Once again back at his full strength, Roarke climbs to the top of the mountains to get the best view he can. The sun has begun to set in the distance, washing over the land below in bright oranges, purples and pinks. A view worthy of a king.

Roarke is not that man - perhaps never again. The urge to rule has come from a man he thinks is long dead these days. Better he remains the hound of the Summit. Eventually, he’ll be too old for even that. Roarke had never imaginged he’d live long enough to see his age begin to break him; he thought he’d die in battle, like most of his crew. Then he’d hoped for it, and then -

Roarke huffs as he sprawls out onto his belly, front paws hanging over the very edge of the cliff. Nine years is a long life, especially when at the end - near the end - there is truly nothing to show for it but pain and suffering, and loneliness. Deep, aching loneliness.

table by ferus, art by ale-tie

Things seemed to get easier for her for a few days, less tiresome the more she was able to sleep. It almost felt like being inebriated again, the lack of sleep. Thankfully with Camellia's help, her nausea had been attended to: for now. As things progressed, there was no way to know how it would go. She's unsure what draws her to such high peaks, whether it was Maua or simply a longing to explore, but she indulges all the same, trekking along the mountain until she finally stumbles upon a place she had not since childhood-- the elysian lookout. Not much had changed really, the peaks still tall and the view still far beyond what she can imagine. Truly a show of the blessing Maua had granted them all when They had created Amaryllis. What the elf doesn't expect, however, is to see her recently gone through hell and back companion resting her, sprawled out as if on top of the world; both figuratively and literally. " Roarke? What are you doing here? " She greets him happily, closing the distance so that she herself could get comfortable closer to him. No point in yelling if you can simply close the distance and make it unnecessary.

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Aelynthi’s voice reaches him from the steps of the peaks, just behind. He isn’t unhappy to hear it, now no longer hallucinating or near death and needing her help. Roarke’s massive skull turns, following her voice as she nears, a surprisingly easy smile ready to greet the druid.

"Enjoying the view before -" he answers, gaze quickly flicking across her body to take stock of her, and his voice falling as he notes a slight swell in her stomach. "... it gets too cold to come up." He finishes, his tone flat. The giant sits up suddenly, pushing himself to stand and turn, facing Ael rather than the view.

Pregnant. @Aelynthi is pregnant, still newly so, if he’s judging the size of her belly correctly. He’s seen enough lionesses with child to predict it well enough, he thinks. It shouldn’t bother him, but it does. Perhaps it’s jealousy, perhaps it’s something else. Aelynthi’s pregnancy is a symbol of her belonging - to someone else. With someone else. She isn’t the lost soul he’d thought she was. Someone like him.

His jaw clenches. "Congratulations." He sounds bitter rather than congratulatory.

table by ferus, art by ale-tie

As birds flitted across the sky, she finds it hard not to stare. To be so free, as a bird would be something else. Never a place too high to visit, all within a few wing flaps away. She considers just how simple it would be for a moment, her attention turning back to @Roarke as he turns, a smile on his own face. His words are cut short by something, something she does not understand. What had been such a pleasant start to her day was beginning to go sour. Unease settles over her as she watches the way the man she has considered friend, until this point, look at her with a gaze so unfamiliar it almost doesn't register... Was it disgust? Jealousy? Something the cleric cannot comprehend herself, at least until the colossal man gives her the answer she seeks. Congratulations. Eyebrows pull together in confusion and concern, taking a tentative step closer to him as she longs to understand. " My children... They are a blessing from Maua. She has delivered me my dream fulfilled.. " Does he not understand a dream? When they say in the flower fields so many years ago, speaking of the losses of their families... Surely, somewhere inside of his mind, he could understand that this was a time to rejoice? To celebrate that her family's hard work and sacrifice for Maua would not go unpunished, no. The line, albeit a small one, would continue past her lifetime.

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A blessing. All children are. Roarke could remember the joy they bring, the excitement and love. He can also remember the pain of their loss, the suffering. They leave a hole when they die, or are taken with their mother. It is a pain as great as losing a soulmate, perhaps even greater.

Where was Aelynthi’s Maua when Roarke lost pieces of his heart, again and again, until it was gone entirely?

Aelynthi can surely see the pain in his eyes, just as surely as he can see the hurt in hers. The hurt from his inability to truly be happy for her. The hurt from the way he looks at her now, watches her creep ever closer, and does not move. Something hot crawls up his body, filling his lungs until he feels he is choking on the emotion - one he cannot name.

"I’m sure you and your mate are thrilled."

table by ferus, art by ale-tie

It is no longer a peaceful scenery, no. The feeling is long gone the moment the smile he has given her only moments before falls away to something far more callous. All at once she is shrawled in guilt, a feeling she does not understand the why. What was there to be guilty for? The blessings that grew every day? The disappointment on his face? Uncertainty flickers in her eyes as eyebrows furrow over them. The way he says it...as if venom drips from every word, his sentence a trap. She falls into it naively though, unable to discern that he is overcome with an emotion she has never experienced. " My mate? I... have never had anyone pursue me like that, Roarke... " Her lips quiver as her gaze locks with his again, body shivering with fight or flight that seems to overtake her. " Even so, why can you not be happy for me? " The lump that forms in her throat is sticky, attached itself so well that she cannot swallow it away. What was he hiding?

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He does not mean to laugh. He doesn’t - but it slips out of his curled lips with that same cruel, hurt tone as everything else he’s said. "Haven’t you?" It’s a rhetorical question, and he doesn’t want to hear her answer - either she truly didn’t know, or she did and was never interested. In truth, Roarke had always assumed the latter, and assumed it was the same for everyone. Her interest had always been in her plants, in her god, and Roarke had been content knowing that.

He had been wrong, it seemed.

She did not even take a mate to have her children. Perhaps she’d bedded her king, then. Women do that - they desire the powerful. Perhaps that was his mistake - his short time ruling Firnen had kept him too busy to even look for her, let alone pursue anyone. Would she have wanted him back had she met him then? Would she have left when he lost it?

Ah, but she had always insisted they were friends. Her own words, despite what he’d thought were signs of other things. He should have listened harder.

Her question feels like a punch to the face. Roarke blinks, dragging his gaze up to her eyes. "I don’t know." He cannot magically make his anger vanish, he cannot make the jealousy go away. "I've never been a good man." Looking at her hurts, knowing he was never enough - it cuts.

table by ferus, art by ale-tie

It's unexpected, his cruel laugh to match his even crueler words. He doubts her, refuses to believe that he has been told the truth when she knew in her heart of hearts it was real. It was everything she had hoped for. She refused to believe what Camellia has said. There has been no proof, neither of them could tell the experienced medic what has happened that night. In her soul, in her conscious, she is certain. " I haven't. " The shaman cannot confirm it's location, but a pain far greater than she has known for a while settles into her entire body, as if the air has been stolen from her lungs and the strength stolen from her legs.

Her forepaws shake slightly, the whole limbs twitching uncontrollably as if to say too late. Tears well in the corner of her eyes, the start of a sob stifled quickly as the soft woman tries to steel herself. After all, why did she care that he was so angry? Her heart thrums against her chest like a tenor drum, watching as the man she has tried to desperately to save, admits his own ignorance. Unaware, whether blissfully or by curse, of why his anger is so hefty, why he cannot give her this one moment. " I thi...I thought I --" She cannot do it, cannot finish the words her heart so openly wanted to offer him. He has hurt her, made mockery of her Creator. Did such a man deserve to know these things when she had been nothing but kind? The pain tears at her, as if ripping flesh from bone.

I think I love you.

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"I haven't."

Roarke’s jaw sets as he watches her. She’s always been so easy to read. An open book. She shakes and stammers, and Roarke has to shove down the urge to suddenly drop and beg for forgiveness. To make her pain stop, to say he was wrong, he is sorry, he’ll be better.

"I thi...I thought I --"

He does not want to be better, he does not want to offer everything of himself to get nothing back. He is tired of hurting. He is tired of grovelling. How many times has he done that already, only to be left regardless? Too many.

"Think nothing of it." Roarke grunts, dismissing her and whatever she had intended to say. "What would it matter now?" It doesn’t, not to Roarke. It shouldn’t matter to Aelynthi, either. Her choice has been made.

table by ferus, art by ale-tie

Was this why Maua had kept her from love so long? To have finally come into terms with the feeling that brewed in her belly and fluttered in her heart...only to be let down by the anger and mistrust of he who she has placed her faith in. It hurt far greater than she imagined it would. The tears spill freely as he gives her an out she does not want, refuses to acknowledge.

Think nothing of it.

Something snaps in her then, whether guided by her deity or by the protective hormones raging their way through her body. Her gaze hardens, shutting out the warmth she has allowed for so long. It engulfs in flames as she stiffens then, posture correcting to something more callous and coldhearted. " Fine. Forget I said anything. " Her tail lashes behind her as she spits her venom laced words, eyes narrowing in natural response. He wants a cold monster? So he gets one. The only reason she does not immediately spew an apology is because of the feral rage that has coiled itself around her heart. To have been so vulnerable... If this was what loving another meant, never again. The charcoal woman turns and begins her descent then, refusing to allow him the ability to get the final say in. Let him ponder over the damage he has done; it was no longer any of her concern.

/ exit Aelynthi

code © hinter // art @ scarf