She hadn't left the Summit until later in the day and by the time she slipped into the already shadowy embrace of the Glade, darkness had fallen. Only the moonlight lit up the glade as she stepped into the open, taking a deep inhale as she tried for a moment to set down the burden on her shoulders. Every day she awaited the next challenger, the next ambitious brute to try and take everything from her, take all the women and children under their control if she were to fail.

A deep exhale as she lets those thoughts drift away into nothingness, bit by bit, until the only sound was the springtime breeze rippling through new leaves and her own breathing. She had her chin tilted up to the moonlight but her eyes were closed, scars on her face looking like silvery vines with the color leeched away by the night. @Virgil

table by ferus, art by mono

Okay, so, he wasn't the best hunter.

Pobody's nerfect, as they say, and virgil was more than happy to admit his own faults. Still, he doesn't like the idea of returning to RUSALKA empty-handed. They depended on each other to keep themselves safe and fed, and so far tonight he was really slacking on one of those.

Sigh.

The wannabe hunter trudges through the glade, fully intent on throwing in the towel. He'd have to try somewhere else once the sun was up, and maybe after some sleep.... yeah. Sleep would do him some good. He's thinking of his nice warm bed when he catches her scent on the breeze, the crisp smell of ice and snow. His paws slow, frowning slightly -- this wouldn't be the first time he imagined illyaria. He misses it more than he could, would, ever say, and finds himself thinking of the summit on hard nights like this.

But... that's not what this is.

Because that's @Morrigan, out in the clearing.

Bathed in the moonlight it would be hard to tell, were she any other woman. But this was his mutter ( mutter? ), and he would know her anywhere. Maybe that's why he stops immediately, muscles freezing -- his paw hovering mid-step. He hasn't seen her since the challenge, and only that was just in passing -- before that it'd been after she'd picked the absolutely wrong time to tell him alllll about his genetics. He's sure she's been busy since then -- she had a whole pride to contend with, a whole new batch of little ones to round up....

What was one wolf boy compared to all that?

It'd be the kindest thing, then, to just turn and leave. She gets so little peace and solace that it would be a crime to muddle it her, with him. ears lace back against his skull as he decides on doing just that. He could ignore the pangs of hurt in his chest easily enough -- He's been ignoring them for this long, so what was another night? It's what she deserves, he knows, and even here he wants to be a good son... even if that's impossible, now. With a silent sigh the wolf boy tightens his shoulders as he turns, eager to disappear back into the treeline. And then --

snap!

Of course, that fickle bitch fate has a different idea. His paw, errant and oversized, comes down a little too hard on a dry piece of wood. The stick snaps, the sound almost violent in the otherwise silent night. He freezes up, even as he knows the damage is done, and hopes against hope that she just.... suddenly went deaf, and didn't hear anything. Ah, shit.

BG & CODE

Her turmultuous thoughts screech to a halt as her warrior's instincts take over, mismatched gaze flashing open, head snapping as swiftly as the twig had done as the dangerous creature she could be was suddenly glaring in the direction of the intrusion. But it was no intrusion and she rose slowly to her paws as if a sudden movement might startle her boy away, her face crumpling as she spoke, "Mein Wolfswelpe?" My wolf pup? The lilt of question did not come from any uncertainty that this was her battleborn son, but rather at her hope that he might not turn away from her, no matter how just a reaction it would have been. She had to stop herself from moving toward him, letting the choice to come or go be wholly his own. But her face showed clearly what path she wished @Virgil to choose.

table by ferus, art by mono

shit.

He had hoped, really truly hoped, that she wouldn't have heard. But of course she did. She was @Morrigan. She rises to her feet and he's frozen in a wince, lupine features twisted up in apologetic guilt. He hadn't meant to disturb her, but he's done just that. He hadn't meant to do... well, a lot of things, but here they were. Uhh, hey! He says, the perfect picture of casual. Except, not. evidence of that was written clear across his face and the twitch of his tail tuft -- tap, tap, tapping against his ankle.

There's plenty of space between them and all around them but he still feels cornered. he doesn't to feel that way, though. He misses how things were, back before Morrigan had spilled the beans; he misses her. His family that once was, even if it'd all been a lie. hadn't it? how, uhhh, how are you? Nice. Maybe next he'd ask about the weather.

BG & CODE

She hadn't thought beyond what she wanted if he chose to stay, but somehow the nervous way he spoke to her cut far deeper than if he'd slung anger instead. She winced at the small talk, the gulf she had rendered in his trust in her. "It's not me I'm worried about," she said, unable to stop herself from moving ever slightly toward him, telling herself it was only so she could better be assured he hadn't come to harm. Thought of war and vengeance were far away, "I'm sorry, @Virgil. I should not have done that to you. Or to your mother." Because Talisa had been hurt as well by Morrigan's gross incompetence when it came to emotional intelligence. And she was his mother, in every way that mattered. There was more she wished to say, but it all felt like making excuses for her own ineptitudes.

table by ferus, art by mono

She inches forward a step or two, cautious like he's dangerous. Or maybe she is...? @Morrigan mentions his mother and he can't help but wince, regardless. Surely she means Talisa, even if it's not.... true. right? He hadn't seen the softer of the two since the challenge and it was so, so easy to take that ( in addition to her outburst ) as confirmation. No one had bothered to come looking for him and it'd been months. if not for the twig breaking, they wouldn't even be here. And yet --

There's an apology here, for two people -- but only one of them was here. Still, Morrigan was missing something.

And rusalka, too? He remembers them being worried after a previous pridemates mother, who might have been in danger from the mire. And yet Rus, who actively was in danger, was just... turned away. He remembers, too, the reason why he hadn't come slinking back to the summit, tail tucked between his leg. A whole family had been kicked out from the summit, banished for having ties to the former prisoner who'd turned on Morrigan.

Surely that fate was meant for him, too. He'd just left before Isla had the chance.

She needed our help, he says with a little frown. My help. He was the only one willing to provide it, even after he'd heard them offer protection to so many others. Because -- well, he hadn't been able to turn his back on his friend. Still hadn't, actually. Maybe that's why he was a little more scraggly and scrawny than he should be. His second birthday had come and gone with little fanfare but he still had plenty of filling out to do to rival her stature, but it was hard when they were fending for themselves.

All because of one conversation, one slip of the tongue.

And they were only here because of a snapped twig.

BG & CODE

And rusalka, too? She could not help the slight curl of her lip at the girl's name. Not at her in particular, but in memory of just how brutal the last time she'd lain eyes on the girl's family had been. And the consequences in the aftermath. "You're right," her tone was heavy with defeat, "I just realized it too late. I'm not apologizing to Rusalka because I would prefer to do that face to face, if she were willing to meet me again... The Rike Jarl is dead by Myrkvi's hand." Your brother's hand, she added silently, but had no desire to reopen that wound in @Virgil.

"He did not recover from his wounds after being thrown from the Summit... Was he her sire?" She wished to be both right and wrong, as Adalwolf was never precisely confirmed to be her father, no matter the similarities between them. Either way, she had wished to escape him hadn't she? But Morrigan knew well-enough that such relationships were not always straight-forward. Perhaps Rusalks had cared for the man in some way. She would have been relieved at the news from Alaric herself had she not known that another would be along to take his place, likely worse than the last.

table by ferus, art by mono

The name myrkvi doesn't mean much to him. He doesn't recognize the importance of jarl, either. There's a flicker of.... something across those handsome features, though, when she mentions wanting to apologize to rusalka. Face-to-face, because that was the only way to apologize to someone. She'd taught him that even if she'd missed some other, important lessons until it was far too late. When @Morrigan continues, her question is met with a surge of almost irritation He snorts, an impatient ( and incredulous ) noise.

I don't know! he answers easily but his voice is too sharp. That same little whine eking into his voice, staring down at his mother with a pointed expression that makes his lupine features look too sharp. I never asked because it doesn't matter. Not to him, at least, but clearly mother and son had differing opinions when it came to bloodlines. She's not one of them. She never was. An enemy was an enemy, but there was more to life than hatred.

Just as there was more to a man than who he shared blood with.

Will she always be a rike, to you? He asks, and his soft expression is wholly at odds with the sharp edge in his voice. Is that all you'll ever care about? He knows what answer he wants to hear. He knows what answer he needs to hear. Will morrigan be able to look at his friend and not see the ghosts of her family tree? Will morrigan ever look at him and not see the father he'd never known? He's never been a sigrun -- she's seen to that -- but does it even matter?

BG & CODE

There is was, a soft glow to the coals she knew must stir inside him somewhere, a lighting of the embers as she saw just a bit of his passion come out. It made her feel much worse, and somehow helped her mind to further clear. She wouldn't answer his questions with haste, taking the time to look at him, to meet the silver eyes before her head drifted away toward the earth where he claws traced absently along the grass. A way to subdue her emotions as she relived the memories she shared now with @Virgil.

"I tried to trust a Rike, even after it nearly cost me you, after that family was the first to desecrate the Brook's sacred soil with warfare. Ambushed me then from the treetops, again in the freeze when I was fool enough to be out alone while carrying cubs. Even after they spewed venom at every turn, called me cub-killer, Sigrún scum, I still tried to welcome Andras Rike as best I could, for your cousin Fernweh and their children's sakes. I was going to free him from his chains and offer him rank. Instead, he nearly ripped my throat out."

A long sigh, followed by a heavy pause, "But... you are not me. And she is not them. My loyalty to the Sigrún and its consequences are not yours to bear, nor is their blood feud. If Rusalka has truly abandoned her kin... I see no reason why she should be treated like them. I have no right to say otherwise, considering the Greyflood were born from the ashes of sinful bloodlines." They had fled into the woods from the life of politicking and gore of their forefathers, and until Amaryllis, had not looked back.

table by ferus, art by mono

Yeah, he knew the family was bad news. She'd said as much before, and Cassandra had dropped hints, too. Sometimes he wished moerigan would put together a PowerPoint presentation for all the history she'd lived -- it got awfully confusing to hear most of it only in passing, or snippets like this when he grapples with anger. misplaced and unwieldy, and wholly unfamiliar.

Anger, fit for a better man than he.

She wouldn't do that, he says, and his voice sounds smaller now. Poor wolfboy, tuckered himself right out with that surge of anger. But @Morrigan seems to know that. She continues speaking and virgil quiets himself, blackened lips turning down in a frown. He could be wrong, but it sounds like she's... changed her mind.

So.... what now? He says, tail twitching at his ankles. She was still queen and he was still rogue, a kicked stray shooed out the doggy door while her back was turned. He wants to come home ( he never wanted to leave in the first place ), but time had changed things. How long had it been since he'd left the summit? he couldn't return alone, at least. Rusakla needed him. Would you still turn her away?

would you turn me away?

BG & CODE