Dragoncrest Cliffs turned to the max, can’t forget maxine

miette sulked. it was unlike her to be outside of sapphique’s going ons for too long, but even she recognized as her world grew her understanding of it grew smaller.

for instance, she understood that maleah had not wanted her to take the boy’s tail as trophy. she understood this was some social tenant imposed upon her by generational custom — but what she did not understand was why?

presently, she laid across the sand by the beach. the tide had pulled out, and gulls squabbled overhead. fixing them with a squint, miette turned the clamshell over in her paws, lost in thought.

hey there, sobeille. val called softly from the dunes. he’d noticed his daughter seemed less troublesome than usual — and while he had his suspicions growing pains had to do with it, he’d figured it was up to him to get to the bottom of it.

he pulled alongside her, watching as she tumbled an empty clamshell between her paws. her expression seemed darker than normal; stormy even. what’s got your tail?

val. miette’s petulant gaze lifted the briefest moment, but then glanced away.

another adult. he would not get it - he would just tell her the same thing maleah had said — miette had half the mind to ignore him entirely.

but her enormous credit and generosity, she didn’t. her gaze flatly apprised him and then moved to the clam. no one got my tail. her voice was glum, aimed at the empty shell between her paws. ’ow come i ‘ave to listen to everything adults say? ‘ow come i can’t do what i want! she pinned him with an accusing gaze, frustration mounting in her tiny frame.

it stung val to be so coolly regarded. he thought of dwin; was this what dealing with children was like?

rather than address her slew of questions — which he thought were all fair in their own right — val pulled gingerly alongside miette, brow furrowed with concern. what has happened, miette?

when val bent down to sit besides her, miette turned away, her thin spine coldly angled towards his person.

mahleah wouldn’t let me take ‘is tail! she cried, voice thick with tears. val’s apparent confusion spurred the girl to elaborate. ’e was trespassin’! me n’ astera were gonna quarter ‘im up. but mahleah wouldn’t let us! miette’s gaze burned with iron-forged injustice — turning pleadingly to val for commiseration.

to himself, val quietly mouthed what the fuck. he made a mental note to find @Maleah later, and thank her for intervening.

to his own child, who turned a sharp shoulder, val sighed. he remembered what it was like to be so young - the world was turbulent and confusing — and sometimes, enormously unfair. whose tail, sobeille? was he a friend of sapphique?

he could not imagine in what world a trespasser would breach their halls and he would not hear of it. most likely, it was someone her size — he wondered if redtail rise’s children had paid a visit, and gotten the world’s worst welcome committee.

I'UNNO! miette gestured, exasperated. val was so nosy - why were all adults up in her business all the time? she longed to be on her own, answerable to none.

miette fixed him with her trademark open stare -- the beauty of it was in that very moment, it was all mireille. 'e be some trespassah that showed up from ... her face squished as she recalled -- what had that boy said? admittedly, miette had been too fascinated with collecting her bounty to get caught up with exchanging pleasantries. de rise. 'e was ugly black. a knife's glint of humor -- like you. maleah wouldn' let us - so 'e got to escape.

val retracted as miette flared with anger. frustration bled out in her small voice, which aimed for his heart in the manner of an arrow.

but that look — he saw mireille in it, and smiled softly to himself.

idly, perhaps to diffuse the mounting tension he felt building between them, val began to trace little figures in the sand. sobeille, he started, meeting her gaze for a moment before inviting her to join him in drawing patterns across the beach’s face. maleah was right — they are our allies. but you are right too, in your own way. he drew a lopsided circle, then dashed it. it is wrong to trespass — you should never do it; but if we struck our allies, we would lose that friendship, and as our closest neighbors it benefits us that they are not hostile towards us.

the scribbles took on shape one by one. besides, i am sure he went back to the rise and got the scolding of his lifetime. val stepped back and peered at the crude drawing in the ground; the rough cut shapes of two wolves with four small puppies in tow.

miette’s eyes rolled in her head. firstly, to be continuously referred to as ‘sobeille’; doing so made her feel patronized. secondly, none of what val imparted truly sunk in for the girl.

she eyed the patterns in the sand with initial disinterest. ’e trespassed. ‘e should be punished. came her thick reply. miette was ostensibly taciturn in this regard — she would have fit neatly in hammurabi’s culture.

val continued drawing. his doodles became recognizable shapes; miette inched closer, expression crossed. when val stepped back to assess his work in the sand, miette made his pains her prey — wickedly, she dashed a paw through the little family, singularly erasing the top halves of their bodies, leaving them headless in the sand.

and he will be punished — but by his own family. val countered to the surly girl, trying hard to hide his amusement. such fire for something so tiny! she was like an ant, single minded in her pursuit of perceived justice.

for a moment so sweet tasting for its shimmering hope, val thought miette was interested in his heartfelt drawing. his beautiful family, his heart entire laid out one by one in crude figurines in the cold sand — but instead, his conflicted daughter rent the earth and sundered each figure into erasure.

val gasped. sobeille! what possessed her to be so angry? he’d never been like this — and from what he remembered, while mireille was a strong-headed child, she had never been cruel. miette, what has gotten into you?

in triumph, miette watched the fallout — she stepped back from her razing of val’s work, eyes blazing.

his reaction spurred a sense of deep satisfaction, condescending righteousness even — if she could not duly vent her frustrations to a patronizing father figure, she’d lash out instead.

but his scolding tone awoke another emotion in her, one of bitterness. in an adolescent’s rage she seized the last of the pattern between her two paws and flung it.

miette did not stay to see her act of destruction play out on val’s face. his initial look of shock - and hurt - alone was enough to buoy her frustration into righteousness, and carry her far away where his shouts and scoldings could not reach.

where she could later pull out that memory and frame it, replay it over and over again — his disappointment, tousaint’s hurt — cycled over and over in her mind until she fell into an angry and embittered sleep.

jesus, sobeille. val called in bewilderment after his daughter as she struck out in rage, firmly erasing all evidence of his small drawings in the sand.

while it had not been a physical strike against him, val felt the lash of Miette’s anger scour down through his skin, into his stomach, his heart — which twisted in pain to be so coldly assailed. and by a child — his child! what ugly anger must assail her heart to be so vindictive.

as miette fled, val sunk into the sand. this, he supposed, must be what having teenage daughters was like.

he hoped for his sake that chantale did not turn against him too.