Redtail Rise espressivo

Ashlar felt @Avicus' coldness towards him keenly after their conversation, but he did not know how to fix it. He wondered if it was even possible.

He was awash with a myriad of complicated feelings surrounding it, but first and foremost, he wanted their friendship restored. He wanted to be a source of support, perhaps even happiness, again, not whatever he had become.

Ashlar only had one idea. If he couldn't not find words to help, then perhaps he could find a song. It was surprisingly hard to put what he felt into this, perhaps because he was not even fully sure, but he continued to try. It made him feel better to work towards something that felt a bit like a gift. An apology at the very least.

Maybe the words would be easier if they were symbols. Something similar to how he felt, but... different. He thought about this as he stood in the stream, idly watching the shadows for fish.

Admittedly, his time spent with those who were not hunters or warriors was flaky at best.

But the Hǣlend had been here since the start, Prophet had not looked over that fact. It was how he held his respect for the other man. Providing his arts of the healing from the start. The man was a musician too.

Today the man seemed to be a fisher.

He waded into the water near him, perhaps disrupting any fish that had started to work by. A brow raised above his red eyes as he looked at the other man.

Attempting to move into Clawan?

Perhaps too complex a way to ask if he was hunting.

Ashlar was startled first by Prophet's appearance, second by his question. It caught the bard off guard, mid-thought, and he lost the thread he'd gathered. He did not mind it, though. He had found no words yet.

Oh, n- no. He was Hæland and could not be anything else. He hunted, but somehow, Ashlar felt the hunters who held this strength were expected for more.

He fell quiet, suddenly awkward around the man who shared so much with Avicus. Even if he had known what she wanted from him, at the time, Ashlar knew he would never be what Prophet was. He would never stand at her side. It left him conflicted.

Is it different? Having... being a father? He asked finally, working up the courage. Augur knew but Prophet did not. Ashlar still quietly struggled with the question of his own, soon to come, and whether he should even let them know him. Especially now - perhaps it was best they forget.

The man seemed to crumple, socially. It had not been Prophet's goal. If anything, he had hoped to solidify a bond between them. The importance of Ashlar's role was not lost on the great man.

But the question did feel lost on him for a moment.

Different from what? Life before? My role as Berserkr? Any answer did not matter, as he would elaborate all the same. It brings me a new kind of pride. I find it doesn't bother me to not know if any or all are mine. I care for them greatly all the same and it's an honor.

His gaze turned warmly, momentary in thought, upon the Hæland.

Do you think one is yours? Is it why you ask?

Prophet thought... Ashlar flushed further. Even the other man had recognized this was something Avicus might want, but he hadn't. His voice caught in his throat and for a moment he didn't trust that he could speak. He had to wait.

No. She.... I didn't.... didn't know. Shame, regret, frustration. Avicus still hadn't really spoken to him. He didn't know if she would again.

I thought... she wanted warriors. She didn't ask. She had you. Emotion made his voice tremble a bit, remembering the expression she'd thrown at him. There was someone else. Avicus was upset, but I didn't know. Chacal wanted... she asked. I didn't think there'd be pups, and they aren't really mine anyway. But it doesn't matter. He finished with a dismal note. It was a bit of an incomprehensible telling of things, but he hardly noticed. He was too caught up in his feelings to wonder if Prophet understood or to gauge his reaction. He might as well have been speaking with himself.

Him.

Had he stood in the doorway of Ashlar and Avicus? Was Prophet unknowingly blocking something the two of them wanted with each other?

But Ashlar had found something — someone — else. Chacal, he said. A name that Prophet could not place immediately to any sort of location or face. Prophet found himself suddenly thrust into the role of something akin to a therapist.

I think it matters. He answer soft, despite the natural roughness of his voice. What do you want, Ashlar? Avicus? Chacal? Both?

Prophet's sincerity was something that, so far, Ashlar had been hard pressed to see matched in another soul. Certainly those among the rise. He looked gratefully at the man, but he found the answer wasn't that simple.

I want them to be happy. He said, softly. Chacal loves her cliffs, and I belong here. I can't join there. He would have tried to make it work if there was any future that saw things differently, but he began to see that there was not.

And I can't be what Avicus wants. He was disappointed by this, and felt it weigh on his throat, but he was not resentful. He wished for Prophet's happiness nearly as much as Avicus' own, and certain more than he wished it for himself. His packmate deserved his place at the helm and at her side. He had no right to any sentiment otherwise.

She has it from you. She doesn't need it from me. It was honest, and the bard's expression was openly earnest despite being slightly withdrawn still. Her dissatisfaction was not just a disservice to him, but to Prophet as well. Where Tulimaq had been threatening, Prophet was kind, and the man deserved better than this.

vomits up emotion post

He watched as Ashlar verbally beat himself, speaking of the things others deserved but not of his own wants or deservings. Wanting others to be happy did not take into account the wants and needs of one's self.

"She has it from you."

He turned his gaze away momentarily.

She has something from everybody. She could call for anybody and — He found his own throat tight, a heavy stone in his stomach. Carefully he returned his gaze back to the other man. You say from me as if I am the only one.

Avicus could have it all, did have it all. She was Wealda and they all bowed to her at the end of the day.

You give her other things in what you do here — and if there is any want to be the only one to give it, then you must act. His heart clutched, his stomach twisted.

You must tend to your own happiness too, Ashlar.

For not the first time, he watched those around him grapple with affectionate emotions and felt an ugly churn of his own emotions for it all.

This was true. But Ashlar did not understand what the many had to do with what Prophet still had. He had known multiple lovers as well, and he was familiar with the different ways he had loved them, complex and yet all the same. He loved Avicus as well - perhaps more, he told himself, if only because she was first.

I can't. He replied, gently affirming it with a slight emphasis. She can choose any. But you stand with her. I can't hold that place. He looked down, not in shame, but instead because he was trying to find the words to say it in a way that he could see.

I don't want to. I don't want to have to fight for things when I can give instead. I just want to be Hæland. And Hæland was not that place. Avicus had made it clear, from its conception, that the Rise prized other things. Things that Prophet wore well and that Ashlar wished never to touch.

It isn't for me to ask. This was the biggest difference, and perhaps the reason why he knew it to be true. He would never be the one to take that step, because Prophet was right - Avicus could have anything from them. If she wanted this, she would have asked, and he was neither surprised nor slighted that she did not. He was only upset that she resented him now.

Prophet seemed willing to ask. And she had elevated him accordingly. Perhaps it was not official, but Ashlar couldn't imagine her turning Prophet down. There was nothing in the man to dislike.

His heart hurt.

For himself, for Ashlar, perhaps even for Avicus. A complicated web of devotion that had been spun upon the Rise. One by one the spider had devoured the flies. Tulimaq had gone and still not returned. Augur seemingly had another bride.

Prophet had nothing with titles beyond his own role.

Ashlar too, he thought.

I understand. His voice tight and hoarse.

Whatever you do, you have my support and respect, Ashlar. I hope you understand that. His features smoothed some as he neared the other man. Sought to place shoulders together as brothers, comrades.

Ashlar leaned into the gesture gratefully. There was certainly a kinship there, and from his end, a sense of something more that tended to enflame, gently, with the open vulnerability Prophet now showed. Ashlar would not act on it, but he did welcome it, allowing it to provide an even deeper affection for this man who shared such similar goals, but in such a different way. Prophet was reserved in these things in a way Ashlar greatly admired.

He would bear no resentment in the way events bore out. Love could come in many forms and all were just as important.

I feel the same. He replied quietly. He was too overcome to say much more, but he decided that he should make the man a song. Something that would keep the memory of this. Thank you. He still was not sure what to do in all of this, especially with the children he now had in a distant home. It was easier, however, knowing that he was not alone even in his doubts.

could be a fade but doesn't gotta be <3

A tie, a bond.

Weaved between the two earthen men. Very different, but also the same in the important regards.

I will always be here for you — as Berserkr, as friend. Perhaps it did not need to be said, but it felt important to clear the air with it anyway. He wished for any and all to feel comfortably coming to him with these things.

His admiration and gratitude deepened at those words. Ashlar relished the friendly embrace a moment longer, and he knew his affection had deepened into more with this conversation. Prophet was worthy of his place here, worthy of friendship and the good things that life could bring.

We are family. He replied, affirming the thought and the way he knew the pack to be. And with that statement, he knew an answer. Ashlar wondered what Prophet would think of it.

I can't choose them. I think... I think I should let them choose. If they want to know me. Ashlar looked down uncertainly. She said she didn't need me. She thanked me for them. Maybe... they need family that chooses them. His presence would only remind them that other things came first. And maybe knowing this would be harder for him as well.