Even against a sky of storms, wolfbron is bright, bright red.

Dirt and dust and craggy peaks, every inch of it was painted. Even the borders seemed dark, old blood left out to spoil-- old blood to mark the ones who came before. She steps over it daintily, hardly even to pause at the stomach-turning sight. Only once they're inside of the bluffs does she slow, realizing. You were here once, she says, bright eyes turning to @Hekate-- focused still, but... enthralled. It's strange to see a dream come true, a memory replayed and real. There'd been death that day too, but lazare had stopped it-- in all the fuss, she'd lost track of her friend.

Here, there are no distractions.

Here, it is almost more painful.

Despite this, despite all of this, she rolls a shoulder. As if it doesn't matter. Do you want to see more of it? There is more to wolfbron than blood and death, you just had to know where to look. Past the stained soil and shroud of quiet mourning, past the garden she'd up-ended and torn out by the root. Ears tick forward, almost shy now.

Hekate did not think she had ever known a fatigue like this. As soon as they were away from prying eyes and the expansive battleground of the passage, the lioness could feel her limbs becoming steely and weighted practically by the moment. The relentless pounding of her blood began to slow, the many miles carved upon her paws finally beginning to make their sting known. It was almost enough to tear her gaze from the miraculous sight of Lazare's figure ahead of her. Almost.

"You were here once."

Was she? Hekate blinked as they continued their slow, purposeful pace, her mind sluggish in its endeavor to uncover such a hidden memory of a time long passed. She found no room for objection between the eager glint in Lazare's gaze and the fogged haze looming over her own mind. Oh, yes – recollection sparked at last. It was exactly that look upon Lazare's face that had distracted the young princess from the scene at large on that day, until bodies began to hit the red stone and her host was torn to the heart of the action. They had been interrupted before Lazare could show her something.

"Do you want to see more of it?"

"Yes," Hekate did not hesitate. She tried to push onward until she met Lazare's side, mournful determination reflecting within jade irises as they sought to meet cold azure. Still, she could not bring herself to say more – could not loosen the apology knotted around her tongue. She would have liked that day to go differently. She would have liked it all to go differently.

---

|| march y12 | two years | WB lioness | at wolfbron bluffs | @Lazare ||

She does not think of any exhaustion the other might be feeling. How could she? Her own heart thundered in her veins, a dreamy sort of haze that's more electric than cloying. alive, she feels alive, and it's all thanks to the girl at her side. Her tail tuft twitches as they trudge on-- inching closer to hekate's back ankle. A delicate, fleeting touch tapping along the delicate line there-- a nonsense morose code of there and gone and there again.

Selfish and eager, even here; @Hekate gives her an inch and lazare will take a mile.

The yes is exactly what she wanted to hear, and so they continue on-- past the borders that no longer smell of her father. I had a garden, lazare murmurs-- voice distant like she's distracted. Like she's too caught up in the way their strides sync up, the way their pawprints left in the red dirt behind them are a perfect, matching pair. Once. Her paws still bear the scars she'd gotten when she'd ripped it all out by the roots, but it's memory still lingered.

Her paws slow, a sudden realization washing over her. I could plant it again. I should plant it again. her father is dead but not really, buried but not really; wolfbron is her home but not really-- but it could be. It will be. Lazare had brought hekate back to a crumbling kingdom but now, here, she has the urge to clean it all up. Build it back up and build it better, make it a place worth housing hekate. Her breath shivers where it's caught between her teeth, chow-dark tongue worrying at the sharpened point of a canine tooth, as she looks to hekate. Shy, now, as she inquires: Would you like that?

Lazare would do anything for her, if only for this feeling in her chest.

She tip-toed after the Wolfbronic woman, the periodic tapping of her tail serving to keep Hekate from stumbling backward – as if the wind itself could knock her down, even after all she had endured merely to get to the redlands.

"I had a garden," Lazare confessed.
"What does that do?" Hekate enquired, forcing herself to perk up as she felt the spotlight of the girl's attention rest upon her. Meanwhile, a thousand more questions rattled within her mind. Meanwhile, she did not dare drag Lazare off of whatever mental trail she traveled with such quiet fervor. Even still, their pace slowed; Lazare turned to catch her eye with the flash of a fang.

"I could plant it again. Would you like that?"

"Will it take long?" Was all she could think to respond, shyness a shared plague between them as she felt her cheeks warm nervously.

---

@Lazare

There is so much to do. There is so much to decide. a pinky promise means nothing if she does not follow through; a pinky promise means nothing if they don't follow through. Lazare has lived her life in this strange in-between world: half real, half not. Not black or white but grey. Only recently has she felt.... something. Anything. The indecision Haunts her, and so does the inaction; here, with @Hekate at her side, she knows what she must do.

There were butterflies, she murmurs-- does it matter if they were real or not? Shrub grass and larkspur and nettle. A stupid mix of useless plants. Useless for her, at least. She treated it like it was weeds, not wildflowers. Now, though, her eyes are bright, manic. This was a new beginning. A way to shrug off death's shroud and focus on the life she could coax back. And here, hekate. A reason to do it beyond to secure ( or shatter? ) the splinters of her family.

No more black, no more white. Just grey, grey, grey.

I don't know. I've never done it before. She answers honestly, the accented words plagued by a little laugh. Girlish, gleeful. She was used to giving life, though. What were two souls compared to an empty garden plot? Have you? Finally her piebald muzzle tilts back to hekate, stealing little glances like she's too nervous to stare straight at her. Like hekate was the sun, and too blinding to look out without shadows. Her smile though lingers even as her heart ( and head ) race, eager now for a future.

the future.

( what were Two souls compared to an empty garden plot? )

She tried to piece together a puzzle of butterflies and bushes, images of her native marshlands flooding her mental sky as her stomach gave a pang of nostalgia. Hekate set her jaw as the patchwork cat seemed to envision her creation far more easily than Hekate could. If nothing else, she saw an opportunity for rest in observation – supervision.

"No, I haven't," she denied with less confidence than she voiced. Still, Lazare seemed frenzied at the idea.

"You'll show me?" The smaller girl knit her brows together almost pleadingly, enticed more at the idea of an excuse to observe the canyon cat than at whatever a 'garden' might prove to be.

---

@Lazare

You'll show me?

Oui, lazare answers, a knee-jerk reaction. Hekate could've asked for anything and she would've answered the same way: grasping, desperate, eager. A girlish sort of plea but one that houses far too many teeth to be anywhere close to innocent. her tail sweeps across the red dirt, flickering back and forth, a snake about to strike. And that's the angle her posture is slanted at: not a flower tilting towards the sun, but a predator eyeing their preys neck.

But @Hekate is safe, here.

( it is not her neck that lazare wants. )

You taught me before, the French girl says, piebald ears splaying forward with an almost shy tilt. Pressed close with others, all strangers, as they watched and conversed with the dead. A ghost who came when they called, something magical but still a phantom that paled in comparison to the man who's leash laz holds. It was how she even knew there was something beyond life, beyond death. Now-- I can teach you.

of course she means about more than just gardens and plants, but it all boils down to the same point: new life, growth, beginning. Starting here, starting now, starting together.

Lazare blinks, then. Realizing something. told something, maybe, by that very ghost at her side. Not now, she murmurs, voice lilting like it's a question-- leaving room for hekate, however she needed. You are-- do you need food? A den? Teeth click as she shuts her mouth then, an ear angling suddenly. Listening to a voice that was not there. Whatever you need. The claim she'd voided in the passage seems strong here, but never let it be said that lazare was cruel.

We.

Though the sentiment was born of misunderstanding, Hekate contemplated for that moment how long it had been since she had been included in a we. She had crawled out the womb with two identical hands in each of her own, every milestone faced together as a set until they were ripped so unceremoniously from one another. The young lioness froze up in that moment of contemplation, her eyes going somewhere distant until Lazare brought them back with her reminiscing.

"You taught me before. Now-- I can teach you."

Hekate turned to study those azure eyes once more. She did not need to strain to remember – needed no reminding of Lazare's gentle hand capturing her own as they uttered secrets in the dark to disappointing gods. Her expression softened.

"Not now.?"

She thought she heard a question there, though her companion's expression read of determined thought. Hekate could not deny the relief she felt as Lazare seemed to remember the limitations of her mortal vessel, speaking of all the creature comforts she had lacked since her fleeing from Amaryllis.

"I would love to rest for a moment," she piped up, brows knitting together pleadingly despite the faint smile she wore. "A den, maybe. Do you know a free spot?" Hekate questioned, refusing to linger on thoughts of the one she had grown up in. No doubt Luther had managed to soil it somehow by then. She positioned herself to follow after Lazare readily and inwardly begged her aching paws not to give up just yet.

---

@Lazare

Lazare does not soften, but she relents.

Her grip loosens, just a little-- no longer holding onto @Hekate with white-knuckles and biting nails. She is here, she is home ( ? ); she will not go anywhere. Still, though. Oui, there is one close by. Near the gardens and a cache, and pointedly right next to her own. The bluffs were full of free, empty dens ( louve's kingdom was quiet, and dwindling every day ); hekate could have her pick of dens and corners to call her own. A loosened grip is still a grip, and lazare has no other suggestions to give but this.

stay with me, she does not say; mine mine mine.

Despite her girlish desperation, there is no teeth to those thoughts. Not yet, at least. Instead she ducks her head, almost shy, before angling her muzzle in the direction she wants to go. I can show you. Breathy, another little promise just for the two of them. No blood or moonlight finds them now but it still holds true, that same trance-like spell. Her tail flicks, an eager rattlesnake shake, before leading her friend off.

Their dens will be close, and that will have to do for now.

( mine, she thinks, before amending it to: ours. )

Exit?

"Oui, there is one close by."

She nearly had to strain to keep a sigh of relief from spilling out at the promise of refuge nearby. Hekate bobbed her head in understanding as the taller girl offered to show her the way, shuffling her paws in tandem with those splashed in cocoa and ivory as they made a steady dance toward that promised bed chamber. Her lids drooped despite the eager thrum of her heart, excitement at the proposition of rest managing to overshadow even the threat of scandal as she allowed the cryptic princess to lead her deeper into the unknown.

---

-exit- @Lazare