Sun Mote Copse slow dancer, no answer

they were dancing -- dancing around glass and jagged edges -- two souls whose intimacy had been sundered by irreparable damage. arcturus was painfully aware of how tense he was, and how his stiffness evoked an equal measure of tension in his brother. still, he could not let that protective guise go.

it was difficult to pretend things were all okay -- that nothing had changed, when everything had changed. the landscape, the fabric of their lives, their reality. it had all imperceptibly shifted the day arcturus had strode from the 'spear. for better, or for worse -- all he knew, was there was no going back.

his jaw stiffened at the mention of the leader's expectant litter. he did not want to talk about them, about their future, about their lovely success on a home that was now as inhospitable and alien to him as the scarred face of pluto. "i have what i need here." arcturus supplied, moving past mention of his former leaders with a pang of guilt for handling jarilo so brusquely. all the same, jarilo was every bit moonspearian as arcturus was not -- and he would never forget that. "wraen treats me well, and her family is welcoming." he had no other news to share, and so felt into ruminating silence.