Falls of the Hinterlands anima

actually just going to get this up bc I need to get some timeline up for him <3 i can open it up if you rather though, so no obligation

In the aftermath of the fight, Ashlar did what he could for any wounded. He showed @Reki how to best staunch blood in wounds and how to hopefully prevent infection. He was a quiet student but Ashlar was proud of the help he gave. He was sure to let the younger wolf know it whenever he could.

The outcome wasn't as bad as he thought, but as happy as he was that they'd returned safely, he knew they hadn't accomplished what @Avicus wanted. Her revenge had been stolen by a bear and Ashlar wasn't sure if he should be grateful or upset. The only thing that he was sure of was that his friend was suffering. She'd built an army with that sole focus, but now that this was gone, he hoped she could find a new future to look towards. He just wasn't sure how to help her find one she could willingly embrace.

And then there was another question, one that he still didn't know how to ask. It felt like a betrayal whether he did or didn't. He couldn't explain why.

Ashlar gathered up his courage and went looking for her, the sound of the nearby falls matching the pounding of his nervous heart.

Avicus is washing away the reek of blood and man, the former blooming away from her body in a dark cloud beneath the surface of the water. when footsteps turn her ear, she lifts her head, and sees Ashlar approaching, his golden eyes emerging before the rest of his pelt.

she gives him a nod, submerged up to her shoulders, and then steps up and out, chilly water cascading in rivulets from her fur, dripping off her belly and tail.

mmm? Avicus asks, tilting her head. she ought to be freezing, but the mating fever has her filled with warmth; a hearth rooted deep in the very core of her, the heat rippling out to even her extremities.

she wonders if he brings bad news, and squares her shoulders, mentally preparing for the worst.

Ashlar paused a short ways away when he saw her rise from the water, but froze when she made the sound that clearly asked him what it was he wanted. He hadn’t planned which to ask first.

Which was right to ask? Neither. They were friends but not in the way that he felt he could ask about her feelings. She was a hunter and a warrior and war was not his field. Questioning her would likely come off as an insult.

But the other thing….

Ashlar looked down, trying to summon the words. Last year she had been angry and he had wondered why she did not ask. This year he had to know for sure.

I wanted to know if…. if Prophet…. Um. Just if this year, it’s the same. His face grew warm and he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t usually ashamed, but this was different. In all ways he was no match for her.

If you would be upset, if I didn’t ask. He finally lifted his gaze, but didn’t quite meet hers. Her match was Prophet, a man he both loved and respected, but a man he envied too. He feared she would say no, but hoped she would too. Things might be simpler that way.

But things would never be simple.

for a man so gifted in song and speech, Ashlar often struggled to string words together in critical moments. she grits her teeth at his halting half-queries but listens through them silently, anyway, eyes resting coolly on his nervous face.

the rest of her is all but cool.

you gonna go findh. . .her? Reki'hh ma? Avicus asks, ears swiveling in her own quiet uncertainty.

she's grown to hate the woman, given the time spent ruminating over her refusal to bring Sapphique to their aid—and because of her past with Ashlar, it hadn't been a big leap there, either.

if he says yes, she will not only refuse him, but she. . .

well. she figures it's best to wait for his reply before jumping to rash action.

No. That at least was easy. Her tone made his hair stand up, and for a moment, he felt it again… something like anger. He didn’t like feeling this way, but something had changed, and for now he had yet to sort out what.

Still, it gave him enough courage to get directly to the heart of this. The Rise is home. I told you I wouldn’t leave. He’d promised to help her with this place and as long as she pursued it, so would he. His fear was that she would not - and this home he had found would disappear too.

If there was no chase, did she still wish to have an army?

the 'no' settles her, even if only temporarily. she grows more pleased with his follow-up statement, and there's a tangible relaxing of her stance, her shoulders easing, her chin dropping an inch or two.

goodh, Avicus replies, her voice soft. we go home 'hhoon.

but that doesn't address the matter at hand.

she's undoubtedly relieved that Ashlar will not look for Chacal this season, though it doesn't exclude the possibility of him seeking other dalliances this spring.

but he's come to her. . .groveling, or so it seems. waiting for her to ask. and frankly, she hasn't looked beyond Prophet for the next batch of future fighters.

but. . .he's come to her.

d'you wanh' me? she asks, and her stare is now gimlet, searching for the answer in anything she can find: his face, his body, his breath.

He doesn’t know. He does, but it feels wrong, and the question only made him feel worse. That hadn’t mattered before. If he said no, would she be angry?

Maybe his patience was finally cracking, fractured under the pressure of a forced march he’d not managed to argue against. A fight that had ended with little accomplished. Just like they always did.

I want us to be worth more than this. He said, and for the first time, there was a touch of fire behind the words. You wanted a war and now it’s done. But you’re worth more than it too.

He was angry that she’d thrown her life at this. And he was afraid of what it being over meant.

I just want you to have more. He couldn’t ask for it. He didn’t want it if it meant disrespecting her, or disrespecting Prophet, or changing anything in the rough estimation of a family they’d made.

you wanted a war and now it's done. except it isn't.

i wan'ned her dead! Avicus snaps back, irked both at his retorts and that he hadn't answered her question directly. by me! an' now her daugh'her gone, and who knowhh. . .

she could come back. she will be back; Avicus knows it. and next time, it might be someone closer to her heart. her warriors, her children, Ashlar—

d'you wan' me?! she asks again, more pointedly. i don' wanh' you if you—if you come beg for me. or if you 'hhink i'm angry if you don'.

it's the most nuanced argument she's ever constructed, and it surprises even her. but here spills the blood from the deepest recesses of her heart, the thoughts she's locked away for fear they'd consume her and drag her into the weakness, the feelings that made Ashlar who he is.

i wanh' you if you wanh' me. she shuts her mouth at that, gritting her teeth again.

For once, he didn’t recoil at her outburst. He was in it now, angry about so many things he didn’t know how to voice and hurt that she didn’t see that none of that mattered.

You deserve to want more. It was the only thing he could think to say. He couldn’t say it didn’t matter because it did - he knew it did. Nothing he could say could make this right.

She had to believe it. He couldn’t make her.

She asked again. His ears tipped back, knowing that this answer would decide it. Two paths lay before him, but he got what he wanted in neither.

He’d already said too much. There was no point in holding any words back. I don’t want you if Prophet is who you’d rather have. He did not care if she had him. He only cared if she saw him as more. He would not get in the way if this was so.

the answer hits her square in the gut, and she visibly flinches.

for one, it isn't that way. in her world, there's no 'rather'; she can and wants to have them both, for very different reasons.

Prophet is Ashlar's superior in nearly every way.

but most of those ways, she shares with the warlord. 

Ashlar has things neither of them have. 

and she wants those things. she wants it all.

i wanh' you bohh', Avicus says quietly, though the stubbornness hasn't exited her face or voice. i wonh' pick.

A part of him was ashamed to have to ask, but he couldn’t have otherwise. He knew the same things she did. He was not near the equal of either of them and, likely, he would never be the father Prophet was. It was hard to imagine a child ever being his.

And even despite this, despite everything, did he want this?

She wouldn’t pick. He wouldn’t make her. But something in him, something that had never grown past the insecure child, couldn’t believe that she would. In her eyes, the things he knew she prized, what was in him to want?

He could trust her or he could walk away. Ashlar didn’t know what else to do, or how to decide, so he did the only thing that could possibly make this decision easier. He moved closer, hoping that in closing the distance, he would know. It doesn’t matter if it’s both. Just that it’s me too.

He would come as close as she allowed, and reach to comb through the fur just next to her jaw.

by reflex, she stiffens as he approaches, and forces herself to remain still, to allow him access to the soft fur along her cheek. her eyes close, and she rocks into it, breath slowing, heartbeat slowing.

without volition—but entirely willing—Avicus steps forward once, twice, then drapes her neck along his shoulders, chin tilted to rest along his back. 

in this moment(!), the fight leaves her. she doesn't know if it had ever done so before, at least fully.

she eases entirely into his embrace, and damned if it doesn't feel right.

alwayhh' been you, Avicus murmurs, voice muffled against his fur, which she begins to groom as well, tasting herbs and earth and wilderness.

no other has seen her at her very worst and her very best.

He felt a shiver as she eased into his embrace, but one that was nowhere near cold. Always. he confirmed softly, then drew her closer and more firmly against him. All he had ever needed was to know she wanted this.

Ashlar had held other lovers, and would continue to hold more no doubt, but none like her. She’d captured him from the first moment he’d realized how different, and how like, the rest of Ursus she was and she had not let him loose since.

He ran down the sweep of her powerful neck and rumbled a low growl. His way was not aggressive or fierce - she was the sun he worshipped, the song his heart sang, and in this moment he would harmonize to the symphony that was her.

<3 we can fade and wrap or do a skip and continue, sorry for the delay! I know you need it for the puppy posting ^^

all good <3 i will wrap here but they should have an updated one when you have more bandwidth!

in all ways, he and Prophet are different.

the warlord is rough-hewn, Ashlar delicate. Prophet is a fire that singes, the healer cooling water to soothe. Prophet acts; Ashlar sings. Prophet does; Ashlar dreams.

she finds all these differences and more in his embrace and finally does not balk. 

for he and Prophet are different in all ways but one—

they are both faithful and true.

Avicus yields at last to the undeniable nature of their connection, and the time is right at last.