Bramblepoint medusa and hemlock

lasher chuckled at peregrine's antics, but he too grew wan at the mention of the man's last lover. moving closer, if the panther allowed, the druid laid his muzzle o'ertop the thick ruff, conveying a deep empathy. and yet, in the next moment, he fought the imperceptible tension of his body -- he had known a pale, feminine wolf from the caldera, one who had wept over peregrine, sought to make sense of the devil's words.

pan. 

the druid felt the name welling upon his tongue -- he wished to speak it into existence, to tell peregrine that he had known the pallid man he had loved, that they had spoken. but then he recalled the darkness of their conversation, the grief and bitterness that had wound 'round both their tongues, and he was silent.

perhaps their talk upon the strand, the words shared, taltos' own anger and pain over peregrine -- perhaps it had led to the palefurred man's disappearance from the caldera. and he could not take upon himself that burden, not when he lay now with the panther again, when there was affability between them once more.

selfishly, taltos said nothing about pantaleimon, merely tightened his embrace upon peregrine for a moment before pulling away to glance into the dark verdancy of the devil's eyes. "i am sorry that he has gone -- it is my hope that he returns to the caldera, to you." the pain of loss commingled with love was bitter indeed.