Silverlight Terrace here's to the ones who dream

... foolish as they may seem.

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A madness struck him as he passed beneath the narrow tract of land between Moonspear's claimed land, and the spire to the north. It drew him from the solitary reaches, and up—up into the heights of Silverlight Terrance just as the sun began her daily walk across the clouded skies. He possessed no proper heading; no logical reason behind this idiotic flight of fancy. Just the poor, feeble flame of a desire he never had the courage to snuff out. A paltry excuse, and he knew—knew he would find no rest until the contemptable scent faded, and her time passed. No doubt she had found another in his absence, and he was simply setting himself up for further wounds. But his heart, hardened by self-inflicted exile, wouldn't shirk from this. He needed to see her for himself and settle the matter for good, come what may. 

... but perhaps not yet. He owed himself this moment to consider, breathe, and steel himself against the instincts setting fire to his blood. 

Rian released a heavy sigh through his nose and cupped his ears towards Moonspear in somber regard.

In knowing what this was, perhaps what would make the most sense would be to linger in the claim of Moonspear. But Hydra's mind was growing more irrational by the day, and when she woke this morning the familiar urge to dominate stirred within her. Hydra testily marched through Moonspear; had any women come into her path, she would have accosted them. Lyra avoided her, though followed her from a distance. Even this was difficult for her to allow. 

Still, as she left Moonspear, she did not refuse it. Hydra was aware that her changing scent might lead to unwanted company... and though it would still yield nothing as she had not fully come into her heat, Hydra had no desire to be overwhelmed herself by another, who she did not wish for. She had heard about heat; that she might become helpless against it. Hydra rallied against the idea as she moved, and fortunately none interrupted her brief period of attempting to cool off. 

It worked, to a degree. At the very least she did not desire to all but end the life of any who she encountered. Hydra paused long enough to survey her surroundings, mind adrift, when she saw the strong form of another gazing upon her mountain. It was only his profile, and her eyes traced it. She did not know him for who he was, then; her addled mind noted only the details that really mattered to her here and now. Male. Looks strong. 

But Hydra was a woman to be pursued and wooed, and so, as ever, she did not approach. Only stared, unmoving and silent. Until she determined that perhaps she ought not be here at all, that perhaps she ought to lead this strong wolf back to her homefront. Would he pursue her? 

Moonspear was where she belonged, and she would not flee from it again; she would accept all that came with these coming days. So, Hydra turned on her heel and moved in long-legged strides toward home.

Although initially unawares of the observer watching him from a higher ridge, Rian did take note of a marginal increase to the seductive scent that drew him here. His nostrils flared and a light fog billowed from them on the following exhale only to dissipate into the mid-morning air. He imagined it the result of a shifting breeze or, simpler yet, his tentatively sanguine hope that these weeks would not go to waste; that she may yet invite him with open arms...

Who was he kidding? Hydra was more like to greet him with sharp nips, and thunderous growls, incensed by the current circumstances and then some. Because he was, by all rights, a damn fool for falling prey to a misguided youth full of ambition but no courage to see those dreams to fruition—

Movement to his left. His broad head swung to pin a fierce, but unreadable, look on the shadow that garnered his attention. He didn't fear it, nor react immediately save for the quiet scrutiny on which he leveled—

Pitch-dark fur, a sure-footed carriage, and a heading straight for Moonspear?

His heart lept into his throat. Rian jolted to his feet, and bounded forward in two quick hops get a better look before the wolf vanished. One paw curled up at the ankle with uncertainty. No, could he be deceived? He spared a searching glance to the treeline bordering the mighty peak, and licked his jowls. What did he have to fear from the King and Queen upon the mountain now? The fretful boy of Neverwinter, and the Teekon Brat Pack returned as a man grown; broad, and unaffected by maladies. Hale, whole, and in possession of a dangerous desire to step out from the shadows at last. 

Rian, come hell or high water, broke into a swift trot to consume the distance between them. A low, thunderous rumble of neither greeting nor aggravation ignited in his throat as he drew near while his all-but-blazing jade eyes sought her own.

Hydra was pleased to hear the presumed strangers trek behind her, and in hearing his swift pace made to increase her own. Truly, the haze was setting in at a decent clip—for suddenly, he was at her flank, and then beside her, and Hydra did not will him away with the snap of her teeth. Her head turned to take a good look at this stranger she intended to bring home, a playful growl of her own rising in her throat but swallowed swiftly as glacial blue locked upon imperial jade.

Even her addled mind seemed to know those eyes. 

The Ostrega had never thought she would see them again. Certainly she had hoped to, but then, she had also hoped that she would not—for it meant he had willingly departed the Wilds and left her behind after knowing of her interest (as she had put it) in him. To think him dead hurt, but it was what the proud Hydra had concluded. Only that would keep him from her, surely, after her confession. She was wrong, and she did not know whether to feel relieved or infuriated. Her pride said the latter, but what affection remained for him seemed all too ready to cling to the former. 

The middle, then. 

Hydra stopped, abrupt, and as she had done with her mother her hindquarters swung away from him. He looked healthy, handsome. He was a man grown, now, and was impressive to behold. Hydra had always seen him this way, but wondered if there was more of the same within. Who had he become? She was irate, but in her season her anger was outweighed by him being here, now. When she had known him, he had been shy (though meek was not the right word); had he changed at all? Would his ambitions match her own? More importantly: What are you doing here? Came her breathless inquiry, and for now she maintained the space between them.

A twitch of his ear punctuated the cessation of his own muddled greeting when he noted her own acknowledgements; a mischevious note of her own make rose to answer him. He weighed her percieved patience of his presence with the mounting desire to nip at her heels to entice her into a bout of play. She turned—

A blue as rich and fathomless as the expansive skies. He knew these eyes. 

"Hydra," he breathed without thinking as the realization left him gobsmacked, eyes flying wide and brows drawing together in fleeting befuddlement. Rian, thankfully, succeeded in regaining control of his composure and rapidly mended the cracks that threatened to shatter him apart. He, tempered by the wilds and the year gone, refused to yield to the winds that howled across his crags; even if those winds carried the promise of a tomorrow only found in dreams. 

He, too, claimed the second it took for her to whirl about to rake an appraising gaze over her frame. They were no longer gangling teens, or yearlings, and he could say with certainty that time treated her fairer than most. Rian railed against the rapacious yearnings burning through his veins and alighted his focus to her narrow obsidian mein. A few emotions darted furtively in those cerulean depths; anger, shock, irritation, hurt?

He cricked his tail and flipped one ear back at the question she settled on instead of the easier, and expected, choice of throttling him soundly for... well, she could pick from any number of reasons, and Rian wouldn't have judged her foul for it. 

"Starting over," he answered hushly, only to cant his head a degree to the left and cup that splayed ear toward her again as his voice dropped another octave, "and making amends."

Hydra mulled over his words. Starting over. Making amends. It was not so simple a thing to do as to say, and the Ostrega presumed he knew as much. Her jaw was stubbornly set as her eyes searched his own, and she exhaled. And how will you do that? She asked at length, curious and desiring specifics. She did not want to be made a fool out of ever again; she did not even think to believe he meant to include her in who he may make amends to, but to Rannoch, to Cypress. She dare not speak their names to him, lest he turn and flee from her company now for those who he considered more important than her.

The Ostrega knew she was mortal, knew she was capable of killing and hurting and maiming. All things considered, she ensured that none could wound her as she could wound them. Physically, mentally. She kept her family close, and killed or beguiled her enemies—whichever benefited her most. But Rian had found her long before she had built these seemingly impenetrable walls. He was beyond them. He stood with a sword that pressed flush against her heart; she was a woman, reduced to but a girl here. Caught between a mixture of longing, and resentment for that longing as he had fled her when she had spoken her truth... but she hid those emotions well enough, now that she had regained her composure. Her eyes were searching, now—

Indeed, it would be easy to turn her teeth against him than to face the cruel truth his words would bring to her... She considered it as she awaited them, but knew she needed to hear whatever they were to ever truly move forward. Death had been her closure, but here he stood—this was not death.

Were it another time and place, he would have endeavored to include Rannoch and Cypress in his present thoughts but Rian was caught up in her riptide. A repetition of events past—the once-forgotten boy saw only her. 

But the set of her vice-like jaw beget a internal struggle evoked by him, and he wished it weren't so. He cursed his fool heart thrice over as he had done countless times before for letting his fears drive this wedge between them. Though he was not so bold as to presume he knew her as he had when they were children, Rian sensed an inherent longing in her—it called to him; a siren's song so sweet was like to beckon him into the jaws of death itself were he to surrender to this blind, seasonal madness. 

Gods, why did she need to stand so near and yet so far. 

Answer the question, her eyes demanded. And so Rian stepped into the abyss—

"By—" he trailed off and swallowed thickly; the narrow column of his furred throat bobbing with the effort. He exhaled and, on it, spared no tears, nor demands, or falsehoods in words colored by vulnerability granted to her ears alone: "By listening." 

Rian drew deep a slightly unsteady breath and continued, quicker now as if fearing she may take advantage of her position and turn a cold shoulder. "I tore out what didn't belong and replaced it with who I wanted t'be. We're always changing, but I hope that my progress is—that it'll be enough to start with." 

He spoke, and Hydra listened well. By listening, he had said. She was silent and wondered at the meaning of it, when he continued and explained. Hydra wondered what did not belong, but she recalled the last time she had ever seen him. Are you brave, Rian? Perhaps he had not been, then. Maybe her words were the cause of him leaving. Who was to know? He had never told her. 

I looked for you, Hydra spoke then, you left—I thought you... she need not say it. They had traveled briefly together, and then he had gone without a word, without a trace. It mattered not, now; it was not so. Her shoulders seemed to sag some with relief. He really was here, and did see fit to explain as opposed to argue. That had to mean something, did it not? Something had to of shifted; he was here now. He could have began his journey in any other corner of the Wilds, could have called for his brothers. But the mountain he had looked to had been her own. 

He had said he had changed; he hoped for it to be enough. Hydra hoped he had taken the part of him that ran away; how could she rip that desire out of him? But maybe he had done it himself. Are you brave, Rian? Came her soft inquiry, an echo to the last time she had ever seen him. To face all that they may come against. Hydra was brave, for her future had always felt so certain—but seeing him here, now... nothing was certain, was it?  

All the more reason to be brave, she supposed. For this surprise, she had to admit, was not an unpleasant one.

Beneath the weight of her scrutinizing gaze, Rian felt no fractures form in the foundations he worked tirelessly to build solely for this moment. The realization washed over him as a spring flood, and left him equal parts exposed and validated in his decision to take this leap of faith into the yawning terror of the unknown. He didn't fear her; he feared very little anymore. Each day he woke was a blessing, and if he could share it with the single woman who carried a piece of his heart after all this time?

Well, he would face each and every challenge until she granted him the redemption he desired, but did not yet deserve. 

The softly spoken query hearkened back to a time long ago when she asked him the same and, in a fit of panic and self-loathing, fled from her side in the middle of the night. And she thought him dead. Gone. His eyes sought her own again in a fleeting bid to convey an apology without speaking it, for what good did words do when he could not prove their merit? 

Hydra. Beautiful, intelligent, fierce, and dizzyingly intoxicating in this very second. Would be he could burn alive, Rian was convinced he was liable to combust if he could not feed this rapacious longing! She stood there, still and unyielding as the mountain that reared her, while he fought to maintain his composure in the face of these base instincts. 

But in the Here and the Now, Rian raised his head a nigh imperceptible degree and spent his breath on an oath intended for her ears alone. 

"Yes, I am. I must be for--" you "everything I've done will be worth nothing otherwise."

Hydra did not know of any of his designs for her; she perceived him as tightlipped, and remarkable at keeping his cards close to his chest. That his return was for her was, at present, lost on her; though she liked to imagine it so. She fed her vanity as often as she could. And so, when he spoke that he was brave, Hydra nodded her head; why should she not believe him? His being brave was for himself; she did not know how he held his tongue, to tell his truth to her and let it be known. 

She simply smiled. Nothing you do will be worth nothing unless you believe it so, Hydra said with a tilt of her head. She always had believed in him. Seen so much in him. Perhaps now he had tapped into it. She wanted to know, to figure it out... but perhaps he did not desire that as she did. 

I must return home. Perhaps you could escort me? She invited with a grin. Perhaps you could stay— but she would never make such a decision for him, though she wished to. Let it be his own will that led him there.