Heron Lake Plateau What a wonderful world

Tag for reference unless you want to post! Little bit of PP while Rei cares for him, let me know if anything needs changing!

It had been days since @Tybault had found her. 

Long grueling days of round the clock care. Today was no different; it was almost routine at this point. She would check on him in the mornings, making sure he was stable enough for her to leave him unattended while she collected herbs and other items that was required for his care. 

And, again, this morning had been no different. She laid there beside him, watching his chest rise and fall, keeping track of his respiratory status due to the use of poppy teas from the extra seeds she had left over to keep him quiet and to dull the pain of changing his wound coverings. The task of healing required her full and unimpeded attention, and though she also suffered the withdrawals—which were now just a dull echo of longing for the sweet relief—she felt pride in herself for it.

It was a nasty habit, one she could have truly found herself in more trouble than she needed had she continued.

As his caretaker for the time being, she would spend much, if not all, of her time in his company, talking to him and humming to him, even though she knew he probably wouldn’t hear her. It also gave her the time to really look at him. Before this, she would only glance his way, her distaste for the male evident. 

Now, her expression was thoughtful, contemplative. Highly intrigued at how different he was compared to his siblings. At the very least, his two-toned coat was the vastest difference. Where the other siblings were made of gold, he was built from tigerseye, though not as eye catching and flashy, he was no less…beautiful. She snorted at the thought, one she would be ridiculed for thinking if she had ever said it out loud—especially by himself.

She thought back to her mother and how obsessed she had been with gems, rocks, stones, crystals, whatever earthly offering the terrain would give her. With everything she found, she would take Reina aside to teach her of its properties, its importance. Tigerseye promoted clarity, attention to detail, known to be grounding—intensely so. An important stone to surround oneself with if occupying a leadership seat as her family once did. And, Tybault? Well, he sure was intense and attentive.

A laugh escaped her. How would he feel being compared to a gemstone? 

“Maybe you could use a little bit of gemstones in your life…I know I sure do.” A sigh escaped her, then. She missed her mother fiercely in this moment. Her father, too. If they were alive and with her now, she was sure they would sing to her, calming her in ways only parents truly can.

She hummed some notes, but it didn’t take long for it to build and form into words, the melody floating around the area as it caught the wind.

“I see skies of blue 

And clouds of white

The bright blessed day

The dark sacred night

And I think to myself 

What a wonderful world

The colors of the rainbow 

So pretty in the sky

Are also on the faces 

Of people going by

I see friends shaking hands

Saying, ‘How do you do?’

They're really saying

I love you”

The tears fell, feeling the weight of her world sit on her shoulders. She never pictured herself here, and wished that time would rewind itself to before, where Mother and Father were waiting for her. She could almost hear her siblings calling her name. The red healer wanted nothing more than to call for them in return, to run to them, and hold them tightly to her chest as she used to do. But, she knew, it was not meant to be, and because he could not protest, she laid her head on his shoulder, careful to avoid the problematic areas, as she cried. For herself. For her family.

Even for Tybault, too.

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The Hound of The Gilded Sea.

By the tradition set by Atlas himself, once-patriarch of the Medeiros family, it was Atlas II who would inherit their legacy. Their oldest brother, so loathed by their father and so adored by the siblings he'd helped raise, had always looked ahead to his future with a steady acceptance. Until the fire. Until Rose.

Everything had changed, then. Abruptly Atlas's favored daughter was nothing more than a broken possession to be sold at a discount, his oldest son a flawed blade wrought with far too many imperfections to ever be wielded, and Tybault... well, Tybault was the only one he'd still trusted in the end.

Get fucked, you old cunt, had been his last words to his father.

Nothing had ever tasted so sweet as the betrayal in his eyes.

Yet there were nights when he missed him, missed The Gilded Sea, if only because it was the one time in his life anyone had looked at him with hope in their eyes. Hope for his future, for what he might become. He'd been made a twisted thing in his father's image, but at least someone had looked at him and thought that they might one day be proud of all that he was.

His siblings had nothing to give but their pity and their disappointment. Poor Tybault, forced to be something he never was; awful, evil Tybault, trying to control them again. But he knew them. He knew that, left to their own devices, they would only ever turn to wildfire spiraling out of control. Their father had been wrong about so many things, but he'd been right about that.

So he'd dimmed his own fire to be something more like the rain. Something like a storm to stand against the flames, to bring solace the only way he knew how. The way he'd been taught.

What no one ever told him was that a Medeiros was a flame, that it was woven into their souls in strands of sunlight — and that when the flame died, so would he.

He was dying.

Or he would have been, were it not for a certain ember whose tireless work kept his flame burning low but steady. Each day his strength returned to him a little more. Each day he roused, just a little, sometimes with a few muzzy blinks of his golden eyes or a low whine of pain under his breath. Never more than that.

Until today.

Today he stirred at the sound of Reina's voice, catching a few words here and there while he slowly registered each new and agonizing aspect of his existence. He was aware first that his mouth was dry; next that the rest of him was aflame, or — or, no, it only felt that way. Tybault blinked, straining to lift his head only to find his nape scabbed and tearing painfully when he moved. He groaned softly and let his head fall back to the ground.

For a time he could do nothing but listen to her song. In The Gilded Sea she would have been a singer, like him. Here, she was nothing but a broken thing calling out to a world that would never listen.

Like him.

Tybault sighed, closing his eyes again. After a time he managed to speak, though his voice was rough with disuse. Gemstones, huh? Got one for severe ass pain? He huffed a brief laugh. Did that fucker get my tail? Honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to look for himself.

One day, she had believed that the Heavens were real; her family and their pack were housed in dens made for kings and wanted for nothing. She also believed that angels were among her here on Earth.

And, then, just like that—there was no Heaven. Not above, or here on Earth. No angels. 

Except…

Through soft sobs, her ears twitched as angels began to sing. It was quiet at first; only a vague, glimmering twinkle just barely audible—muffled, even. The sound was bright, slightly tinny, but wholesome and beautiful. It soon crescendoed into a quiet laughter. 

Her head whipped up, confusion written in every line. Laughter? Laughter!

She turned to find Tybault, still lying prone and eyes closed, but alert for the first time since he came for her. And, he had spoke to her! But, it caught her so off guard, she had not caught his words spoken before his laughter, and so she could only just stare in surprise and a give a sudden laugh his words finally caught up to her. 

And, if she were honest with herself, in selfish relief, as well; she was no longer going to be alone. Did she find comfort in his response because that meant he was healing well, sure, but she couldn’t help but feel the heavy blanket of loneliness ease drift from her shoulders the more alert Tybault would become.

“Tybault!” Remembering that she had been essentially lying on top of him at the peak of her emotional display, she gingerly lifted herself from him, but finding the cold air that replaced their contact leaving her missing the warmth of him. A blush creeped in, quickly erased by a quick shake of her head and a small forced cough, clearing her throat as if her song had dried it out.

His tail? That was what he was most worried about? 

She huffed another small laugh  before she gave him the rundown on his injuries. “I don’t believe I could find one charged enough to dull the pain you must feel right now, although the p-poppy seeds should be helping with that. Your tail is still where it’s meant to be, though the tip had bent somehow. I am not sure if it will heal straight or if there’s permanent damage, but it is somewhat squished between two rocks lying with a straight stick, so, maybe, try not to move your tail? You’ll find it extremely painful as it is—your tail was injured at the base, but it should get better; despite it being slightly limp, it is just over exerted.” A pause to take a deep breath and a sigh to follow, she needed to take a moment. She really did not want to dredge up what he had already gone through.

She went on, her eyes roaming the areas mentioned, with a slight, almost undetectable pause as she reached his face. “You have various cuts and bruising all over, most have healed and some need more time. Those that have been healing, you have the potential to scar. It is yet to be seen if the others will stay, but you have many scars expected to remain. The biggest being your nape, where Ru—he gripped and ripped, but the others are rather thin—nail marks, it seems. A couple on your each side of your lip that travel down to your chin. Three across your right eye…you are lucky they were only superficial. The tips of your ears are slightly tattered, but healed well, already. Overall, I think you got the better outcome.” Obsiously—the other would have been death, and he was very, very much alive. Another cough to shield herself, to turn herself away from the man who saved her.

He saved me.


Her mind whirled as her eyes looked off, unseeing. I was not worth saving. I wasn’t wanted, or needed, in Hushed Willows. So, why? This could not have been tasked to him by Reverie, it would have been from Everett, surely. Wouldn’t it? No, it couldn’t have been from either one of the fallen Angels, they both had washed their hands of her. So, then, why, Tybault, why are you here? Her mind tumbled within itself as it tried to make sense of all that has happened. She wanted to keep speaking to Tybault, but all she could muster was a slightly broken sob, one with filled what could only be described as grief-stricken relief.

He hadn't quite registered Reina's proximity; that was the funny thing about being half-awake and half in a drug-induced haze. Things that seemed like they should have been obvious ended up being quite the surprise. It was when she pulled away that he realized she'd been touching him. Maybe that was why he felt engulfed in flame — and not in a good way.

Everything hurt. Tybault didn't want to imagine what life would be like without poppy seeds just then. So he didn't. Instead he tried again at sitting up, a faint groan slipping from him as he promptly went against the healer's advice. But he quieted when he realized that she was crying again.

Couldn't a guy catch a break?

Still, he felt obligated to say something. He hadn't killed a man for her just to watch her cry in silence. Hey, uh... seems like you patched me up pretty good though, yeah? We can start traveling soon, He shifted to inspect his tail, grimacing at the sight of it. No way that would heal straight, he thought. His eyes quickly found Reina again. So... it'll be okay. Maybe not great, but 'okay' is still a pretty fuckin' big improvement.

Her tears had slowed and, as she watched him move to get up—despite her clear instruction to stay still, stupid man—they dried completely as his reassurance and promise of home washed over her. She had mixed feelings about returning home: she wanted to see the children more than anything, to love on them, to never leave them again; Reverie would be there, though whether or not she cared for their return was to be seen, and Reina surely wasn’t ready to face her. And, Everett, would be there, but would he even care? Or, would he be so preoccupied with his sister and nieces that he wouldn’t even notice? 

The red woman shook herself to dispel her anxieties before returning a look in Tybault’s direction. “Um, good. That’s really good. I’m fairly pleased with how you’re healing, so I think travel soon would be, uh, fine.” Okay, Reina, be a little more awkward. 

A deep breath.

“Let’s get on with our lives, then.” They would move out once prepared, Tybault leading them home.