Firefly Ravine when i was alone, you promised the stone from your heart

there was a meteor shower above that went wholly unnoticed. it drizzled, still, and the sky was clouded over. 

but there were lights in the ravine. 

why was he still here? cam pondered this question as he stared at the brush, watching the fireflies flicker. light, then nothing; light, but now elsewhere. little lanterns, too beautiful even for a world full of wonder. 

he ought to head to neverwinter forest. lingering here was doing nothing but weigh him down. he'd come to this place after mummy had died, and he could still hear (perhaps), above the din of frogs and crickets, the echoes of his grief. 

well. maybe it was catharsis, some sick desire to wallow in his past. ziggy had been incredulous about his wanting to return south —

there's nothing down there for us!

but there was mal. maybe ibis and okeanos somewhere, too. mummy's bones, and the willows of his birth. 

and this place, the sanctum of fireflies. cam sat beside the stream, caught in the midnight mist, watching them move. so graceful, so purposeful in their every action. 

maybe he'd come back looking for purpose, too. god knew he hadn't found it yet.

Dante has begun to understand family. It's not that he hadn't had a family before Seelie, not technically. He had. Yet, he's not sure he ever experienced family with them, always floating somewhere outside of the inner circle, meandering along the outskirts. He's right in the thick of it in Seelie. It's the little things, he thinks (and feels horribly cliche for thinking so). It's sharing a meal with Lumiya or an unexpected cuddle with Valiant and talking about the wolves he's met along the borders, or hearing one of Eleuthera's songs as he does his hunting for the day. It's actually missing Orlaith's fire or seeing Fionn high off his arse under the willow boughs. It's family. He's horrified that he might love it.

It's not that he's not proud to be a part of the court, in fact, most days he reflects on just how lucky he is to have a home there. But it chokes him a little, to love something so much. It kills him to care so deeply for his packmates, and even more so because the threat they've been facing has put each one at risk. Dante never thought of himself as someone afraid to love, and yet he fears he's become such a person too late, when his walls have already been knocked down and the faeries have paraded their way into his heart. It's not fair. Dante has to get away sometimes, from the love, just so he can breathe. Today is one of those days.

He finds himself surrounded by fireflies once he finally comes out of his mind. He's not sure when he got here, he figures it can't have been so long, or he would've noticed the flickering luminance by now. He also would have noticed the scent of another that's now startlingly clear as his paws carry him aimlessly through the glen. The fur on his neck prickles slightly and the mouse takes it upon himself to observe his surroundings thoroughly for once, his eyes settling on the sylph-like silhouette of a shadow-cloaked stranger. He observes them, their stillness in the quiet evening, carefully. Eventually, the young man chuffs quietly, offering no further greeting as he awaits their reaction.

he started slightly at the sound of pawsteps, but a glance in that direction quickly determined there was no threat. the scent of the willows was on the man's pelt, though he couldn't make out any familiar features in the darkness. cam gave him a brief nod in response to the chuff, remaining quiet but not unwelcoming for a moment as he gathered his scattered thoughts.

what is your pack like? he finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him (as usual). no greeting, no pleasantries, just an inquiry. cam wondered whether the wolves that now inherited his birthplace were like elysium—warm, gentle, magnanimous.

it was both a blessing and a curse, the latter of which he'd discovered when trespassing on the mountain. he hoped for their sake that they took a little more care in teaching their pups that not all souls were kind.

He picks his way forward over the soft terrain delicately once an acknowledgement is given, his eyes finding the stranger's face in the dark as they begin to speak A crooked smile tugs at his maw in response to their first words; Dante find himself having so much small-talk, these days. It's the nice thing, he thinks. He's polite, so every stranger speaks to him with a sort of half-baked politeness rather than actually divulging anything about their lives or posing any raw questions for him. The stranger does not offer him the nicety of small talk. He's never been more grateful. 

We're a family, he murmurs as he draws up to just several feet away from the stranger, meeting their viridian gaze as he settles into a comfortable sitting position. Founded by faeries. We're peaceful folk, I believe. I like to think that if there's really good and bad that we're afforded the graces of the good side. You're a traveller, right? The question is posed just as he flicks his gaze over their obsidian coat, inhaling once more and again finding no strong traces of other wolves on his pelt. Dante's head tilts slightly as he observes them, eyes narrowing with curiosity where he watches.

a family. what the man described sounded a lot like what cam remembered of elysium, sans the reference to faeries and all that. it was comforting to know that similar-minded folk now inhabited the willows. the place was too idyllic and peaceful for blood to stain its paths.

sort of, he replied. but i was born in hushed willows. my mother and her friends are buried there. it's a nice place. riddled with nightmares for him, sure, but still undoubtedly very nice. he hoped the faeries took good care of it.

cam brought his full attention to the other wolf, then. i'm cam, he introduced himself briefly, then waited for the stranger to speak again.

The ebony man's words catch on Dante's ear as he listens, his gaze curious (and sharply so) as they dart over his face. He's not the first wolf who Dante's met that's claimed the Willows as their birthplace, and his maw parts to note just that, but a more formal introduction than they'd first granted each other is being offered. His maw clicks shut and his mouth lights with a warm smile, gaze softening as he exhales a friendly, Dante. It's a pleasure, accompanied by an easy dip of his head. 

When no further remark is made, he tries once again, his tone easy and inquiring, You say you were born here. You wouldn't happen to know an Eleuthera, would you? She's a silvery-type? Sweetest bird I've ever met, honestly. His voice trails off, only for the young man to realize the question's been thrown out bare of any context. He catches himself, eyes widening and his whole body quirking up a bit to tack on a, She was born in the willows too, during another reign, I mean. I reckon it's possible you might come from the same one?

he nodded, smiling. she greeted me at the willows, he replied. the reverential way in which dante spoke of the faerie went unmentioned by cam—though not unnoticed. her mothers helped raise me when i was a boy, although she'd left the forest by then. he was glad olive and seabreeze rested alongside his mother. . .even if he'd never see any of them again. they were together.

they called it elysium, then, cam explained. it was peaceful, but i was never taught about wolves that would hurt me. i learned that the hard way. i hope you and the other faeries are better at protecting each other. 

it was a casual warning but stark in its abruptness. cam didn't wish moonspear's vicious (though justified) attack on anyone, much less the folk that called his birthplace home. being on the road had sharpened his instincts; though still soft inside, he knew better now. it was his place to teach others better, going forward.

I'm so sorry for the lengthy delay, school has been really screwing me over lately and it's been hard to find time to write. thank you for your patience! Also this post is a mess, so i apologize for that as well haha

Dante's attention from the man is unwavering as he listens, the gentle grin that graces his lips lighting up his whole demeanor when he hears cam was fortunate enough to have encountered the silvery singer. Dante himself hasn't had a chance to speak to the woman in much too long now; he makes a mental note to steal a conversation with her the next time he has the chance. 

Elysium, he echoes the name as hardly a whisper, testing out its foreign sound on his lips momentarily before humming and noddding along to the other's words. The shock that creeps through him at the end of the man's remark is fleeting but sharp, making the back of his neck prickle hotly. If the faeries are to survive the havoc Donovan and his followers are sure to cause, they will have to be able to protect each other, to have each other's backs at any moments notice. Surely...surely they'll be alright though. They're a family now, they've begun to understand each other and how each individual adds to their dynamic now, each one part of a greater whole. Surely...

His head snaps back to the shadowed man once he realizes he's grown idle, clearing his throat and offering up a nod. I hope so as well, he murmurs in response, brow furrowed in thought. And I'm sorry the boy continues in a gentler voice, for your losses, I mean.