Redtail Rise the thousand-and-second tale of scheherazade

Avicus had been withdrawn since returning to the Rise from Bearclaw Valley.

she hunts alone, feasts alone, sleeps alone. she dreams fitfully of Astara, and Merrick—the two of them reunited!—and of Aventus and his strange new mien. 

she is ravenous when wakeful, as if every pound of flesh consumed will bring her family together again.

she vomits up whole portions, and wanders dizzily away from the steaming pile.

today, the Wealda lays in a shady corner of the rendezvous, gnawing in idle fashion on an old shin bone. her heat has passed, and there is no indication that she's filled with life as that vixen had been.

everything and nothing had changed.

she should have killed Laurel when she'd had the chance.

He felt it again.

Some sort of...whisper in his soul, a strum of his bones. The same urge to stretch beyond the rise and bring home more worthy bodies. An experience that was only heightened by the distance of their Wealda and the way her heat no longer lingered.

Today he could find her though.

Teeth scraping along bone an a uniquely appealing sound. As if she strummed chords just for him to hear. A worryingly romantic thought, wasn't it?

He rumbled warmly towards her and sought approval to keep her company.

Prophet.

she feels his hot, red eyes upon her, and gives a nod, easing sideways a bit to allow him by her side. she ceases gnawing, a string of drool trailing from her lips to the worn ivory before she swipes it away with a tongue across her jowls.

Avicus lays in silence, but draws close to her Berserkr, his giant presence a comfort to her turbulent mind and body. 

he may be a father. she does not want to think otherwise—that her womb is empty.

and yet, nothing. no movement. no rotundity.

she's never seen a woman carry children to term.

i love her so much that i am eagerly typing this from work, pls excuse typos

If she allows him, he wishes to lay along the curve of her spine. A near protective covering against her form, as if was a shelter against whatever storm had gripped her.

Motherhood, he thinks.

How soon will they know?

How soon will she know?

He does not plague her further with such questions or topics. Instead he sought to show his appreciation for her, if she did not push him away. A silent grooming of the ruffled furs along her back. It was undoubtedly a tender moment for the war chief, but he was not a barbarian every waking moment.

you are too sweet ;-;

she grants him such permission.

the weight of him against her is like an anchor in the storm. it cements her to the earth, against the turbulent thoughts and fears and loathings that seek to drag her far away.

she is content by his side.

content enough to speak, as he grooms: my fah'her die'dh.

a long, deep breath, then: our ol' enemy. 'hey kill ea'hh oh'her.

grief burns hot and sharp in her breastbone.

He speaks her language by now.

The silence, the parsed words.

He can taste the grief rolling off of her, it taints the warmth he feels from her. This is why you keep away, He whispered in the fire of her nape. So desperate to soothe her, so keen to comfort her.

He thought of everything she had given him, the things she still might give him.

How do I heal you from this?

another deep inhale, nodding once at his question-not-question. Avicus places her muzzle on outstretched paws.

"how do i heal you from this?"

you don't.

be wi' me, she says instead, looking ahead at things that aren't there. don' go.

if there are children, he will be a father. perhaps the father; she doesn't know how the genetic lottery works. strong man, loyal man. 

steady, unlike her own sire. rooted to the earth.

d'you. . .believe in a godhh?

Never,

And he meant it.

She had scooped him up from barren lands, given him purpose. He was her Berserkr. How could he part from her?

My mother said she had visions in dreams. Believed in the power of things outside of our control. Look at his name, look at the name he had bestowed upon the Clawan. I haven't indulged myself in such things in some time.

He had been rooted in the physical since his arrival to the Rise.

goodh, she quickly replies upon hearing his first word, before waiting for the rest. but she does listen, and finds herself sagging in relief. no more fanatics. no more lunatics.

my fa—merrick believe in bear godh, Avicus explains. he wa' madh. i canna' have madnehh' here.

but she does mourn. Avicus curls against Prophet, feeling exhaustion and nausea and grief pull at her all at once, dragging her into another nightmare-riddled sleep. she struggles to keep her eyes open, her body alert.

malaise. and she doesn't know it for what it truly is.

We will rid it, if it finds home here.

This he felt certain of. Madness had no place in a pack of order, of warriors. One bad apple could spoil the bunch, so to say.

While she struggled with slumber, he remained awake. Alert as well. Gently tending to her fur while his eyes looked out for any who might approach.

can either be a fade or can keep going, up to you <3

quick fade to keep her active aaaaaaa

when has she felt this content? by her mother's side, she thinks. it's strange to equate the shadow with this hulking man, but they both bring her the same amount of comfort.

at least enough for her to fall asleep at his side, and haunting dreams be damned.