Ravensblood Forest Can I bring another bitch or nah?

For @Ashlar

The last thing he'd wanted to do was pass through the weird forest again, but as it turned out, every other way back inland was a giant pain in the ass. Tybault could have been stubborn about it, but he figured this time would be different. It would go faster. He wouldn't stop for any weirdos. Not even a distracting one.
Yet he found himself spooked as he walked through the trees. He couldn't see the sky. All he could see was that horrible red sap, and snow everywhere. Tybault wasn't a particularly superstitious wolf, not after he'd learned that Mother Rain and Father Fire were nothing but lies, but he couldn't help thinking that this place was a bad omen. Bad things had happened here. Bad things would happen here again. He walked a little faster, deciding that he would be stubborn next time. It would be worth it.

Ashlar would need to catch up with Augur and the rest soon. He needed to treat the sick and be available in case they met their quarry sooner than expected. Something made the bard linger.

He hadn't felt this way in a long time; not since Ursus. He was stressed to the point of something that resembled anger, and this feeling only deepened the further they went from the Rise. They had left their home, and for what? So that they could draw blood from someone and then inspire those to follow and do the same?

There was nothing to be gained here. Why couldn't they see it? Why couldn't she?

It felt hopeless. Like he was staring at that cliff all over again, watching someone fall, unable to catch them or help. The unwelcome reminder of that, and the woman's broken body, made Ashlar's gut churn. He would never be strong enough, or wise enough, to do the things he needed to do.

He was too unsure of what to do with the buildup inside of him. There was nothing he was willing to take these feelings out on, so instead he sat down where he was and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the leaves around him. Then, heedless of the wolf who moved nearby, Ashlar began to hum a wordless melody. As it grew he would switch to singing, but he didn't have the verses for this song yet. Just the notes came now.

Took some liberties, let me know if it's not okay <3

He heard singing.
At first, he wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not. Tybault's world had been devoid of music for what felt like such a long time. Had it really only been four months? Song felt so colorless without Ophelia, so pointless, he felt he could not stomach it. He felt he would break. Or, he did feel that way, until he actually heard someone singing.
It was like something came loose in his chest, something big falling apart all at once. He couldn't breathe. It was a soft tune, something sad but shimmering with a gentle sort of light. Something that wanted to be more hopeful than it was, he thought. And then that melody became his breath; it filled his lungs until he felt he could do nothing but echo it.
His path turned toward the wolf he knew was there only because he heard him. His voice rose, following too, matching the tune with a practiced ease. How many times had he done this with his brothers and sisters? Now they were far away, and he had no one but this stranger he hadn't even seen.

Someone joined in.

Ashlar thought it was the wind at first, or a coastal bird. A few notes later he realized that they were matching his pitch and singing with, and suddenly the frustration and anger that had been knotted in his center loosened and fell away. He nearly felt like crying.

It was such a small thing, but this was what made life worthwhile. Not war and revenge. Pure moments with strangers he couldn’t even see, singing simply because they felt music the same way he did.

Ashlar stood without pausing in the song and began to make his way to meet the stranger, waiting until he saw him to let the notes fall into silence.

And after he wasn’t sure what he should do. Introduce himself? It seemed strange, with the ghost of the song still hanging around them. His tail stilled behind him shyly but he did look at the other man as he spoke, golden gaze grateful. Your voice…. it’s wonderful.

The song faded as they met, but the feeling lingered in the air between them. Tybault could only look at the stranger, at his silver-tipped fur and his summer-sun eyes. It felt like the first time he'd truly seen anyone in... a very long time.
Tybault had never been able to let himself fully feel anything, without reservation, except through song. It felt as if he'd cut his emotions loose to swirl in the air around him. Everything, all at once, out of his control. The nameless singer spoke to him, but he could only blink at first. Had anyone ever told him that?
I - What was he supposed to say? Thanks? No, that felt weird. You're beautiful. Whatthefuck — I mean. Your voice. Is beautiful. He reached for irritation, for anger, and found none. Their shared song had stripped him of it, and left him with nothing but honesty. Suddenly he wasn't a big fan.

He lit up under the stranger’s praise. His tail moved behind him, but he lowered his eyes as they betrayed the flush of pleasure he felt with the compliment. It had been a while since he’d shared kind words like this.

My name’s Ashlar. His usual shyness had returned once the song ended, but not enough to cause his tongue to tie up. With Chacal it had been similar - things were easier after they’d sung.

It… doesn’t have words yet. But I needed something. It felt right to explain, despite the other’s willingness to join.

He wanted to be angry, he really did. Could he have been any more awkward? But the way the singer's eyes lit up, the way his tail swayed, it was disarming. As was his sudden shyness. Ashlar, he introduced himself.
Tybault Medeiros, He offered, thinking over what Ashlar had said, about not having the words yet. You don't always need words. Tybault had never liked words, ironically. Maybe he should have, being a singer and all, but he always felt that they failed him. Even in song, what he felt the most was the melody. The vibe of it all. He thought about adding more, but he was all too aware of his own brewing tension. Best to keep it short. He was finding that he didn't actually want to be angry; it was easier, but it wasn't better.

His name sounded so impressive. Ashlar never thought to give his second name unless the one he met shared it, but the way both rolled off the man’s tongue, he was too charmed to want to introduce himself again. Just Ashlar suited him much better; he wasn’t impressive or noteable enough for more.

Besides, the man spoke of his song. The bard found it hard to not laser focus on these subjects even on the best of days. Today especially, when he was looking for distraction desperately. Ashlar smiled a bit self-consciously, though his expression still sparkled with the compliments.

The words are the hard part, but they are the part I like best. Making them match, it’s like catching a feeling and sharing it. He realized how that sounded and flushed a little more. Sometimes I’d play a game, to practice. But it’s been a long time. He looked down, thinking of the Rise and feeling a return of those lonely, bitter feelings that he hated carrying. No one at home sings. They rarely even spoke.

He loved them all dearly. Yet he sometimes wondered how much his presence meant to them, and if they might even rather have someone more suited to replace him. Especially now, on the path to war, with nothing but fear and regret in his heart.

The words are the hard part, Tybault wanted to agree, but he was struck by the difference between his and Ashlar's perspectives on it. Where he found it a waste of time, Ashlar found it — fun? Like catching a feeling and sharing it; that was some artsy poetic bullshit if he ever heard it. It sounded like something Ophelia would have said.
No one? Really? Where I was born - we were all either singers or dancers, and we never went more than a couple weeks without gathering for a ritual. I mean, it wasn't the best place, but at least we had that, He was frowning now, thinking of ways to make this right for Ashlar. There wasn't much he could do, but — What's the game? Maybe that would help, at least a little bit.

I gotta get a reply in here for Valentine's day at LEAST

What Tybault described sounded so much like heaven to Ashlar he could scarcely believe it. Imagine, singing together with the entire pack every few weeks!! And dancing!! It was something he had rarely done, and in his recollection, near always done alone.

It sounds perfect. The bard's warm, golden gaze turned a little misty as he was reminded again of his mère and how much she would have loved a place like this. Baba too, as he always loved to listen.

Then he averted shyly as he realized it was probably silly to be getting emotional over a place he'd never been. He swallowed as he thought of the Rise again, reminded of impending war.

It's a game of rhymes. We say something that rhymes with what the last person said and then we say something new. It's like building a song except without the music. And sometimes without the beat. Ashlar would occasionally try to add meter but that was more when he played it on his own, as a way to challenge himself and inspire lyrics. He would not worry so much about it here.

Something kind of like... "I'm really glad I met you here, and glad that we could talk." He smiled, warming a little in his cheeks. Now you'd rhyme, then add something for me to rhyme back.