Dawnlark Plains nothing good ever happens at the goddamn thirsty crow

Livin' it up
You can have it all
Pull more women than any two men or train can haul
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one step, two, three, and four. he found himself counting paces lately, walking the borders, trying to keep his mind focused on something narrow and mundane, rather than the range of salacious subjects that had haunted his brain as of late. one step, two, three, and four. never the total number, just every four beats, a constant mantra. hawkish eyes raking the plains.

aditya's initial plan was to avoid his mate, after what he had seen, but his conversation with alarian had changed his mind. things became better with words, not actions. words, in an ideal world, were well-thought out; actions were mindless machinations of the body, going on instinct. actions had set fire to their union, and he hoped that words could douse it with the rain it so desperately needed.

he didn't know what his goal was. surely, nothing would ever be the same between them? why should he come crawling back to her, rather than turning his nose up and walking away for good?

because he was a fool in love with her, that was why. he so desperately loved her that he'd shelved so much for her sake, and he wasn't about to let her go, even over this. he hadn't seen her since it had happened; god, he didn't even know if she knew he'd seen it happen. but he had--and he had the right to address it.

ignoring the warning bells ringing in his ears--clearly sent by the ghost of grayday, urging him not to tie down his free-spirited daughter--aditya howled for @Dawn, a low, keening note on the wind. he stood near the eastern border, near the maplewood, with a hollow gaze, an empty, twisted stomach.

she had sinned. . .but he had done so, too. it was time for them to grapple with the ugly truth of it all.

____________________________________________________________
But my baby, she does something way more impressive than the Georgia Crawl
She blackens pages like a Russian romantic
Gets down more often than a blowup doll

she heeded her mate's call easily, wheeling away from her half-hearted, slow-paced pursuit of a doe too sure-footed and quick to bring down. it had taken her a moment, two, to forge the distance between them and slow as she approached. she took in quickly his expression, and a dark bolt of alarm shot through her as she peered over his shoulder, as if she might see some lurking threat there.  "what's happened?"  quick, efficient, already steeling herself.

he didn't know whether she was truly clueless or if she was simply a good liar. she certainly made a great show of feigning alarm, if it was the latter. he had no smile for her as she approached, no greeting or caress. she asked him what had happened and he leveled his molten gaze upon her, mouth tight.

"i saw you," aditya said without preamble. no use beating around the bush. "in the grove. with that man. i saw you."

all the hurt and shame of that moment came flooding back, and it took a monumental effort for adi not to fall to his knees, cry out in pain. he planted his feet and stood tall and strong, the only thing giving away his motions a slight tremble at the corners of his lips. he had questions, and she would give him answers. he must not show weakness.

nothing that hadn't already been decided, conducted, and witnessed. 
she offered no reaction, initially, besides a sidestep into silence, of voice and of her features. she met his gaze evenly, as if to accept the hurt and shame and pain the burned there like a fire left abandoned in the hopes it would burn out. she knew, before he elaborated, what he spoke of, and her response came only after the air between them had turned stale a moment. "he is nothing, not to me." she paused, feeling that first he should no this; there was no other, only the act. 

guilt had lurked around the edges of her conscious, but somehow, it was no her own. it was the knowledge that she would hurt him should he ever find out, the added weight of another secret to keep. but it seemed to hardly be a secret, after all, and the blurred edges of that unexplored guilt were suddenly pulled into sharp focus. she ought to speak, but she could only wait for the blow to fall, wanted it to.

an apology was what he sought. if she had given him one, wept, cried out, begged for forgiveness. . .his sadness would not have waned, but the turbulence within him would have settled, if only slightly. even if she didn't mean it. but she offered none, only throwing out a half-hearted excuse. as if he cared, at this point, what he meant to her.

a fuck or a lover--it didn't matter. the one thing he had held himself back from, she had engaged him, and so anger replaced grief quickly, savagely, contorting his features into snarling rage.

"i don't care what he was to you!" aditya hollered, spittle flying wildly from his jaws. he thrust his muzzle toward her, suddenly pugnacious, daring her to drown in the aggrieved sorrow in his eyes. "i don't care. i don't care. i care what you are to me."

he stalked away, lashing his tail, breath coming in quick blasts through his nostrils. "i am yours," he said, "and you are mine. whatever sins we commit, we can forgive each other--except when one sins against the other." he craned his neck around to look over his shoulder at her, unfathomable pain painted over his face.

"and i could have," he whispered. coelacanth's dark form appeared before his face, her cerulean eyes a cool balm to his rage. a single teardrop sluiced down his cheek, cutting through the golden-cream fur. "i could have, and i didn't. because i loved you."

and then came her voice, roaring up from the depths of her only to sound small as it passed her lips, so small in comparison to the churning inside her chest. "because I didn't want to feel guilty anymore. because I wanted to act out of thoughtlessness. because I was selfish. that's why I did it." his muzzle twisted as her brother's had, his words were sharp and pointed. her brother had taken only a sharp look to drive him away, to make her do so; death had taken her father. with his last words came a chasm that yawned beneath her, suddenly and preceded with warnings she'd been too blind to see. 

"loved."  her voice was strong, perhaps because it was hollow. "you don't, not anymore." her gaze flickered to his, so easily burned hollow. all she'd built up after the burning of grief had been made only of paper, after all. what was it that she had said to him, the first time she'd told him that she loved him? I think I love you, Aditya. She was sure in the instant, and yet her words were muddled, lacking conviction. She'd doubted herself, and they'd come back. She'd grown distant, and they'd come back. She'd done this, and -

he shook his head, fur bristling. "that's not. . .that's not what i meant. i loved you then," he amended, "and i love you, still. but dawn--i'm tired of feeling like i'm not enough for you." his voice was very weary as he trailed off, the last word fading into the dullest of whispers. as if he were being dragged into the abyss of a dreamless sleep.

"kyon?" he asked in a desperate murmur, a ragged hiss. "main tumhaare liye paryaapt kyon nahin hoon?" he willed himself not to sob, but his throat was closing fast, his eyes welling with more tears. he blinked them angrily away; the shouting had felt better than this, this messy, weepy vulnerability. at least when he shouted, he could be strong.

guilt. selfish. thoughtlessness. those words rattled around in his brain. while he chided her for her actions, he realized that those emotions had guided his every step, in his youth. who was he to tell her how to live her life at such a young age? but then, he had never hurt anyone in the process, either. he had never done this.

"no," and then her mind was churning, wondering, and she felt something heavy settle in her chest. "you're far too good for me, Adi." I could have, and I didn't. he said he still loved her, and it was easy to believe, easy to see the truth. her muzzle shifted, near to him, almost as if she sought the familiar touch of when things had been alright. but she did not move, did not touch him, because he deserved better. she hadn't cared for what she'd done, hadn't thought of it, even though she knew it'd hurt him. 

silence stretched again as she watched him, wondering suddenly where her family had gone and why she'd ben so stupid and so helpless to stop them. "maybe we should...stop. I don't want to hurt you, anymore."  he wouldn't have suggested it. he would have stuck it out, and they would have come back. perhaps they would. but she owed to him, in the rapidly dissolving moment, a way out.

he gave her a gimlet stare at her first sentiment, and then shook his head at her second--but perhaps not for the reason she thought. all his life, aditya had been alone. when he had been privileged enough to have someone by his side, he'd put them before all others, put them well ahead of himself. he had desperately held onto this selfishness for many seasons now, and what had it given him? betrayal after betrayal; it did something damaging to the psyche, and he felt a monster take hold of him, grasping his tongue and commanding it to speak.

"no," aditya said coldly, shaking his head a couple more times, firmly, before leveling his gaze onto her. "no. you don't get to leave me. not after what you've done. that's not a choice you get to make. it's a choice i get to make--and i'm going to make it.

"you've made me look a right fool, dawn, you know? i'm not so bad a guy. . .really. honestly." he laughed, each guffaw falling humorlessly to the ground, like flakes of midwinter snow. "it's a shame you never used that for good, instead of pulling me along like the lovestruck simpleton i became in your presence."

aditya stepped forward then and brought his muzzle to her ear, lips pulling long and taut--though whether from anger or glee, or perhaps a mix of both, he did not know. "by the way," he whispered, as if imparting the world's most important secret, "i fucked alarian, after i saw you with that man. and i liked it."

with one final lash of his tail, and a dark glance thrown her way, aditya wheeled and stalked off, heading toward--well, wherever. as far away on the plains as possible. all he knew was that he had to get away from her as quickly as possible, lest this hardened persona crack and shattered into pieces, revealing the wounded man that lie inside.

he wouldn't give her his tears, nor his fire, ever again. only his barest civility was hers to claim--and that would come as cold as ice.

didn't he understand? it was his way out, they could stop, together. ears flickered back, and the yearling watched him and realized this time was not like the others. laughs fell like punches, words battering against her auds. and then he was leaning in close, spitting words at her like bullets. her breath hitched in her throat, and here was not the fire of grief but the rising of floodwaters that crushed her airway and made breath suddenly impossible. 

it didn't make sense. but it did, and she deserved it. for a moment, she did not move, but it was far more than a moment when finally she shifted, gaze moving to find the man that had long since receded to nothing, somewhere on the plains. she understood, then, that she had finally broken what couldn't be fixed. perhaps she was more like her father than she'd know. 

once he was at the border, aditya pissed on it. a long, steady stream of hot piss. because if he wasn't mated to a morningside, he was a morningsider in spirit, always. she would not drive him out, not if she fucked every guy in the teekon wilds.