old footsteps, govinda said, uncharacteristically sharp-toned. there's nothing good to be found there. projecting-schmrojecting. she had brought it up, anyway. he wondered if she had brought a shovel, too, to dig even deeper.