Shadewood on the altar of a sunrise

He never took his eye off of her. For every step she took to bring herself closer to him he tensed, and eventually drift half a step away from her; the more she circled, the more he would idly slink in the reverse. Even when faced with an immediate threat wearing the face of an old friend, he could not let himself fall prey. He knew the truth within her own burning gaze: that they were not friends, hadn't been for a very long time. That the spark of recognition he had found there was really malice, and that hurt him too. To think of all the things they once had together - and all the potential Titmouse carried as a boy - and how it had all rotted away, spoiled because of his choices. All the things that could've been but weren't, because deep down Titmouse had been a confused child trying to make sense of his own faults and traumas. He'd put those pieces back together over and over to the point that some were missing their edges, like pieces of a puzzle that had been played-out to the point of losing structure.

He'd put himself back together one last time in the woods, with Maegi. Things had been going so well and he knew he should have stayed there, should have trusted her and trusted her gods, even if they had manipulated him in to this situation from the beginning. He should have been there when she gave birth and nursed her back to health - and then been there when the time came that they could start a family, a real, true family. But that went wrong, too. Titmouse knew he was damaged goods that didn't belong anywhere - not even with the woman he loved, because he would end up hurting her too.

The black beast had told him as much. When it had come for him, roaring in the sky. Left him behind with his noose and his many questions - fleeing, too, for the safety of his beloved. Anything to keep the darkness away from her. Except it led him here, to this place and this moment - to Niamh, standing like a beacon and luring the moth-boy closer.

He wanted to explain, or to apologize, but knew he couldn't even if his voice was working. Nothing he could say could pull that hunter's look from her eye now, and he had to accept that this might be his end. He didn't want it to be; in that moment, faced with the golden woman in this gilded place, all he wanted was to be home again. As he thought of this, yearned for Blackfeather and for Maegi so deeply that he thought he might just break apart like shattered glass, his calm expression melted in to something akin to exhausted sorrow, and he choked out a silent sob, that dim golden eye taking on a sheen.

He didn't want to go anywhere without Maegi, and as he sighed her name, Titmouse failed to notice that the word came out clear.