Chimera Fields your hands can heal, your hands can bruise
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Ooc — Talamasca
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#1
All Welcome 
He was on his own again.

What had started as the hunt for the lost had transitioned in to being lost, for Mou. Prevost was gone (Did you really even try to find them?) and with the separation of the Caldera pack, so were his last chances at a family. @Blueberry hated him (Is there any other way to live?); she made that much clear when he had last seen her. @Vesper had vanished (She wasn't yours to begin with!)

There was nowhere for him to go, and so he moved endlessly, pointlessly, through the woods and then the glen, to where the earth became hard and tapered in to mist. Hours of wandering brought him to a forest again, and it felt like going backwards; maybe he was.

The forest was filled with ice. The smell of the sea permeated the north-facing corridor, bringing to mind Undersea, of all places. The one place Mou had ever found happiness; before Onyx Hollow and the fire, before Niamh and Yuelong.

He wished he could go back there. He wished as he collapsed, unable to walk any further without fuel for his empty stomach, or mending of his broken heart. Laying prone upon his back in the shade of the trees, feeling the cold reach for him, as he stared up at the gray sky and mourned his entire life.
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Ooc — m
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#2
she knew that father had returned, thanks to @Blueberry, but the darkling had no intention of seeking him out. he had abandoned her directly after mother did, and though they both had fluttered in and out of contact since then, vesper's trust and loyalty had finally been cracked. they both assured her that they loved her, that she would always be their daughter, that they hadn't wanted the family to be torn apart— but every choice that they had made for her had led to this.

when she had chosen a direction of her own accord, she never imagined that she might see either of them again.

mou, vesper said, quiet and bitter. her fiery eyes took him in, illuminated by the dull winter light, laying prone and morose as maegi had once done— the day the darkling had defended her against peregrine's vitriol. how wrong she had been, then, and her brother so... correct. splitting from her brother and discounting his point of view was her first life regret.

she lingered, wondering if the father she had once adored, had anything to say for himself. maegi had, and so vesper thought she owed him the same opportunity, at least. but her patience was thin, and her appetite for a new life was great.

she would not linger in silence for long.
vesper is experiencing their first heat until march 28, 2023.
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Ooc — Talamasca
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#3
While he lay against the field and the snow fell across him, he thought that surely he deserved to be buried in it.

Flakes touched his nose and melted there. Crystals on his lashes. His masked face salted with it, while he basked in the cold memories and dying desires. What he wanted had never mattered — that was true in his core, he knew this. Everything he'd tried to hold on to was like snow in his jaws; it melted away and left him numb, desperate for spring's thaw, which would never arrive.

And there, over the soft touch of snowflakes against the earth, was a voice that he knew. Mou blinked after hearing it, certain it wasn't real — and turned his head enough so that his one eye could see.

Vesper.

Mou sagged back, letting his head rest in the divot it had made. Was she here to let her hate be known? Was Blueberry not enough, he wondered.
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#4
her heart thumped so strongly in her chest that she could feel it in her teeth, her ears growing hot and flush after speaking her father's name— she thought that she wouldn't care how he reacted, that she had gotten past all the heartbreak of her formative months. but the moment she spoke, vesper couldn't deny that she very much cared. she swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, as she waited.

the snow fell, collecting on her coat. if she waited for him long enough, she would disappear in it— even as dark as she was.

he sank back in silence, and she blinked back heat collecting in her eyes. vesper exhaled, then swallowed again, fighting the thickness building in her throat. she wanted to scream at him, to tell him every broken piece of her heart, but that was never her style. even now, despite everything, she loved him— and maegi— so desperately. she didn't want revenge or to hurt either of them; only for them to know how badly she had needed them the whole time they had been so focused on prevost and peregrine.

she had never been good at articulating her feelings.

vesper relaxed, surrendering. her tail, shoulders and head dropped with an exhale. she looked at her prone father and simply said, quiet, okay.

that simple word held all her pain, her anger, her love. once, she might have settled in next to him, and that closeness would have been enough. perhaps that was what he expected of her. instead, she lifted a paw and began to walk away.
vesper is experiencing their first heat until march 28, 2023.
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He had expected white-hot rage, because that's what had come from Blueberry, but Vesper wasn't like that. Laying there waiting for her to say something to him, to berate him, to let him know in every intricate tiny way that he had fucked up as her parent, and — at the same time, knowing his daughter.

She isn't your daughter. The voice in the back of his mind corrected, but still Mou held on to that word.

Daughter.

Vesper wasn't going to rage at him in some open way. She wasn't anything like him. The boy who raged at everything all the time. Who ran his mouth at the slightest inconvenience, or held fast to hurts. She would let her feelings simmer until she could understand them, accept the taste of them.

And when she spoke it was a hush; an acceptance, a defeat. Mou did not know how to take that singular word, okay.

This wasn't okay. It wasn't okay that he had abandoned her to the Redhawks, or that Maegi had been overtaken by something sinister. It was all his fault, and it wasn't okay.

But he couldn't speak. His tongue felt weighted and for the first time in a while, the noose of scar tissue around his throat felt tight. The rest of Mou was numb save for his chest, which was heavy with the burden of his failure — and there he sat, waiting for the snow to swallow him up while Vesper left.