Broken Boulder aaaaaaaaaaa

he had been saved that day from having to make a decision by brilliance. the spectre of it looms over him, thoughts moving too quick to grasp, slipping between his paws. he misses, of all things, the comfort of the cedar sweep -- back when his biggest problem was mato will never look at me the way i him, and he could go hide himself amongst the trees and sulk. 

this is so, so much bigger than that. what's the right move here, for him -- for his children? they're as much queenie's as his: he doesn't have the right to deny her them even if -- even if part of him in recalling that confrontation sometimes adds, and he has me too.

he's not looking to run into alarian yet -- mostly he's stuck close to the den, his anxiety channeled finally into useful monitoring. he's not going to let his children starve. what could he possibly say to the governor, anyway? "sorry queenie is just kind of like that, i doubt she means it"? "thanks for the kick in the ass re: child rearing, man, i really have no idea what i'm doing"? "if you want to kick out my children's mother, fine, but i can't be involved in it"? -- of course, though, he's going to get an opportunity to test out all of these largely useful sentiments, because who is up and outside his den but alarian. the chancellor thought he'd just, y'know, do his usual drop by, say a couple words to zamael, apologise for the fuss and go, but -- we're doing this. ok.

"hi," he says, his voice oddly fragile, coming to stop a few precious feet from his leader.