The Tangle you love me but you don’t know [m]e

pardon me while i write you a novel

Though she laughed, it was hard to miss that Marina was distressed by the whole mishap. Ego saw no reason for her shame, but he supposed there were things about the situation that he could not presently account for -- not without having been there himself or having known the sisters prior.

Silently, he engraved a note in his thoughts that would remind him to curb her experience of such embarrassments.

He was quiet as she continued, finding himself invested in the confirmation that she was not like her sisters. She seemed to mourn her past, recognize the changes -- even if she did not yet uphold them -- and hope for her future all at once. It helped him feel inclined to open up to her; for he carried similar burdens that he wished to share, emotional burdens that had never been welcome among the apathetic wolves of Red Syzygy.

At the mention of her underdeveloped agency, he snorted, amused.



It would certainly be easy for me to help you with that. Independence is practically all I know. We are close to opposites in that regard, he mused aloud. I have only ever been committed to myself. He shrugged. There was nothing wrong with either life choice, as far as he knew; both had their merits and their pitfalls. But, perhaps it will be in our best interests to meet somewhere in the middle.

When she said she was grateful, the sentinel brushed his muzzle against her side, as if to encourage her selfishness. In his not-so-humble opinion, it was necessary to be (at least) a little self-centered if happiness was the goal. He may not have shared her gratitude, as both the concept of appreciation and the feeling of gratification felt lost to him, but he did look forward to their future together. He expected more for them; something to exceed what had come before.

Ego knew he would simply not be satisfied until he had proven himself to be an admirable husband before all else. If he could not master this, the most basic of his instincts, then he could not be praiseworthy -- not as a packmate or a leader -- and therefore he should never be anything more than alone.

It was easier, then, to be direct with her about his past and his damage, despite how often he tried not to relay it. This would no doubt be one of the only times he spoke of it, assuming he were to ever mention it again in his lifetime. He felt more vulnerable than he had allowed since his childhood, and when she looked up at him, seaglass eyes brimmed with feather-soft sympathy, he remembered his days as a stray.

You may still come to claim it, if that is what you desire.

The wyvern looked ahead to the herd, easing his gait and checking the wind. He did not look at her when he replied, I have imagined claiming that overblown birthright for as long as I can remember. Only hours ago, he may have said he wanted that more than anything. Yet, I care very little for it in this moment. My focus has shifted. My desires have abruptly turned... elsewhere. It is very new to me, but now it is all I care about. He set his gaze upon her plainly now -- as if his eyes could see nothing else -- and he wanted to forget the hunt; hold her close.

Inhale her.

Monopolize her.

Devour her.

All in the most carnal of ways. This was an impulse he did not fully understand yet, though he would the second she allowed.

Accomplishing anything else would be mere gratuity.

He made a concerted effort to bring himself back into a conversational state by asking about her home. He could see the ache in her expression, as he listened carefully and began to understand the inner turmoil she was in. Marina had abandoned her home, stealing away with her sisters for their safety. And they had thanked her with bitterness and strife. Ego's somber stare was the only indication he had heard her, because he could not find the words to comfort her.

It barely mattered, since she was so quick to change the subject. He frowned at her caveat. Marina, everything I am belongs to you now. I am yours to wield. There is nothing I would ever keep from you. I will always answer you, he swore, scowl softening. "Only you," was implied.

The short answer is no. But I would like to explain it over our meal. I fear if we do not hunt soon, my insides will be set afire and my head will turn into a thundercloud. Your scent is driving me crazy. Ego would be nothing if not honest with her. Is there one you prefer among them? He swept his muzzle towards the deer, inviting her to pick. There is nothing but open land ahead, as far as I can tell. We could chase any one of them together until it is spent.