Ravensblood Forest we have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin

@Vercingetorix, can be slower thread + vague-ish but after this

Once she’d perhaps parted from Dragomir, Aure was chirruping through an abundance of greenery for their father a full bell later. Perhaps, because she’d offered both son and daughter to come along with her on foraging, but whether they’d done so or not, that choice was up to them, and she let them know exactly in which patch she’d be. ...Now, all she had to do would be to find the warrior through this bloodied forest.

The conversation with their son — with Isilmë nearby, but she hadn’t been sure if the girl had been near enough to hear any of it — had left her spent, but there was only one other amend she needed to make, tenuous and fraying as it was. She would never wish for happiness to come in a day, and for both of their mistakes to be forgiven or learnt from by the hour, but... might as well find some way to begin now.

Eventually, one way or another, Aure would find him — same as with the children, whether he wished to see her or not, she needed to see his wounds, at least. And there was something else she'd had in mind, if Vercingetorix did in fact  (loathe as he might)  allow her near enough to see to his liaisons.

But for now, she remained quiet, kept to herself, and dropped her herbarious gatherings in favor of using her nose to scent him out.

She'd done some tending, but not enough. Not her fault -- he had avoided her, only letting her do the bare minimum. When they reached Ravensblood Forest, he'd pulled away altogether. And now, Vercingetorix was alone, his wounds had festered, and he lay in a fevered stupor.

What, he grumbled flatly, lifting his head against the blinding headache to spot her coming. His eyes were sticky with mucous, heat rippling over and all through his burly frame. His gaze flickered to the greenery, then moved away. Oh.

Verx supposed it was for the best, that she come to him. He wasn't in the mood to exchange many words, but he did require some medical attention. The injuries themselves wouldn't kill him, but the infection, if left untreated, certainly would. Not that he cared. He kind of welcomed death, at this point, and would have gladly succumbed if not for Drago and Isi.

It was good that actions spoke louder than words, anyways; she’d fidgeted some on the way here, not quite sure as to what would fall from her own lips aside from earthly properties. With a quiet hum, then, Aurëwen towed what she’d plucked over, and soon rounded crescent-like about the fevered male until she came to rest before him in a sit.

Her own eyes, one ever-clouded, remained inscrutably despondent, but they cast themselves over his numerous liaisons just as they’d been doing in the days following up to this moment. After starting an enquiry towards his well-being, she thought better of it, and instead had a fang gnaw into the plush tissue of her lower lip. Filmy eyes, creased in a way that bespoke headache ...skin flamekissed beneath his coat of armor ...she was more than sure she had what she needed for him.

Yearling that she’d once been, Aure had seen many gargantuan wolves — in either body, soul, or both — falter when infection set in. There was the ragged, low breaths, skin all aflame in the worst sense... And here before her was such a one, and her heart was not immune, but she steeled against it all the same. “I will need you to eat a medicine soon,” she mused artlessly, turning to gather dampened moss and soon-to-use garlic. “But, you will take it after I get you cleaned up.”

Her tone broached for no argument, and the silver made a note in the back of her mind to help Verx roll upon his belly later — just so she could inspect his other side. “Teik ai get in taim yu gaf in som...” Other than that, he didn’t need to speak to her if he didn’t wish to; the herbalist set to work regardless, pressing what wet moss she’d rationed to flush any grime and shallow contamination from his wounds.

He nodded at her words, in both common tongue and Trig, and allowed himself to relent to her ministrations -- whatever they may be. Verx was too tired to fight her at this point. He was also very aware that without her help, death was likely. And again, if not for the kids. . .

Why did you leave Diaspora? he questioned, voice dull and thick with phlegm. He hadn't ever gotten a straight answer from her and wondered if it had something to do with Dennan. Why hadn't Stigmata and Mahler chased him away, then?

Surely one demon, no matter how insidious, was no match for an entire pack.

I wish you would have waited for me to come back, he continued, frowning. I was just about to come back, too.

Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t; Aure raised her chin to better look into his face, argent eyes steeling, inscrutable but never reproachful, “I challenged Stigmata, for I didn’t believe in his views,” then, before any interjection, ”Their numbers had dwindled, and he was most certainly setting out to recruit drive — rather than it be a subordinate. Tell me, with ze Kapitën so absent, too, would Diaspora have remained as secure with only subordinates to guard it?” The lessening in numbers, a dastrous djinn on a rampage...

Sure, she’d been Pionier there; or, more specifically, simply woken up one morning and had an outrageous burden upon her shoulders before she even yawned. ...Aurëwen hadn’t earned it, though, and she hadn’t earned the Diaspora’s respects; she had no voice against their creed, no say in who should be on recruitment drives, no matter how much they’d lauded that she had.

“I understood that there was more danger putting our children out into ze world as I did, with that bastardi on ze loose. But I did what I thought was right for them — challenged him, because I did not take too kindly to a tyrant’s beliefs, of treating our children’s futures as if he owned them. I did not take too kindly to ze like beliefs of those others; who made it abundantly clear that if someone did not agree, then they were to leave. I challenged him, I lost, we left, and I’ve learnt of what I could have done before it.”

She’d kept that inside her, and alongside that meeting, it had festered with the feelings of growing contempt — until it came out as an unsolicited challenge against Stigmata. Not even to take his place ...but to show them physically  (as they desired)  that she wouldn’t stand for such lording over their persons; such onerous thoughts of no consideration or hope for alternative.

”But I do not regret my choice ...only that I didn’t consider our children’s words beforehand. Any longer, though, and they would have flourished in his ludicrous visions, and I would not stand for it. ...But perhaps I should have stayed. Perhaps I should have included ze children on it. Perhaps...” She sighed, soft and slow, and drew back, gaze flickering over his face before she paused; returned with more moss, slurring a “Keep still,” through it before she gently daubed at the crusting of his watery eyes, his dried nose. Dragostea... 

“You really think our children were going to live there and be safe there?” Her voice was lilting, wondering, unassuming, despite her heavily biased views of that strand; despite feeling that she’d continue to bring more danger to them. Through her actions, and that of her desecrator. “You did try, and you did hope, I know, and... Verx...”

She didn’t quite know what to do with that feeling.
No, scratch that: Aurëwen had absolutely no idea what she was feeling, or what she should be feeling; couldn’t focus on that myriad just yet. 

But she drew from Verx all the same, studying him with a quiet gaze, before resuming to clean the remainder of his wounds presented to her. “I... I just know amends will be made, comoara. I don’t know when, or how, but... I’ve humbled from what I did wrong of things that I thought were right.” A wisp of a sigh finished that wondering sentence, ruffling the furs upon his ribs.

He turned to her in some surprise, brows raising nearly to his ears. She had challenged Stigmata?! Then again, of all the brazen things Aure had done, at least this made sense to him. Better to take a chance on yourself than suffer under the leadership of one you couldn't follow.

Yeah, he knew that all too well. And he wasn't shocked she had lost -- but there was a small measure of pride in her within his glazed eyes as he nodded, accepting the explanation.

Then it was her turn to question him, and he grew somewhat annoyed, though not like before. I did think that, yeah, he grumbled. Once. I thought I might be able to change things there. Be a good leader. Turn a new leaf.

Vercingetorix cleared his throat and found himself suddenly paralyzed, as if standing near the border of Easthollow once more. Seeing the chaos, the carnage. . . I went with Blackhead on a raid to a pack that'd wronged her, he said slowly, choosing each word as carefully as one navigating a minefield. She had cause to hate them. But she -- she killed a kid --

He felt bile rise within him and retched, the fever swelling up like a wave. Dizzy, he lay back down, closing his eyes -- and then opening them when all he saw was that pup's broken, still body.

I explained what happened to the rest of the pack and they didn't believe me, he growled, his stomach churning. Pretty much made fucking excuses for her. So I took over -- and was challenged, and ousted. So again. . .fuck Rusalka, he spat, and then fell silent.

They both had made mistakes, errors in judgment. But they were, at their core, honorable wolves, and he saw that clearly now. He hoped that, with time and with healing, their children could, too.

’I thought I might be able to change things there. Be a good leader. Turn a new leaf.’ She felt those words as if they’d been sent from his tongue and upon hers — well, in some sense, anyways. The supposed nomads of Diaspora were a fine fettle of wolves, and she’d known, at least, that even if she had secured the mountain lake, they’d be more than reluctant in following one such leader as sentimental as her. Entranced by her own musing, she failed to note the sliver of pride in Verx’s fevered gaze. ...But, perhaps, maybe someday, somewhere, somehow, they could be just the leaders they wished to be.

Feeling him go rigid, then, drew her out of her moseying thoughts, and Aure continued to listen as he spoke to her blind side, sifted through her gathering of greens... and then came pause, with only her warrior’s retching, her own paralysis, and the unstoppered flow of blood from the trees to fill the bated quiet. A child. A babe. There was nothing she could say to such an evil act; vengeance was one thing, which Caiaphas most certainly had in spades, but this... this...

He needed something to dissuade his train of thought, even if only for a little while; even if it was ridiculous of her. So... without voicing his turmoil  (without letting this horrendous information disturb her further)  the silver let her voice drop into what she believed was reminiscent of his own:

“You are burning up, and not in a good way,” she trilled leisurely, echoing his own words from moons and moons ago. “I need you to get on your belly,” trying and failing to hide the little foxline smirk as she turned back to him with a lift of her chin. They could return to speaking of serious matters soon, after he followed her faux-command. 

Aure stept around him, pressing the cool pink of her nose to his chin — unable to resist a kitten-lick there, as her restraint was paltry. “Ai souda huk op yu moun tagon,” she sighed, voice once again her own lulling timbre. “You’re so warm...”

If her words impressed him as sensual, she didn’t realize it — or maybe, she did, with how she hastened to settle down alongside him, flustered. But even this moment was reminiscent of them: though she braced her twiggy weight against the pulsing heat of his broad back, the herbalist couldn’t quite meet his eyes all of a sudden. So warm. Warm, like the flame he’d kissed to her throat the day he’d returned to their family.

Fuck. Fuck fuck.
She’d fallen right into her own snare that she didn’t even know she’d set.

He’s sick. Fever. You can’t be serious right now, you need to stay focu—
Aure stared ahead, and would’ve been the poster-girl for resolve if her voice didn’t do what it did next: “Wh-whenever you are ready. I am, ah, here.” She sure as hell was tense enough to bear his rise now.

If he noticed the reference (spoiler alert: he didn't) Verx didn't show it, and did as he was told, rolling up to his belly with a groan. He did, however, notice her smirk, and the way she came close, touching, crooning. . . Irritation tinged with some amusement rippled through him, and he let out an extended sigh through flared nostrils, shifting slightly away.

I appreciate your confidence in me, but I'm not down to fuck, he said, looking past her shoulder into the forest. I'm tired, Aure. Just do what you need to do and let me go back to sleep.

It seemed like they were on completely different pages -- fucking different novels -- in terms of intimacy. Sure, he could still pork her and be fine with it, if he turned his brain off, but the emotional chasm between them was still far too vast to be bridged by sensual pleasure. She, however, still acted. . .like nothing had changed. Like they hadn't messed up several things between the two of them, for both themselves and for the kids.

Things were different, now. The carefree sex romps within the redwoods of Drageda were long past them, and he wasn't sure whether they'd ever get back to that point. Maybe one day, after everything had been mended. But would that day come?

Fucking hell. . .he was getting existential. Must be the goddamn fever.

She’d been tensed, prepared to help him shift into his stomach so she could work on his other side despite her own fever — and then his words promptly doused it, and a sullen shiver touched her figure. Perhaps she hadn’t even realized how she must’ve seemed, just now; yet words of her own flew to the tip of her tongue, ashamed words: Never meant to appear that way, or, I’m terribly weak-willed when it comes to you. Don’t you know? “That was not my intention,” she settled on, finally, quietly, ears casting away as she eventually resituated him. Should she apologize for the way her body felt for his, even now? When her mind, at least, knew there was more at stake than another romp? “...Forgive me.”

So, once she’d cursed herself to herself some several times within her mind, her countenance returned to its guarded inscrutability; and her eyes only brightened, hardened with previous focus. The silver made even shorter work to the scars along this side; applying poultice and scrutinizing repetitively when she’d eventually finished. 

“Verx?” She couldn’t meet his eyes, either, still a bit burnt by her unnecessary immodesty... Instead, her gaze went to some indiscriminate patch of herbs which she’d purposefully leftover. “What was my intention was to show you this.” And so, she toted the rest his way — perhaps now an attempt to salvage what little progress they’d sort of made, too:

“This is coltsfoot. It is a... a numbing agent, for aches and pains. If you are recovering from them, take two leaves every several hours. However, if you need to fight, take three. Your wounds will open, and you will bleed, but you should be able to rejoin battle.” An uncertain pause. Then: “Of course, I suppose it... it only makes sense if you have it in store.” But without further ado, Aure went on to describe the locations of which the plant thrived, words quick and quiet; picking her way about her warrior; chucking bits and scraps of roots and green hither and thither into the undergrowth.

“I’ll have even more confidence in you, Verx, if you come to remember all of that,” she huffed softly, coming to halt some pawprints before him. “Is there anything else you need?” Aure enquired from over a spire of a shoulder; shorn features hesitant as her elusive, worn-out eyes finally decided to meet his own. “I won’t be too far, either way.” 

Sure, he responded quietly, less a jab and more a way to wave the issue away. He was too tired to dwell on the matter. His libido had fallen below zero over the past few moons; circumstances really had a way of killing any boners you might think of getting. When she said his name again, he looked up, meeting her eyes once more.

It might as well have been pig latin she was speaking to him, because he knew fuck all about plants. Still, Vercingetorix tried his best to pay attention, nodding intermittently, gaze raking over the greenery.

I won't, Verx joked softly, then shrugged. But thanks. I'm sure I'll figure it out. He shook his head, weariness pulling hard at the edges of his consciousness. No, Aure. . .thank you. I just wanna sleep. Slowly, gingerly, he lowered himself back down; it was as if there were weights attached to the ends of his eyelids. They shut, and he lost himself in darkness --

And perhaps he romped wildly in his dreams, but Verx was much more likely at this point to envisage ripping Caiaphas and her mouthy daughter limb from limb, instead.

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The silver only nodded at his words, his thanks... and when he roosted down and closed his eyes once more, she turned from Verx and left him to be at whatever peace he found in his dreams. And as she found hers in foraging, well...

With a hesitant, so sorely hesitant hope that things just might mend between parents and their children, even just this bit — she lost herself in greens once more.