Hushed Willows anyone lived in a pretty how town

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The rains did not stop. Just when everyone was completely convinced that the atmosphere had dumped the most water it possibly ever could, the weather did something they all were unwilling to expect — it rained some more. The entire willows had become a clogged, swampy, muddy mess. Even though @Kincaid encouraged her to have a more chipper attitude towards the things that lay outside of her control, Eleuthera spent most of her time in a dour mood. 

It didn’t mean that she could slack in her duties, though. The moment she let her guard down would inevitably be the moment that the hammer came down upon them, she was sure of it, so she still patrolled the willows daily — visited the borders, remarked the trees if they had been washed in the night (they always were), criss-crossed the entire expanse of the wooden glen several times a day searching for any interlopers. Eleuthera never found anyone, save a few Shakti brothers here and there, but she did it anyway. Things were boring these days, and she longed for the road. 

Eleuthera set to memorizing every nook and cranny of the willows, as if she hadn’t done this a thousand times before, for no reason at all; even if it was only to keep her mind off of the rain. 

maybe @Caw or @Dante?

the previously unthinkable has happened. caw has lost interest in chasing raindrops.

also his mouth is so full of plants that he could not chase raindrops if he wanted to, but this time the sogginess of his fur is not an exciting thing. but it is also not practical to be grumpy and hide under a log all day! there are lots of plants still to collect and bury. or to store to bury because now the water is more likely to just wash them away. sometimes caw loses track of where he has put them because of all the rain and stumbles upon them again a couple of days later.

this too has ceased to be a fun surprise.

caw squishes his way through the soil and roses of the clearing, fresh herbs hanging from his jaws and trailing petals everywhere. he tries to be careful around the plants! but it is very hard now when they are all so wet. and roses always have thorns hooking onto his fur and the only upside of the rain is that there will not be as much cleaning to do after this because it will just wash all the dirt away. probably.

he is lost enough in the meandering path he is making, watching mud squish in and out of his toes, that he does not notice the other faerie until he is very close. but he does, and his ears perk, and he offers an admittedly sad wag in greeting. the black and grey tangle of his tail splats heavily against the equally soaked fur of his back leg.

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She is set upon by another, albeit inadvertently. He’s the nice man she had seen and smelt around the willows, but had never spoken to. In all honesty, the feathers tucked into his first and constant avian companion intimidated her, a little bit. However, the presence of another made the ongoing dampness at least a small amount more palatable, and figured this as as good of a reason as any to get to know her salt-and-pepper pack mate. He looked about just as bored and miserable as she was, anyways, and that was the type of company she wanted to keep.

“Hey," the sodden, lilac woman returned the sad, muddy wag of his tail. “I’m sorry, what’s your name again?" It was always an embarrassing question to ask, one that was always made worse by waiting to ask it. Eleuthera sought to solve this issue early on.

this makes sense. after all, they have met last in…not the best situations! there were the saints, and then the cougars. and then the ceremony, but she seemed very busy with kincaid so caw did not want to bother her. he can be happy enough with vrána! though she is not here right now, because it is not very fun to fly in the rain. it is also not very fun to walk in it, but at least he does not have wings.

it helps that he also does not remember her name. though he is not sure if this is because he was not told at all or if he has just forgotten it! he is not that good with things that are not plants or rituals he has been taught about several times and then been forced to remember.

“my name caw!” he chirps obligingly, dropping his head to the side. “what yours?”

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The man seemed more chipper than he had any right to be. Even in just a few, short, choppy words, he managed to elevate the mood of the entire situation. She smiled at him, perhaps for the first time in days (honestly), and introduced herself as well. “I’m Eleuthera" she greeted once again, this time with more familiarity, her voice lifting to just louder than normal to be heard over the constant din of rain. “You’re not from the Old Court either, are you?" They had gone through Seelie Court’s initiation together. He was a familiar stranger to this group, just as she.

his tail is still unpleasantly wet and heavy, but caw wags anyways at her smile, flashing his own in return. all of the rain and wet is still miserable, of course! but things are less miserable when you have people to be miserable with. he appreciates vrána's presence, and she is good at listening to it, but she is also a bird, so most of their communication happens in chirps and signs, even if she knows his language. it is not quite the same.

he dips his head to the side, curious. courts are for faeries, and he knows all the stories of his family! they say that there are many faeries, that some are kind like the ones here and some are not so kind, that they guard the forests and rivers and mountains of their choosing. so there must be other courts! it is hardly surprising, but he still wants to hear more. "no," he says. "am from north! where is old court?" a blink. "are you from there?"

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The man asked her, in an interesting accent and lexicon, where the old court was. Eleuthera paused, furrowing her brow in thought, and realized no one has ever told her. She hadn’t run into the Old Court in her and Séamus’s travels, at least. “You know… I don’t know!" She chuckled, pulling her chin into her delicate throat as she did so, aware of how silly that statement was. Honestly, she only knew Lumiya and Orlaith, the latter of which was no longer called a faerie, and the Old Court rarely came up. There had been a lot of other things to talk about, up until recently.

Eleuthera smiled, and swept her nose up and in a wide arc, from right to left. “But I’m from here,” she said as she gestured — the boughs of the trees, though heavy under the weight of the rain, did not lose any of their ethereal qualities. She knew nothing of Caw, but knew he lived beneath holy trees, and thus was imbued with a holy energy.

it is only now that caw is starting to wonder if he was maybe a little overexcited to leave home. it seems like there are so many things he should know! and yet he does not. but! learning things along the way is just as fun. even if his new acquaintance does not know much about this old court. perhaps it is something he can ask the faerie queen later!

or orlaith, maybe. surely there is a reason that she is the seelie court's guard! ...but it is also orlaith, and caw is not so sure that she likes talking to him. she has always seemed a little impatient. he should probably not bother her.

that is fine, though! caw has met plenty of people who are not very fond of him, for whatever reason. it is not his fault nobody else likes to play! there are just so many angry wolves around. but he can understand orlaith being careful about the borders. there have been the saints, and there have been the cougars, and probably even more things that he has not been told about!

"oh! were born in willows?" caw tilts his head, curious. "before court came? how long have faeries been here?"

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“I was,” Eleuthera corroborated, nodding, unable to hide the small smile that such an admission gave her. it was a strange thing, to be in the lands of her birth, but have the wolves who inhabited them be totally different. different, but not bad — it has never been bad; only sad. “In the grand scheme of things, not that long.” Certainly, there had been wolves that came before Elysium, but she didn’t know of them — she didn’t know if the willows had been different, then. Perhaps this place had once been inhabited by heathens, though Eleuthera doubted it. “These trees are old souls,” she suggested almost off-handedly, having succumbed to the mystery of it long ago.

caw's gaze grows sharper, more curious. "who lived here before faeries? was just you?" it seems very odd that anyone would live on their own! caw did not leave his valley because he did not like his family. it was just because there are so many things to explore beyond those lands. and he thinks he is right, because after all, look what he has found!

"yes," caw says, with the certainty of someone who either knows exactly what they're talking about or has absolutely no idea. of course, he is firmly in the camp of the former. "faeries like old places. sacred places. sometimes even guard single trees! but faerie court here guards whole wood." he hums, looking up and over the willows. 

it feels strange to speak of these things in a tongue other than irish. he is still so fascinated to find faeries who carry it in their name, but do not speak it at all.