Hushed Willows There's a warning written in the corners of your face

I'd love a @John while the group is here!

Reverie was beginning to feel — neglected. And she knew that was unfair of her; a product of the ever-present paranoia that plagued her daily, a projection of past hurts that had never quite faded. By now she'd learned to ignore the feeling. But that didn't make it sting any less.

Bitterness lingered on her lips, and so she sought time away to clear her head. Reverie instead turned her attentions to the little group in their home, their needs, their sadness. She hunted for them here and there. And today she sought the man, the one who had reminded her for a moment of Lestan. He was pretty too, in his own way. But Reverie was beginning to sour on the appeals of men. It was with a host's hospitality that she approached him now, nothing more.

John had found a quiet spot under a grand willow tree to rest and clear his mind, pray, or maybe even both. This new territory was beautiful, as was all the land, being that it was God’s creation. The other great part of this journey was the hospitality that the blonde woman, Reverie, gave openly to them. A time passed, and just as he had finished his quiet session, the very woman he thought about showed up: He stood, greeting her, “Good day, Reverie.” A question followed: “How May I help you?” Asks a man who wants nothing more than to help others. But, if she wanted to simply talk, that was fine too.

John was not difficult to find. Reverie offered a quiet smile, eyes drifting from him just for a moment — and that was when she saw it —

a flash of gilded feathers long forgotten; the vision which had once plagued her at Swiftcurrent Creek, now symbolic to Reverie in a way that sent a rush of fear down her spine. It would never leave her, would it? She would always be haunted by this.

Did you see that? She breathed, not hearing what John said at all, though she knew that he had not. It was a product of her mind; it was madness given form. And she was afraid.

Her eyes left him, gazing off into the distance. He looked where she was looking, and when she asked if he’d seen whatever it was she had. He looked, and looked, but saw nothing other than the waving of the Willow tree’s limbs. “I’m sorry, Reverie. I don’t see anything other than the waving branches….” “Is everything okay? If there’s something you’d like to talk about, I listen without judgement.” He said and smiled warmly.

She finally tore her eyes away from the trees, struggling to focus on John when she did look at him. Her gaze was fogged, distant even as she blinked at him. I, um... Reverie swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to where she'd seen the bird.

Sometimes I see things that aren't real, The confession slipped from her thoughtlessly, breathlessly. Tears filled her eyes. It would occur to her later that she should not have shared this with a stranger, much less one she'd offered to house for a time! But in the moment Reverie thought nothing of it; in fact, she thought very little at all just then.

John could sense something was amiss, but he stayed, he listened, tried to understand. Her eyes moved from the empty tree line to him, but they had begun to fill with tears. He thought about what to say, something hopeful. — “That’s okay. I see nothing wrong with it, it simply means you’re special.” He told her, accompanied by a warm smile. “Ya know, I’ve heard of a man who could interpret dreams. What they meant and why. He was filled with a Holy Spirit that gave him that ability.”

The story he told was passed down from many, many years ago. An ancient tale of a man named Joseph, as it was part of his and his family’s beliefs. But he hoped that perhaps this may help Reverie. 

“By the way,” he began, “We never formally introduced: I am John. I’m a traveling wolf with hope to help whoever I can. Bring them joy, or perhaps comfort, maybe guidance. I am also a preacher of God the father and the Holy Spirit. Spreading his words, his teachings.”

reverie had explained to him the troubles of her mind, the things that had come back to haunt her as of late.
sometimes she heard things; saw things that were not there. and while, at first, his reaction had been one of confusion, the newlywed pair had begun to settle into a routine, as they did with most things. he had begun to train himself to recognize the look in her eye when something is bothering her. he had begun to show her proof that it was only her mind.
such a beautiful mind she had, he thought; one too creative for its own good.
and, as of late, he hovered near her, perhaps a bit too close at times. he watched her interactions with others. he made sure no one said or did the wrong things; even little blossom and mae. some would call it overbearing — he would call it being protective. he did not think she minded much either way.
their seaborne guests had settled, for the time being, and this brought him peace — but still, he had his reservations, as anyone would. and as he lumbers through the clearing, he began to understand why.
god, the father. the realization slams into him like a loaded truck. the memories set him aflame.

this fucking guy was about to indoctrinate his psychotic-break-having wife.

he's pretty sure his steps rock the earth down to the mantle. he has to fight his hackles as they threaten to bristle. instead, he forces a big, big smile, and makes himself known from behind the pair with a simple, friendly question: i beg your goddamn pardon, john?

Shifting my timeline around a little, gonna edit some internal dialogue in the previous posts but it won't affect actions or spoken dialogue!

It simply means you're special. Reverie blinked, caught off guard by it. Special. Filled with a Holy Spirit. Hadn't she thought of herself as such, once? But she had never been the special one, no, not her; the twins were special, never her (but what if he's right? What if —)

But before she could ask further about what this meant, this talk of Holy Spirits and God, there was Boone — and she could feel the agitation rolling off of him in waves. Reverie too had begun to learn cues; she'd learned to recognize when it was time to fall back on his instincts rather than trust her own. And though she was suddenly certain she did not at all understand what was going on here, she knew that now was one of those times, and she trusted him.

She moved to press her flank to his, seeking nonetheless to smooth the situation over; John was just telling me about, um, interpreting dreams. And the Holy Spirit. Whatever that meant. She cast wide-eyed glances between the two men, questioning but full of trust for her husband. Special. Was she, truly?

After he had spoken, he fell quiet. But without a moments notice, a big man had came up behind the pair. John had a chilling feeling within this man’s presence, even though he wore a big smile. He stood up and turned to face the man, so his back wasn’t exposed. Reverie, in turn, stood and pressed up against him, telling him what John had been telling her. He realized this must be her husband: “Good day, sir. I’m not sure what you mean…. Is there a problem?” It seemed whenever John spoke of his religion, his lifestyle, some reacted in strange ways. Despite this, he still spoke about it. “I was simply telling your wife about a story of long ago. I also thought it best to formally introduce myself.” 

reverie reaches for him immediately. he greets her with a kiss to the space between her ears. the holy spirit, huh?
holy spirit.
the eyes made of oakwood simmer as his gaze splinters in the direction of john. that's great. my wife and i ain't interested. a long time ago, his mama would've smacked him upside the head for this, for telling off a preacherman; but she sure as hell wasn't here to tell him to stop.
if you know what's good for ya, sir, you'll keep yer beliefs to yourself. you ain't gonna come into my home and spread yer gospel like i ain't been 'round the sun enough times to know about folks like you. he shuffles forward until he eases downward into a sit, making it clear that he was now going to be present for the remainder of this conversation.

She definitely didn't understand what was going on. But that was alright; Reverie had never been among the most focused creatures the wilds had to offer. While Boone was more or less telling John off, clearly incensed by whatever the Holy Spirit was, Reverie was pressing her nose into his ruff and thinking herself far more subtle than she was. Even in his anger, Boone was distractingly handsome. His mention of beliefs stuck out to her, though.

After a few minutes and the painfully slow turning of a few cogs, Reverie realized — oh, this was about religion —

I'm sure the Holy Spirit is very nice, She added a little anxiously, finally prying herself away from her lovestruck inspection of her husband. Mother Rain; Father Fire. God, the father. For the first time in a very long time, the fear of her past was resurfacing. But, um, maybe we could - talk about something else. Do you like flowers, John?

John is taking his leave. :D If you two wanna continue it, that’s fine.

John was surprised, but he shouldn’t be at this point. Just another wolf who takes such an innocent man and finds some fault within him, just as Dinah had, and he knew this. But why? This he would try and figure out later, right now, he needed to diffuse this situation. “I apologize sir, I had no intentions of pushing it on your wife. I was simply talking about it, as it’s part of who I am, and it’s no secret.” He explained with a smile, trying to put on a happy face. Reverie, who had still remained with her husband, who now sat down asserting his presence, offered that they speak of something else: Flowers. John didn’t have knowledge in flowers, other than the names of some, so he decided it was time to excuse himself. “If you two don’t mind, I feel I must go. Reverie, it was a pleasure, and I wish you the best.”

On this note, he trotted off. He had no intentions of staying in a place where he had once again been ridiculed. He assured himself that they could be nice folks, especially Reverie, but he and his band were leaving, so he had no need to forge any close bonds.

last from me as well!

it don't matter, boone's nostrils flare with the grizzly anger that now pushed to the front of his expression. may not've been yer intention, but that's exactly what yer doin'. my wife ain't some charity case who needs jesus on her side, and she sure as shit don't need to hear yer folktales from over yonder. we let you and yer friends in as a courtesy. i highly suggest you show us some respect.
his eyes do not stray from the sand-painted figure until he disappears into the willows. silence swallows him until he can will himself to speak again.
i grew up with folks like him, he murmurs. jesus followers. it's a, um. they think they're so nice and charitable. but some of 'em are... vicious. try n' control you by tellin' you you're gonna burn in hell if you don't listen to some preacherman. and their modus operandi is to convert anyone willin' to listen.
the bristling of his fur settles as he reaches to wrap an arm across reverie's shoulders. if anyone tries to tell you about the holy spirit again, you tell me. alright?
he would not part from her until the thud of his heart came to a slow, calm beat.

Her sudden understanding of the situation gave her a new perspective, and as Boone went on, Reverie found herself grateful for him, for his defense of her. It was disconcerting to realize how easily she'd almost been taken in by the notion that she might be special. She pressed her nose to his cheek as he started to explain, hoping the gesture would convey that she understood.

I will, She promised softly. My - my family was - very religious. It was different, but... the fear and control, that was the same. Our whole lives revolved around it. And I - I used to think I needed religion to have meaning in my life. For a long time. But - She kissed his muzzle. Now I have you. And that meant she was special, if only for the fact that Boone had chosen her. She was the one he wanted to spend his life with. That was all the meaning she needed. Reverie pressed herself into his arms and kissed him, and kept kissing him until she felt his heartbeat turn slow and steady — and then she kissed him a little more.