Ankyra Sound Marigold

With Everett here to watch over Blossom, Reverie had taken to wandering the Sound periodically. It was a welcome distraction from the stress of Lestan's continued absence. She did not let herself think of it now, but already there was a part of her making plans — just in case.
Her paws were sodden and dark with a mixture of mud and sand, but Reverie paid little mind to it as she drifted along the water's edge. She was watching the waves. Every so often something dark would stir to the surface, only to disappear just as quickly. A few times she'd managed to track the movement all the way to the shoreline. That was how she discovered that most of these bits of debris were either pieces of wood or plants swept in from the sea. She stopped eventually to inspect a slimy dark green tangle, unaware that this was what was known commonly as seaweed. Reverie was fascinated, of course, and studied it at great length.

The beach, on that bleak day, was a place of desolation. The sand stretched out like a canvas of death, bleached and wind-swept, while the sky above was a pale imitation of blue, a washed-out cerulean that offered no warmth.

The sun was but a vague memory, hidden away behind a veil of wispy clouds. The ground below was chilled and damp underfoot, a reminder of the frigid emptiness that surrounded it. There were no scents of a pack claim, no joyful shrieks of children at play in the sand. Instead, the only sounds were the low, mournful moans of the sea, and the occasional cry of a seagull circling overhead.

But there was something else on the beach that day, something that should not have been there. It was a dark shape, hulking and ominous, like a beast waiting to pounce. A large wolf with fur like red cedar. He prowled the shoreline without purpose or companionship, his senses alert to every sound and movement.

The wolf was alone, and had been for countless days. He did not expect to break his solitude, to find anything of worth in the endless sands that stretched out before him. But when he saw the flaxen wolf-girl at the edge of the water, he knew. He knew that he had to reach her, to feel the warmth of her fur against his own, to remember what it was like to be alive.

He walked faster, his nostrils flaring in reach for the scent of her. There was no doubt in his mind. He just wanted to refresh his memory. Six months had passed since the last time he saw Reverie. Riordan had believed that he would not see her again, but fate had other plans. And now, as he closed in on her, he knew that this day would bring an end to his isolation.

Yells softly

Someone was coming, and quickly. Reverie startled at the sound of fast footsteps in the sand, and whipped around like a bolt of golden lightning with teeth bared. The expression fell away and melted into shock in the next moment. This man was familiar. Yet that was as far as the recognition went; she knew him but not his name, or who he was, or what he was to her. How could she?
She could not even remember the birth of her own daughter, after all.
Who are you? And how do I know you? Reverie demanded even as she took a few shaky steps back, before she could think too much about it; before the sudden rush of remembered affection softened her too much. She was afraid of this feeling. She was afraid of those dark eyes like a dream only vaguely recalled. I'm not ready, she thought, and was unsure what it meant.

Riordan's heart hammered in his chest like that of a cornered prey animal as he made his way towards Reverie. Memories of their late-night escapades and early-morning confessions came flooding back, like spectres from a bygone era, pulling him back into a past he had thought was lost forever. But when Reverie turned around, he was looking into the face of a stranger. Her eyes were colder than he remembered, and her teeth bared in a snarl.

"Who are you? And how do I know you?" she asked, her voice brittle and harsh.

Riordan froze, his gut clenching tight. He gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his composure, and then he let out a dry, humourless chuckle. There was no laughter in it, only the resignation of a man who knew the truth. It made sense that she didn't remember. Reverie always feared losing her memories. He was relieved by the knowledge that she hadn't left him by choice. The wind howled mournfully, like a chorus of lost souls, as Riordan and Reverie stood facing each other, their eyes locked.

"Reverie... Daylily Medeiros," he rumbled, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You told me once that if this day ever came, I should remind you of my promise."

His heart cracked under the weight of the realisation that his promise was now meaningless. He had pledged to keep her safe from the darkness, but now he couldn't even protect her from herself. The revelation hit him like a kick in the gut and left him reeling.

Reverie Daylily Medeiros. It felt wrong to hear it all put together like that; a forced joining of past and present. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that she would never have carried The Gilded Sea with her in such a way. But Reverie knew better than that. She knew herself.
And she knew him, somehow — intimately, if his casual knowledge of her was anything to go by. He'd promised something to her, but what? She studied him as if she might find the answer in his face, but all she found was an ache in her chest. Her heart was racing, she realized, and felt ashamed for some reason she could not name. What promise? Reverie whispered finally, waveringly, still standing in the water where she'd stopped. But she didn't think she really wanted to know.

Riordan saw a flicker of recognition on her face, and he advanced, praying that she wouldn't retreat again. His ears slicked back as he lowered his head, his voice coming out in a low, guttural growl.

"You said that you would know," he rumbled.

He had more to say, but he bit back the words, willing her to remember on her own. He searched her eyes, hoping for any hint of remembrance. The air hung thick between them, pregnant with the weight of the months that had passed since he last laid eyes on her. He still carried that memory with him, a talisman he clutched for comfort on the long, lonely nights. It was because of her that their former pack had cast him out. But he didn't blame her for that. She couldn't help what she was any more than he could change the way he felt about her.

Her breath caught in her throat, but Reverie did not move as he came closer. She would know. What did that mean? What did any of it mean? She thought hard then, trying to remember; trying to think of a promise that would be so important to her that she would know it immediately.
And then she knew.
The one thing she always wanted from everyone she'd ever loved. Promise you'll always want me. Her heart seized up in her chest and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Suddenly she knew what this meant, and what he was to her — and that he could never be that again. It didn't matter that it had been him first, because…
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I - I can't. There's - someone else. He - he loves me, She sounded desperately reluctant even to her own ears. But why? Reverie hardly remembered this man, couldn't even recall his name. All she knew for sure was that she had loved him once. Now she could see nothing past her love for Lestan. We have a daughter.

The remembrance came, but not in the form that Riordan wanted. As Reverie stuttered her apologies and explanations, a part of Riordan died, and his expression turned to stone. He had always known this day would come, but it was no less painful to hear. With determination forged in iron, he nodded stoically and took a step back, his eyes now darkened with sorrow deeper than the ocean.

"I understand," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I will be a friend to you, nothing more." Despite the searing pang of jealousy that threatened to consume him, Riordan would not forsake Reverie. He was a man of his word, and he had promised to protect and teach her.

"We have more pressing matters to attend to. You left before completing your training, Reverie," he reminded her.

As they stood on the cold, damp shore, Riordan turned to face the endless expanse of the sea. "You recall the flower world, I presume," he rumbled, wondering if she still walked those mystical paths, or remembered their shared time there. Their world was a dangerous place, and she would need his guidance.

She saw it, the moment she broke his heart, this man she knew but didn't. What was his name? Reverie could think of nothing else even as he spoke, even as he went on about pressing matters. His name, she needed to remember his —
The flower world. She snapped to attention then, her heart still lodged somewhere in her throat and racing. The world narrowed to a sharpened focus on him, his dark eyes like a storm. Riordan. That was his name. He had told her about the flower world first, yes, she remembered now; it was he who had shown her how to go back, if only for a visit. He had walked with her that first time, and many times after.
She had told him that it was like a garden. Their garden.
Her eyes heated with tears as she stared at him. He wasn't looking at her anymore but she couldn't look away from him. Training, She echoed numbly, voice breaking just a little. Of course I remember, but... training for what?

Riordan's stony expression softened at the sight of Reverie's tearful gaze. He could not reconcile his image of her with this girl that stood before him - where he held her as unbreakable, she had transformed into something fragile and forlorn.

"The dangers in our world, the flower world," he began, his voice low and steady, "you were not prepared for them when you left. There are things out there that could harm you, and I won't let that happen."

As a solitary droplet slipped down her cheek, he resisted the urge to brush it away. It was no longer his place. He also knew that Reverie was vulnerable now, and he couldn't afford to nurture her weakness. Riordan turned his gaze to the shoreline, pressing his lips tightly together. In the distance, a throng of birds spiraled down to the water's surface, their rapid movements reduced to mere silhouettes against the washed-out skyline.

"You need to find your strength," he affirmed, his tone unyielding. "You are no longer a child."

Her guilt turned to frustration as he answered her, then to anger when he said that she wasn't a child anymore. Do you think I don't know that? Reverie snapped, but her voice was too tremulous to have any real bite to it. I have a child! And I - I am sick to death of being treated as if I'm incapable! I won't have you come into my life just to treat me that way too. I won't. Regardless of how they knew one another, she meant this. Whatever he was to her, it was not worth this ugly feeling.
She dealt with it often enough from Lestan; that thought startled her, because she didn't quite remember enough to know where it had come from. This sudden knowledge settled heavily in her chest. I don't need to be protected anyway, She continued, and now it was her turn to look away. I need strength, you're right, but I need it to protect my family.

Riordan looked out at the vast expanse of the ocean, the sun casting a pale glow across the waves. The scent of saltwater and wet sand threaded with that of other wolves as the sound of rolling water filled the space between them.

"I'm here because I want to help you," Riordan countered, breaking the silence. "I know the flower world is beautiful and powerful, but it can also be dangerous. And with a family to protect, you need to be prepared for anything." The wind picked up again, tousling Riordan's fur.

He cast her a sidelong glance, refusing to turn and face her. "I don't want to hold you back or treat you like a child. I want to teach you how to be self-reliant, to protect those you love."

The wind continued to blow as Riordan's gaze drifted towards the churning water. "I've been in your position before," his brows furrowed in contemplation. "I've made mistakes that I'll always regret. I've lost the ones I've loved because the flower world took them from me. I want to pass what I've learned on to you."

This is them tell me it isn't

She could tell that he meant to soothe her with his words, but they had the opposite effect. Reverie's tears intensified, and in the brief silence that stretched out after his words she began to sob quietly. She was just... so tired of this — this endless battle her life had become. All she'd wanted was to be free. All she'd wanted was to be loved. But it was just too much to ask.
I don't want to, She whispered, feeling pathetic, likely looking it too. I don't. I'm just so sick of it, you know? It's like - like when I look at the world, I see something different from what everyone else sees. And instead of trying to understand, they try to change me, or they just start to hate me. Even Lestan... Her voice cracked and trailed away.
Why would I stay for that? Why would I fight for that? She knew the answer even as she asked the question. Reverie sucked in a breath before she continued. She's the only reason I have. My daughter. But one day she won't need me anymore, and then... And then...
She looked at him with great intensity then. Will you take me back? Back to - our place?

Reverie's sobs seemed to echo off the sands and out to sea, the weight of her pain palpable to Riordan's sensitive ears. The salty sea air was heavy with the scent of tears as she dissolved into quiet hysterics. With all of his self-control mustered, he kept his gaze trained on the horizon.

As she spoke, Riordan could feel the frustration and exhaustion in her voice, her words painting a picture of a world that didn't quite fit her. He knew all too well the feeling of being other, existing on the fringes of a society that valued conformity above all else. The contrast between this harsh world and the flower world, where everything thrived, was stark.

At last, Riordan turned to face her with a mixture of sympathy and understanding in his piercing dark eyes. He saw the fear etched on her face as she confessed to an uncertain future, a time when her daughter would no longer need her. Riordan knew what it was like to be adrift in a world that didn't quite understand you.

"You're the sundancer," his voice gentled, "and you were made for this. You stay and fight because you have to. But of course, I'll take you back, when you're ready." It would be done in defiance of their purpose in this world, but it would also mean that she would be his again. If all she needed was to experience mortal life and love before returning to him, he would wait. He had all the time in the world, in this one and all the others.

The sundancer. A small shudder ran through her, and her tears dried almost immediately. She had heard that before, she knew it. Suspicion crept into her expression as she looked at Riordan, but Reverie said nothing for a moment. How much did he know about her? And why was he only allowing her bits and pieces, if he knew so much? He wanted something from her, she felt, but before she could get any further with that thought she was interrupted.
Pain shot through her and she let out a little gasp. She looked down thoughtlessly, expecting blood already, but at first she saw nothing. Then the pain intensified, and she felt the first trickles of blood crawling down her legs. A moment later she saw it. It was darker than usual; thicker, too, she thought. Reverie took in a sharp breath and stepped into the water before she could think too much about it.
The sundancer.
When the water reached her thighs she turned back to Riordan, gilded gaze meeting the darkness of his. There was a challenge in her eyes then; a beckoning. She expected anger from him, and did not know why.

Riordan's gaze darkened as Reverie stepped into the water, the saltwater lapping at her legs and mixing with the blood trickling down them. He wondered how much she really understood about what was happening, but he could also see that she was not as weak as he'd initially thought. There was much fear and uncertainty in her, but also something else, a fierce determination and a challenge in her eyes.

"You're sick," his voice hardened again, "Reverie, do you have any idea what you've done to yourself?"

He didn't wait for her to answer before turning to walk away, leaving heavy footprints in the sand behind him. He could feel her eyes on him, and knew they would be full of questions, but he couldn't deal with them right now. There was work to be done.

"Nevermind. I'll take care of it," he called over his shoulder as he strode away from her, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on his mind. He didn't look back, but he knew that he would need to return soon with an explanation.

The anger she expected never came; instead, a quiet tension that sent shivers down her spine. Reverie didn't understand what he meant — but he thought it was her own fault, that much was clear. They had only just reunited and it felt very new but she was hurt all the same. She could still recall some depth of feeling for Riordan, some kind of familiarity, and it seemed unfair and unexpected that he would blame her for her own sickness.
The only thing that soothed her was the nagging feeling that there must be some kind of explanation. He left her with another promise, and surely that meant something. All of it meant something, it had to, but trying to think about it now made her head spin. Reverie stared after him for awhile after he went.
Eventually she returned to Everett weakened, tired, raw from emotion. She didn't tell him about Riordan.