Noctisardor Bypass dark veil

Laurel was 1,5 month pregnant now and it showed. She looked as expected, with her stomach round, and it was becoming harder to move around now. She honestly just wanted it to be over with. Laurel had hoped that she would feel settled in Rivenwood since her return, but everything tasted like poison now. Ever since that fateful night where Mahler had turned her down and prostituted her to one of his friends, things had been different. Laurel was not sure that she could live here anymore, but she also knew that leaving now would be a death sentence for her children. Every time she thought of Mahler, her stomach twisted. He would not fight for her unless a fight came to them, and he would not love her. Why, then, did he so desire to keep her by his side, in his pack? Laurel did not understand. She wanted clarity, but it felt like Xan all over again; the love for another woman kept him away from her, but there was something beneath the skin. Something that promised her that if this other woman did not exist, that there could've been something beautiful. Now, all she was left with was a hollow shell.

She really did want Rivenwood to be her second chance. Her last chance. Her happiness. But it was hard when it felt like there was a wall between her and Mahler; once, she had felt comfortable in his friendship. Now, she was not so sure. It was as though her heat had awakened something — and perhaps the knowledge that she was once more not good enough to be loved compared to others — and no matter how hard she tried to push it back down it would not leave her alone.

She lay by Birdsong Lagoon, but where it had once been a place where the birds chirped, now it was hard to hear them sing their lovely songs, and easier to hear them bicker among each other.

Vaguely, Argent recognized the she-wolf from the couple he had seen talking amongst themselves. A silver shadow--the stalwart guardian remained on the outside of the pack, figuratively, and it showed now in his ignorance to even knowing the names of his pack mates.

Still, the ice-gazed male recognized the swell of her sides. Glancing down to the hare he had caught earlier (a feat, for they were a rare catch for the larger wolf), he offered a small chuff, jaws leaning down to snap the prize up and gently trot in her direction. Pack would look after their own--she would need the nourishment of this meal far more than him.

As he sidled closer, the silver wolf dropped the meal, broad muzzle nudging it closer to her in silence as his inscrutable gaze studied her, never one to speak first or know if his presence was welcome.

Vaguely, Laurel recognised the wolf who brought her a meal that day. She knew she'd met him someplace before, but didn't know precisely when and where anymore. As he approached Laurel felt her muscles tense, and she glanced up at him with a guardedness in her gaze. She did not trust him, that much was clear from her body posture, but as he nosed the food closer to her she said Thanks anyway.

Being in a fragile state of being wasn't Laurel's forte. Come on, dearest, throw him a bone, give him something at least — he brought you food! Laurel swallowed dryly, unsure what to say still. Have you lived here long? she asked, her voice softer than it had been in some time as she put on the mask of bashful, withdrawn Laurel — the mask men wanted to see.

His eyes swept over her once more at her question—pausing on the uncertainty that seemed to linger on the tense posture, allowing his paws to slide back in response lest she feel unsafe. There was a small tilt of his head as he considered her words, gaze leaving her now to take in their surrounding area. How many moons had passed since he had come? He had not counted—but long enough for the pack to have born two litters, and for Mahler to gravely age with each passing night.

“Only a few months,” he offered in return, slowly reclining to a seat at the distance he remained. He did not watch her—instead, his eyes drifted to the lagoon, finding a certain solace with the painting nature provided. “I’m Argent.”

It calmed her nerves a little that he watched the lagoon rather than herself. Laurel still felt nervous as he answered, even though there was nothing he did to give her reason to be.

A few months. He must've been very new when she had her heat and left, then. It explained why she did not know him. He introduced himself as Argent and Laurel returned her own name. I'm Laurel. After that she fell silent, unsure what she and Argent could talk about, although also afraid to leave an awkward silence between them.