I came only to see Tinúviel.

Through all her worry and her hate, Tinúviel couldn't help the heat that unfurled across her cheeks at the fringe of @Wither's declaration, a stammering pause in her tirade of broken words causing her lips to tremble, her eyes to fling wide as she meets the dark woman's gaze. She isn't sure why her heart is hastening, why she can hear it her ears, but she quickly bids it to stop. Perhaps it were just the overwhelming slew of thoughts and feelings that had overcome her the moment Wither had called out to her, the insurmountable wave of relief that had nearly sent her keening. Perhaps she were simply feeling a bit sick.

You've only ever helped, Wither insists, but Tinúviel shakes her head. She had not come fast enough, she had lived under the rule of Luther just as much as she had Alaric, and she had been blind to all of his transgressions. Even now, she stood here, unable to quite face the Ecrosian Heir even as the shadowy lioness once more washed upon their shores. It was a guilt she lived with, as heavy as the guilt she'd had for her lost children, for the Cove she had left behind in the wake of those disasters so long ago. Tinúviel had, once again, failed herself and her people.

For not finding you sooner.

She spares a glance toward @Tiamat, a sharp inhale accompanying their discussions of her release. Though she no longer quite carried the scent of Ecrosia, overwhelmed by the salt of the sea and the coppery of blood, she was still bound to it in some way, and the conditions of her release had not been discussed when Tinúviel had first reached her husband.

Apparently he didn't know, she admits to the High Queen, having seen the genuineness in Alaric's decrying of his own son, and seen the way pain had etched into his expression when he realized what all of Amaryllis would think of him if they found out. And even now, Tinúviel was uncertain she could keep such a thing a secret; just how many women had Luther hurt? Just how many of them would slip through the cracks, be set free by far more machinating and conniving lions, compelled to see Alaric's destruction? And yet, Tinúviel would be lying if the thought hadn't crossed her mind. Erna had died when his cubs were still very young, and it left Alaric the only influential figure in their life; and yet, his other children did not seem to grow into the same terrifying beast.

So far as she knew.

She could not fault Tiamat for feeling the same, but Tinúviel had always feared the cub-drowning lions Alaric had warned her of, even if Luther were a monster far more real to her. Thank you, Tia, she finally relents, allowing a sliver of a smile to unfurl upon her lips. I agree. I think getting you out of the Mire should be our first step. And whether it be Tiamat or Tinúviel who did it, she was certain Alaric would not disagree. She was content to leave such a matter in the capable High Queen's paws, but it was likely Tinúviel would not allow Wither to go close to the Mire without her being there, as well.

She had never felt a fear quite so great when she had first turned up missing, and all Tinúviel could think of was Luther whisking her away once more, hiding her in the Mire where the healer-Queen could not find her.

I will be going to the Mire shortly to confront Luther. Alaric will be there with me, but... Could he truly stop it? Would that split-second of hesitation between choosing his wife and his son spell a cruel fate for Tinúviel? Should anything happen—please protect each other. She couldn't bear the thought of losing either of them.

IT'S A GRACELESS DANCE OF EPITHETSher eyes slide between the two women, at first - splitting her time equally between them. until she catches a glimpse of the look on @Tinúviel's face. there's something like surprise? fear? for a moment she considers that it could be horror or dislike; but it's apparent a heartbeat later that it's only affection that the other woman holds in her heart. the medic queen presses, insists, that she is sorry for taking so long.

she is sorry, as if she had known the truth of the matter and left it.
as if any of this could be anyone's fault but luther's alaric's?.
besides, she'd had -

realization unfurls in her chest and she examines the leader uncertainly. she'd been pregnant. preoccupied ( and rightfully so ), but she'd heard no mention of children. smells no scent of child. her own feeling of horror begins in her chest and she stamps it down, if only so they can speak in privacy. if tin wants to speak at all. and before she can even consider, @Tiamat is mention cub drowners.

her brow furrows, jaw slackening slightly - but when she glances to the earthen fairchild, there's only a confirming gaze. disgusting she thinks, her expression growing angry. vengeful. she'd be just as likely to drown one of the adults than allow a cub to be harmed by their way, intentional or not.

tiamat's support of her co-queen warms the assassin to her and a faint smile taps at the corner of her lips. her head bows and she drops her gaze briefly to the sand below. you have my gratitude, if nothing else. she promises - but there's just as likely to be a chance to prove useful - helpful - as an assassin in the ranks, she's sure. but when the high sovereign offers to speak with alaric, and tin says she doesn't mind who does it, wither shakes her head. that i will do myself. she vows, voice pitched quiet but not soft. at the pit. and she would easily get her ass kicked if alaric truly wanted to hurt her.

but it was the principle of the matter, to her.
and if alaric truly didn't know?
she'd like to know - and to speak with tinúviel husband. for perfectly harmless unrelated things, of course.

she swipes a tongue across her lips, opening her mouth to bid them farewell as weariness drags at her - but tinny isn't done.

and she lays a surprise at their feet: i'm going to the mire to confront luther. her body tightens, every muscle signing with a painful tension as she lets only her eyes rove to rest heavily on tin before turning back to tiamat. she searches for the same distaste, perhaps the same fear, in the eyes of the sandy queen that she knows lay on her face, her gaze.

no.

it's something between a demand and a plea - but she can see the determination in tin's face.

he's not enough. she scoffs, a silent snarl wrinkling her lips and barring one fang. because if he bore the hellion that was doing this? if he was unaware of what his son was doing? there were so many variables. and with a pride as large as exrosia, being unable to keep track of everything that goes on under his massive kingdom, she fears it would be all too easy to lose tinúviel to something. to someone.

her nostrils flare and she flexes her paws against the sand. she wants to say she'll go - but she expects ( knows? ) the medic will refuse. so she will go in silence, as unseen support.

and this time, when her eyes lift from the sand and find tiamat, she hopes the other woman will see the truth of this, too.WE LEARN TO MAKE SOMEONE HURT

@Tinúviel seemed to be blaming herself for the state that @Wither was in. And though she disagreed, Tiamat certainly understood the sentiment. There were always things to regret, though perhaps her co-queen was too hard on herself for most of them. No one was perfect, and there were always things well out of an individual's control.

Eventually, Tinúviel turned her gaze to Tiamat, admitting that Alaric had been unaware of his son's extracurricular activities. Disbelief quickly crossed her face, her brow raising in surprise. Was he so out-of-touch with the regular goings-on of his pride? With the condition that Wither was in, and what seemed to be implied here, the torture had to have gone on for weeks, if not months. And he did not notice that something was wrong? She knew that Luther was capable of horrible things. After all, he had torn the face off of one of Alizabeth's children during her stand-off with Tinúviel for the Lagoon. She had found him afterward to see if she could wheedle more information out of it. He had seemed quite proud of it. And, truthfully, she had found it acceptable, considering her history with Alizabeth and at least one of her children. But Ghyslaine had made her see things differently.

How did Alaric not notice what was wrong with his son?

It seemed they were all in agreement that getting Wither out of the Mire, at least in terms of pride affiliation, was the best first step to take. She would have gladly made the trip for Wither, but it seemed the woman had other plans. She announced that she would face Alaric in the pit. Tiamat studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alaric is not unreasonable," she said, humming thoughtfully. "But if you have problems you can still call on me to help." For Tinúviel, but also to make sure that her ally was held accountable for his heir's actions.

Her gaze snapped to Tinúviel when she mentioned that she would be heading to the Mire to confront Luther. Concern danced in her eyes. Her co-queen had a large heart and direct confrontation was not necessarily her way of doing things, but there was a steel strength in Tinúviel that perhaps even she did not see. Tiamat did, however, and though she worried for the healer-queen she also believed that if anyone could see this through then it would be her. Wither clearly worried too. Tiamat did not miss her gaze as it landed on her, but she merely shook her head at the woman. "Tinúviel is strong, she can handle this," she said, putting her own strength behind her words to show that she really believed it. Still, she swept her gaze back to the other queen. "But do let me know if they give you any trouble," she added lightly, letting Tinúviel know that she would support her endeavor.

She did not miss the next look that Wither sent her way, and she knew that the woman would be there, too, watching over the queen from the shadows. There was understanding in her own eyes, but she made no move to nod lest she give the plan away to Tinúviel. Wither had been through much at the hands of the Ecrosian heir. It was not unreasonable for her to worry about someone else meeting the same.

"I have to meet with Alaric soon," she said, her gaze sliding to Tinúviel again. "I need to discuss the Plains pride with him and see where his stance is there. I may bring this up as well, and make sure that Luther remains stripped of his rank." It seemed there was much to discuss between the two of them, especially considering she had been friendly with the Brook queen recently.

"Wither, you're welcome here as long as you want to stay," she told the dark woman softly. "Whether you join or just need a place to stay for a short time, you'll be safe here." Then she finally nodded to both of them. They could probably use a little more time with each other, and Wither could probably use some rest. "You know where to find me if you need me," she finished, pinning Tinúviel with a hard stare that made it clear she need not feel guilty if she did need help with this. They ruled together, and she would support her no matter what.

With a final glance between the two of them, Tiamat pushed herself up from the sand and dipped her head before turning and heading back to the warmth of her den. She was finally feeling a little tired and thought she might be able to sleep.

/Exit

image by rabbit, code by anyu

IT'S A GRACELESS DANCE OF EPITHETS@Tiamat offers her a place, and wither swallows, glancing between the two women. she's caught between wanting and fearing - but after a heartbeat of silence, she bows her head. after i deal with alaric, her ears tip back to her skull. i'll return. to... stay. for now kind of lingers on the edge of her tongue and she runs it along the sharp points of her fangs, even as she is unwilling to tell @Tinúviel the truth.

that, in time, she will find her own kingdom.
and she will finally carve from this island what she's always wanted to.

weariness tugs at her and she nods again at the sovereign's leave, turning back to her smaller friend with a vague sort of smile. i need sleep, she admits. and when her stomach snarls in complaint she snorts. and food. her eyes lift beyond the medic, searching. could you... show me a safe place?
exit w tinny?WE LEARN TO MAKE SOMEONE HURT

She has every confidence in @Wither being able to free herself, and every confidence that Alaric would let her go. The fear that once gripped her that Luther had forced and fettered her back to the Mire ceased, and with the truth so blatant and so tangible, there was little standing in the way of her friend coming back rightfully where she belonged. That simple spark of near-possessiveness surprises the Scillan Queen, her gaze quickly finding the retreating form of @Tiamat as a sort of sanctuary from it, hiding the heat that threatened to unfurl across her dark cheeks. It is the detraction of Lorien that she clings onto, in desperate hope of feeling something other than this rage and this need that continued to build deep inside of her.

Something with the Plains? she squeaks softly, a curious brow raising as she latches onto the momentary turn of topic (though, not wanting to neglect her injured companion, Tinúviel makes a point to sweep her tail over toward the dark woman and brush her hip with its tip). But such discussions could be spared for later, when they are rested, and well, and past all of this strife and tribulation. Thus, she does not follow up; instead she nods, hopeful that her counterpart could fill her in later. Both Queens had acted independently as of late, and Tinúviel was keen on catching Tiamat as much up to speed as she could.

It is when the High Queen leaves does she feel that tension release, and rise once again. She lingers on the place the sandy lioness left before slowly, agonizingly, turning her head back toward Wither. Once more did she fell awash with that emotion, that desperate struggle to let her tears fling free of her eyes and her paws fervently wrap around her neck, refusing to let her slip through her fingers once again. But instead, she is stilled, appearing more like a wide-eyed and frightened doe; worried that, should she touch her, she might fall to pieces all at once.

But Wither was strong, and despite her broken body her eyes sparked with a fire far brighter than Tinúviel could ever hope to burn.

My den, for now, she replies immediately, her words spilling forth before she'd truly had a moment to think about them. —Erm, well, it's big enough to have patients stay. Fernweh is there, too. Though, she might have delighted in a moment alone with Wither, to rejoice in the simple fact they were both alive.

---

Exit Tinúviel with Wither