It was a quiet night, entangled within the sultry beauty of spring. The grasses were starting to green again, relieved from the sting of morning frosts. With the rejuvenation of the plains came more life in general, and today Violarum rested languidly by the creek-side with an unusual view.

The Rhino and her calf were well aware of him, but deemed the bulky lion to be of no threat - rightly so. Instead, the full moon bathed the familiar lands in an otherworldly glow and Violarum was more than willing to rest peacefully - at least in body. His mind still drifted occasionally to their missing child, pondering if she were dead or simply misplaced.

@Fallon

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Things had been... weird since Vera's disappearance. For a woman that had never considered herself to be maternal in the slightest, the disappearance of her daughter has truly shaken her to her core.

For months now, Fallon has searched for her -- venturing beyond Amaryllis borders and finding any excuse to suspect complete strangers of cubnap. The mental strain has taken its toll, the Salem figurine having lost sleep and her health, her coat dulled and her ribs flashing through hide.

Still, she hasn't lost sight of the things that she should be grateful for -- namely, the remainder of her family that remained. @Violarum remained steadfast and her children were beginning to grow far too quickly for her liking.

Without a word, the grey figurine stalks up to her resting husband, unable to rest her eyes and her racing mind. With an undignified oomph, Fallon plops down, resting her chin on her husband's mane, burrowing into his masculine scent.

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Through the near-silence of the night Violarum is mostly aware of her approach; she who steps with the quietness of a prairie-mouse even when at ease. His wife and her stealthy abilities are surely their most contrasting differences; he unable to hide even if bestowed with some kind of invisibility magic, @Fallon capable of disappearing in plain sight.

The thoughts have him briefly ponder if Vera had chosen to disappear, but the question is soon dismissed in the wake of his own half-hearted chuff of greeting - awaiting the contact of the grey vixen with eager quiet. It comes with a less than elegant flop, the kind Violarum appreciated most - his instincts sending him wriggling awkwardly, scooting vaguely so he maw press some part of himself against the warmth of her body, as she nestled into his mane.

Comfort. The feeling left him with a heavy sigh of relaxation, crimson gaze fluttering weakly as the rhino he had been watching began to meander into the distance - perhaps less willing to hang about near two lions. "You need to eat more," the clay man offers lazily, able to sense the lack of lustre his wife possessed in that moment.

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"Let's run away," she mumbles into his coat, blatantly ignoring @Violarum's suggestion as to her eating habits. Lord knows that she had tried her best to eat what she could but there was little of interest to the grey figurine who simply yearned for normalcy.

"Take the kids, leave this place," she lifts her head then and shuffles forward so that she could stare blatantly into Violarum's ruby red gaze, "go on our next adventure." Perhaps that was what they needed -- something new and different to take her mind off the things that kept her anchored.

But she soon realises that this is mere fanciful talk. If Vera was to return, she would return here and there would be no way she would leave if there was an opportunity for their family to be completed. She pauses regardless, eager to see what her husband might think of her hypothetical proposition.

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He is not much expecting her proposition, and yet he should have been. Though Violarum never ran anywhere, he certainly was a wanderer at heart - or at least in habit. His wife however was near as wild as they came; a free spirit, a songbird unable to be caged. It was something he had always just known, without it needing to be discussed, and without any particular talent for knowing much at all.

Though Violarum had forever desired to be a King, as all good men should, he had never intended to stay in one spot forever. Though his duties had subsided at present, he was still wandering the far lands when he was High Sovereign. He supposed, as his jaws parted in a lazy yawn, that @Fallon felt a little more restricted by Lorien than he. If there was anywhere to keep the clay beast grounded, it was surely here. The pride they had created from nothing.

"Maybe," he said, not dismissively, but not entirely wanting to ponder it all too long. Sure, things were a little messed up at present - he wouldn't miss it all that much. Yet, Fallon and his kids were not his only loves. In a way he also loved Ghyslaine, in the way good friends did. And Olive. And what of Basura and Ilithyia? He doesn't ask where she would go as many might - because he already knows it wouldn't matter. The destination was never important for the carefree pair, was it?

"Things are a bit boring..." though searching tirelessly for ones missing child was not exactly 'boring', it was hardly an enjoyable pass-time. Then, the vacant thought of endless wandering made his legs ache, and he lolled in an inelegant and sloppy way so that he was belly-up, squashed against his wife like the lazy meatlug he was. "Maybe we could," he concludes.

In truth, when it all boiled down to it, he would do whatever made Fallon happy.

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Fallon could not hide the disappointment that overwhelms her in that moment, her fanciful attempt at spontaneity seemingly halfheartedly considered by her husband. She lifts her head then, gaze averted from @Violarum as she attempts to deal with the fiery emotions within that threaten to overflow. She knows that this is who he is -- a being that takes everything rather literally -- and that it was unreasonable for her to be angry at him for it.

Conflicted, the Salem woman inches away from her husband's large head, averting her gaze to anywhere but him. The past few months had taken its toll, her head crowded with thoughts of their missing daughter and her heart yearning for normalcy. She felt as if she could scream until her lungs collapsed. The Lorien Noble wished for a distraction, to take off the near suffocating pressure she felt pushing her down.

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Poor @Fallon; a wife deserving of only the finest husband. Violarum of course, could love her better than any man, understand her, accept her - and yet in many instances, such as this, he would be blissfully unaware of her qualms. Had he not been so belly-up and star-gazey in that moment, he might have noticed more than just a cold spot on his skin where his wife once was.

Surely, any good husband would sense the unease that their loved one exuded in such a moment. Yet, as were the challenges for all (superior sex) women, Fallon was forced into a little shell of aloneness. So quickly he forgets her proposition, instead catching a few strange scents upon the breeze - "Things are weird here. Soon I will be King again."

Vio's timing was impeccable, as always.

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Her head is spinning with inner dialogue, Fallon at war with her brain and her heart. She feels invisible -- unheard. Possibly misunderstood by someone she felt should know her best. Ears flicker as @Violarum shares with her news that he is clearly keen to impart -- his hiatus is over and he is soon to be King once more.

A year or two ago, the Salem woman might have been elated by the news -- genuinely happy that her husband was reaching the heights that he so dreamed of.

Now, she simply felt hollow, a pang of disappointment that sunk so deep into the pit of her stomach Fallon wondered if she might sink into the Plains.

"Is Ghyslaine stepping down? And Nero?" she asks after a pregnant pause, willing herself to keep her temper in check. Violarum lays right there beside her and yet she feels so alone.

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His mind is selfishly busy, and it becomes even more so at her words. "Hmph," a huffy breath of air at @Fallon 's words, brewing upon the power Nero had. Vio didn't need any reason other than the fact the Sigrun was sharing Ghyslaine's bed to be annoyed with him, and yet the reasons he did have only magnified it.

He didn't know what Ghyslaine wanted to do at that time. If she enjoyed her position, Vio would surely let her keep it - but her mate was getting under his skin, and the effect he was having on his best friend even more so. With his wife by his side he should have been more focused on her, and yet Violarum is elsewhere, pondering the things that Fallon so desired to leave behind.

"Will you be Queen again?" he knew better than to expect it of the grey woman, entirely aware of her cageless love for roaming.

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@Violarum doesn't say much in return to her question, just a masculine grumpy grunt that catches her attention. Something has happened that he's not happy about. "What's happened?" she presses, Fallon's brows knitting together as she wills her husband to speak his mind (for once in her life). His next query all but cements that something is amiss when Vio asks her to be his queen.

A pause then, Fallon caught adrift.

She felt out of place -- she felt an accessory. When she had previously been Sovereign, it hadn't felt quite right. As her husband had done before, she does not reply -- leaves his question hanging in the air between them.

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