She's come again - everything in her heart is saying come to the wild, make sure it burns. Kivuli is fighting. Kivuli is coming. As much as Dio wished to lock away and spend time with her children she can't ignore the call entirely, that feeling of dread that came years ago when that horrid creature tried to deny and slander Maua.

She enters the wilds, the night is quiet and moonless. There is the crackle of nearby fire and the light is a warm red around her from smoldering embers. With a few rocks gathered from every bit of land between Scilla and here Dio begins to lay them out in offering for Maua.

Rolling wildsevent 1d13: 9
The heat of a fire and the scent of fresh grass seem to be all around you. You find the battle of the fire against the lush green grass - will you stomp out the fire or let the grass burn?

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"Dio?"

Matti’s voice was soft as he approached her from behind. He had followed her from the Lagoon, making sure to leave the cubs in Aymond’s care before venturing out. This wasn’t the first time she’d left the safety of the den and wandered from the beaches. And every time, she came back unharmed, so why the sudden urge to follow her this time?

As he stepped into the unfamiliar forest, a sense of unease settled over him, sending shivers down his spine. This wasn’t a broken place. A dying place. Ash coated every surface like freshly fallen snow; rees were charred black, their branches barren and lifeless.; the air was heavy with decay. Life did not thrive here, but though he wanted to leave, she was here, so he would stay.

He peered around her to see new flames, crackling and dancing around a patch of green, the only vibrant spot in the surrounding wasteland. The light flickered in his eye as he stared. Somehow, life clung on. "We have to put it out, Dio," he insisted as he took slow steps towards the flames. "We have to give it a chance." He looked around for anything he could use to smother the fire.

But even as he said it, doubt crept in. Why had she not already tried to put it out? What held her back?

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With each offering that Dio set down she swore she saw the flicker and approving flare of a nearby flame or ember. An opportunistic breeze was attributed to a sign, a fresh ignition of charcoal was a message. Revered Maua was in the flames. Dio thought she could feel that energy from the start but now? Now she was absolutely convinced that they were here. She stops laying out her offerings and instead places a hand upon the rock she has laid out and she holds it there- muttering nonsense under her breath until @Matthieu shows up. Teal eyes calmly turn to him.

"No." Her voice is steady and stable, resolute in this. There is no anger. How could he know? How could her beloved be anything other than his sweet self? "Maua is in the fire." And sometimes things don't get a fair chance. Dio lifts her paw and picks up a fallen and half charred stick. Towards the fire she tosses it and feels the blaze of warm energy that comes up across her belly and face. Extra embers are tossed into the air around her and they dance in wild circles back to the ground.

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His brows furrowed in confusion as he turned back to meet her gaze, halting his search. "Non?" Maua was in the flames? He didn't understand. Why would Maua—a deity of creation—not encourage life? And, if this patch of green in this otherwise barren land was not their doing, then whose was it? Who opposed Maua?

He watched as Dio stoked the fire, feeding it with the blackened branch and tried to stare past the flickering to see what she could see. But he only saw the embers beneath and he stood for a moment, unsure. Dio had been plagued by some dark, unseen force for a long time now—what if that very force was imitating her deity, deceiving her, twisting their intentions? The thought that maybe this wasn't Maua at all gnawed at him until he caught himself. He just had to believe her. He didn't know Maua, but she knew their touch, their voice. If anyone could tell the difference between a trick and the real thing, it was Dio.

So, despite the pull he felt to snuff the growing flames, he steeled himself and rounded to the other side of the fire to look for more kindling. He gathered what he could and returned to drop them in one by one, following each with a gentle blow to the base.

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Together they work at building the fire up, sustaining it so that it could spread a bit further. Burn away a bit more of the growth that grew with strange rapidness and strength. Like pox marks upon the land. Eventually though there is flame enough to control the spread and it's only then that Dio seems satisfied with the job they've done. With one last stick dropped into the pyre her dark body stands still and mesmerizingly looking into the flames. Her orange paws are ashy and smudged with dirt and soot. There is a streak of black across her face under her right eye and down her cheek. The features of her face glow with oranges and reds - the background noise the heavy crackling of burning and the steady drum of her heartbeat in her ears.

"I visited my ancestor's graves while I was in Vermeda. I cleaned them up, I tried to remember their names but most of them I could not." At least they had Nazara now who would know where their bones laid buried. Her voice is still, she is not entirely there. "I'm sorry." It feels like the words were placed in her throat and then pulled up past her lips into the air. They weren't hers. And so the fire continued to dance before them, her vision seeing only the swirling of colors and the occasional cloudy edges of smoke.

@Matthieu

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He followed her lead, trusting she would know when they had fulfilled Maua's will. After she reached to the flames one final time and pulled back, he studied her over the steady flicker between them, heart heavy with love... and guilt. She had endured so much alone—more than he could bear to think about and he promised himself that she would never feel that kind of isolation again. But, though he could protect her from physical separation, how was he supposed to protect her within her own mind? He couldn't fight the darkness that haunted her. Was being there for her enough?

I visited my ancestor's graves while I was in Vermeda. Her words broke through the crackling of the flames and his ears swiveled forward, making sure he caught everything she said. I cleaned them up, I tried to remember their names but most of them I could not. His chest tightened as she spoke. Vermeda, with its deep ties to her family, would always hold a part of her. Ties that he couldn't replicate in Scilla no matter how much he wanted to; he couldn't keep her away anymore than he could keep her from Maua, and he didn't want to try. He wanted her to be happy.

But how was he supposed to make that happen without submitting to the rule of woman who stole it from them? The rule under which she was taken prisoner? That was a path they could not take.

I'm sorry.

Her apology startled him from his thoughts and he rushed to her side. "Non, Dio. Shhh..." he whispered. Up close, he could see the traces of soot that had clung to the fur on her cheek and he leaned over to begin cleaning it gently with his tongue. He paused between licks, his voice in a low murmur as he asked, "Can ye tell me about de ones ye do remember?" Maybe, by sharing their stories, it might help. Even just a little.

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His closeness, as ever, is comfort and a grounding presence for Dio's wandering and half present spirit. There's not much to be found but what color is present, the fire, the green, him and her, seems brighter and more vibrant after he's at her side and his tongue is gently cleaning away soot from her face. With an inhale she smells the ash and feels the soft earth below her. I'm sorry. The voice repeats in her head, temporarily recoiling away from her consciousness and leaving Dio to her own thoughts and the request of her husband.

Matthieu is sweet. But telling the stories won't bring back the memory of those she's forgotten and those she'd never known in the first place. With a warm smile she reaches over to brush her paw along his and come to rest it half over his. "You've met Talisa. There's her father Daario. It's said he was a just and true leader of the Valour. It sounds to me like he was the sort who just was a leader no matter what title he officially held." A man of honor and charisma, the sort one is drawn to follow because of who he is not what he is called.

Her paw drifts from her husband's touch and she lifts a piece of stick not fully yet burned. She uses it to nudge the embers around and make sure bits of green are fully covered and smoldering under the heat. "I did not like being forced to remain in the Brook, they are monsters there. But.." A word so heavy it had a life all it's own and felt painful to Dio to carry. "I liked feeling connected to my family again." And although she dared not to voice it and give it life, without the promise of cubs she likely would not have even tried to escape.

@Matthieu

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He didn't know him, but from the way she spoke of him, Matti knew he would have liked Daario. "'e sound like a good man; one worth lookin' up to." He thought of a few men in his own family he held in similar high regard and silently prayed he could be half the role model they, and this Daario, were for their children. Still, he knew he was blessed—blessed to have married into this family full of women rich with love, wisdom, and strength. Dio's presence, along with those of her aunts and cousins, offered more than enough to fill any shortcomings he had. He hoped the boys and Mynah got to spend a lot of time with them al, receiving all that love and knowledge.

When her paw left his, he found himself watching its every movement, saddened by the hollow chill left behind as she poked what remained of the fire. He hung on every word she gave, each revealing more of the pain she felt when they were apart. Yes, there were monsters in the Brook—monsters raising more monsters, too, surely. He thought about the young cub from the beach. The poor thing had no chance at anything but a life of hate, did it?

Her continuation pulled him back. I liked feeling connected to my family again. He could hear the longing in her voice, a yearning for that sense of home she was missing. "What can I be doin' to 'elp?" he asked, turning back to her. He wasn't a fighter, but he would take the Brook back for her if she wanted. Or help her sneak in to see the graves again. Or... whatever she needed to give her everything she deserved.

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