Ravensblood Forest thaumatrope

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Arturo had been patrolling the borders, taking on a few extra patrols since his lockdown of Teaghlaigh’s borders, when he caught a familiar scent mingling among the sweet and pine scent of his forest. It was tangy with salt, smelled heavily of Skellige. Doe. He recognized her right away as she began to come into his view. The Ceannasach’s pace did not quicken to greet her but he did give pause as he drew nearer. He couldn’t claim that she was a sight for sore eyes for he was still not sure where they stood with one another. They were allies, yes, but he’d always gotten the feeling that she disliked him. He did not realize that it had to do with the parasite Riptide and would never ask her. They had reached something of a truce the last time they had spoken and he did not deign to shatter what tentative agreement they’d came to.

It did not surprise him that it would be she to come for there had been something between her and his red herring. Though Arturo could not understand it he likened it to the quickness that he’d taken to Lotte. He didn’t, in all fairness, particularly understand the suddenness nor the depth of his feelings for his nightingale, either. Some things were simply out of his understanding and Arturo accepted them with a simplicity: they were there and they were not to be analyzed nor made sense of by him. “Doe,” The smoky timbre of Arturo’s deep, accented voice was quiet, a low rumble like a coming storm. It was apologetic. The what if’s, as a leader, haunted him. Perhaps if he’d have joined her on her patrol she would still be alive but he hadn’t. He’d been sleeping and by the time he woke and began his patrols and found her it had been too little, too late. Still, the gangster's remorse was genuine. Furiosa was Family and she would remain so even in her death.

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