The Sentinels alphonsine

@Deirdre

The loss had hit them all hard. The guilt registered within Renoir acutely, and he could not bare to be near others now. The thought that his journey with Lasher had been their last time together - their final moments - and he had shared such intimate and secret things, only to have him taken! He knew it was foolish to think that had been the cause; there were many things going wrong around them all. The famine. The heat. Combined, there was little remedy for the Alpha — and yet still, Renoir blamed himself. Blamed his stories, his feelings, and knew not what to do with these immense sensations within.

He missed Lasher. He missed him as the rest did, and yet his guilt was inconceivable as well. So he hid from them. He hid from their judging eyes within the shadows of the trees, worming his way between them until he was somewhere new; somewhere he had never been where he could be alone. The pale boy stopped his running then. He collapsed among the fresh shoots of grass that had begun to pop up among the shadows, and without thinking of their significance, curled upon himself and began to cry.

she had been hidden here, within the briars and out of others reach. she had wept so much her font was dry and she could cry no more. in her exhaustion she simply slumbered, though the sleep was poor. deirdre was inconsolable. she rest limply on the earth, her ear rotating as she heard the sound of sobs. selflessly she withdrew herself from her hiding place and went to seek out the one in misery, and she found renoir in no time at all. a quiet sigh was all she emitted, before she drew nearer to him. perhaps she would be of comfort to him. perhaps she needed another to grieve with, to be able to do or understand or know or see. and so she slid to her belly, letting out a low whine only so that he would know she was there.

The sobs which racked his body now came silently, and his face melted like smooth room-temperature butter. He held his face with his forelimbs at first. They grew damp quickly, and gradually the boy shifted from one coiled position to another, but could not find a comfortable way to lay and to grieve. Perhaps that was to be expected. He sighed in to his fur, breathed a fresh breath, and thought numbly of Lasher — which brought a new wave of sadness and weight upon him. Breath hitched in his throat when he felt the presence of another, and while Renoir was stilled for a moment, he tried to relax against that buffer of warmth and familiarity. He raised his head slowly, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with anguish, and he looked upon Deirdre as if she were the ghost of the man that he loved.

When seeing it was the girl, he seemed to startle. To draw back. He raised his chest and braced his torso above the flattened plant life that struggled to grow beneath him, fueled by his many tears, and turned away from her, ashamed and embarrassed by his very private display. Deirdre - he murmured through the thick sadness inside of himself, but could not find the energy to finish the thought and form further words. He watched the soil beside him and avoided her, intent on keeping his sorrow contained and distanced from her.

she watched as he turned away, even as he said her name, to hide his heart and his hurt from her. deirdre quietly lingered for a moment, looking to the pointed furs along his shoulders, before she hoisted herself up on all fours and murmured, i am sorry--i did not mean to upset you further. i will leave you be, and it was then she sought to go around him, to delve again into her own sadness. she had interrupted him, his mourning; her mind wandered, yearning to be any place but here.

Non, he chokes out, sniffling, swallowing, shuffling so that he can face her, although he is still unabashedly shy about his display. The boy ducks his head and squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the tears collect and slide from his vision. When he looks at Deirdre again she is up, trying to leave, and he whines pitiously - urging her to stay and unable to speak it.

After a few moments he has command of his tongue again, and murmurs, Please, non, stay wid me, pleese. He could not bare to be alone now, not after being graced by her presence. His pain was immesurable, but they could mourn together.

she heard him the second time, and paused to peer at him. deirdre had thought he wished to be left alone, but it seemed she had been wrong. and so she took a tentative step nearer to him, her own resolve and stability a fickle thing. yet her eyes did not yet water, and her breath did not hitch. the pain she felt was acute, but she was a well that had dried, she imagined. there was nothing left in her to weep with. she was exhausted, so exhausted. and so she looked to renoir, wearied and in misery herself.

He was quiet for a long time. Sobbing still, but able to contain the voracity of his sorrow. He did not want to grieve, he did not want to need to grieve, and yet his body rejected his control and continued. The tears soaked his cheeks, dotted the forest floor, nourished Donnelaith as Lasher's body would. As his spirit still did, through each of them.

He steadied himself by leaning against her, breathing her in, and breathing Lasher out. He filled the air with his very soul; whatever was left of him had been imbibed to the whole of Donnelaith, and it was too much for Renoir to bare. He tasted her and was reminded, in flickering, fleeting and foggy thoughts, of the beach. His head wound had healed but his devotion remained.

Deirdre, he all but whispered, Deirdre... mwen cannot stey 'ere. But, ah, mwen cannot leave you, because his love for her was strong. It was overwhelming. It would fix all that hurt within him, for Deirdre was a healing light within the world and he, seeking the light instead of the pain, could not live without it. Plees, lovely... lovely one, come wid me. He crooned in to her ear as softly as he could, but there was a tremulous note to his voice, a yearning and a sadness Renoir would never be able to shake.

his murmurings were met with the shake of her head. i cannot leave this place. my father rests here. one day i will rest here, i know it. this is our home, renoir. though he has gone that has not changed. her words were remarkably spoken in an even voice. she hadn't the desire to flee donnelaith, though emaleth had from her hurt and her need to cope alone. deirdre did not mourn the same; she needed the spirits and the wolves of donnelaith all to survive this! his croonings in her ear were met with a sigh, and yet her conviction remained. i can't...

And as she spoke, as she refused him, he felt his heart breaking over again. Over, and over, it was always the way of things. Why could he never have what he wanted? A family that loved him; a man to call his own, without fear, without scrutiny; his sister back, his Deirdre for himself, anything.

He shook his head, unable to listen. Ou can, ou will, with mwen by ou'r side. And thus he burrowed his face against her, a soft whine behind his lips, her scent sweet upon the air. Not foreva. Jus.. Wid me, someweyr? A day, deu, please, he was begging her as the tears began again, wetting her pale fur. Dampening her with his depression. Ou love mwen, Deirdre. Do dis, please, for mwen, he dissolved at this point in to soft sounds, and sobbing.

he spoke, appealing to her giving nature, and she sighed. a day, a mere day! she could give him that, and perhaps she even needed that for herself! for the death was fresh, and she hurt to not see him before her now, though she felt him worrying at her. alright, she relented, a day. a day along the coast, renoir, just you and i. she let him weep into her furs and felt the strength of his emotion, oppressive and demanding, and yet she understood it, spoke to it. she did love renoir, as she did any other, and would do this for him because he needed her. this way he would not leave, this way he would stay when the day was done. 'twas all so very innocent, his need for an escape--but she looked to him with young eyes, and old and weary though she felt she had much to learn.

Fade?

Her acceptance eased his mind, filled his weakened heart with many and varied emotions; the sobbing eased, and he gasped in to her fur, murmuring platitudes like he had upon the beach during their last visit. They could go away! They could steal in to the night and sit beachside with the sea at their front, watching the many colors, and forgetting all their pain! Oh, this was wonderful. Oui, oui, he cooed, Mwen renmen ou, nan lalin lan ak tounen lakay ou mwen renmen ou! Renoir whispered to her, and anointed her petite face with some fleeting kisses, feeling ultimately blessed by this cherubic girl.

deirdre felt his affections, but truly was too numb to interpret them. should he have bitten her, it was highly questionable she would have felt even this! but she withdrew, looking to him with fond eyes, and said, we must wait until after the full moon, renoir. there is something i must do first, for my father. a rememberance ceremony. i will call to all of donnelaith, should they wish to join me in this ceremony... they may. she bid patience of him, and then moved to nose his brow lightly before departing his company, needing to rest, needing the quietude of the earth.