Moonstone Quarry And I pray that I'll make it before the night's up

It was late in the evening when Fleur returned to the Quarry, her restlessness finally soothed enough for her to settle. The darkest night was creeping in quickly, and her eyes were getting heavy just as fast. Reaching her den, she nosed the elk hide she kept there, adjusting it just right before lithe limbs were tucked underneath, tail curled to cover her nose.

It was with a light heart that she drifted to sleep.

Unfortunately, it was not so as she slumbered.

~~~~~

Water boiled with rage. A vast wooden vessel, with clouds on its trees, billowing as the winds screamed at it, rocking and rolling as it barely kept afloat. There was fear and anger, mingling scents from two-legged, blurred figures.

No, not just from them. From others. Like her.

A flash! Thunder boomed shortly after. The smell of burning filled the air, mingling with salt and sweat. There were screams and cries, from the strange creatures and canine alike. 

This was all too familiar, too real.

Another flash! Another boom!

She couldn't think, couldn't react fast enough.

The boom was not thunder, but the sound of wood breaking. It was the damaged tree--it's tip detaching from the rest, to fall down and shatter her world.

The floor she stood upon splintered, sending her flying, tumbling over the side and down...

down....

down...

~~~~~

She fitted in her sleep, her paws swimming, but going nowhere. A whine, warbling and broken, fell from her. A tear, only one, fell to splatter on solid ground.

solharr had not slept much in many moons.

the night blanketed the quarry in hush—soft wind whispering through stone pillars, a chill carried by the thaw that never quite left this place. he had been walking the perimeter alone, thoughts too loud in the quiet of his skull, when her sound broke the stillness.

a whine, delicate and wounded, carried to him in the dark.

he turned without hesitation.

his steps were silent as he approached, a great shadow cast in pale moonlight. she lay within her den, but unease twisted her slender frame. paws twitched, caught in something unseen. her breath was unsteady. even the single tear on the stone felt loud.

he stood for a long moment, watching, the flicker of concern in his one eye.

then—

softly, carefully, he stepped forward and dipped his head to her shoulder, a gentle nudge. his voice low, worn smooth with gravel and time.
fleur, he murmured, barely above the wind. you’re safe. it’s just a dream.

~~~~~

The darkness swallowed her whole. No breathe to be drawn, no air to fill her lung. Nothing but vicious, suffocating water. It rushed in as she tried to scream, to call out for help, filling her entire being before everything went...

still.

And as she stared ahead, a light, brighter than all the suns in the universe combined, flashed before her. It was blinding, but only for a short moment as it rotated, illuminating her in a warmth so comforting. And despite the brief moments of darkness, she felt it. Heard it. 

Calling for her.

Guiding her.

"Fleur."

She knew that voice. Knew it like she knew how to breathe, to walk. To dance.

Paws pumped harder, faster, as if nothing could keep her from reaching that light.

She reached out, crying its name...

~~~~~

 "Solharr..." His name left her lips on a sigh, her voice soft and still laced with sleep. Her body responded to him, easing back to settle amongst the furs once more. No sooner had she settled did her eyes open, a yawn so deep sending her to stretch. And when her body finished releasing the claim of sleep did those eyes land on him.

The one that which her heart calls to, even in her sleep.

Shock colored her face. "Solharr! Is everything alright?"

solharr was already watching her, his single eye steady and calm in the dim light. the night had been long, too long for his taste. her restlessness had pulled him from his own rest, and now, with the softness of her voice ringing in his ears, he stood at her side.

you were dreaming, he rumbled low, his voice smooth like gravel in the cold air. there was no judgment in his tone, no harshness—just the quiet assurance of a presence that would not falter.

he stepped closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over her. his one eye softened as he watched the flicker of unease cross her face. a pause, before his words came again, a comforting balm to the tension rising in the air between them.

it’s alright now, he murmured, his voice wrapping around her like the warmth of the furs. you’re safe.

he lingered there for a moment, not wanting to push too far, but not leaving either. his presence, solid and unwavering, stood as a silent reassurance. he couldn't see the darkness of her dreams, but now, in the waking world, he would be there.

Fleur was silent as she watched him come closer, unmoving as breathe caught in her chest; his words casted away the remnants of her dream, replacing it with an entirely different feeling altogether. One more warm, more welcome.

"How did you know?" She would not know the way in which her dreams would cause her to stir so helplessly. There had been no one around to tell her, but he was here now, and she was immensely glad for it. Even if she felt embarrassed he witnessed her in such a state that drew him to where she slept.

But, he was here and she wanted him to stay. 

"Stay with me?" It was part question, part plea. Soft as it left her, but weighted, heavy with a meaning left unsaid.

one eye panned her with a quiet understanding as he settled beside her, careful to leave enough space, though his presence was still a comfort in the stillness. the weight of her unspoken words hung in the air, and he knew, perhaps more than she'd realize, that the quiet pull in her voice was not just a request, but a need.

you were weeping, he answered simply, his voice low, the words carried more by the warmth between them than any explanation. he didn't press closer, but his posture softened—solid, steady, offering her that presence she sought without question.

you are not alone, he added, almost as a reassurance, though the words were simple. he had known many things in life—battles, survival, loss—but here, in the quiet space beside her, he understood what she needed more than anything.

he did not need to say more. his presence was his answer. and he stayed.

He responded to her plea with movement, her own gaze searching his while he placed himself beside her. The heat from him was comforting, like a fire roaring at the hearth. Lulling her, asking her to close the distance he had left between them. Her attention found it, that space, and wanted more than anything for it to disappear between them.
 
When finally he spoke, his words were like a cold plunge.

"Oh..." was all she could say. That explains the wetness on her cheeks, then. Raising a paw, she wiped them dry, but it would do no good to clear the embarrassment that left its stain behind.

His next words melted away all feelings, but a calm remained; those four words holding a power so great that even the winds were drawn to it, a roar passing by the mouth of her den as if it didn't want to interrupt the peace within. And allow no others to bear witness to what transpired here.

That was what he was to her: her peace. And whether he knew it or not, she wanted to hold onto him, to hold onto what he offered her for as long as possible.

His presence here meant more than she dared speak and, maybe, some day she would tell him. Lay herself bare before him.

But, there was fear that kept her at bay, that kept her from closing the distance now: fear of rejection, fear of becoming lost once more.  

So, she remained against the furs. Finally a smile emerged, only for him to claim. One filled with so much to be said, where her eyes filled in the blanks as words failed her.

A deep breath in, a different set of words filling the silence.

"Am I correct in assuming that I am not the only one who has had trouble with sleep this night?"

the tension is thiccc

solharr’s gaze softened, watching her as she wiped her tears, the silence between them not uncomfortable, but filled with something unspoken, a quiet understanding. his presence, like a constant weight on the earth, pressed gently into the space between them. he could see it in her eyes—the hesitation, the conflict. but the truth of it was undeniable: she sought his comfort, his strength, just as much as he felt the pull to give it.

he shifted slightly, his breath steady, the warmth of his body a gentle invitation. his heart, heavy with the burden of his own thoughts, could feel the subtle shift between them. she did not need to speak it aloud; he knew her fear, the fear that clung to her like a shadow. and yet, still, he did not back away. instead, he moved closer, though not too close—giving her the space she needed but also the closeness she sought, a balance only found in quiet understanding.

he nodded slowly, his voice low but steady, a reassurance without pressure. yes, he murmured, his words quiet in the stillness of the night. nights are hard.

If it is anything you wish to share, I am all ears. Her ears flicked in humor, eyes crinkling at the sides as a soft chuckle escaped her.

I promise to stay quiet. She winked at him sheepishly. 

Maybe in sharing you might…rest easier Here, with me, maybe, she added to herself. There would be no protest on her end, of course, but she wouldn’t press. The fact he was willing to be by her side to provide her comfort was enough. 

Even now, she could feel sleep trying to pull her under, the warmth that permeated her den and the close proximity of Solharr was a lullaby she fought hard to ignore. 

He deserved her presence, deserved so much more in exchange for what he has so readily given her.

Yet, she couldn’t help the way her eyes had a mid of their own, the way they slowly roamed over his face, down over battle-earned scars, then over muscles that have clearly been honed by years of hard work and dedication; his body a weapon, used to protect and to serve.

Still, she couldn’t help but to wonder what his body felt like against hers if she gave in, if the small distance between them was no more than a dream.

the moon, he murmured, voice low, carrying a hint of something he didn’t need to explain. his gaze remained steady on her, though his words stayed vague, slipping through like shadows between them. it keeps me awake.

he shifted slightly, the muscles beneath his fur moving with ease, yet he remained distant, careful not to let his words give away too much. the night, and the moon—those were his companions. his burden, too. yet, as she lay beside him, there was a comfort in the quiet tension between them.

perhaps it is not something worth sharing, he added softly, his voice low but steady, a trace of a thought unspoken hanging in the air. but sometimes, words are heavy.

he let that silence grow between them for a moment, letting the stillness speak. he didn’t offer more, but there was a tenderness in the way he watched her, the way he stayed near. it was enough. for now.

the distance between them was brief, but it lingered. and though it wasn’t a dream, there was a quiet understanding in that space, a shared moment of something just beginning to settle.

the rest would come in time, if it was meant to.

his gaze drifted toward the moon again, his thoughts as quiet as the night around them. sleep, if you can, he murmured, his tone gentle, almost reluctant to break the quiet. or tell me what it is startled you.

The moon. she murmured softly as she followed his gaze. She haunts you.

Whether she was talking about the orb in the sky or the ghost that still clung to him, it didn't need to be said. She knew of whom he spoke.

Callyope.

It did not bother her, not as much as one would think, for him to mourn her still yet be here in her den, where he was providing her the comfort she sought.

No, the former was something to be expected. The latter was a just a kindness she felt he thought he owed her. Nothing more.

His words were laced with reluctance and, because of that, she didn't push further. No matter how badly she wanted to relieve him of his thoughts, she couldn't. He was right; sometimes words were just too heavy to speak. 

She knew that well.

Perhaps, they are... A flash of the smallest smile.

She let the quiet understanding linger as she considered her dream. Fleur was tired, that much was true, but there was fear that the dream would return as soon as her eyes closed. Words may be heavy, but not all were meant to stay behind tight lips.

A memory, maybe? Oh, I don't know--that's so silly. It was so real--I felt everything. Heard others screaming, others like me, and others that were not. They were all frightened. Angry. There was a storm--lightning. Thunder. Wood all around me started turning to ash, then splintering all around me. Before I knew it, I was thrown into the sea. 

A shuddering breath. I...I was drowning. Suffocating. Then all went quiet. Calm. 

There was a light, turning on its own axis before me. It was blinding, but so...warm. It called out to me and I kept trying to reach it. But, before I could--I woke.

callyope, her absence still a shadow across his heart. the pain of her loss felt too real, too present, even in the stillness of the moment.

he gave a slow, thoughtful nod, his gaze turning outward, toward the quiet mountains that cradled their home. yes, he murmured softly, voice low, rough as it always was when touched by grief, she haunts me. the words hung there, carried by the wind, but he did not elaborate further. the moon’s light, the ghost of her, both had their places in his heart, and neither could be chased away.

when she spoke of her dream, solharr’s expression shifted. his brow furrowed in quiet contemplation. drowning. the light. the fear. it all rang with a familiar sort of weight, a memory he could not grasp but still felt deep in his bones.

he shifted closer, his presence a steady warmth beside her, offering what comfort he could without words. it sounds real enough, he said softly, memories... or warnings. i don’t know. he met her gaze then, his eye steady but gentle. had they been a warning about him? if you want me to go...

the silence between them was deep, the quiet of the night weaving through their words. solharr didn’t have answers, but he did have presence, a steady strength that had been tempered by loss and time.

Dreams never truly make sense, do they? There are always more questions than answers. 

But, the strangest thing? When she washed ashore here, there were broken pieces of wood circling her, scattered amongst the rocks. All shattered. Some darkened as if burned. A crate closed shut, somehow surviving the tumbling through waves onto shore. 

Had it truly been just a dream? Or, was it a memory making an attempt to return? She couldn't be sure.

What she was sure of? Him. 

He spoke of warnings; his lingering question in the air between them. How could he not see that, dream or memory be damned, she wanted him here? 

Yet, she felt unsure if it were something he wanted. Kind, steadfast, man of stone and fire. A man who gave without taking. She didn't want to take what he was unwilling to give. It would be unkind, almost cruel. And she was neither.

It was up to him to decide. She would let him go if that is what he chose.

She couldn't be selfish.

I only want what you decide. Your-- she paused to yawn, lowering her head to rest on her paws, her gaze drifting from his eye to the familiar spot on his chest, --presence will always be welcome here.

solharr watched her, his gaze steady and unfaltering. the words lingered between them like the still air of the quarry. the uncertainty in her voice didn’t escape him, but neither did the quiet strength she held, the trust she offered.

he took a slow breath, the cool night air sweeping across the stone beneath them. his one eye locked with hers, and in that silent exchange, he found a clarity.

i’ll stay, he murmured, the words low but firm, like a promise born from the earth itself. his tail flicked slightly, his body shifting closer, but there was no need for further words.

solharr was not a man of unnecessary gestures or grand declarations. he had said what needed to be said. presence was all he could offer, and it was what he would give.

the night pressed close, but he would remain, his silence a quiet answer to the questions she had not yet fully asked.

She hummed softly, the sound heavy with relief at his choice to stay—grateful for the quiet strength, the warmth, his presence brought. Her eyes shimmered with something she couldn’t quite name, but she felt it all the same; it sank into her bones, echoing through to her very core.

And as it filled her to the brim, the pull of sleep returned in full, her eyes gently closing. Her breathing steadied, syncing in time with his own, a gentle lullaby which lulled her to rest.

A sleepy sigh escaped her as her body sank fully into the furs. It was an unconscious release of the tension that had coiled inside of her. 

Before long, night gave way to morning, and there were no dreams, no memories to threaten the gentle peace that had taken root in her heart.

She only hoped that her living shield had felt the same, his thoughts quiet for even one night.