Sleepy Fox Hollow you did not break me

AW but she's looking for @Mahler

For now, the ground was still. Gracefully, the white-washed nymph stalked the lands of the hollow, her nose quivering as she sought the General’s company. Grey clouds rolled above, tracing shadows upon the small paradise they had found—as if a reminder to the dangers that slept around them. It was as if a dragon lived beneath the mountain—the Diaspora wolves had sought safety after the collapse and with the acceptance they had fully left Stigmata behind, the woman steeled her composure.

One ear would flicker at the sounds around her—the solitude that had settled upon them for a moment. Careful eyes of jaded green kept close watch on her brood during these times, but she sought Mahler’s singular presence, her lips pressed to a thin line.

mahler did not feel safe here, not as he had in diaspora. he decided it was due to the proximity of the now-treacherous mountains, where sliding stone might well catch one of them again.
stricken with grief at the loss of kazimir, the general burned along a footpath. his pelt was slung along a body grown spare and sinewy, heading toward gaunt if prey was not located.
the thin trail of ketzia's scent entered his awareness; mahler plucked up the tendril and followed it to where the pionier searched, saying nothing as he fell into step with diaspora's little goddess.

Expectation did not meet reality when the thinning form of the General fell into step beside her. Her eyes grazed over him, the faintest hint of a frown pulling at her slender features. Diaspora was stricken, certainly, but somehow, the virility of the male beside her had never seemed to falter until now, and the pale gold of the dove’s shoulder would brush gently to his. Before, during the initial grief of losing Stigmata, the sylph had embraced him with affection that had bordered to something more—something spurned by her eagerness to simply lose herself from the thoughts of the fallen warhound.

Touch still invoked her, and with a grace that came only from the confidence of a woman that had been prized for her appearance by many others before, the she-wolf boldly pressed her muzzle to the thick fur of his nape, ignoring the flare of rebellion that her dead mate would haunt her forever—and that the man at her side was friend and ally only.

She allowed the silence to continue to blanket them for a moment, considering her words before her smoky voice finally interrupted the quiet—her nostrils flaring as she pulled back from him, her paws loping along the hollow terrain. “We can’t stay here,” she asserted then, her eyes lifting to his own lilac stare. “Stigmata’s legacy rests with his children. Not this death trap of a mountain.”

ketzia reached to him, and mahler found himself indebted to the new surge of warmth in the normally aloof woman. had she forgiven him takiyok’s ascension then? were he privy to her need for distraction, mahler would have carefully played his role for the woman, but it seemed their alliance was merely that at present.
she spoke then the words in his heart; the general gave a noncommittal grunt, but his eyes shone with the truth of it. where would they go then? perhaps to the taiga, where he felt the herds that had killed kazimir made their goal.
”i feel the same. the coast is not home to us. perhaps we shall press to the lands beyond the second mountain range at our back; perhaps to the cold lands vhere there might be hunting had. vhat do you think?”
stigmata. an urgent conception had been growing within the man since moonspear; he had wanted to suggest it unto takiyok first, but ketzia was near, and perhaps her cooler nature would impart logic to the delicacy of the matter.
”i vant to continue his legacy, his dream, ketzia. but diaspora will not survive vithout its allies, vithout our extension at birth.”
here the gargoyle paused, choosing his next words carefully, moreso for himself than her — this was the first time he had spoken his strategy aloud.
”if the land settles in the coming season, i plan to present myself to moonspear’s queen as consort. that vay, ve vill be blood-kin to them. the same for sviftcurrent. the same for diaspora,” mahler stated, glancing pointedly at the ivory sylph. 
there was the matter of takiyok, of andraste; but here he spoke purely of politics, and now fell silent.

He did not deny it—for that, the sylph was grateful, and she felt the tension seep from her shoulders. She had once thought to settle upon the mountain until the end of days, embraced in the warmth of Stigmata’s touch and the camaraderie of pack mates. Everything had changed—and as Ketzia was used to, her life would pivot with these changes.

She considered his words on seeking further north—in truth, the pale widow held no land in true favor, but with their numbers dwindling, it was harder to send others on a scouting expedition for further information. She was ready to agree—to discuss sending one of the newer recruits and perhaps Nyx a day ahead of the rest to ensure danger did not await the children, but the dark gargoyle rumbled further thoughts, and this time, the honeyed woman pressed her muzzle to his warmth more firmly—exhaling softly.

“Mahler,” her voice was softer—unyielding in the wisp of smoke that laced her tones, and yet gentle as she attempted to gain the proper words within her mind. “Diaspora thrives because of Stigmata’s pursuits,” she rumbled, her pace slowing as she coaxed him to look at her as her own jade eyes implored him. “And also yours.” She paused, her tongue tracing her lips as she felt the pang of loss once more—the notion that the dark ashen General had fallen, and that they were forced to move forward in life without him. “It can no longer be about him, unless it better serves the pack,” she clarified her thoughts, casting jewelled eyes to the side to gauge his interest.

He spoke of alliances—none existed of which she knew, and she studied him curiously. His proposition for the coming months caused her to pause, her delicate features knitting with surprise before she stopped movement. He wished to breed with a wolf of another pack?

The dryness of her mouth went ignored—for reasons only because she did not understand or grasp the sudden emotion that swept through her at his admission of plan. “If she is to your liking, then of course,” she began slowly, her gaze fierce upon him. “But I think we’ve all seen how well securing wombs for children has gone in the past,” she finally added, wondering if there were none within Diaspora the current General would seek to commit.

Stigmata had worn himself to his grave—what would become of the gargoyle should he present himself to a she-wolf that titled herself a queen?

her warmth replaced itself with a sweeping ferocity — she did not approve. he had suspected that the lithe she-wolf would not, and pored a long moment over her firm words.
"stigmata left us vith several children and few mouths to hunt for them," mahler murmured, glancing before them. "i intend to be more strategic about how to grow diaspora." his kill-brother had presumably scattered seeds from place to place, but would they be named as his? he doubted such.
"she is not to my liking, not in that vay. this is not my vay, ketzia," the gargoyle rumbled in admission, somewhat torn by his future dreams and the pressure of reality.
children in swiftcurrent, in diaspora, in moonspear; he would think of other places, but in truth the concept
of it sickened him. he did not feel that he could experience as he had with andraste in each liaison; his body would be a tool, his seed a way of alliance only, triumph for diaspora even if it squandered mahler's opinion of himself. 
"but i see no other. my heart — it is fickle, and i vould not forgive myself if i promised love to one and forced myself to forget another."

There was a gentle mulling of his words—the faintest hint that his heart remained torn. It was understood enough and sympathized with internally—how many had interested her, how many by the side of strong men had she imagined herself? Stigmata had been the first to lay claim to it, and as quickly as he had, her assumed happily ever after had been taken from her.

Time was precious. Mahler would understand that, above all others, and so she refrained the click of her tongue and reiterating such. Instead, she looked to him, her eyes softening before the sylph tentatively reached for him. Her nose would sweep to the strength of his jawline, trailing along to plant a tender kiss to his cheek before she exhaled softly, uncertain how to navigate this conversation.

“There’s still time to decide what you want,” she decided upon, her voice a smoky whisper as she pulled back to study him. “If come time, you’re heart hasn’t decided and you think it’s best for Diaspora… then know I support your decision, whatever it may be.” She paused then her tail delicately swaying to a narrow haunch. “I would hate to see you cheat yourself of the joys of fatherhood, Mahler. The children love you… Trench idolizes you. Everything you’ve done for them—how you’ve stepped up… You should have that for yourself, as well.”

a rueful smile clung somberly to his lips; he leant into ketzia's touch with a sigh. he could no more tell her that he had wasted those same joys once before than he could voice andraste's name. "perhaps it vill come to pass for me all the same." three women of age in diaspora — he would not press himself as a choice, not when he planned to be unbound for the season to come. but the offer lingered there, and would between himself and each of them.
"i am so happy that trench found his vay," the gargoyle murmured. "he has been ... as a son to me." as he had wanted. as stigmata would have loved to see, mahler believed. "thank you, ketzia. you have been a boon to diaspora, and to me."

Unable to fathom what ran through the stalwart General’s mind, Ketzia allowed the topic to come to a close, for now. A certain stirring pulled within her at the thought of the man beside her spreading his seed to simply amplify Diaspora’s hold—and she was naive in the notion that it would even assist them in any manner. If the pups were born to others—one even who claimed she was a queen, to what did it benefit them?

A sideways glance was given, the purse of her lips all that was left to the outward appearance before an idle flicker of her ear given, her heart stuttering at the mention of relationships that replicated father and son. A flicker of pain dwelled in her chest for only a moment, the thought of Stigmata, lying cold within the ground, and yet Mahler had been more of a father to the sickly boy than her partner had… and if she were to consider it, it dwelled further than the simple fact that Stigmata was no longer among them. It was that his time had been far more divided than it should have.

Her silence remained as he thanked her. She failed to see how she had been a compliment to the ranks of Diaspora, spare eliciting love form it’s previous General, and so pivotally, she returned to their previous topic, a small frown pulling at the exotic features of the dove. “I need to ask.” She paused, her pace slowing, her embrace pulling from the gentle graze of shoulders to better see him. “How does impregnating one who claims she is a Queen benefit us? Do you believe it elevates us in her eyes?”

"mmm," came mahler's completely verbose reply, as he gathered into his mind ketzia's careful words and pondered them a long series of moments. he must he sure of his response, and so picked his own rebuttal as cleanly as he might. the little goddess deserved such, and mahler enjoyed their conversation.
"it does not matter vhat she calls herself, vhat matters is that by bonding with a leader, i ensure that the blood of diaspora there vould be protected. queen, alpha, general," and here he paused to snort self-deprecatingly, "i do not consider the chosen title."
it was foolhardy to place one's worth in verbalizations alone, he had come to know. such important events should be cemented in blood, and in this case, children. only then would the noble edicts of hydra be truly respectable to mahler.