Wheeling Gull Isle xx. and if it should pass that your heart aches for mine

@Rosencrantz @Daegon for plooootttt..

You'll find you've run out of time.

She was not one for avoiding confrontation. 

She left him to his own devices, for his sake. So that he might cool down and find her on his own, explain. 

But as days passed and the silence grew deafening in her ears, the Lady of the Isle'd had enough. As evening submitted to dusk and the aspiring leader rounded off her nightly chores, she scoured the land for his most recrent scent trail - tracking him across the Isle until at last his pale hide came into sight. 

Though she'd been confident initially, it began to falter seeing him - the same myriad of confusion, anxiety, and hurt brewing together beneath her flesh. 

With a deep inhale through her rosebud nose, the nightwisp squared her shoulders and drew herself up tall as she padded to his side, releasing a quiet chuff of greeting to test the waters. 

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding.

Perhaps he'd only been ornery that day on the beach on account of his injuries, maybe she'd imagined that spark of loathing in his eyes. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

76°, currently it is clear skies and set at night with a new moon. Located in wheeling gull isle, | ooc notes: *SCREAM* bring on the dramallama!

Night had fallen into day, then day into night once more. The lone paladin picketed the island, a ghost of a figure that slithered through the shadows and brush in order to keep his presence hidden from prying eyes of the growing population of the island. He had kept one part of his promise to the princess, to guard the island - but restricted himself to everything else.

The heat of the day had forced him to shelter, to wait in the shade until the sun had passed and the moon had risen once more. Though the weather still too hot for his liking, it was easier than it previously was. Like a painting, he laid on the top of a flat rock, staring out to the sea as the stars twinkled above. Tranquil. Quiet. 

For a moment he was getting accustomed to the busy life of a pack, to share, to talk, and perhaps even make friends. It was awkward, but the knight was willing to learn; however, upon learning of Rhælla and Daegon, seeing on they were with one another, no longer did he feel the same desire to blossom and open up as he did. Instead, he found comfort once more in solitude. The serenity of the silence had come crawling back, the walls he had before were built up bigger, stronger than before. 

The sound of footsteps caught his attention first, a single ear flickered in the direction until the chuff beckoned for more. Still, his eyes lingered on the stars, the beating of the ocean uppon the shores, the twinkling of the moon reflecting off the waters. Expression hardening, even if he had desired to speak, he couldn't muster up the words. Instead, he continued to look on into the abyss - this time, no dreams, no desires or intentions flooded his mind, only this; what could she possibly want.

He would not hurt her again, she had decided as she stormed over here, yet, he manages to all the same - gaze resolute as it stares overhead, refusing to acknowledge her presence. 

Her teeth grit against the flash of pain and the bite of anger, her own orb shielded by a defense of cool collection lest she reveal how deeply he has cut. 

"What have I done to you?"

She will not beat around the bush, will not play this childish game. 

Her gaze was hard as it peered up at him but unreadable, her tones void of anything except perhaps determination as it was clear that the dark Seelie would broke no more of this silent treatment. 

"What have I done to you for you to treat me so?"  

He would not look at her. From the inside to out, he hardened. Muscles tensing as she approached further, fur as the tide itself rolled on his back. There was no sign of aggression, but he certainly didn't welcome any company at this moment, not a single one. A doll, as pristine as fresh snow, and just as lifeless. Not only did the scar maim his striking alabaster figure, but the slow-healing wounds of the sea beast from before on his thigh remained. Washed of excess blood, but the flesh still red and angry - other wounds blessed his tunic ever since. Clearly, he had been busy.

Does it matter? His words, bitter and chilling, as biting as the wind in the dead of winter. Once ago he felt his heartbeat at her presence, uncomfortably so, a warmth spreading from his chest to the tip of toes and all the way down his spine to the tip of his tail - but he felt it no more. As numb as death, he only felt the ground beneath him as it grounded him to this earth.

"Yes," she grit out, wanting to fling the edged word at him when instead it cracked. 

"We are co-leaders after all," she reminded him with a raise of her brow. How could they ever dream of running a pack successfully if he was acting like a brat and she was left in the dark as to why he was upset? This she did not say - wisely. 

"Or have you forgotten?" It was softer, though still a bite, and the truth of it hid between the lines. 

Or have you changed your mind?

"If we have any hope of leading a pack, working together, then we must be able to communicate. Including when one of us is angry with the other," she pointed out, if only so he would respond to reason.

His lungs filled with air in slow deep inhales. Controlled, as he was trying to be. As he demanded himself to be. She spoke, and he, desiring nothing more than for her to leave him at the peace he had found for the moment, had to listen. He wouldn't leave, this was his spot for today. Should he leave, it would show she had gotten to him once more; which was something he refused now more than ever. Instead, he would wait her out. Until she grew impatient enough to leave him be, or that she felt satisfied enough. 

As her speech came to an end, the silence lingered again. But it wasn't a silence like before, the air was thick with static, an aura around the white knight that shielded his heart and soul. The position is rightfully Daegon's now, is it not. Only now did his eye break away from the scenery, and onto the stary woman. The shine, the sweet warmth it once radiated for a bright moment, now cold, empty, and vacant; filled with hate. 

Our communication means nothing.

The setting of the sun had Daeg searching for his queen. He hadn't seen her since they parted ways that morning—she was busy with all the responsibilities that came with leading a fledgling pack, and he had spent his day learning the island better and guarding the borders—and his soul ached to be whole again. He padded down the beach with purpose, mouth set in a hard, determined line as he searched for her scent. 

A soft breeze caressed his face, holding the usual scents. He lifted his muzzle as the wind's intensity grew, and he inhaled deeply. A whisper of her scent made him freeze briefly until he could determine which direction to move.

With her scent filling his nostrils, Daeg patiently tracked her across the island, centered by the fact that he would eventually be in her presence once again. 

After some time, her voice drifted towards him, and he smiled, but it was quickly replaced with a frown as he picked up a hint of tension in her tone. He couldn't make out what exactly she was saying, but it didn't matter. He quickened his pace until he saw her. His gaze moved to Rosencrantz as he neared, brow furrowing as he tried to piece things together.

He took his place at Rhæ's side, brushing against her in an attempt to soothe her. Then, his gaze pinned Rosencrantz, and he demanded: What's going on? Surely his packmate had not been the source of his love's tension, but if he was, then they would have a problem.

At last, he gave some answer - riddled as it was between the passive and aggressive of his gravel timbres. 

Realization struck her first, shock on its heels, but what crashed through her most alarmingly was a white-hot flare of rage. 

"That's what this is about then?" She demanded of him, sparks igniting in her tones and fire licking along her skin. With his next words she visibily flinched, stung that their budding friendship had meant so little, could so easily be cast aside. 

So be it.

"How dare you," the words tumbled from her lips in a hiss, aquiver with the shake that had possessed her. 

It was then that Daegon manifested at her side, his touch welcome though she knew it would anger the Tactician further - she needed it in that moment, lest she tremble right out of her skin.

"You chastise me, your distraction, for finding what you knew I craved - what you yourself said you were unsuited for?" She hurled the words at him, daring the alabaster paladin to refute them. 

"You are not owed me; you are not deserved me," the nightwisp spat, drawn forward a step in her ferocity, lip curled with disgust as she looked on him in new light - and one that did not cast him well. "I am no prize to be covetted and won." 

"If you're unable to pull yourself from this wallow of jealousy, then step down," she ordered coldly, chin tilting up a fraction as her features hardened against him. 

Maybe she'd been wrong to entrust him with such a position, if he was threatening to disrupt things before they'd even gotten off the ground - over something that, similarly, hadn't even begun.

Her tone alone was music to his ears. He had hit a nerve finally, retribution was his to claim without a tooth or nail out of place. His gaze continued to burrow into her, through her, no longer did he search for something to cling to, a beacon to bring him out of the darkness he had lingered in for too long. The details of her face faded, every curve, every expression, blended with one another. Details he would soon forget, he worked on forgetting, to continue to build those walls higher and higher.

How dare he, she spat. The words echoed and he desired nothing more than to explode in a fit of rage; how dare he? When she broke down his walls, chipped away at his exterior to expose something he hadn't been aware of was ever there. To ask of something that seemed impossible for him, pleading, and in response, he had worked at opening up, in welcoming a new perspective - only for it all to be dashed; for what? Because the change wasn't immediate. 

But he remained unchanged, the mask of indifference stuck on his mug despite Daegon appearing and the two purposely egging him on. He would not give them this victory. He remained still where he laid, gaze as stone as his physique that remained on the darker woman despite the new company. She sought him out, after all, it was with her this had all began with; and so, he ignored Daegon's demand. 

You craved nothing more male companionship, you did not want to wait for what I was becoming. What I thought you deserved. You chipped away at my defenses, the touching, the smiles, the fleeting glances, that same twinkle in your eye when you look at him, was once directed to me. Even if the words meant more to him, they remained as grey as ever. His tone never raising, uncaring, he brushed it all off as he continued to build brick by brick that wall to protect what had been too tender. No, you are no prize.

Gladly. He never desired the title as Lord, that wasn't what had hurt before all this. He once wanted something more than just an empty crown. You abandoned me. The lack of communication from the one he was just about ready to offer all he had to, to watch from a distance and learn with his own two eyes instead - that was quake that shook his ground. I would never rule by the side of a harlot. Every emotion he had, poured themselves into a single word. Harlot. He didn't know Daegon at all, and so he prepared for a fight to defend Rhælla's honor should he decide to initiate such a thing. Muscles coiled and ready to pounce, he patiently waited where he remained to lay since this whole meeting had begun.

As the situation unfolded in front of him, he felt himself bristle, Rhæ's words implying that the other man had wanted what had always been and would always be his. It was something he could possibly learn to deal with, for the sake of keeping the peace, provided he dropped this shit and stopped upsetting her. Maybe. His glare deepend as he imagined Rhælla flirting with and smiling at another the way she smiled at him. He tried, without much luck, to push aside his jealousy for now. But, Daegon was finding it hard to think straight through his sudden, burning anger as his mind was flooded with thoughts of someone unworthy touching her and treating her like a thing instead of a queen. Piece of garbage.

His anger became white hot rage when Rosencrantz had the audacity to insult her. Daegon took a step forward, getting in his face as a snarl pierced the air between them. You will not speak to her that way. The words were low and ominous as he fought to control his temper. Apologize, he growled. His hackles raised, and he was practically vibrating with anger, his muscles tense as he fought the urge to rip his throat out and end his insignificant life. He wasn't fit to be in her presence, let alone rule alongside her.

She thought she knew the depth of his anger - as she had once assumed she knew the depths of his feelings. 

Unsuited, unwanting he had claimed to be - labeling her dreams  as folly. Whatever might have been ended in that moment, at least in her eye, and he had the gall to play victim? 

"Aye, I wanted companionship but the only crime I've committed is seeking it in you," the nightwisp retorted calmly - armored with a sheen of frost as she pulled herself up tall, refusing to allow his blows to strike. Was she to be blamed if the populace was mainly male, for seeking company as their kind was wont to do? 

"You've gone fucking mad," the words fell, breathless as a humorless chuckle left her. She barely knew him, if anything they'd just begun to find friendship in one another, and had hugged but once. If that was all it took to unhinge him then the former Tactician was more uncivilized than she had guessed. 

"You do not get to decide what I deserve." Oh, hadn't she told him then? No man would decide her worth ever again. 

"You kid yourself if you think I ever once showed you an ounce of the devotion I hold for Daegon," she allowed her lip to twist up into the coldest of sneers. This leech wasn't fit to stand within twenty feet of his shadow. 

"Your delusions know no end." Her crown tilted up proudly, rising above the knifed word he speared her with. "You would never have a place at my side, in any fashion." He'd been offered the role of Tactician, or had he forgotten that too? His true colors would have shown, even if not for her reuniting with Daegon, and she would never submit to this beast as her Lord. 

"Aye, what a harlot I am to find a person I thought lost to me forever, to lie with someone I truly loved for the first time. Willingly," her anger was gone, burnt out, and in its place a bitter, damaged taste in her mouth. She threw it at him, ashamed and betrayed. 

It was one thing she could never forgive him for; how many months, years, after Lucavon had she shied from her own reflection in digust? How long spent thinking of herself as dirty, tainted, ruined? 

"But what would you know about that?" She asked, rhetorically, continuing with her onslaught of harsh truth: "You don't know me. You don't love me," again she felt her teeth bare, her head shake, "You never did."

"Might be best if you leave - wouldn't want to be tainted by my filth," she snapped at him, uncaring if he stayed or went at this point. 

Again, the nightwisp wanted to get away from him and forget.

Her muzzle touched Daegon's shoulder as she passed, silently asking if he was coming too. They had some things to discuss she knew. Without looking back, the woman trotted from the beach with a hardened heart.

Iron in her spine, fire in her eye, strength in her bearing - every bit the poised Lady her Muña had trained, despite the ache beneath her breastbone.

At this point, the two didn't see eye to eye. Pointing fingers at one another instead of listening and trying to come to some kind of compromise. Rosencrantz was once again blinded by the idea that she sought him out tonight instead of leaving him be, only to once again, push him closer to an edge he was walking along. Choosing not to speak further on the matter, his word, just as hers, fell on deaf ears. Even Daegon's threat had come and gone to his attention.

Instead, his lips twisted skyward. Her venomous words gave more pleasure than it should. Remaining where he lay, muscles still coiled and ready should the autumn colored one decides to be a scuffle. Empty, a void was left in his core as bid farewell to his once desire for peace. She was right, she had made the mistake for trusting him, he began to think, he was a lowly barbarian who was cursed to remain as such. There was no room in his heart for anything else. 

Once alone, he looked onto the sea and the stars again - for the final time. For once the sun would rise, the island's ghost would be gone. As requested.