As much as he tried, sleep would not take him. Between the pain and the adrenaline still coursing through his system, Ilarion seemed doomed to a restless night. During times like these, he would have sought solace in @Kazimir; tonight, though, he is reluctant to disturb him. His failure would have been wounding enough - the last thing the Augur needed was his mate to come bleating to him in the early hours of the morning, looking for sympathy. He longed for the comfort, and yet could not bring himself to drag the other man down with him. And so he moved to the mouth of their shared den and wallowed, balefully staring out at the inky blackness.

His stomach churned.

Weak.

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weak.

It echoes, unspoken, from the bluffs to the plains. It had been a fierce battle but one @Ilarion did not win. It was not the first time he'd lost and surely wouldn't be the last-- the fates were as fickle as the roll of dice. And so would-be usurper returned with his tail between his legs, and that just would not Do. Not when kazimir had something else ilarion could put between his legs.

Wink wink.

His mate might've tried to be quiet but he rouses regardless, blinking blearily towards the mouth of their den. A smudge of a shadow was sat there and it didn't take a genius to imagine just who it'd be. The spirits in his ear tutter and cluck, but kazimir pays them no mind as he rises to his feet. Joints creak in protest with the motion but he plants one foot in front of the other until he's at ilarions side, shoving a shoulder blade into his side. Careful of his wounds but not babying him, even as he speaks-- voice rumbling lowly like a cat's purr.

Do you plan on pouting out here all night, lapochka?

let no soul harbor guilt

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Wallowing was unsightly, and Ilarion knew as much. And yet, as it became apparent that @Kazimir had roused from slumber and come to bear witness, Ilarion did not tear his gaze away from the horizon. The shared rumbles were quiet - for the two of them alone - and the ranger, mindful of the late hour, lowered his pitch to match that of his beloved cleric. The endearing nickname hadn't been lost on him, and for a moment a spark comes back to his features.

Only for a moment.

"Perhaps."

It is at this point that deep olive would shift away from the dark and over toward his sweetheart. His haven, amongst the storm - even after all this time. Especially after all this time. "I have failed you, and our family." It isn't a question - the statement is said with such biting certainty that it cut through the quiet that spanned between them with all the ease of a knife through butter. Kazimir had not been the only one on his mind when he'd fallen; it had been Roman and Nazar, too - and even Kyra, their begrudging in-law. Swallowing thickly, he turned his head away, not wanting to hold Kazimir's gaze as he spoke again. Lest he find agreement there, in amongst the ruby red. "I do not deserve you." No doubt the household spirits would agree; humming their appraisal into the lobes of their most valued vessel.

Dispose of him. Free yourself.

Inwardly, Ilarion longed to ask his husband to consult the deities on his behalf - he craved the sort of guidance and insight that only the ancient figures of their clan could provide. If there were anyone younger, stronger, more capable to lead them then the ranger would happily take a step back and let them find the limelight. Perhaps Roman or Nazar, now that they'd reunited, would be a more appropriate fit. Only time would show Ilarion what sort of men his younger brothers had grown into; for now, he only knew them on a surface level. But hells, they couldn't do any worse than he had... could they?

The turmoil of it all threatened to played havoc with his gut, and so - in rigid silence - he waited for Kazimir to speak. Or slap him out of his mood. Or fuck him until he forgot all about the wretched incident.

Or all of it at once.

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Failure is a strange concept to kazimir.

He has failed so many times before. His one paw bears the brunt of one such failure-- a missing toe to forever speak of a crime committed long ago. He failed, too, the warrior track he'd been on his whole life. A spirit whispers at his ear at that; they often take offense at mullied thoughts like this. Fate was a fickle thing and they believed in it, and so kazimir hesitantly followed suit. He doesn't know if this was a failure of fate, or the promise of better things to come, and so he holds his tongue. An augur ought not lie to the commander, and so when ilarion continues to wallow, he can't help but pounce.

Nyet, he breathes, an easy thing even as his lips turn up at the edges. You do not. Despite the weight of the words they're toothless, an easy jab to an unprotected raw wound. Had @Ilarion forgotten so quickly? They were not always like this-- old and powerful, giants among the freefolk. refined and established as leaders of their budding clan should be. They were young once, if you could believe it-- they were scrappy, knobby-kneed cubs vying for freedom over anything.

Does ilarion remember those days? Kazimir had not always been augur-- fadestouched and chosen; he had once been just an aspiring warrior, thrown into training because he was large and couldn't hunt for shit. And there, he'd seen the most handsome boy-- the commander's son, born and bred better. The rurik didn't put much stock in bloodlines-- it was the indivual that mattered not the pedigree-- but it is different t when your father was @Nikita. It didn't matter, though, not to kaz. He wanted ilarion. Even back then.

Even now.

If ilarion did not deserve kazimir, then surely kazimir did not deserve ilarion, either. But they were here now, and he'd rather die than let the man go. It didn't matter than he so often felt like a little boy wearing shoes too big for him. It didn't matter that he was often lost-- the little spirits could only guide him so far. Other augurs, surely, understood them better; kazimir was still learning, still grappling with this power he did not understand.

The only thing that mattered, then, was this. A fleeting moment, because Ilarion's wounds will heal. The skin will knit back together, soon to be hidden beneath that plush, thick fur. The memory of loss will linger always but time will blunt its blade, just as their squabble in the mire once upon a time. A broken bone and a broken promise did not seem to matter much after all this time. Here, too, this loss will only matter in that it's a stepping stone to something better.

You do not need a crown to be my commander, his voice, deep and rough, is still pitched low to match his mate's-- sleep wearing it raw. So, too, the heady undercurrent of promises that oft plagues their shared time together. Not now, not ever. A pause then, just as pregnant as the previous with untold opportunities. Just don't lose the next one.

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

Nyet.

It is the retort he'd been expecting, and yet with no venom or judgment behind it. Ilarion found himself appreciative of it. The bite was just enough to start to rouse him out of his wallowing, but not so much that it would send him spiralling into self-loathing, as he was prone to do. You do not. It was a running joke between them; to Ilarion, @Kazimir - even without his divinity - was on a pedestal above any other. Nobody would ever be worthy of him.

But especially not Ilarion, and especially not today.

And yet the Augur remained, nestled comfortably against the bulky frame of his dejected partner. He stayed. Which, once the fog of his grief cleared - whether that be tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that - would make sense. After all, they'd endured much worse than a public bashing. They'd had to navigate so much adversity; multiple betrothal attempts from third parties, the scorn of Nikita - who had not mellowed in his old age, and still remained very much a homophobic and venomous old bastard even with his last breath, intervention from the household spirits, wars and famine and travelling cross-country on multiple occasions. This, in comparison to everything else, was nothing. And so, finally, Ilarion began to relax a little. He sagged against the firm supportive shoulder that Kaz provided, allowing his lobe to be caught between canines as the rumbles of his mate resonated pleasantly in the back of his mind. You do not need a crown to be my commander.

It's a kind sentiment.... if he means it. Kazimir was no liar - Ilarion had known him long enough to know this - and yet there is something bubbling dormant in the statement that came after. Or at least it seemed that way. Just don't lose the next one. At this, the tattered Commander offered his mate a bruised half-smirk. "Perhaps I need more training. To improve my stamina, and endurance..." Attention shifted along the strong ridges and curves of the other man, and something in his abdomen curled pleasantly. But just as quickly as he had flirted, would he then turn serious. "So that I can provide you with what you deserve. What we deserve." Ilarion leaned in a little closer, hot breath dancing along the pale cheek of his other half. "A place for our family, without the restraint of other men and women who think themselves above us."

They had not seen the true potential of the Rurik. Not yet. Olive green fought to capture ruby red and hold it. "I will do that for us, Kazimir. Don't lose faith in me, please." A pause, as he worried at the inside of his mouth with jagged fangs. For the second time that day, he tasted his own blood. "I just need a little more time." But there is nothing more important to me than you.

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He understands where his mate is coming from.

Failure is not an easy emotion to grapple with, nor is disapointment. And when you've been saddled with expectations your whole life, coming up short rankles. It hurts. It kills. But they are rurik, and they have survived worse things than a dour mood. A low rumble comes from deep within his chest, warm and comforting-- or the best he can manage.

One failed challenge would not be the end of @Ilarion.

Not when this was only the start.

Faith is the one thing I have ample of. He remarks with a wry smile, features finally brightening as sleep eases melts away. He won't be going back to bed anytime soon. Neither of them will. It will come, he says with a finality he doesn't quite deserve to use. It's the dedication of an augur, the confidence-- it's easy to blame on the early hour, but there's doubt that lingers still in the daylight.

That, he will deal with later. now is all about ilarion.

Ilarion, who might need more time-- but kazimir needs something else a little more tangible. You mentioned something about training? Endurance, he'd said. Stamina. Shifting where he sits, he leans a little heavier into his mate-- shameless and obvious in equal spades. Perhaps we should start on that. It'd help for ilarion's ambitions and it'd be an easy distraction. The perfect, horny plan-- kazimir's got dozens of those, and his smirk only widens.

Then, his darkened muzzle snakes out to snag ilarions closest ear betwixt his jaws.

let no soul harbor guilt

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How easily the mood began to shift. It was almost startling, really, the way the pair shifted from somber and consoling to roused up and hungry. Ilarion was dying for any sort of distraction, and even riddled with wounds the idea of a sexy tussle with his husband had him chomping at the bit. You horny old dog, you. Perhaps it is the half-promise from Kazimir, or the security that came with being back in Lorien territory; either way, Ilarion found himself beginning to unwind. No longer the coiled spring, but the demure and playful housecat waiting to be scruffed. "Alright," Ilarion hummed, easily submitting to the whims of the Augur. "Try not to be too rough with me," the brute purred, in a tone almost unbefitting of his station and posture. But he'd already been vulnerable enough with @Kazimir at this point - why not tear himself wide open? Leave himself red raw and exposed; primed for the Augur to lean in, slathering, and eat him up whole. In anticipation, the ranger lowered himself onto his elbows and inched back a little, so that the majority of his frame would be concealed by the shadows and privacy that the den provided.

He didn't want any poor, innocent bystanders to witness this.

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Maybe it shouldn't be a surprise, the way the mood shifts and shifts so suddenly. They were always physical creatures, better with their fangs and claws than with their words. It was easier like this but no less fulfilling; they did not need the autumnal bonfires here to stoke the fire in their veins. Kazimir fan see the moment @Ilarion relents to the idea, that same shining spark in his eye reflected in hid mates. It's beautiful, it's perfect, and so is ilarion.

Scars and wounds and all.

gentle? Never, kazimir all but purrs, a promise made with lilting voice and predatory intent. An easy thing to forget all the blood between them, but kazimir has no intention of hurting him, as he moves to meet his mate in the most delicious way. Despite his bluster he will take special care not to knock ilarion around as much as he might want to, but hopefully the dice gods will be good and he can still knock him up ayyyy lmao.

Fade ~

let no soul harbor guilt

table by sentinel / art

The Augur refuses to be tender, and Ilarion would grin - wild and wicked - up at the other man as he descended upon him. Such was their way, he supposed. The Commander could be on deaths door, and he would still readily allow (and expect) Kazimir to be there, with claws and fangs and love waiting to ensnare him. There was no letting up, no relenting - that was obvious more so now than ever before as the pair melded into one and surrendered to each other.

And then, everything was right with the world... if only for an hour or two.

FADE TO BLACK

Rolling SpringBreedingAttempt 1d50: 26
Your breeding attempt was successful! You may now submit your cub request in the maintenance forum.!

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