Hushed Willows oneiropólisi

He had not heard; he could not listen. Could not have answered when she'd called for him first. He voice had been lost to the sea, just as he had been.

Now, he coursed inland, unaware he coursed towards her. Only one name rolled through his heart: @Abel Elam, Abel Elam. His charge, since the day Lestan had brought him through the waves.They all had been. Ava. Ana. Tzedeq. But now he had lost him, as he had lost them all.

And all scents of Sweetharbour ran stale.

He had wept to God. For many days, he wandered along the coast. Until three short days ago, fire caught his eye, bright against the late winter snows. 

Feathers burned gold and flickered out like embers. He had followed them, until they disappeared again into the waving arms of the willow trees.

He gazed between the branches, lost in the unknown and the uncanny familiarity.

@Reverie

!!!! Screams softly. Tag for ref (or can be for joining if you want! <3)

It was a familiar scent on the breeze which stirred her from her nap. One she'd never thought to find in the wind again, no matter how much she wished for it. Reverie was breathless as she rose, trembling. @Boone, She whispered. Boone - my brother is here. He - oh, I have to go see him, I -

And there were no more words. She ran. Past the lake and across the meadow and through the marsh, under snow and against the wind. Her belly ached with a familiar cramping feeling, but she hardly noticed. Everett. Everett was here. Reverie didn't even realize that she was already crying by the time she found him. Everett, Her voice was stark over the cut of wind, a single chime of a bell. Snow kicked up at her feet as she stopped. For a moment she could only stare.

And she saw the sorrow in him; the loss. She knew that look so well by now. It was the hallmark of their childhood, it was the cracked glass legacy etched into their veins. A curse, perhaps, that all they loved would always be taken by the fire. That was the thing about fire: it burned and burned until you could no longer feel yourself at all in the flames. Until you became the fire. Everett had seen it in her that day by the river, and now — now she saw it in him.

She went to him, unafraid to touch him, to wrap him in her arms because she was as much a flame as he; both lit by that horrible place they'd run from. It's okay, Reverie murmured to him, though she did not yet know what plagued him. Did it matter? He was here. She would make it okay. It's going to be okay.

<33333 WELL well well you must have read my mind!!

The flames had been a vision. Not real - but they had led him here. Though Everett had never eaten the hallucinogens placed before him in the Gilded Sea, his eyes sometimes saw beyond that which the average wolf could see - yet his mind was not compromised. He'd never lost his wits, and he had since learned his visions did not come from any mushroom slipped under his nose. They came from someone wholly Other.

And He had led him here.

Reverie was crying, and it was such a familiar scene. They had done this before, but those times had been riddled with anxiety, indecision, grief. An eventual parting.

But no more.

Unlike those times, she did not immediately wrap him in her arms. She surveyed him, but he did not feel studied. He did not feel judged. In fact, he only felt tired. So, so tired. Fragile. Small.

Reverie, he breathed out, and soon, she entwined him again, like golden ribbons falling into place in a broken tapestry. And while he buried his nose against the soft down of her neck, he breathed in - exhaled - but he didn't cry. It's okay.

It's going to be okay.

Would it be? Darkness tugged at this world's brightest corners. He had known, seen, felt. Nothing would ever be truly okay. At least, not here; his hope forever peered through that dimly lit glass, and would, until he died.

But, I know, is all he said, because the Shepherd had heard him, and had led him here. To what felt like a daydream. To Reverie.

Let me stay. She felt whole within his embrace. And though he felt broken in places, he was still whole, too. I'm ready to stay.

I'm ready to stay. A small sound spilled from her, somewhere between a breathless giggle and a choking sob. Reverie buried her nose in Everett's fur, overcome with a thousand emotions all at once. He was here, here and finally choosing her. At Swiftcurrent Creek she had needed him to stay; that day at the coast she had nearly begged it of him. And now...

Always, She breathed into his fur. You'll always have a place here. With me. After a moment she pulled away and tried to dry her tears, casting her eyes over him again; lovingly, this time. I've missed you. I - I thought something was wrong when we had travelers pass through from an island. A pale woman with golden eyes and her daughters, and a man named John. The woman called herself The Widow Redhawk.

I wanted to look for you then, but my leg was still healing, and I - this pack, this place - it's mine, Reverie blinked as she said it, still a little dazzled by the concept. Hers; how odd. And now she could share it with him. A brilliant smile cut across her features at the thought. Oh, I can't wait to show you. This is Hearthwood. Come on - Blossom and Boone are at my den. She beckoned for him to follow her, wondering distantly when he would realize that he was soon to be an uncle all over again.

It was hard not to laugh. Just a quiet thing, more a breath and the glimpse of a grin. Soft. Relieved. Happy, to be back in the arms of family. Happy, to have someone again. God did not make wolves to be alone.

Thanks, Rev, by all means, she could have turned him away. Would have had every right! After all, he'd turned away from her at every stop along the way. But maybe she had held out for him. Maybe she had simply been waiting for him to come to her now. Living her life - starting over - but ready to welcome him in, if the day ever came.

And it came.

I missed you, too, but there was more written on her face, and etched into the words she shared. The fate of the Isle crashed over him like the waves had once beaten the rocks along its harbour.

They rocked him.

Somewhere in the telling, he had sat down.

Oh, John. He closed his eyes. Widow. Oh, Caracal... widow! She could only be Heda - and Caracal. The children! A cry choked him, but only silence came. Within, the groan of a prayer, too deep for words. I was looking for one of the children, I didn't -- they rose in glimpses behind his closed eyes - all of them - until he could bear their faces no more. He blinked, and there was only Reverie, something terrible must have happened. Were you able to help them?

Choices, choices, always choices. Always someone he could follow, someone he could help. But Heda had John, a good man, faithful. She would be safe with him.

And Reverie - she had worried for him! Wanted to look for him, but he frowned and gave her a downwards glance. What happened to your leg? And he realized she seemed to glow with a different happiness, one he'd seen before - but this time, healthy. Radiant. Right. And softly, her belly curved, and every thought of seeing the territory, of Blossom and Boone, faded in the reality of - wait.

She could see how her words affected him; he knew them, then, and selfishly Reverie could only think of how none of them had mentioned him at all. The widow had asked that she watch for her son — but nothing of Everett, who had given himself over to the search for a child that was not his own. She wondered briefly about the ones he'd brought to the island, the children who had nearly been her own, but only for a moment. They were not, in the end, hers. And she was beginning to understand the importance of that.

She nodded when he asked whether she'd been able to help, but spoke no more of the wolves who had abandoned her brother. Instead she opted to answer his last question with a breathless, nervous little laugh; Oh, I fell off a cliff. I um -

Wait.

His eyes were on her, on the small curve of her belly. Reverie took in a slow breath, a faint smile on her lips. Yeah, She said, laughing again. I'm pregnant. Again. Boone and I - we're married now. It - it's different this time. We're happy together. We take care of each other.

It's a good life, And she meant that; it was good to have a place to call her own, a husband who wasn't afraid of his love for her, a future to look forward to. It can be yours, too. You don't have to go back to that island. Reverie, too, had left him once. But it'd been different. He'd had others, Evander and all the rest. This time he'd had no one at all.

She would never let him be alone again.