Hushed Willows Don't be long, for the end is nigh

For @Dusty Rose! Some powerplay of Petal and Everett just for this first post

So do not think about it.

Reverie lived by these words. Grief was an ugly, grasping thing, something that could twist you to unrecognizable tendrils of blind longing and sadness. It was important not to let it grasp you at all. If there was anything she'd learned in her life, it was that.

And she learned more each day. She learned that after didn't need to be such a scary word; it didn't need to be tears withheld and silent mornings. There was still brightness in the world. She could still taste the rain and feel the sun shining on her face, she could still hear her children's laughter and the song of birds. She could still dance.

@Petal and Foxglove had shown some interest in dancing already. They mimicked her often enough that Reverie had thought to start teaching them. She'd spent the morning teaching Petal, until the girl was tired and wanted a nap. So she'd sent her back up the hill to the den on her own, watching from afar all the while. @Everett would be there, she knew, with her other daughters.

It began to rain lightly as Petal disappeared into the den. Reverie glanced up, caught by the urge to dance again — just for herself this time. But her leg ached, and her hips were a bit sore, so she decided against it. Adulthood sucked.

Not much had changed for Dusty Rose in the wake of Boone's disappearance. He'd never actually met the guy, and he figured they were doing just fine without him — so good riddance, really. It did leave the coywolf wondering just who was in charge here. Reverie, of course. She was a parent, and a parent was the ultimate authority figure. Dusty Rose had never quite learned to respect authority that wasn't one of his fathers — and, even there, he'd outgrown at least one of them.

He wondered if, had he still been alive, Dad's word would have been impotent to him now as well. The thought made him unusually melancholy, which was, in his opinion, a huge waste of his time.

So he went looking for Reverie, hoping to compensate by spending time with the only one who didn't seem like a waste of time. Reverie and her little Muppet creatures, which had proved a little more fascinating than Dusty Rose has expected.

"Hey, sunshine," he said as he came nearer to the den. He was distracted, his ears flickering and his nose twitching. He dared not draw too close without invitation, but damned if he wasn't looking for the weird little pipsqueak he'd met before. Did it talk more, now? Would it remember him?

"Where's all the rugrats at?"

He didn't know any of their names. He assumed that they didn't have them yet, since he'd been hey you or love or baby well into his earliest memories — and he thought he'd been quite a bit bigger than hers were.

Tragedy always sorted the true friends from the rest; Reverie had found that it was never who you expected. Dusty Rose was an odd sort, the kind of man who would follow you home and bury bones in your backyard and never once show any hint of true attachment. None that were comprehensible to Reverie, at least. She'd thought he would leave amidst the grief and change, as much as she'd thought Kyrell would stay.

But it was never who you expected.

Sunshine, he called her. Reverie smiled at that. Her gaze flitted toward her den briefly when he asked after her children, warming at the mention. They're with Everett, She told him, looking back to him after a moment. Would you like to meet them? Reverie wasn't aware that he'd already been acquainted with one of her daughters.

Everett.

The brother. Dusty Rose had mixed feelings about the presence of Reverie's siblings. Chief among them was confusion, and a mild sense of jealousy and foreboding. He'd been very close with his own siblings in his youth, but growing pains had changed things. They'd all grown more territorial, until only one remained home to rule the roost. Dusty Rose had struck out on his own, and then he'd stuck close with Slow West for a time — but it only took finding a woman to turn his brothers' teeth on him.

Well, alright — perhaps it had been Dusty Rose trying to steal her away from him that truly turned things to violence. But Slow West had always been happy to give him whatever he wanted before she came into the picture.

Semantics.

"Me?" Dusty Rose said, surprised by the offer. He supposed, however, that they were really getting to be too big to be eaten by accident. Perhaps he should not feel quite so flattered as he did. "If you want me to, I do," he decided, privately very interested in seeing what the others looked like. "I ran into one of 'em the other day. Lil thing was out wandering. I put her back with the others, but, y'know. Kinna from a distance."

Powerplaying the babies! We're gonna pretend this thread is more recent than it is bc I want talking babies

Reverie turned at once to lead him closer to the den, calling out for her daughters. She would only take him close to the entrance, not wanting to disturb Everett within, but her own protective instinct had largely settled as her girls grew older. It didn't bother her to hear that Dusty Rose had already met one of them — nor did it surprise her.

Dahlia or Foxglove, I'd guess, She laughed softly, watching them poke their little heads from the den one by one. They're restless, I think. It's in the blood. I was already traveling with my family when I was their age. Back in my day, we walked four miles through fire to school every day — or something like that.

This is - @Dahlia, be nice, please, Her grey daughter was naturally the first out of the den, silently wary until she drew closer and gathered the confidence to yell at the man. It was mostly gibberish, but Reverie understood the point well enough to be embarrassed.

Foxglove was right behind her sister. While Reverie took Dahlia into her arms in an effort to keep her from outright assaulting Dusty Rose, Fox trotted up to him with an unmistakable familiarity. SMELLIROSIE, she called him (Reverie had already regretted teaching her the word smelly several times over, but never more than that moment), and bent over to smell his paws loudly.

That's Foxglove, Reverie laughed, guiding Dahlia back toward the den.

Her shyest daughter crept into the light last and only watched from afar. And this is @Petal, Reverie called over her shoulder to Dusty Rose as she ushered Dahlia back into the den, urging her to find Everett. Then she glanced to Petal. Go on, then. Go say hi.

But Petal only stayed where she was, watching her sisters.

So — this was happening. Dusty Rose was bewildered by the invitation, but despite his wariness, he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to gawk at the tiny wolves.

Even if Reverie's next words brought him up a little short. He froze for a moment, an uneasy chill shivering down his spine.

'You named 'em?" he said, or maybe he asked, hanging back a little while, internally, he talked down his rising hackles. His worries didn't have long to settle in before one of them was bounding toward them, and his hackles went right back up even as his tail wheeled in delight.

Alright — so they were cute. So was he. It was nothing special. So he couldn't really explain what power forced him to his belly, placing himself at their level. The feeling in his chest wasn't quite sentiment so much as it was instinct.

His jaws ached, he realized. From clenching them tight together. He could hear his father's voice in his head. He said —

"It's okay, love. It's okay," and, "Oh god, flower," and, "Baby, what did you do?"

Foxglove.

Dahlia.

Dusty Rose felt sick to his stomach.

His teeth hurt when he made himself relax. The memories washed over him, and Dusty Rose examined them briefly, clinically, before letting them fade away. Still, when he spoke, he thought he could hear his father's voice overlaid: "Hi, baby." He was talking to Foxglove. Wildflower. "What do I smell like, huh? 'Cause I can tell you right now that you don't smell much like a flower, either."

Even as she corraled Dahlia, Reverie kept a watchful eye on Dusty Rose. His reaction was odd to her, but seemingly harmless enough. She nodded when he asked after their names. It was odd to her that he questioned it at all, but between Dahlia's aggression and Foxglove's social blundering, there was no time to ask.

Dusty Rose was undeniably good with the girls, though. When Dahlia was safely tucked away within the den, Reverie glanced back to where he and Foxglove stood with eyes warm.

Foxglove, for her own part, was delighted to recognize a word she knew quite well. Flowah! she yelled, taking off to zoom circles around Dusty Rose. Reverie could only laugh, guiding Petal at her side as she moved back toward the pair.

So it was Fox you met, She commented warmly. She's a little bundle of energy.

Oh — oh, it was cute. Alright. Maybe he understood a little. The kid got his attention, anyway, and he felt pleased to be received with so much enthusiasm. That's right. I'm cool a fuck.

Though it was overpowered by force of will and slightly stronger paternal instinct, Dusty Rose felt an undeniable prey drive when the kid started running around. If she were a little bigger, he might've tried a few snaps to see if she could dodge his teeth. As it was, intrusive thoughts of biting too hard kept his jaws firmly shut.

Instead, he stuck a paw out in her path, thoughtlessly aiming to send the kid flying ass over teakettle when she tripped. After all — teeth might be dangerous, but Dusty Rose had never suffered from falling.

Except for the cholla bur incident.

The flinch was partially in memory of all those pokey cactus spines and part jump-scare as Reverie named them again. His gaze turned back up to her with an unusual pinch to his eyes. He was trying to brush it off like he did everything else, but... well, he supposed he'd always known that kids were a touchy subject for him. As much as he would've liked to say he was over and above that trauma.

"Seems like at least two of 'em are," he replied, trying for nonchalance but finding himself too distracted both by his own turbulent thoughts and the "bundle of energy" between them.

Foxglove rolled several times across the ground when Dusty Rose tripped her, landing right up against Reverie's forelegs with a tiny oof. She recovered quickly, though, bouncing to her feet before her mother could even begin to worry. Reverie laughed softly as her daughter took off running again, yelling about flowers — this time back toward the den.

Petal was swift to follow. If she'd said hi at all, it'd been too quiet to hear. Just as quickly as the kids had come out of the den they were gone again, and Reverie was alone with Dusty Rose.

She glanced to him. Well... dancing lesson time? A playful smile lit her features.

So they danced the afternoon away.