he does not come to the sea often. or, well, ever. he might be sigrun by blood but it means little and less to him; the sea was in his veins once, but certainly not now. even here, with the waves lapping at hies toes, he feels... nothing. no strong attachment for it, no yearning desire to learn more about it or the other half of his family that's always been shrouded in mystery-- and secrecey.

it's just another thing he knows little about, and at this point, the black beach is just a beach.

he's only walking through it to get back to the summit, and stopped only to have a moment of dramatic contemplation. with that done, he turns on his heels to continue on, when a strange pain sparks through him. ugh, he says, assuming the sudden pain in his abdomen to be from the last meal he'd ate, or maybe he twisted a strange way? it comes again though, and then there's a strange little laugh on the breeze ( the very same sound he'd heard in the grotto, all those months ago... ) and the sudden feeling of wrong.

and then--

he sees it.

him. a cub. blanketed in a coat of grey with mottled white, @Thaddeus looks so... familiar. he's awfully tiny and totally alone. virgil stops mid-step, staring down at the strange little cub, and the moment his eyes lay upon the babe he feels..... strange. in a good way. it's like his heart stutters in his chest, breaking up the rythm with something different. something better. he looks at this cub and something clicks; he feels whole, he feels....

he feels like it's fate.

heeey, little guy, he murmurs as he steps closer, dropping his muzzle down to sniff at the little bundle of joy. what are you doing out here? he was placed so carefully, so pointedly... there's no way someone left him here, and there's no way that he walked here. it feels like fate and virgil coos, softly, to the little gift he didn't realize he'd been given.

If only @Virgil had been the only one to find little Thaddeus. What a nice thing the pair could've had together; a lonely single father, craving companionship and a sense of purpose, raising a tiny babe who would only ever known the comfort and protection of his guardian. There was no bond quite as strong as that of a sole caregiver and a single child - the dependence, the devotion, the fact that life pretty much revolved around the two of them and the two of them alone. What a shame, then, that would never come to pass. Not this time, anyway.

Magnus cast a sidelong glance at @Lazare, who had hunkered down into the hiding spot that the guardian had chosen for them. It was a rather touching scene, really; the lonely traveller, finding comfort and companionship after so long. If the brute watched the pair interact for too long, there would be a miniscule chance - just a miniscule one - that the little shred of humanity that still dwelled in his core would win out and he would change his mind about this. He could not afford to do that, though, and so he would turn away from his son and grandson to look upon the Dieudonne cleric. At this point in their association, he had no doubt that - infuriatingly - the girl would be able to read him like a book.

Magnus had no room to question the method with which little Thaddeus was created, and so he would not; the day he came back from the dead and carried this ethereal form was the day he no longer had a leg to stand on in terms of doubting how men could have biological children without a womb in the equation somewhere. The world was a bizarre and confusing place, go figure. And any other bystander would've just assumed that Virgil had found this little abandoned babe on the sands and he himself had nothing to do with the creation of it. But Magnus? Well, he had the foresight (and hindsight) of a Guardian now, and he knew better than all of them. And the reality of it was that he would not find another opportunity like this - not for a long time yet; a child of his own blood, prime for the plucking.

For a few moments - and a few moments only - little Thaddeus will belong to Virgil and only Virgil. Alas, Magnus would force himself back into the living world and damn anything or anyone that would stand in his way; innocent babies included. He just couldn't leave a good thing well enough alone.

irish

She is no real huntress, and yet, she is still relentless.

Like A dog gnawing on a bone, she cannot leave the idea behind. It plagues her and so does he, flickering in and out of reality at the corners of her vision. She lets him, sometimes; other times she slams the door between this world and that, keeping him out until she's ready. And here, she's ready.

More than that-- they've found they're looking for.

There have been cubs before, but none of them were right. And this.... has to be right. She looks upon the wooly beast before them with only mild interest, but when @Magnus pauses she does too. Piebald ears splay forward as they linger-- just out of virgil's attention-- and looks back to the spirit at her side.

She does not have to ask the question. She can see it in his face.

es-tu prêt? are you ready? she asks, voice lilting in the language they do not share. Lazare knows magnus will understand her though, just like she knows what the answer will be.

There is a long moment of quiet, before the question he was waiting for comes. The use of French is jarring, still; he imagines that she does it deliberately, at times. But there was no time for petty squabbling over vernacular today. This was big, for the both of them, but for Magnus especially. And this decision did not just affect him. Apart from being a part of Lazare's legacy, that would no doubt expand with time, he would also be damaging Virgil considerably. His own son. Not one he bonded with like he had Myrkvi, Rasmus and the other boys conceived from his two wives, but his son all the same. He would also be smothering the soul of the cub that would have been his and Morrigan's grandson together. This baby was no stillborn, either - no empty shell waiting to be recycled. It had a life already, which was glaringly obvious as it wiggled around on the ground and mewled gently up at Virgil. By doing this, technically speaking, he was committing yet another murder. Kinslayer. And the Greyfloods had been his strongest allies in life; would that continue in his second go around? Magnus could only wonder, idly, as he nodded his agreement.

"Do it."

Poor Virgil. As if he hadn't suffered enough.

irish

he is oblivious to the scene happening in the shadows near him; he is oblivious to the pain that it will bring. even if they hadn't been hidden, he still wouldn't of noticed them. virgil's whole focus is upon the little bundle before him. the babe is mottled grey and far too small to be out here by himself. immediately he glances around, but still sees... no one. no mother, no father.

it was just him, and this cub.

it was just the two of them.

oh, he says, the realization settling like lead upon his chest. you're all alone, huh? he murmurs to the babe, settling down on his stomach so he's not looming over the babe. the little potato wriggles where it lays, clearly curious about this big nose that comes so close to it, even if teddy can't quite see the lion it's attached to. i'm sorry-- i know how that feels.

he'd had a family, once-- maybe he'd have one, again. reconciliation was hard and messy, and it wasn't as if any of the greyfloods were truly blessed with emotional intelligence. it was slow going, but he can understand what it must feel like to be abandoned. to be left behind, to have those ties severed. virgil understands it, and he swallows thickly; he can't leave this little guy out here.

but it's okay, yeah? you don't need to worry about anything. he says, grinning. you can stick with me, kid. and that grin widens as the cub leans forward, bumping ther noses together. a perfect lttle moment between the new father and son, even if it won't last because rhapsie is a monster.

poor virgil. as if he hadn't suffered enough.

she thinks she can read the spirit well, but lazare is oblivious to the turmoil that roils in his chest-- no matter how briefly regret and guilt flashed up. they burnt out just as quick and the dieudonne does not think to ask about the sudden silence that overtakes him. instead she waits for the confirmation she knows will come. and it does. do it, @Magnus says, and lazare smiles. she's never been good at following instructions, let alone demands, but.... well.

they'd pinky-promise'd.

cloudy eyes shut tight, breathing slow and steady untl it grows shallow and then <>stops. her heart pounds n the cavity she calls a chest, pressure building in the quiet girl. it's not quite the same as before-- here, she does not beckon to her father, familiar as the butterflies that swarm around her feet. here, she beckons to someone new, still so much a stranger despite their recent traveling.

here, in this strange place, there is the constant roar of the ocean ( a sound that, until recently, was wholly alien to the bluffs queen ), but there's something more. it's not the stillness of death, it's not gently coaxing a loved one back from the brink. here, it is dark and it is heavy; here, a baby cries, sharp and shrill.

she doesn't hear the sudden shushing of the cub's new guardian over the rush of blood in her ears. she doesn't hear footsteps at her side. she doesn't hear anything but the ocean for a long moment, and when she finally opens her eyes, she looks to the side. to the place where magnus had been standing just moments before. and sees only--

a promise fulfilled.

Being torn from one realm to another is about as disorientating as one might expect it to be. One moment, Magnus is stood at Lazare's shoulder, watching proceedings. He could see the Illyrian prince bend down to greet the child, and murmur words of comfort. Sentimentality could have prompted the old Jarl to remember a time where he too once spoke to his newborns in a similarly quiet tongue... except he could not afford that, here. Lazare felt the same, clearly, as she wasted no time in beginning her ritual. There isn't any chance to feel any sort of trepidation, as one moment it starts and the next it's over. With an almighty yank, the brute's glowing figure, and his consciousness lurches - invisible to the eye - about 30 feet forward and into his new vessel. It would take some getting used to, but that wouldn't be any concern of Magnus yet. For now, @Thaddeus was still in control of this little grey and white form, and all Thaddeus wanted was the love and attentions of his new Pa. He - like all of them, except @Lazare of course - is oblivious to the insidious parasite that has just made his little furry body his home.

The peace wouldn't last for too long.... And certainly not long enough for @Virgil.

EXIT VIA REINCARNATION

irish

There is no fanfare. There is no clear evidence of a job completed, a promise fulfilled. But lazare knows what's happened and she knows what she's done. A baby cries once and then not again ( never again ); the man at her side disappears like he was never there. She's left with an empty void at her side and suddenly, she feels... alone. She had not known him well but there was a companionship created in lieu of their arrangement. A promise was a promise and lazare is used to loneliness, but at least here she knows what she has to look forward to.

She had fulfilled their bargain on her end.

Now, she just needs to wait for @Magnus ( or was it @Thaddeus, now? ) to fulfill his.

Exit lazare