Northstar Vale Thánatos

The death of one of the young ones had pierced the Arche.

Towhee had gone away, seeking peace somewhere else. Arsenio prowled through the vale with a furrowed expression. His glacial eyes scoured the territory for his own children, hoping they were safe, praying that he would never know the horrible pain that his friends felt.

A familiar scent drew him to follow the path. The redstone wolf drew his head up, searching to see if he could make out @Maxim in the snow.

he sat at wraen's nest — uncertain when he might be willing to leave it.

jack had chased after his mother. both of them were perhaps right to wander. to take their grief somewhere else where it would not be so heavily haunted by a shadow of death.

he missed the sound of arsenio's arrival.

or rather, he did not pay it much mind at the moment. much too lost in his own lingering heavy thoughts. a soft flick of his ear was all he felt able to give in that moment.

The place where they had buried their daughter was where Maxim was found. A single swinging ear was all that greeted the Arche.

Arsenio closed the space between them, drawing near to the other man. He could feel the weight of Maxim’s grief. It hung on him like a wet rag – soaked, clinging, suffocating. The redstone figure could not fathom how he might bear it. Thinking of his own children, the Arche felt himself grow tearful at what had happened to his friends.

Without saying anything, Arsenio pressed his shoulder to Maxim’s. His red snout was brought to the man’s neck for a soft touch, a rough man’s symbol of care. And he offered warmth to the suffering father, if only for a short time.

he leaned back into the man. uncertain if he wished to wail loudly with the crushing grief, or if he wished to hold onto it. what good would it do? clinging to the sadness, holding it in his heart to let it rot him out from the center.

it is hard to leave here.

his voice a croaky creak. the weight of his sadness against the floorboards of his heart.

somehow he felt aged beyond any comparable sense, as if the sudden death had shot him forward in life. one of his first children. his first daughter.

gone.

When the man spoke, his voice cracked from the back of his throat. A part of him had been carved out by these events.

Arsenio wished to tell him that he was not expected to leave that place. There were no tasks or teachings that ranked higher than this loss. It stirred memories of dead soldiers and their mothers weeping over their crumpled, bloodied bodies. The Arche had never expected to revisit such thoughts. He did not expect this darkness to hang over the door of their home.

You are not expected to leave, he said softly. His eyes traced the bark of the trees. This is a peaceful place for her to rest. Arsenio wanted to offer more, to give a rallying speech of support. He did not know what might ease this thing. He did not know how he might repair his friends.

Let me bring you furs. We will build a bed for you, for Towhee, and your son. You may stay here until… he paused, thoughtful, uncertain of what he had wanted to say. For as long as you need, Maxim.

The blue of his eyes shifted to the other man. Was he holding it inside him? Was Maxim forcing himself to suffer through the tragedy in stoic silence?

Let me help to carry some of this grief, my friend. An invitation to speak, if he wished.

he was not expected to and yet he knew he must. unless he live here forever in this sad moment of time. did towhee and jack find fresh air beyond epoch? was their grief more forgiving when not shadowed by leona's spirit? easier to process and work through?

it felt that often his wife knew best. perhaps she knew best in this too.

ah, towhee went...off for a while. jack followed. i am glad they can breathe elsewhere. his shoulder sagged softly.

he should follow. he knew this and yet he stayed. rooted.

i have never lost like this before. my first daughter being it feels...cruel.

unfair, but when was life fair?

There were selfish fears that blossomed inside him.

Would Towhee take her family away from the place that her daughter had died? Could he blame her if she did? Arsenio knew that he could not. He also could not fathom the idea of leaving one of his children’s bodies behind in a place he might never see again. The Arche did not envy their family. These were not choices that he would ever want to make.

Sometimes it is hard to be in a place where tragedy has struck, he said quietly.

When Maxim spoke of Leona, his first daughter, Arsenio was reverent. He listened, staying close to the other man. Zulema and Zosime swam into his mind and he felt his heart swell with the love that he felt for his daughters – his beautiful, bright, glowing daughters.

Tamar and I, we rely on you and Towhee and your presence in Epoch. You are part of our family, in many ways. I do not think I have ever thanked you for this. I wish…

A sigh fell from his nose.

I wish that I could do more for you. He felt so tired.

it was and it was why he did not blame his wife or son. he meant it. that it was good for them to travel and release the grief in safe places beyond the grave. they all had lost something. even the other wolves of epoch had a loss in leo. even if not as heavy as the family that had moved here.

but there was more kindness in the words of arsenio.

maxim did his very best to not cry. a stupid thing, maybe.

you do so much, arsenio. his voice tightened. you are here, aren't you? not all would be —

a soft misting to his eyes now it seemed.

especially in such...dark, dark times.

So much, but it had not been enough to save the girl. It had not been enough to spare Maxim and Towhee this horrible pain. Arsenio’s stomach tightened. He wished he could do more. He wished these circumstances could be altered and made better. They had done nothing to deserve this.

You are important to me, he said. To us.

Epoch was not as strong without Maxim and Towhee. Arsenio was not a man who would ignore these truths. He did not hold himself above them. They had helped to make the vale into a home.

Stirring, the redstone man stepped toward a juniper tree and reared back on his hind legs to reach a prickly limb with dark blue berries. He plucked the barked limb from its hold and stepped to the girl’s grave. The juniper branch and its berries were left atop the earth.

Arsenio sang a quiet song – a song for lost children, for grieving parents, for the girl who rested beneath the soil of the vale.

maybe a fade? ;;

he could not give voice to the feelings he had in those moments. that arsenio felt as much like a brother as any other man he had bonded with. maybe more, for the grief they now shared in this place.

and the way the greek man began a small service touched his heart even more.

maxim was not sure what he had done to deserve this level of kindness and comfort, but he cherished it in his sadness. listened to the song that arsenio blessed the air with. looked upon the juniper that now laid as a marker upon leona.

forever the plant would be hers, he felt.

<3!

Arsenio remained with Maxim for as long as the other man allowed. When he left, it was to plan how he might make that place more comfortable for them.

Busying himself with work, he thought of their family. They had asked to have new pups. He wondered if Towhee already expected them. He wondered if her grief would make carrying them difficult. The Arche could not grasp the difficulties that women faced. He quietly admired Towhee and Tamar while he made Leona’s resting place a place where they could stay for as long as they needed.