With each passing day, the cubs of the Mire were becoming adults, no longer was the Mre filled with squabbling toddlers, adults having to mind the able voters at every corner, what was once almost more cubs than adults, or was beginning to mature. Astarte had watched each of her children grow from floppy bundles of teeth and claws, and each one of her children could not even be recognized as a wee bundle. Where had the time went?

She rested no on the edge of the Mire, the danger filled swamp to her right, and the thorny borders behind her, she was smart enough to lay atop a boulder, to keep the water predators making an easy meal out of her, she found a sense of peace when she didn't hear the bickering of her children, or their fathers disciplining. Her eyes were closed and her head was laid over her crossed paws, if one were to stumble upon her, they'd probably think she was asleep, if they knew her though, their know she was perfectly awake, and alert.

She had been quite distant with those around her lately, Farrow reappearing only to not know her had crushed her more than she thought it would, she got.him back, only to lose him again, and she grieved from the emotions it had brought up. She was grieving him all over again.


@Alaric

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this world is dying in our arms

Alaric had kept his distance from the red woman. Not because he was angry or anything worse, but because he was not sure he could keep his paws off. Astarte had always ignited the desire in his blood, and though they had long moved past that (and he had others to keep him satisfied, happy even) he had not forgotten her. He comes upon her by chance, himself sticking to the dry patches of the Mire, avoiding the waters that often masked danger. Living logs, as he had once heard them called, and indeed he imagined there were some nearby if he had to bet on it. By the time he spots her it is too late to avoid being noticed, and so he chuffs quietly to the resting woman, acting as if it had been his intent all along. @Astarte.

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She hadn't been avoiding him, per se, her cubs, her wounds from Ronin attacking her, twice, and respect for him, she lived in a sense of what could be's, some days she had steel herself and will her body not to go to him. She didn't even hear him walk up on her, not until his scent enveloped her and his chuff causes the lioness to gaze at him, fiery eyes meeting his forest green. .

"Alaric." She purrs softly, his name always sounds breathless and initiating, it's not something she can help too often, he'd once ignited her like a shot of fire whiskey, their couplings had always been something akin to a roaring forest fire. She gives a soft groan as she rises, her front limbs reaching out as she stretches down, back arching before she hops from her perch, bringing the crimson woman closer to the Mire King.

this world is dying in our arms

His name on her lips is too soft. It is dangerous, and he steels himself to put more distance between them if necessary. It would be too easy to fall back in to her orbit, to claim her as he had so many times before... "You are well?" A casual question among friends, no more and no less, and his gaze is carefully schooled in to one of passive inquisitiveness. He was genuinely curious, too, considering how long it had been since they had had a proper conversation. That's not to say he hadn't seen her in passing (or at challenges) but all the same...

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She notices his guard, his walls slamming in place, and she can't help but to smile a bit, "Alaric, don't act like you're afraid of me." She softly spoke, eyeing the wheat king, "You disregard anyone elses feelings when it comes to women, you claim, and lose yourselves in women. And yet, you act as if you're repulsed by me..." False hurt flashes across her face, though the creep of real emotional hurt lingered in her eyes, did he hate her?

He asks her if she was well and the teasing look she gave dissipated into a more calmer, serious look as she considered his question, "I am alive." She answers, she didn't quite know if she was well, or how she was feeling, or even if she were okay. Her children were almost grown, her husband was constantly working for the Rike, she was only regarded when needed, she'd been attacked and spent a lot of her time healing after Ronin had targeted the Mire. Her eyes shifted away as she breathed in, (And you?" She finally asks, her gaze finding his once again, a question bubbled up and she held it in, she wanted to know if he knew Ronin had targeted them? Did he know and not come to defend them?

She shifted slightly to sit back, staying close but not too close to him, the five scars she'd been given that ran from the lower part of her chest to the top of her pelvic area were now able to be seen, she'd long gotten over the insecurity they'd given her.

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this world is dying in our arms

His lip curled, annoyed by her admonishment, no matter how lightly it had been given. "I am not afraid of you," a quick retort, though surely she knew that, and then he is confused when it is repulsion she accuses him of. Damned women always made no sense. "When have I ever disregarded feelings, @Astarte?" An arched brow as he stared her down, an ear flick the only sign of his irritation. "If I recall correctly it is you that sought the touch of another after you had lain with me." She was the one to end things, not him. Alive but scarred -- he notices them, of course, and though he does not care for scars (his own marked pelt is testament to that) he gets the impression that she wants him to ask -- "who did that?".

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She did not miss the curl of his lip and she smirked a bit, she always had been able to poke buttons, "Alright then." She shrugged, unable to keep the humor from her voice, and then he speaks, and she eyes him, her ears pinning back a bit, and she held back a sharp retort, "You're right. I am sorry, I know I never said it, but I had not wanted to end things that way." She had matured, even in just a year, where in the past she would have challenged him, which was still on the table, but she atleast wanted him to know her feelings about how it had happened.

Her ears swivel to perk up, and she swallows as she looks down at the five long scars, a growl rumbles in her throat, though it is quiet, and not aimed at him, she cannot help but feel the anger bubble up at remembering the scars, "Ronin, Slaines ex husband. The first time he attacked me." She meets his eyes, holding them, her tail gently flicked behind her as she waited, watching to see what his reaction would be, before she turned slightly to.the side, and showed a few more scars along her body, "And these were from the second time, at the challenge."

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this world is dying in our arms

He does not acknowledge the apology. It doesn't matter, now, and it meant little to him. Whether she meant to or not she had done it, and there was no use in digging up the past. Not when so much had changed. If he was surprised to hear that it was Ronin he did not show it. "Why did he attack you?" While Alaric had been distantly aware of her injuries he had not known the full details, so he seeks to learn them now. It was especially important considering how things were amping up in Amaryllis; he expected war on his doorstep any day now. @Astarte.

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She does not carry on with her apology, she did still care for him, which is why she was so ready to stand at his guard at the Summit challenge, she looked to the treeline, she wanted to say more but left it alone. To her, it seemed he wanted nothing more than whatever this was, it felt cold, and lonely and she felt her brow furrow. But her attention is drawn back to him and she waits until he is finished before she speaks.

"I went to the pit, to exercise. He answered my call, everything was fine, it was just a regular match, and he sat on me, which was amusing, we both shared a laugh. But then he took the claws on his hind paw, and dragged them down." She laid down gently, rolling onto her back and exposing the five clawed marks, jagged, deep, though fur was beginning to cover them.

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this world is dying in our arms

@Astarte begins her story and he listens, carefully. The Pit -- common for fighting, especially for practice. It seemed they had begun as a good old fashioned fight, but Ronin had decided to take it a little too far? "Why the hell did he do that? Did he say anything?" Based on the appearance of the scars this had been some time ago, and again he wished he had known the details sooner. "You should have told me, Astarte." There is genuine concern in his expression and his voice, now, his brows knitting together as he mentally chided himself for not being more proactive. Maybe Ronin was right after all -- maybe he had failed as a King..

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