Phoenix Maplewood i'll wind up working in the thick of it

where phoenix grew more assured in his convictions, indra faltered. her life had been defined by the fractured nature of her family; everything, fro jhala to reek to saena, had been carefully stockpiled, organized, and grossly exhumed over and over each time she had felt morose or defeated. and now this wolf -- this sudden extra addition -- caused indra's carefully constructed fort to topple.

he seemed so sure, so affirmed: indra eyed him somewhat resentfully, though what he said was not met with skepticism. he knew too much to be lying, and she knew neither saena nor reek were architects of great deception. sure, they were fractious -- and sure, they were infidels -- but they were not maligners.

"who the fuck is arkham?" she choked, her ears pulled back in confusion and anger that saena had found someone else after reek, and luke, and warbone. how many men were enough for her insatiable mother? and had she loved phoenix more than her firstborns? indra couldn't grapple with the ugly shade of jealousy that wrenched her. she didn't like it -- at all -- it wasn't her, to be this bitter. she didn't recall an arkham, so how could he have known her and not laurel?