Heron Lake Plateau Now, your robot heart is bleeding

@Ceara

After having a dip in the lake to cool herself down after a patrol, Niamh felt limber and refreshed. The next thing she had planned was to hunt something down- maybe something she could bring back to the little wooded copse for Colt so that they could share it as a meal...She liked the idea of being able to provide for him, even though it seemed like he seemed to enjoy doing the same. Whatever- they took care of each other and it was cute as all get out. 

She had plenty of energy, just then, and of course, her mood had been keeping steady at an all-time high, likely due to the fact that she was finally shacking up with Colt, and he'd acknowledged his feelings for her. As far as she was concerned, nothing could go wrong. There was a spring to her step as she roved along the lake's shore, wondering what she might try to hunt down for dinner...Maybe Colt would like a fish for a change- but she didn't have much experience doing that. It'd likely have to be a bird or a rabbit, or some other small thing...But she'd find something. So she sashayed along, head up, ears perked and tail waving pleasantly from side to side, as though nothing could bring her down or stop her.

Ceara, in stark contrast to Niamh, was in a rather somber mood.  She knew, of course, about Niamh and Colt; he'd more or less spilled it to her.  But she didn't know where that left her.  She didn't hold any feelings for the pretty butterscotch girl anymore, those had been dashed a while ago.  

Instead something akin to jealousy had pitted in her chest.  Maybe she didn't have feelings for Niamh anymore but watching her brother get chosen instead caused something ugly and bitter to take root inside of her.  She watched the roll of Niamh's hips, the way she strutted through the Plateau, high on life, and Ceara wished that she could simply get a taste of what that felt like.

With stormy argent eyes she watched Niamh from the shadows, licking her wounds both physically and metaphorically.

It wasn't until Niamh caught the scent of blood on a packmate's pelt that she paused and began to assess the situation. She turned her head, looking this way and that until she saw, in the shadows, the glimmer of eyes watching her. Steely, silver and flickering with something Niamh couldn't quite place, the eyes belonged to Ceara, who looked like she'd been in a bit of a tussle recently. Not that she looked too wounded or out of place- and Niamh had become accustomed to the fact that the Redhawks picked up injuries here and there and that was simply a normal thing. 

She bobbed her head in greeting, whatever ire she'd had toward Ceara previously had somewhat dissipated. Sure, she still thought Ceara was a do-gooder, who wanted nothing more than to outrank her, but there she was- promoted to leadership, plus she was being romanced by Ceara's own brother, so as far as she could tell, she'd won...But her happiness quelled her pride, and she knew better than to lord her current situation over Ceara. After all- if she played her cards right, they'd eventually be sisters-in-law. But that was looking pretty far into the future.

"I Hope the other guy looks worse," She said, regarding Ceara's wounds. She didn't look too bad off, and would likely heal just fine, so she didn't feel too bad making a joke out of it.

She's dead, she quipped, casting her eyes to the ground.  She was still grappling with it, the awful feeling of condemning someone to death between her jaws.  Even if it was well-deserved, it made her gut roll in righteous terror.  But she was learning that not everyone deserved the air they breathed, and sometimes it was easier to do away with a threat than to cast them into the wilderness.

The line of her lip flattened, ears splayed atop her crown.  What was she supposed to do here?  Was she supposed to congratulate Niamh on her promotion?  Her blossoming relationship with Colt?  She just felt shitty and defeated; whatever game they were playing, Niamh had won a long time ago.  

Well, that was a surprise. Niamh opened her mouth to congratulate her packmate- but the dejected look on Ceara's face warned her not to do anything of that sort. She closed her mouth, then, and considered exactly what this meant. Not that Niamh had ever killed another wolf- but she'd come to terms with the fact already that some day she might need to. Had she found Screech before Towhee, she would have ended him herself. Part of her had hardened enough so that if she was pushed to her limit, she knew she could do it- but this was likely Ceara's first time experiencing anything like that. 

"Hey," She said, softly, lowering her head and trying to pick up Ceara's gaze. "You ok?" She asked. "Sometimes...Sometimes we have to go for the kill. It's not nice, but it's the right thing to do, sometimes," She said. Not that she was the expert- but in the very least, she simply wanted to assure Ceara that what she'd done had probably been the right thing to do.

No, that wasn't right.  The last thing she wanted to do was be comforted by Niamh, who was so good at everything, so much better than her at everything, so much more capable than she was.  She could feel her chest tighten and tears welled up in her eyes, but she would not allow them to spill over here, in front of her.  

What had happened to her?  Once, she had been so confident, so cool.  Now she was this bumbling mess, and she only had herself to blame.  I know — she choked, trying to stabilize herself, she went after the puppy, the yellow one, she explained, breath steadying.  She deserved it.

Niamh's breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes narrowed considerably when Ceara confessed that someone had gone after one of the newest members of the pack. "Svalinn," She breathed softly, through gritted teeth. So Ceara had killed someone who'd gone after him- obviously, though, it couldn't have been a packmate. Who amoung them would endanger a pup's life? And if it had been a packmate, surely Niamh would have heard something. "Good." She concluded. It was good to hear that she could actually justify what she'd just told Ceara- not all circumstances begged for someone else to die. But she'd simply wanted to reassure her packmate, and now she found that she'd definitely said the right thing. 

"No one harms one of our young and gets away with it." She said. Ceara still looked shaken, but she was able to hold herself together, and Niamh didn't really want her to fall apart. She wasn't sure how comfortable she'd be with comforting a crying Ceara. She'd have to toughen up a bit, after all, the same way Niamh had...But hopefully, at least, she went through that period gracefully. Niamh had considered leaping from Tegan's Tears, so if this was the extent of Ceara's reconciliation with death, she was doing well.

Nashoba's death was a good outlet for her feelings of resentment but the way Niamh reacted just made her angrier because of course she was right.  Her stomach whirled, anger contorted her face; to anyone else, it likely would've seemed as if she was in agreement with Niamh.

Hopefully, she didn't know that Ceara had worked her ass off the other day to the point of heat exhaustion, because the only way she could think of escaping this was to blow off some steam.  You're right.  Do you maybe wanna brush up on our fighting skills together?  I think we're both pretty mean in a fight, but.. you can never be too careful.

Ceara's grief turned to anger, but as far as Niamh could tell, it was simply because she agreed with the fact that a childkiller deserved death. Her resolve led her to prompt for a spar, and though Niamh wasn't sure either of them was up for it- her face was still healing, and Ceara had obviously just been in a fight herself, but she shrugged and stepped back, lashing her tail from side to side. "Sure," She said, though she wasn't entirely sure this was what she wanted to do. 

Ceara wasn't exactly the kind of wolf Niamh wanted to spar. She either wanted to spar with a friend, or actually fight a stranger. Ceara was neither- so she wasn't entirely sure how to approach the whole endeavour- how to properly defend herself and plan attacks without going too far or taking it too easy on her. She could always try to pretend Ceara fit into one of those categories, but the problem still remained- which one would she put Ceara in?

Niamh was not Ikkuma; she was not burly and muscled.  Slim, lissome, and with such a feral heart, Ceara wanted to know what this girl felt like pinned beneath her.  The thought, dark as it was, caused something to burn within her that she'd felt so often lately — for Siarut, for Raven — that she almost threw up.

Are you sure?  Because Niamh didn't look like it, and, well, she wasn't too certain now either.  I can just, I'll just go?

Aaaaaand there it was. It seemed like every conversation they had, as soon as Niamh said something, things would get awkward. Ceara's uncertainty frustrated Niamh, especially when she said that she'd just go. So clearly, Ceara was still more inclined to avoid Niamh than anything. Did she do this with everyone? Did she simply leave and avoid every wolf that made her the least bit uncomfortable? Niamh shook her head and squared her paws. This had to stop- Ceara couldn't simply think she should wander away every time she thought she might make things go over the top. 

"Nah. Bring it." She said. Her voice was a bit lacklustre, sure, but she lowered her head and poised herself, ready should Ceara make the first move. Just a simple opponent, Niamh reminded herself- though her heart truly wasn't in it. The spar went reasonably well for both of them- but there was still somewhat of an air of awkwardness, with neither wanting really to get in too deep with the other. Both of them could use the practice- but honestly, they both simply needed more practice being around each other.