Swiftcurrent Creek angel dust and my dress just comes undone

followup for this thread and backdated accordingly to the 6th! whenever u have time no rush <33

the creek wasn't what she'd expected. akavir made it sound almost like it would be a wasteland of death and decay, but instead, it was rather homey — the creek itself seemed to roar with life as it spat loud sizzling noises, and there was good enough tree coverage for shade. the scent of others here was evident; not too many, but not too small of a gathering, either.
nice place, she'd said at some point in an attempt to make conversation, tossing her head over a shoulder in search of the creek-wolf. it's cozy. all it needs is a l'il feminine touch.

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They had traveled to the creek—his thoughts vaguely lingering upon why the she-wolf was so invested in returning to assist a stranger, and yet unwilling to delve too deeply into it. His pennies were spent—his fucks had long since flown away. He remained a shell, for now.

She spoke—over the dull rush of creek waters and drawing his gaze to her.

All it needs is a feminine touch, she mentioned—an attempt at lightening the mood, perhaps?

“And what does that entail?”

whatever you want it to entail, iris raises a brow mischievously, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. maybe i'll start planting a bunch of flowers everywhere.
but iris had made the place her home already, ranging slightly ahead to investigate scents that were left upon a tall sequoia. she arches her back and rubs herself against the trunk much in the same way a cat would.
where's your daughter at? i can take a look at her now, if you want.

His eyes trace the smirk on her lips—perhaps only now starting to grasp that she was flirting with him—but, no. Why would she be? Trying to uplift a man in a downward spiral—to ease the tension in his heart, perhaps.

She mentioned flowers—his gaze drifted from her to study the edges of the creek bank—the cusp of the woods.

But he need not reply to either comment—already, she was exploring the vicinity of her new home, and at the question of his daughter, he released a sigh, muzzle tilting up—crooning for @Lilitu to come for a moment.

He tried to keep the tones of his sorrow from his howl—but he could feel it, a weight within his very soul—and he knew he was a man on the verge of a breakdown.

She was never far—she made sure of that. Far enough from the rendezvous that she felt she was no danger to her father and his pack, but still close enough to be summoned if needed.

But why would she be needed?

Thus, said summons sent Lilitu's ears swiveling in confusion, but she heeded the call anyway, trotting toward her father and the very pretty lady at his side. She came to a stop with some distance between them, dipping her muzzle in apology to the stranger.

I'm sorry; I promise I'm not standoffish, she said, managing a weak smile. Just sick. What do you need, Papa?

It was all a moot point—as much as the silver she-wolf wished to assist his daughter, and as desperate as he was to see a cure, none of it would come to fruition.

Still, his smile was genuine, if not sad, as he faded to the background, allowing the two women to converse. It was a losing battle, and yet never before had Akavir been more desperate to continue forward in such a war—waging what he could, until only the barest aspects of his soul remained.