It's time. Calhoun is tired of being suffocated by this rainforest, and he knows that his crew feels it too. There is a beach, but it is a meager one, and hardly enough to satiate a group of pirates who love nothing more than they love the sea. He craves sand beneath his paws and salt in his fur, and an open sky above his head. And more than that, he has little desire to find himself beneath anyone, whether this land calls Cupid a king or not. Calhoun has nothing particularly against the man, but nor is he incredibly fond of him, and he is unused to asking permission for anything. On top of that, there is the impending arrival of children he isn't certain he wants -- but knows he will do right by all the same. Even if they only bring up darkened memories with harsh black edges that threaten to dismantle him all over again. He is surviving on tenuous strands at best, and being trapped in the jungle does nothing to aid his cause. A low rumble calls out for @Roarke as he makes his way towards the paltry shoreline, leaning onto his haunches where the seafoam laps over his paws.

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He knows where to find his brother without having to listen to the location of the call - it goes without saying that the black dragon favors the salt and water, much as Roarke himself had. And yet, while the ocean still calls, it seems to get softer with each passing day, and he finds himself more and more comfortable within the shadows of the jungle. But he knows it is not the same for the others - @Calhoun especially.

Roarke finds him at the water, and joins the black dragon silently. He can feel the distance between them greater than ever, despite being close enough to lean his shoulder against his brother. He does not. He’s not sure they can hold each other up like they used to.

The tide is turnin’, the grey beast says almost absently, watching the horizon. Are you goin’ with it?

Are you leaving me too?

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Calhoun knows they can never go back. Whatever they had -- it's gone now, disintegrated in the aftermath of their burning homeland. If things had gone as planned, would it still be this way now? Would they remain unbroken? He supposes it doesn't matter now; what's done is done. His good ear swivels at the sound of Roarke's approaching footfalls, but neither of them look at one another. As always, it's the sea that calls them -- even now, he knows his brother can feel it: the pull. "Aye," he rumbles, just as distant. He suspects that both of their minds wander, and wonder of the what-ifs. "This is no place fer us," he states a plain truth, and his scarred muzzle turns towards his brother, fixating him with a critical gaze. Roarke has to know that Calhoun could never be happy here, and nor could the crew -- so when did it become a place that the ashen dragon had come to love?

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I have to stay, he says, but whether it's for Calhoun’s benefit or reassuring himself, Roarke isn’t sure. He knows his brother will rebuild their crew, rebuild their power. They had always been nomadic, creatures of war and plunder and freedom. Pride life restricts them. Or it should. Roarke had not felt the need to return to his old life since meeting Cupid. Roarke had built a life in the ashes of his old one, believing that everyone that had been part of it was dead and gone.

He has to stay, but he also wants to. Does that make him a traitor, or a coward? Or soft as Leviathan had insisted?

Take the others. They’re yours.

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This separation is not so bittersweet as their last one. It is just bitter. Before everything had gone so wrong, there had been promise on the wind -- new and better ventures, apart for a while but not forever. And they would find each other again and be even better than before. That dream is gone now, and even though they won't be so far apart physically, Calhoun feels as if he is continents away. "I know," he says with a melancholy, his gaze softening and returning to the rolling winter waves. He hates that he knows, hates that there is no argument he can bring forward; Calhoun isn't a fool. His brother often smells of the boy king or the tiny golden queen, or both. Whatever life Roarke is chasing now, it's here, in Firnen Rainforest. He sighs, a knowing nod dipping his skull. Calhoun so hates this lands foolish politics and the ownership it claims over autonomous lions; funny, isn't it, how Roarke has been the one to more easily pick up their customs. "They'll be glad teh hear it," he hums, thinking idly of Rivia and of Calypso, who's been pushing him for a change for weeks now. He can hardly blame her -- he's been just as suffocated by this jungle, clinging to threads that have been run bare. As he'd learned with Camelia, their official release is some strange custom that has to be adhered to, silly as he thinks it is. Roarke, at least, navigates that hurdle without complaint. "A bheil gaol agad orra?" Calhoun asks, and there's little questioning who he's talking about. If Roarke has found others to care for, who take his pain away -- even just a little bit -- then he is happy for him. Even if it means they must go their separate ways.

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Calhoun doesn’t demand his loyalty - doesn’t ask him to leave. Roarke is thankful for that, if nothing else. He can’t imagine what his answer might have been. His loyalty is not divided until he has to choose. And for now, he does not have to.

The release of the rest of the crew is a simple matter - he will never keep them from Calhoun or their freedom, even if it means weakening the pride for it. But he knows, without needing to talk, that his brother and the others would come for them if he needed them.

Roarke pauses, stunned into silence at the grey beast’s final question. These sorts of things had never been discussed between them - their various lovers, their wives, it had always been apparent when feelings were involved. But now it feels strange to admit it, to have found love again.

Tha mi, he says quietly, his breath almost shaky. Tha gaol agam orra le chèile.

Finally, his gaze casts to the side to eye his brother’s face. Are you and the healer - Calypso…?

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It's all the affirmation Calhoun needs to hear -- so long as there is a reason, a good reason, he will not fight the truth of the matter. Even if they haven't been so earnest in these sorts of conversations before, he needs to hear it now, to know that Roarke is good here, even without the others. "Good," he affirms with a nod, seemingly pleased with his brother's admittance. If the answer had been no, after all, he'd have had to drag his sibling out of the damned forest kicking and screaming. He can't expect to ask such a question without being thrust a similar one in response, but the answer is not one that comes so easily as Roarke's had. He would be a fool to pretend there isn't something there, something that a part of him wants to pursue -- but it hasn't come without its own aches for both of them, and Calhoun is leery that they could burn through one another like wildfire. Some things, perhaps, are best left unsaid. "Chan eil," he finally answers, holding back a sigh and turning his muzzle towards Roarke. He feels a great many things when he's around Calypso -- he feels them so strongly that he truly fears his own lack of control; he has not forgotten the chaos he is capable of. "Calypso is... worthy of more 'n I could give her. Tha mi air a goirteachadh." More than once, in ways that are becoming uncountable. And it all spirals back to his lack of control, and that dragon that consumes him more often than it should. For both their sakes, Calypso is a stone best left unturned.

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It’s both surprising and not, to hear that Calhoun has not made an advance on the physician. It’s clear there is attraction between them, and if there’s more - Roarke would be the one to see it. It had not been dissimilar with Aegea - but Calhoun had not been the stoic, cold and unsure bastard he is now.

And yet she’s still with you. Roarke wisely chooses not to comment on the hurt, or the pain in Calhoun’s orange eyes. Either they would sort themselves out or not; the ashen dragon could do little but wait and see. He could only point out the obvious.

Let’s go find the crew, see if they’ve caused any trouble while we’ve been out here shit talking. Roarke says as he stands, offering a ghostly smirk before turning to head inwards again. He knows they will all be eager to leave, much as he’d rather have them all stay together.

Exit.

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So she is. That may not be Calhoun's doing -- he's given her ample opportunity to leave, told her she should, and yet... she stays. There's something to be said for her sense of loyalty, even if she has chosen the wrong fool to give it to. He simply exhales a soft snort and nods; wherever it leads...he'll face that storm another day. He is eager for the change in topic, mimicking Roarke's simper and shouldering against his brother as they delve deeper into the rainforest. "Aye, wouldn't want that sorry lot ruinin' yer pretty house," Calhoun teases with a glint in his eye. And along the way, they'll have more to discuss -- namely, the new beginnings that are on the horizon for the both of them. Whether that will end up being a good thing for Calhoun remains to be seen, but he'll at least have Roarke nearby to help weather that storm when it comes. Roarke, and... Calypso. And yet, she's still with you. Exeunt Calhoun

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