Noctisardor Bypass How would it ever get me by?

Anselm stalked the borders with new purpose. His mind as of late had been unkind to him; he thought of Etienne often, both anguished and angry that the man avoided him (though hypocritically, he did the same). He gave Heda a wide berth as well  — conflicted by what had transpired under the shade wood before kismet intervened and Druid came along. 

Come to think of it, Anselm was avoiding @Druid too — only, as he left a new deposit along a clump of bracken fern, he looked up and saw her form cutting through thin saplings with arms of green leaves. He froze, but it was too late to avoid detection.

If speaking with Fiona had raised her spirits, they immediately plummeted again the instant Druid caught sight of Anselm. She would’ve preferred to melt back into the ferns unseen, though they’d already spotted one another. She sighed through her nose, squared her shoulders and tipped her chin as she moved toward him.

He left, you know, Druid said, the words themselves perhaps explaining the coldness of her tone.

On the cusp of Anselm’s lips was some half-witted defense for what Druid had seen that day — but it withered in his mouth as Druid spoke. 

Anselm’s expression contorted to one of surprise. He expected her to confront him about Heda, not this. Vho? He bristled, placing the apprehensively raised paw down. Etienne? 

 A knifetwist feeling sat in his gut.

Vhy?

When he bristled, so did she. Druid felt a little guilty for her reaction, yet she couldn’t help it. Her emotions were fraught and her patience had grown thin, particularly with this man.

She opened her mouth to say something cutting when she clapped it shut again. She couldn’t just tell him why Etienne had gone, not without revealing the man’s secret. Druid made a frustrated sound before she could stop it.

Was there any way around it though? Besides, Etienne had left her here. She didn’t owe him anything anymore. She was equally exasperated and guilty as she inanely thought, In for a penny, in for a pound.

Because, Anselm, he’s in love with you! He’s not only afraid you’ll tear him a new one if you knew, he also can’t stomach watching you and Heda do—whatever you two are doing!

Her pulse pounded in her ears. Druid immediately regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth—they weren’t hers to say—yet she could not put them back. She ground her sparse teeth, now as angry with herself as anyone else.

Druid’s bristling earned a defensive look from Anselm. He never knew which way was up these days in Rivenwood; things were fine until they weren’t, and then they were fraught. Barring the last time she’d seen him, Anselm thought they’d left their last interaction on somewhat positive turns — so he took Druid’s (justifiable) visible frustration with him personally. 

She made to speak, and then stopped. Anselm’s ears posed forwards, a frown hanging on his lips. 

Druid’s delivery swept his legs out from under him, metaphorically speaking. His defensiveness ebbed away, first to confusion, then to something visible that could only be called deep distress. 

Anselm collected himself with great care; the task did not come easily, for his thoughts acted as buckshot and scattered to the thousand winds on fiercely galloping feet. First, came the initial rake of betrayal. His heart and stomach sunk as if tethered to a boulder in the arctic deep; Etienne had left without so much as a goodbye?

His ears swept back in quiet dismay. 

Then came a sense of irritation, of injustice, and finally, a growing kernel of fury. Now it was his turn to feel taken for granted. When Etienne first accused him of not caring, Anselm felt genuinely wounded by such an ugly assertion, because it was a blatant untruth.  Now, he realized it was the other way around -  people didn’t just leave things or people they cared about. 

Unless they never truly cared at all. 

His heart continued its fluttering descent in his rib cage. His breathing was uneasy, his yellow gaze unsteady. 

Was Druid the messenger, or was she, like Etienne, just another soul to lob their own false interpretations of who he was in his face? 

His gaze climbed from Druid’s darkened toes to her face, searching for any chink in the armor that could suggest it was a lie. 

He saw only bald truth. 

Ve are not — his words gritted through clenched teeth — doing anything.  He knew that sounded improbable - and up until that chance meet in the woods, he and Heda had barely tolerated one another. They were certainly not lovers. Etienne’s accusation on that front had burned him more than he knew. 

Anselm found his fury ebbing away again; this time hopelessness sunk its teeth into the brittle meat of his heart, poisoning his blood with despair. Did he tell you this?

If not for her self-flagellation, Druid might’ve retorted to Anselm’s assertion. First of all, she’d caught them red-handed! Had he forgotten?! And if it wasn’t his intention to form a family with her sister—whatever Druid thought of it—then what was he doing with her? She knew what’s what Heda wanted. Was he only going to disappoint her, in far worse ways than Druid had feared?

But she said nothing, afraid of what might pour unbidden from her mouth next. What had she done? Just because Etienne was gone didn’t mean Druid should go shouting out his heartfelt secrets to everyone, especially not Anselm! Who knew what he might do with this information?

At his despairing question, she looked up sharply, their eyes meeting, to say, Please don’t tell him I told you that. He told me that in confidence. Judging by the look on his face, however, this was not a bell she could unring. Oh, gods, I’ve screwed up…

It was becoming increasingly obvious to Anselm that no one in Rivenwood was his friend. There was Etienne — but even he thought nothing of leaving Anselm without a word. 

He reflected on Sleepy Fox Hollow. On the nights spent in the cold — waiting for a brother who would never return. There had been no one those first few months but Etienne. They’d shared an estranged brotherhood, staking out their bitter survival against all odds. 

And now he was in the familiar position of being left behind. A coldness seeped into Anselm’s blood, chilling his expression. 

Druid’s former irritation rankled Anselm so badly that for a long time, he was quiet.  He didn’t feel gracious. He didn’t feel kind. Where was the woman who, just days before, had handled him so tactfully? Was it because she thought she had seen him and Heda…?

He knew if Druid hadn’t intervened, that he would have followed his dark impulses. And he knew, in a way, it was Heda being used just as much as he. But nothing happened; their meet ended the moment Druid had seen them. Did she not understand? 

Moreover, did it even matter? Anselm learned the only thing that mattered was everyone else’s interpretations of things. It didn’t matter what really happened. It mattered what they believed. Etienne believed he was taken advantage of. He and Druid believed that Anselm and Heda were in a tryst. 

This did not even begin to address the prickle of malcontent to have someone voice aloud that Etienne loved him. He’d known this subconsciously for a long time. He’d ignored clear suggestions alluding to it, both from Etienne and from himself.  He even went so far as to repress his own thoughts the moment they ventured close to the convoluted territory that was the secret matter of his own deeply distorted and terrified heart. 

Anselm refused to acknowledge Druid’s request. He rose, feeling sick and knowing there was no returning. Adrenaline burned the corners of his mouth, and the world seemed muggy. Only Druid remained in crystalline focus. Vhere did he go?

It seemed he had no intention of heeding her request. Had he even heard her? He rose onto his feet and Druid shrank backward, eyes never leaving his face. What was he going to do now?

Leave him alone, she found herself saying without thinking. We’ve both done enough to that poor man. He went away for a reason. Then her thoughts caught up with her mouth (or was it the other way around?) and she added, Why do you care where he went? Etienne’s made no secret of how little you seem to care for him.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, either, though the Den Mother didn’t regret these particular words. She also didn’t happen to believe them, either, though Druid didn’t know what to think of this man, his unknowable emotions and intentions.

He’s wrong though, isn’t he? You can’t go after him just to confuse and hurt him further, Anselm. If you don’t intend to find him and show him how much you care about him, then you’d better just leave it alone.

I won’t tell you where to find him, in other words.

Leave him alone, Druid commanded. Anselm turned on his heels, surprised by how her questions buried like thorns in his sense of self.

What was he planning to do, really? He quavered. He knew full well he wasn’t going to stride after Etienne and declare his love. He wasn’t gay, and refused to entertain that possibility despite the exquisite way viewing Etienne caused his heart to palpate.

And he certainly wasn’t going to apologize. He’d never left Etienne. Twice now, Etienne had left him. Anselm was under the misguided impression being there was enough — but it hadn’t been.

What else, then, did he plan? He wasn’t going to grab Etienne and attack him, as furious as he was with the seaborn. These were all things he’d never do.

So, what was the point, really?

A scowl darkened his sharp eyes, hooding his expression with something malignant. ’Vhy do you care?’ He mocked, his lip curled in disdain. VhY dO yOu— How could he possibly gather every emotion surrounding Etienne and translate it for a busybody third party? And why did she think she was owed an explanation? He made to say something truly evil — like how both she and Heda had the familial trademark of sticking their fat noses where they didn’t belong and fouling up everything — but he knew this wasn’t fair or true.

His mouth clapped shut abruptly. So, she and Etienne spent all their time gossiping about him behind his back, then? Maybe he should feel jealous, that the three of them were all so buddy-buddy that they were at liberty to discuss matters profoundly private. The intimacy of this multi-layered breach of trust was so scorching, his lungs burned.

Anselm apprised Druid with the full burn of his wounded stare. I vill not be sucked into this. He declared with a lash of his tail, already turning his back on Druid. Just as so many had done to him.

It was about time he started turning his back first.

Why do I care? she echoed, face scrunching. About Etienne?

Druid paused as if she was actually awaiting an answer. Of course, she wasn’t, but Anselm poured some more words into the tense beat of silence: “I vill not be sucked into this.”

Ignoring him, Druid suddenly began shouting again, I care about him because he’s my friend. He’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met. He’s always looking out for everyone but himself. He’s finally putting himself first and you know what? Good for him! Because he’s too damn good for us!

The truth rang off the surrounding trees. Druid winced a little, though she stood by them. In fact, she stood a little taller, chin tipped again, eyes now boring into the side of Anselm’s face as if daring him to refute her.

Despite what he said, Anselm was very easily sucked back in. He wheeled around, unprepared for how strongly she shouted, or the way her eyes hardened and bored into him like he was a rat. 

Anselm didn’t disagree with a single thing Druid shouted about Etienne. Every superlative she mentioned was true — but in expounding on his friend-huntbrother-crush’s thousand positive attributes, Druid opened herself up for a different kind of scrutiny. 

He thought he heard something in her voice that lead support to his newfound suspicion. She was not mad at him for being him; no — she was mad at him because she liked Etienne.  It was all starting to make sense. 

Have at him then, if you like him so much. Anselm countered in dark tones, feeling himself tense under perceived unfair treatment. Oh wait. Etienne was gay — Druid lacked the prerequisite parts. Was it jealousy that incentivized her to be so discourteous? It was bad enough that his friend had left him, it was bad enough learning that he’d contributed to Etienne’s hurt — but it was a whole different ballpark having all his shortcomings pointed out by a woman who had no idea what he and Etienne had been through together. 

His shoulders rounded in sharp edges. Anselm was done having his flaws dragged through the mud for all to see. At least he’d fucking stayed — which was more than anyone else could say at this point.

His rebuttal was as absurdly childish as it was inexplicable. Druid gaped at him for a moment, a scoffing laugh dying in her throat. It was such a silly thing to say, only Anselm was dead serious. What had she said or done to give him that idea?

It felt wrong to repeat her earlier words, though the damage was done, so she retorted, Didn’t you hear me? The guy’s in love with you. And for what it’s worth, I’m off men—and probably romance altogether—for life. To make myself clear, I don’t feel that way about Etienne or anybody else for that matter, she insisted, ignoring Fiona’s pretty face flashing through her mind’s eye.

And then a possibility hit her, like the drop of rain that quite abruptly dropped out of the sky and splattered right between her eyes. The droplet ran down the groove toward her snout, listing off to one side and dripping into her mouth as her lips twisted suddenly into a moue.

Wait, she said, her voice a whispering hiss now, are you projecting, Anselm?

It comes from you, it means nothing. A statement with dual pronged meaning. If it was so important, Etienne should have told Anselm himself.  

A rain droplet fell from the sky, arcing down Druid’s face. Anselm prepared for the next litany of words, his mental shield raised — only for the question to weasel its way in the crumbling cracks of his defense. His expression betrayed the thousand-strong emotions that wrestled within him like tiny daemons; each clawing for their tiny breath of life. 

He stepped back. No. Came the thick growl, guttural and twisting.

Anselm’s next words landed like a slap to the face. She had treated Etienne unkindly but what had Druid ever done to him to deserve such a statement? Perhaps it was a karmic slap for uttering words that were not hers to share, even though his own implied he didn’t even believe them.

Anyway, his reaction to her accusation captured the whole of her attention. He immediately denied it. Druid’s eyes narrowed, though not in an accusatory way. She was quite literally thinking on her feet. If Anselm had feelings for Etienne, then… it wouldn’t really explain a whole lot, honestly.

What is he to you then? And what’s Heda to you, for that matter? And don’t you dare accuse me of being in love with my own sister…

Already the walls had been refortified; Anselm mentally withdrew behind them. Druid's gaze did not flinch, and he knew he was being studied in exquisite detail. No matter; he would barricade himself in like he always did, and the world would continue to assume he did not feel deeply because he was not emotional or hysterical like the rest of them.

What was with the questions? It was beginning to all really sink in. Not just everything Druid accused, but that Etienne was really --

-- gone.

She'd accused him of projecting. Whether she was right or not, Anselm refused to acknowledge it.

-- gone.

His jaw clapped shut and he moved past. He would not answer -- he did not have the energy to reassure every insecure thought. He was here, and that was all that should matter -- and the fact he still remained should speak for itself.

He didn’t answer, which Druid supposed was telling in some way. She just didn’t know what it meant. Although part of her rankled when he proceeded to brush past her, she clapped her mouth shut and made no move to stop him. She did turn her face, shrewd eyes tracking his movements, but let him disappear into the greenery.

She was left there to stew in her thoughts, which circled back to Etienne. The Den Mother hung her head, feeling like she’d let him down even worse than before. She mouthed a silent apology, wondering when she’d have the opportunity to offer him one in person. It went without question that she could confess at the first opportunity, though Druid had no idea when she’d see his face again.

Druid kept her head down as she pushed toward the borders. She intended to patrol, though instead she found herself walking beyond the arches, heading west. She wondered if Etienne was right to step aside, let Anselm and Heda build a life and look after the children together. Druid wondered if she ought to do the same.