Witch's Marsh hearts / wires

set for immediately after this thread! making some assumptions, for @Dinah

silence enveloped them for awhile.

one-eyed woman was left to her own devices. and dinah, understandably shaken, followed him in concern.

but he offers her no explanations. only a request, to follow.

so they walk. on and on; endlessly.

until his sootblack legs grow weary and he finds himself at odds again with a mind-numbing headache. the berserker is left no choice other than to rest. 

he slows to a stop beneath the shade of a tall maple.

the marsh’s lush grasses are cool against his undersides. his tongue lolls from his mouth as he glances to see if dinah will join him.

:D !!

just as was requested, dinah followed.
what else was she supposed to do? mulherin had remained entirely reticent, dragging her wordlessly away from the shelter of the grove to... wherever the hell this was. it stunk and it was hot. her paws are slick with mud, and humidity clings to her pelt and makes her feel hideous.
but she follows regardless. her attention is solely upon him, almost obsessively, attuned to every move he makes, the thud of his heart. she ignores the screaming that drums against the back of her mind, begging her to run; what the fuck was she getting herself into? what was so wrong with him, and why wouldn't he tell her? what had that lady been talking about?
what was the sickness?
when mulherin finally stops to rest, dinah herself is weary and panting rather miserably. he curls against one of few trees that had dry earth beneath them, and so she does the same, dropping to her belly and settling down at his side. she tucks her face close to his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his ribs, and she stays there silently. just holding him.
because she wished someone had been there to do this for her when she needed it.

she joins him.

her touch is warm, comforting. he melts against her side.

a feeling of indebtedness comes over him—he owes her an explanation.

everything’s gone to shit. he begins in a low rumble. it’s the plague or something. my sister’s dead, and her mate too.

that bitch from earlier; she and her gang kidnapped my nephews afterwards.

a gravelly declaration; I gotta find them, dinah.

half-lidded, he rests his chin upon the crown of her head.

she is silent for a long stretch of time. she listens.
a dead sister, a dead brother in law, nephews stolen in the commotion. your sister who lived on the mountain, she says quietly, eyes contorted into an expression of helpless sorrow. i remember.
there was nothing she could possibly say to comfort him, and she knows this. she knew well what it was like to watch your world crumble, what it was like to feel small, impossibly small against the almighty force of nature and of time. but she tries anyway, suddenly breaking the silence with a harsh intake of breath.
you wish everything would just stop, right? she murmurs into the ruff of his shoulder, listening intently to the rise and fall of his breath. like, you just-- everyone else's worlds keep turning while yours is suddenly still. and no one else gets it, gets why. and you feel-- small, and weak, and... like you just can't breathe.
idly, dinah twirls a lock of his fur around a pale claw. his words remind her of the fact that she had left judah behind on the isle for this, and her stomach drops with guilt. we will. we'll get them back.
she pauses for a moment, hesitantly pulling her head back in order to meet her gaze to his. her smile is weak and thin, but it says more than she was capable of communicating in words; i'll take care of you.

it was an odd feeling, to be seen so clearly.

dinah’s voice has a soothing quality to it. he is too obtuse to fully make sense of her words, but listens as if she were a melody.

in turn, his words to her are sparse. his tongue is a sheet of sandpaper, his mouth is still dry.

mm. he can only murmur in reply. yeah.

there was nothing he’d done to deserve her dedication.

dinah, he starts,

don’t get wrapped up in this mess.

a little late for that, isn't it? she scoffs half-heartedly. it was a meek effort to channel the warm, teasing nature of their typical conversations. i'm already here. sunk cost fallacy.
her head drops back down to where it had been before as she entangles her limbs with his. the truth was that she'd made up her mind long ago, somewhere, at some point. maybe it was that chilly spring afternoon on the beach. maybe it was the rise. maybe it was somewhere in between, or nowhere in particular at all.
all she knew was that it was him. he hadn't done anything because he hadn't needed to.
i'm here, mulherin, she says it again, this time with more conviction; defiant, almost, yet tender. i'm not letting you do this alone. i'm not-- letting what happened to me happen to you.

she’s stubborn as ever.

and there wasn’t anything left in him to argue with her. perhaps when he’d recharged a bit he would try again and appeal to her better judgment of self-preservation. 

but right now, he is relaxed against the warmth of her touch.

he seems to accept her finality, at least for now.

tell me what you’ve been up to.

dinah's eyes flutter to a close as she exhales a contented sigh. she'd made herself clear enough.
i went back to the island, she tells him, and i found my brother. judah. i thought he was dead.
he's... always been really shy. i was stuck on that island with him for a month, taking care of him, and i just-- i couldn't take it anymore. i had to leave. not because of him, it was just so... suffocating, all those memories.
a life lost. a new one gained.
and then i went to find you. and i did, and now i'm here. she reaches up to plant a chaste kiss to his cheek. not to say i missed you, but, y'know. i missed you.

the island, her brother, and her escape. 

he listens to dinah’s story with a whispery sigh.

mulherin understood her need to get away—but he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for judah. dinah had run out on him. 

he won’t leave? he asks.

mm you said it, though. he jests, and presses the side of his face alongside hers. now I’m stuck with you.