@András

Ghyslaine was lost, not just physically but mentally. Everything in her life had ended up topsy turvy in a matter of a conversation and now a rouge... she didn't know what to do with herself. Oh, they had a plan, sort of- an idea. Yet, she wasn't sure.... of anything. Ghyslaine hadn't been in this sort of position since joining the Mire. Yet, here she was- out and alone with her family. Making it work.

She padded through the dense growth of cacti and enjoyed the shade they provided but carefully avoided the needles of the plants. She wasn't a fool and knew that getting that stuck within her fur wouldn't be something she'd want to be treating. A soft sigh left her, as she walked, following the scent of water- towards a small stream- a rarity in the desert.

Well, at least, out here... she was sure to find some sort of peace- wasn't she? It didn't seem like a place often frequented by others. So, as she neared the water, and took a long drink, she finally sank down in the shade to lay and rest- to allow herself time to think.

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András had encountered some unique problems of his own; ones that paled in comparison to @Ghyslaine, but ones that had troubled him nonetheless. He hadn't left Fernweh that night. When he had awoken after their fervent passion, he had been sure to linger until she too awoke, and when they had parted, he had promised her he would return. And yet, the feeling that had crept upon him soon after felt unsettling; he'd spent hours pacing his den, wondering what all he had done, what all he had thrust into the light and may have burned in the process. Fernweh's first intuition was that he had wanted more, and though he had not denied her, he had made it clear he'd wanted nothing more than a fuck.

You're a brute, András.

And yet, he had never felt so troubled, never felt as if he'd come to regret what would have been a natural inclination in the past. He had never cared for a woman like he had cared for Magdalene, and he felt less a man because of it. Inwardly he warred with himself. He felt like a Rike no longer, unattached to his roots for so long and left to grow soft, to grow weary. A part of it was easier this way, he considered, but a large part of it still felt wholly wrong, as if it were not truly him. Eventually, he relented, and found himself wandering deep into the heart of Amaryllis where he'd never gone before.

Perhaps a new place would give him a new sense of perspective.

Ghyslaine was not new, but she was different.

When her scent drifted upon his distracted and disjointed path, András found himself slowing to a stop. The last he'd seen her, he had rejected her outright, fearing that his ties to the Rike may bring down misfortune upon her. It had left a sour taste in his mouth, but one he'd not been able to spend too long thinking upon. How would she feel if he came upon her now as if nothing had ever happened, he wondered? Would she relent, would she grow angry? Shouldering his way through the thorny underbrush, he saw her there; thin, worn. Something else had happened entirely. You look like you got hit by an elephant, he remarked coolly, a slender brow raising as he approached from her side.

Art by Kite, table by cala

Laying there, watching the small stream of water moving slowly like a trickle. Everything was wrong- not the water, not the scenery but her life. She let out a soft huff of laughter that didn't match her expression, it wasn't a sound of humor. Why was everything so fucked up? She had never imagined things... ending up like this- never imagined her life ending up... in shambles in such a way. She took in a soft breath, and let it out again, wanting to scream to the sky, wanting to sob. She just wanted to break emotionally and she didn't have time.

The desert wasn't the place for this. This wasn't the time for this. This was just the break from her family to gather herself to force that smile back to her face so she could be strong for them- because that's what they needed. A wife, a mother who was strong and optimistic- not broken and shattered.

Losing her home, the breaking of her friendship with Vio... she had never imagined something like that, and hadn't imagined it could hurt so much- so much that she could get lost in it.

'You look like you got hit by an elephant.'

A voice, interrupted her, and she turned her head to see András there, coming towards her side, and she huffed- not really able to smile, but trying none-the-less. "You know, I kind of feel like it." She agreed, a halfhearted shrug paired with her words. "How's the Cove treating you?" She asked, as usual trying to be polite, interested in his life- hoping he found it well.

@András

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Her demeanor told all. The slump of her shoulders, the downward turn of her ears, the way she seemed to sigh with every disheartened breath. Brows turned upward in a concerned knit as @Ghyslaine turned around to face him. She seemed tired, far too thin. Had the rigor of Queenship really brought her to heel so brutally? Or had something else happened entirely? He inched forward and came to settle beside her, but left a good enough distance between them; after all, they had parted on far less kind terms than András would have liked them to. Perhaps she were still angry with him, or perhaps her own problems had long made their unspoken squabble seem insignificant.

You can always kill a problem at the source, he suggested, only half-joking. The Rike had been chasing their problems for years; the only hindrance with the Sigrun was that they often fought back. When even she could not manage a small quip or smile back, András wondered if perhaps her problems, too, were as large as the ones his family had spent countless years forging. He cleared his throat, then, before allowing his tail to slip across his forepaws, his gaze casting downward toward the small trickling stream she was watching. Strange, how water persisted in the desert. Sometimes it could help to get a fresh perspective. And if András were anything, it was entirely neutral (and a brute through and through, so his opinions were of a simple nature).

The Cove is fine, really, he continues after her questioning, far more interested in what she had to say rather than spilling his own guts. András had a few problems of his own he'd not been able to escape. A good distraction. From my family. From the wife and children he had lost in their recklessness.

Art by Kite, table by cala