Duck Lake we sang silent night in three parts, which was fun

@Alarian, dated for the 6th

She really ought to head home, but she was becoming a bit of an explorer as of late. Her duty as Satori called, though. After lingering for a time near Easthollow and Lost Creek Hollow (not confusing in the least, she thought wryly) the blackbird began the trek back to Hushed Willows, stopping by the lake where she had rested before for a drink.

It was late morning, a beautiful, crisp fall day. She lapped idly at the water, the ground cold under her pads. Soon, winter would be upon them with a vengeance; until then, she would enjoy the milder weather. Before she knew it, spring would arrive again.

Lily did so love spring.

He can't trust himself to be within the territory after his night with Outlander — not when he's certain the male is inside the borders too. Inexplicably, he finds Mahler in his thoughts today. It's been some time since he's seen him, and the realization makes his chest ache a little. Maybe that's why he ends up here — the lake with so many goddamn ducks.
But there aren't any ducks here right now. The lake is so much more peaceful in their absence, he doesn't even notice what is here as he comes to the edge of the water, some distance from Lily. He's distracted by the sun's reflection on the water, by memories of his time here with Mahler. They aren't nice memories — they're just something to grasp in his friend's absence. Something to think about that isn't Outlander or Delight or Zamael or Eris or — yeah, you get the point.

She was not alone for long. She was soon joined by a thin form nearby, though just far enough for her not to be sure--wait, Alarian? Lily squinted, brows drawing together as she tried to make out the shape. It couldn't be anyone else, right? There were only two other wolves she knew that had the same build: one of them was dead and one was gone. And neither carried that pelt of browns and tans.

Ali? Lily called out, padding toward him, breaking into a slow trot. Relief and anger in equal measure rose up within her, and she struggled to master her face before she came close enough for him to see it. She remained blissfully ignorant that perhaps he would not be as eager to see her as she was him.

Of course his peace can't last — it never does. A voice draws him from his thoughts, far too familiar for his comfort, and he freezes. One of his paws is already lifting from the ground as he turns his head to meet Lily's gaze, ready to flee from the unwanted reunion — but something in her expression stops him. He steadies himself, realizing in an instant that he can't run from this forever. He'd known settling at Easthollow that it wouldn't be far enough — and he'd known when he left that eventually his friends would want answers.
Lily, He manages, voice weak. He doesn't move toward her, but allows her approach. That in itself is enough of an effort, pitted against his anxiety and natural penchant for avoidance. I — His voice quickly dies as he realizes he doesn't know what to say. 'Sorry for abandoning you, but also not sorry because I had to and probably would do it again?' Wow, he sucks. No.

Part of her expected him to run away. Perhaps she saw his paw lift, then hesitate--or maybe it was just that she knew he had ran before, and he would certainly run again. But he stayed, and so she came closer, coming to a halt just a few paces shy. He began to say something, then stopped, and she could empathize--she felt much the same way.

So you live here, now, she said, the remark not a question. It fell flat between them; her mouth felt dry, and she felt something cold and ugly blooming in her stomach. Betrayal, she thought. Her eyes were gimlet as she stared at him, looking for the answer to her unspoken question in his face.

Why?

So you live here, now. For some reason the words feel like being struck. Yeah, right at the bottom of the lake, He jokes wearily, immediately regretting it — though he kind of wishes it was true. Can't be a fuck-up if you're dead at the bottom of a lake. He goes silent for another moment, swallowing hard as he tries to find the nerve to say more.
I'm sorry, He manages finally, voice tight, and something breaks within him. I tried. I tried so hard to keep everything together — to keep myself together, for the Sanctuary. But I just — His voice breaks and he stops to take a breath, trying to calm his fried nerves. I couldn't do it anymore. Zamael left, and Eris died, and I realized that — that I was just making everyone miserable. That I couldn't be anything I was trying to be for you guys. That I don't even know who I am anymore — and you're better off with Seabreeze and Olive and — Delight. As soon as the name passes his lips, his voice leaves him again, and he can only suck in a shaking breath and watch Lily's face anxiously.

Normally, she might have laughed, but nothing about this seemed funny to Lily. Nor would she humor him with a chuckle; her face remained the same, even through his speech. She shook her head with a sigh, gaze raking the ground before bringing it to face him again.

We would have taken care of you, she said softly, verging on pity. You could have stepped down, taken a break, gone into hiding. . .anything but this. Leaving everyone who loves you without word. The pity left, abruptly, as she added, It's Lennon all over again.

She thought it might hurt him. For once, she didn't care. She had held him together--or tried to, anyway--when the handsome male had disappeared, and now Alarian had done the same. It was ironic, at best. More accurately, it was hypocritical. And she couldn't stomach it.

She couldn't stomach losing yet another friend for problems that might have been solved.

The pity in her tone cuts him, but not as deeply as her last words. The air leaves his lungs suddenly and without warning. His lips part slightly as if he might say something, but close just as quickly, and for several moments he can't say anything. He thinks: I told Delight, I tried to make sure you knew, and he thinks: I didn't want to leave you, and he thinks: all the love anyone ever had for me died at Broken Boulder. But he can't say any of that; it doesn't matter anymore anyway. She's made up her mind, and maybe she's right.
I know, He says finally, and it hurts but in a way it's freeing — to acknowledge that he is the monster who thought of himself when he made a decision, who has only ever thought of himself, because she is wrong; no one at the Sanctuary could have helped him, not in the way he needs to be able to help himself. It has always been his own burden to bear, and time and failure have brought with them the realization that healing is never the easiest path when the wounds are of this nature. It is never flowers by the bedside and friends gathered around — it is cold, hard decisions and lonely nights, it is the aching strangeness of relearning how to be himself, it is the desolate mornings he wakes up and thinks: where have I been all this time?
It is his burden to bear, and leaving was a decision he had the obligation and right to make; he could not have healed at the Sanctuary, surrounded by wolves he'd come to feel responsible for and wolves he'd come to feel threatened by in unreasonable ways, wolves whose faces remind him of all the pain he's caused. He could only have festered, dragging with him everyone he loves and becoming everything he hates. Maybe that's his fault — maybe it's because he's broken. But he can't regret leaving, even if doing so had ripped the last of his heart from his body.
I'm sorry, His voice breaks slightly. He only regrets that he hurt his friends in the process. But he can't fix that now, can he? And maybe it could never have been avoided in the first place. He can only let go, and hope they've already found peace without him. I hope — that things are better now, for the pack. The urge to fall back to old habits is overwhelming; he has nothing else to say to her, nothing that won't rub salt in the wound. But he hesitates again, lingering and waiting for — he doesn't know what. Waiting for her to finally give up on him for good, maybe. They both know by now that it's long overdue.

It won't be better without you, Lily said, her voice slightly choked. She looked away, feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes. You were my first friend here, Alarian. I would have done anything to make sure you were happy. Despite everything: their fights, their differences, their trauma. None of that mattered when she stared him in the face. All she wanted was for him to come home.

She knew she would not return to Elysium with him by her side. But she had to try, damn it.

You know you're welcome to stay with us, whenever you feel like you can come back, the blackbird continued, sniffling slightly. We live in a willow forest at the base of a mountain. It's beautiful. I think--I think you could find peace there. Maybe, though, the peace he sought didn't exist. Maybe it was better this way.

But she had to try.

And when he looks at her, all he wants is to go home, too. It'd be so easy, at least to make the decision, and for a moment he imagines what it might be like; to go home, to try to mend what he'd broken by leaving, find some sort of happiness among his friends — but it'd already been broken, hadn't it? Maybe everything he builds is destined to come into existence broken and malformed simply because he made it, because it's in his nature to bring destruction. He can't do that to Lily, or anyone — but especially not her, especially not when he can still look in her eyes and see a love he's so undeserving of, when he can stand here and admit that he's abandoned them all and still she tries —
Even if he has to stay away forever, he won't go back just to hurt his friends again. But it hurts too much to think of it that way, at least now, so he says: Maybe I will one day, And his voice is thick, betraying how close he is to tears now, and part of him knows it sounds like a load of shit but right now he means it. Maybe I'll — I'll figure out what the fuck is wrong with me and — He cuts himself off, swallowing. I'm sorry. I love you. The words slip from him like a painful exhale, and he doesn't expect her to believe him; how could she, when all he's ever been able to offer her is his mess, his chaos, his crisis? It's all he's ever had to offer — and now he's taken that away, too.

She could say so many things, throw the proverbial dictionary at him. No word would do any amount of good. He was trapped inside himself, and only when he made peace with the turmoil within would he be able to make peace with the rest of the world. Nothing she said or did would make a difference. It was up to him.

It broke her heart, damn it.

I love you, Lily whispered, her voice tiny in the wake of everything that stood between them. Be good to yourself. Without another word, she turned, making sure she did so before the tears rolled down her cheeks. Her tears would only make things worse.

He doesn't know if she really understands, but maybe she doesn't need to; maybe this is the best they can get. He swallows hard past the lump in his throat as he watches her go, rooted to the spot. For once, he doesn't run. All he can do is stand in place, watching the last place he saw her for what feels like forever — hours, maybe. He wishes he could follow her. He wishes he could go home — but that home doesn't exist anymore.