Shadewood The stars, they make me wonder so

The woman — no doubt his little victory (as her name translated to) — moved towards him, closing the distance on her side of the invisible barrier that existed between them. The Fearghal monarch's fiery orange-red gaze took her in with an unbidden desperation torn between wanting her to be real and wanting her to be an illusion. Madness was not something that he ever wanted for himself, mind, but he did not want her to know the hunger and desolation he'd known for the past couple of weeks. Despite his hope that life would once more flourish within these lands, he understood the simple notion that until it rebuilt itself (if at all) surviving the famine would be far from easy. It had been far from easy for him; and this sort of never-ending suffering was not something a father ever wanted for his children. It wasn't something Arturo wanted his children to know.

Arturo watched as Cearney approached, her movements stiff and the fur of her hackles bristling. This was not a posture that the gangster was accustomed to seeing — especially from his own children; but it seemed she was struggling to tell if he was truly there in flesh and bone, as he did. In some way, her trepidation (though it undoubtedly matched his own) caused an ache in his heart: a sharp pain that felt as if someone had shoved and twisted a knife into his heart. He took a moment to look her over as she reached out to inhale his scent — patient and still as the gentleman in him bid him be — looking for any physical signs that she was harmed or unwell. From the limited light the darkening skyline offered she appeared to be well — in one piece, at least; though he expected nothing else. She was a Fearghal after all. Raised with the courtesy and manners of a gangster but also with the ability to take care of her problems accordingly.

Arturo's rules had been simple: learn to partake in pack operations or look the other way; but there had been a higher bar set for his children: it was a family business after all. “It is me, my little victory,” Arturo spoke in response to her question. “I didn't think I would ever see you again.” To some degree, he'd expected it. Arturo wasn't one for false hopes. “Are you hurt? Have you been eating?” There was some small comfort in not going mad but her presence meant he would worry for her. As a father: he would always worry for her and her siblings. That wasn't anything Arturo could magically turn off simply because they'd grown and become adults; and she and her well being was his main priority at the moment.