Stone Circle And I end the story that we didn’t even get to start

Wounded no longer and better off than before, the spring brought with it the strength to keep going. Alexander mostly kept to himself, avoiding those of no relation and hardly paying even his family much mind; he had a task in mind, something he needed to do to be at peace. To prove words spoken, to reveal himself fully—there was much to do. Eventually, he knew he would need to seek out a meeting with his sister but, for the time being, his mind was preoccupied.

Moving through the territory, Xan was hardly into the outskirts when he was off, shooting forth after a hare; it zigged and zagged and he followed after, stopping only when it was limp between his jaws. The part of him that remembered starving, remembered the famine, wanted nothing more than to devour it right then and there. But the albino resisted and, instead, turned his attention towards @Laurel, who he started at a steady trot to find.

After her run-in with Merrick Laurel had stuck to herself. She hadn't frequented her normal sleeping area much, even though it was where others knew not to bother her -- even her own children -- but she had stayed away, made sure no one found her, until her neck had healed again, had healed enough. The wounds were scabbed over now and some of the fur was regrowing, but the memories remained. She needed to leave Easthollow, but in truth she knew that she wouldn't be safe anywhere else. What was the point in leaving?

But what was the point in staying?

What is the point in anything, my dearest?

The voice had stayed with her more since Merrick's attack, had made sure she had no waking moment of rest and had made sure she had no dreams that she could sleep through peacefully.

Laurel's fucks to give had run out so long ago and yet somehow it seemed that there was more the world could have taken from her. Even in death he pestered her everywhere she went.

She saw the flash of white from the corner of her eyes and she startled, felt an unpleasant sensation in her spine as she whirled around only to see the flash of white pass by. She lowered her body but he was off. The scent in the air promised that he had been hunting, something that should've eased her mind, but somehow it did not. Laurel remained low to the ground as she watched him trot, not sure if she wished for him to come closer or stay away. Something inside of her was changing, a feeling that she knew all too well and a feeling that she had tried so hard to stave off entirely this year, but -- her scent told her -- she was appealing -- she was disgusting -- she was -- everything every man wants. No, no, no, how did this happen? How --

But we both know that you want it, really, for him to come close and to -- No, she hissed at the ground to break the words.

It was not her scent that led him to her but the sound of her voice, muffled as it was. He stopped dead in his tracks, ears swiveling atop his head as he determined from where the sound came. Once he had his answer, Alexander was walking in her direction—then stopping again, body growing rigid. For in the air there hung a scent he was all too familiar with, intertwined with her own. Dropping down on his haunches, he let the hare fall from his mouth to the ground, before righting himself and retreating several steps.

“Laurel?” he called out. “I brought you a rabbit.” It was meant to be an offering, a way to show he was trying. But what he discovered that day by doing so made him feel uneasy, uncertain; he refrained from approaching, maintaining a decent distance between himself and where she hid. “Do you want me to go away?” he had to ask, pulling his ears back as he did so. He didn’t want to leave—he wanted to stay, he wanted to be close to her—but Xan, in the back of his head, knew better. He knew better than to allow himself to be his own destroyer; he knew he didn’t have to be that way, he’d known all along but, in the past, it was always easier to give in to instinct. Now, though… now he knew the trouble that, that caused, the pain it inflicted. Now, he wanted to show her he was better, that he really had changed.

When she looked up at him she looked startled like a deer staring into headlights. She didn't move, waited as he called to her and approached her with the rabbit. Held her breath as she waited what was going to happen —

You know what is going to happen, dearest

— But nothing happened and he kept his distance and he asked if she wanted him to go away. Yes, yes, YES, go away, you idiot! But the voice whispered No, let him stay, have a good time, tell him he is sweet, then tell him he's a big freak loser that needs to go away so that he can —

No! she shouted in the end as she still stared at Xan, though it didn't sound as if she was really talking to him. I mean — Whatever, I don't care. She looked at him with a frown behind which emotional eyes showed that she did care. As she frowned she felt the scabbed over wounds in her neck pull painfully as a stark reminder of how fragile she was. Of how easily any man could just take what they wanted.

And with Greyback returned — home — The man who exiled her saviour — The man who had the power to do anything he wanted... But who says he wants you? There's nothing special about you, ugly Laurel. Nobody would want you.

She looked up at him, the only one who said he did want her, and it made her both feel hope and an immense fear that he wanted her.

The shout that left her maw surprised him, yet that surprise soon wilted away when her response was clarified. He watched her, searching for anything that might suggest she did care—but Alexander had never been good at reading emotions, their complexity often leaving him uncertain; he didn’t feel as if he could trust his own judgement. But even still, his eyes did not leave her, not when she spoke nor even as he picked the rabbit back up again. And slowly, cautiously, he made to approach her, intending to get within a few feet before tossing the rabbit her way and promptly sinking to the ground thereafter. Uncomfortable, he looked away and shifted his weight around, searching for the words he wanted to say.

But all that he wanted to say, all that he needed to say, abandoned him. Left him voiceless, unable to explain all that he wished her to hear. So, for now, he asked, “Are you okay?” Are you okay? As the question left his mouth, those same words echoed through his head; it was a stupid question to ask, one he never liked to hear himself, but the only one that didn’t evade his tongue.

Are you okay? he asked.

Are you okay? echoed the ghost of her mind, sweeping her ever into the darkness. Laurel looked down, out of breath, and then slowly raised her head to look up at him, her face a mixture of held back emotions; anger, loneliness, grief, hatred, self-loathing.. but at the top of all of them, a film that lay across the complex different emotions that clearly agonised her, was fear, plain as day to see.

As if realising that she was displaying her feelings for everyone to see -- What would they think?! -- Laurel looked away, regained control over herself, managed to fight back the feelings and bring back the hard woman that he somehow thought he loved.

But she hadn't answered yet.

She'd answered in some way, but she hadn't really answered yet.

Laurel bit her lip, not sure what to say. The truth? What a laughable thought. She didn't even know what the real truth of it was, complex as it was. So what then? Lie? Smile? Pretend? But she couldn't, not anymore, she didn't have the strength left to fight, not without Indra.

Tell him what you want.

All she could think was, I can't do this anymore. All she thought was, I just want to die. All she could fathom,

.. I'm scared..

But when she opened her mouth, she said something else entirely: I want you. The words surprisingly soft because she knew that to keep up an act she needed to make it count, make it sound like something. She looked up at him, her eyes softer then. That's right. You want him. Laurel wasn't sure if this was some kind of test -- to see if he would fall for it so easily again, to see if that was all it was to him -- or if she really wanted him, if the dark voice in her head was right, or maybe this was all just a distraction so she didn't have to tell him

I'm afraid

She could just pretend everything was okay, instead.

When her gaze first met his, he was at a loss for words; fear, clear to see. He wanted to delve deeper, to ask her why?—but she looked away and he was left wondering: were they the same? There were so many things he wanted to ask, so much he needed to tell her, but he couldn’t. Not now, not after that—he was aware enough to understand that questioning was the last thing she needed, and he didn’t want to push her.

And when she opened her mouth, all of those thoughts drifted beyond his reach. There was a moment immediately after that he was taken aback, heart skipping a beat from the suddenness of her words—but they were only words and he couldn’t keep from wondering how true they were. He wanted to believe, more than anything, he wanted to know it was true—

Carefully, he picked himself up and approached her; his movements were slow and steps placed cautiously. He wanted to be close, to be with her again—they could be happy together, couldn’t they? But when finally he reached her, all he could do was attempt to touch his muzzle to her cheek, gentle as a lamb. “No you don’t,” he murmured, unable to look away now. It wasn’t so simple—these things never are.

Tiny steps towards her, tiny steps that made her want to screamd and snarl and snap at him. But that would only make it worse, would make this worse, what was about to happen to her, what would always happen to her, again and again and --

But you wanted it, didn't you?

That's what you just said.

Had she wanted it? Had she given him the impression that she wanted it, just like now with Xan? Had she somehow messed up and was she the one to blame for all of this? The thought was revolting. No, no, no! she wanted to scream, but she couldn't. Because what if he was right? What if the voice was right all along, and all of it was her fault because she hadn't been clear enough?

Step,

step,

step.

Cautious steps, but she knew what he wanted. Because that's what this had always been about. He didn't love her -- he just wanted her. Just like that innocent spring night. When she thought back to it, to the innocence and to her thoughts -- that she could have him because he took her -- all of the memories were charred, a dark lining around all of them, broken and marred, now. As if it wasn't as pleasant anymore as it had really been. As if maybe, she didn't want it at the time at all. As if that, too, was an act of a man taking what he wanted, taking, taking, taking, as they all just did.

Step.

The final step.

He was here, now. She sucked in her breath, looking down to avoid him seeing the fear in her eyes. She didn't want him to see the fear in her eyes because they had taken everything from her. She refused to let them take her dignity, so she would stand here and take it and she would even pretend that she liked it. Because they couldn't know how much this would hurt her --

Oh, I already know

-- and so she would clamp her jaws shut and pretend that it didn't hurt her, that she did want this. To make it easier. She quivered involuntarily when he touched her cheek. Don't let him see your distaste. He said something. It didn't hit her until a few seconds later. She blinked. No, I don't? She wasn't sure what to do or say. Be insulted that he called her a liar or break down and cry cry -- Cry! His voice in her head was all-consuming and wrecked everything apart.

Why do you say that? she said, her voice blank, but not stoic, no, more blank because every emotion at the same time was put into it and she couldn't choose which one should prevail and so it sounded chaotic and pained and at the same time blank on the surface. What makes you think that? Because you're a lousy actress, Laurel. This time it was her own voice talking back. Because he doesn't want you because you're so ugly, A mixture of her own and his. Then, all him... Because, my dearest, it doesn't matter whether you want it or not. He will take it anyway if that's what he wants. She shivered, from head to toe, the kind of shiver that one would have when they've witnessed something absolutely atrocious just now.

There was a silence that followed and he would not break it, watching her just as carefully as before. But when she quivered and shook beneath his touch, he stepped back, offering her the space he’d taken away; at heart, Alexander was not terrible. As awful as he acted, as spiteful and cruel as he could be, that wasn’t him—not truly. He could think of others, he could be mindful of them. And seeing Laurel standing there, avoiding his gaze when the Laurel he knew would have met it straight-on, he felt in the wrong. There was more to this, more to her words that did not match what they said. He wanted to reach out and comfort her but kept himself from doing so, fearful that one wrong move would make things worse.

“Because you’re scared,” was all he said at first, slowly and quietly. He couldn’t read her voice, couldn’t pick out emotions from her tone, but he could read her—she was not the same Laurel he knew, not the same Laurel that took what she wanted, when she wanted it, and demanded respect. There was a change, a quietness to her that spoke volumes—something he understood because he was the same, even if he was yet to realise his awareness.

“What happened?” he asked, concerned. “Why—?” But he stopped himself, the question disappearing just as swiftly as it presented itself. The why didn’t matter as much as the what—what had happened to cause this change in her? What was it that made his own heart clench in his chest, worry and fear combined pricking his skin? What could be done?

He sees right through you, whispered the voice. He was there, he was always there. She wanted to shout loudly that he should leave her alone because he was dead and he couldn't be here. He was dead. He was dead. He was-- You just couldn't say good bye, could you though, dearest? You would far too much miss my big throbbing -- I'm not scared, she snapped back at Xan, though her voice quivered even as she said it. But she needed to say something to cut off the voice in her head, because anything was better than hearing him talk about...

What happened? Yes, tell him, dearest. Do tell him about my children. Tell him how you wanted it. Tell him how you played hard to get. Tell him how you brought this on yourself by calling me names and humiliating me -- No! she shouted suddenly, anger in her voice. I don't owe you anything. I don't have to tell you what happened because you weren't there for me then, so why would you be there for me now? I can't do this, Xan, I can't -- She paused shortly. But you want to tell him, don't -- Don't ask things of me that I can't fucking do! It's not fair! she shouted out loud with teeth bared, her fear making place for anger because right now she could only choose one between the two.

She wanted to be confident and dismissive, or sweet and tender, or anything that wasn't this.. monster.. but she had learned throughout her life that this monster was who she was and now that she no longer had Indra to reel it in and now that she had the voice of her rapist living in her head, she had no idea how to handle the simplest things -- such as simply living.

I’m not scared was the claim she made but he didn’t believe her—he couldn’t. Something wouldn’t let him, some part of him knew it was a lie; perhaps he truly was his father’s son, truly able to read others—or perhaps there was more to it, something deep down, something—

She continued to speak, to shout at him; her anger plain as day, teeth bared. But what she said, he couldn’t deny—he hadn’t been there. He was never where he needed to be, never around to protect those he cared for. He was always a day late and a dollar short, as much as it pained him to be time and time again. “I’m sorry—” he tried to say but the words were quiet, uncertain… an apology wasn’t what he needed to give, an apology was the least valuable thing right now.

“I wasn’t there and… and I’m sorry for that but—” a blink, a glance away, a forced look into her eyes. “—I want to be here for you now. I want you to know you can rely on me… I want to do everything I can for you but I can’t if you won’t let me.” Maybe she was right, maybe it wasn’t fair for him to ask this of her. But it was all Xan could do.

Laurel was glad that he didn't press it. Instead more apologies flowed from his mouth and while Laurel was grateful that he didn't press the subject further it was also a lot to take in. She frowned as he said that he wanted to be there for her now and that he wanted to be relied on. The words sounded foreign when mentioning Xan -- he had been many things in her life, but never reliable -- and though Laurel was afraid she also felt a spark of.. something.. somewhere deep down, something of a desire.

A desire to have someone like that in her life, someone she could rely on and someone who would love her. Indra had been that for most of her life but now she was gone and Laurel knew that it would never be the same. She wasn't sure she could go on, but she had to, each and every day, not because she chose to but because that was what life was about and what it had always been about. And being your own anchor wasn't as easy as being someone else's, having no one was hard and she wasn't sure how much longer she could do it before she made a stupid mistake that would cost her her life. The worst part was that Laurel was not so sure she even cared about that last thing anymore. What if...

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

She looked at the ground, away from him. I'm scared, she admitted. Not just of him -- because he was a man and all they had ever done was hurt her over and over again with pretty lies and harsh actions and thoughtlessness and violence -- but of putting even a small crumble of her heart in his paws, of giving him a small part of herself. And at the same it was so tempting, it was the only thing she could do, the only choice she could make because what else did she have? What, if not for Xan, did she have left to live for?

I’m scared.

A part of him wanted to utter I know but his mouth remained shut; she confirmed what he was already aware of, he didn’t need to further press it. Rather, he inched closer, slowly, ears pulled back out of uncertainty—for how she might react.

“I want to make things right,” he said. “I want to make it so you won’t be scared anymore.” So neither of us have to be scared, he nearly added, stopped only by his own inability to expose himself. Because if Laurel knew the truth, would she even want anything to do with him? Would she still humour his words, his declaration to protect her, if she ever found out? If he couldn’t even protect himself, couldn’t keep the demons away, then...

“Will you let me do that for you?” he asked instead, steering his mind elsewhere. It would do no good for either of them, he told himself, if he didn’t focus on the present; there was no need to revisit his past, no reason to show that piece to her.

At his approach, she tensed visibly, though Laurel stayed in place. You know you want him to touch you, really, she heard his voice in her head, and Laurel's teeth clicked shut as she grind her teeth in frustration. Just like you wanted me. She stayed in place and allowed Xan to come however close as he wanted, though her body screamed that she wanted to run.

He asked her something -- would she let him do that for her? -- and she wasn't really sure what to say. Wasn't sure what she was signing up for by saying yes. Wasn't sure "yes" was even the right answer at all. I'll try, she said in the end, because she was not sure what she should do to let him try to make amends, and so she was not sure if she could truly give that to him.

I’ll try.

The answer was simple enough; not exactly what he wanted but still something he could work with. Something that gave him hope, really, and there was a flicker of that very hope reflected in his eyes. A hesitant wag of his tail, relieved to be given a chance.

“Thank you,” he murmured, although thanks alone did not feel like enough. She was giving him a chance to better things, a chance to stay when all he ever knew was running away. And that was something he would always appreciate.

He thanked her and she nodded, feeling very awkward and out of place all of a sudden. But there's something you still want -- he whispered in her ear, bold, daring, lusting, wanting, longing -- give it to me -- not herself, him, him, he wanted this because of him.

She could feel that her body remembered Xan, remembered a time when she was in the same period of her life, when she had the same urges, except then everything was still good and she was not yet marred by the darkness that surrounded her now. I have to go, she said, almost soft, though she did not leave time for objection or good-byes. She quickly turned and left, tucking her tail to try and avoid spreading her scent further, but wanting to be alone so that she could give all of this mess a place, maybe.

When she spoke next, her voice was different, almost softer than before. And although the words were dismissing herself, the albino remained hopeful. He did not try to argue nor give chase, but merely nodded and watched her go. Xan did not abandon the spot there until she was no longer within his sights, then ended up moving in the direction opposite to her own.