Fool's Gold Chasm a little less lonely together

What is there to explain? was his counter, and she softened again, stuck yet another time between thinking this a game of his and glimpsing the earnesty behind this claimed simplicity. Perhaps it really was all going over her head, and she swallowed while trying to maintain the sternness of her gaze.

You don't see, do you? This time, Woya couldn't help but shake her head, left then right, no. The confusion began to seep through into her features, before he finally uttered words that broke pace and urged her to gravitate toward him. Maybe Adelard had desired the scorch of her flames, for her to be his burning bush, an irrefutable beacon in a barren desert. She met him as water instead, slipping forward to fill the space against his chest, her cheek resting atop the bone that protected his heart as she yearned to comfort and assure him. It was what she would have needed, had she been the first to admit this shared fear.

"You won't," she spoke confidently, the most sure she had been yet, "not so long as I got a say about it."

Woya would take this as his word that he wasn't going anywhere, either - reassurance she had indeed been craving, despite his consistency thus far.

Still, the somberness in her gaze persisted. Then suddenly, she moved. He tucked his chin against her as she curled up at his front. Her own chin found a place in the spot adjacent to his thundering heart.

"You won't," this was but a fragment of what he had wanted to hear, but she went on to further, "not so long as I got a say about it."

Relief should have found him, but instead, he nodded. He stole a glimpse at her pale crown, wondering now if she had misunderstood or if he had not made himself clear. A long sigh fled from him and his tail came to wrap around his left side. She smelled lovely, like a familiar place and yet the wilderness beyond it. "I'm not sure how to say it," he shrugged, his gaze still tracing the dark silver guard hairs along her spine and tail. "And, I don't know how to ask..." A pause to gather his words, "But, back at home, I would've had to ask your father first if I could court you."

         

ADELARD

heat stroke, bring the fire black smoke, I take it higher

I'm not sure how to say it, his voice caused her eyes to flutter open once more, peering upward to watch his lips form each word from the edges of her sight. It took him time to say it all, but it was worth the wait. Perhaps contrary to the moment, Woya couldn't help the laughter that spilled from her throat in response. It grabbed hold, shaking her whole chest while she pressed her face into his fur to attempt to stifle the sound. It wasn't rueful or derisive, but rather filled with relief and genuine, simplistic happiness.

This had all went so differently than she ever could have imagined just moments ago. She'd wanted to burn the forest down, to say things she would regret and finally see her own emotions reflected on the visages of the others. In the face of that, Adelard had only wanted her to know his desire to court her.

"Yer too good for all of this, you know that?" was her initial reply, after the onslaught of giggles had passed. For her, for them, this place. She pulled away so as to better face him, and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I'm not so sure y'know what yer gettin' into," how else could she return such a declaration, but with self-deprecation? Woya was a mess, a vessel caught in an endless storm while every other wolf appeared happily and safely moored ashore. It was easy to convince herself that Ad was attempting to bite off more than he could ever hope to chew, as plenty of others had before him. In the end, she was always too much and sent adrift once more.

She could let him try, though. Maybe he really was her anchor. Hers.

"Dad would've loved you," the memory of family softened her voice, but the toothy grin she flashed Adelard was brimming with energy and light, "so, do yer worst."

(This post was last modified: Mar 13, 2022, 08:24 PM by Scully.)

A giggle lifted from her and it was like birdsong. For someone he only knew to speak in barks and growls, it was a pleasant surprise. His ears pinned back in uncertainty as she first told him that he was too good. He grimaced at the idea but said nothing as she pulled away.

He watched her inhale and exhale with bated breath. "I'm not so sure y'know what yer gettin' into." To this, he arched a brow, pulling his ears forward again, upright and collected.

"Dad would've loved you, so, do yer worst."

His smirk emerged in full form to meet her smile. He shook with a soft chuckle, his tone unmistakably playful, "I think I like ya a little less when you’re friendly." A part of him had to admit, it was somewhat startling yet endearing all at once. Adelard's lumbering frame stood up at full height as he regarded her once more. Lowering his head, he moved only to 'boop' her nose with his, "But, I gotta admit, your smile's pretty cute." A sense of warmth leveled out the smugness that had settled on his dark mask, "So, if Dad approved, what d'ya say?"

         

ADELARD

heat stroke, bring the fire black smoke, I take it higher

I think I like ya a little less when you’re friendly was his initial response, and it had her laughing mirthfully once more. He'd certainly be the first to feel that way in any capacity, to her knowledge. The amusement had pinched her honeyed eyes closed, but the touch of his leathery nose to hers prompted her to look up at him once more through dark lashes. His compliment had her blushing beneath her pale fur, and she pushed against his touch, just firm enough to entice the tops of both their muzzles into wrinkling.

What d'ya say?

Once again, she found herself convinced that there was a lot his words could intend, and unwilling to be the one to define them. It would have to be okay, if he was as serious about this as he appeared. She'd done enough to try and fill Hudson's absence in her own way, she wouldn't attempt to be a third wolf in addition to please another. Even if it made the difference between solitude and companionship.

"Courtin's a process, ain't it?" she asked, and began to step away. Languid yet pointed strides backward, without removing her gaze from his own. She wanted to at least try and do this right, and perhaps his intentions had been long-lived, but for Woya this was not a door she'd known to even exist. She knew herself well enough to be certain that if all she told him was yes, they would not survive.

"Convince me."

"Courtin's a process, ain't it?" she backed away from him. It tickled him to know that she at least understood courting was not just a 'yes' or 'no' sort of deal. Great. They were both on the same page. "Convince me."

Now, she was flirting.

"Well, yes... but, hmm," he began to muse, stepping closer to her just enough to keep some space still between them. "See, gifts would have probably been a decent start." A grimace skittered across his mask. "Thing is, Sawyer ran late with them, and I have already given whatever else I had to the cubs."

He grew still, watching and waiting for her next move, "Patrols together would be nice for once, get some talks in... share a secret or two. Get to know you even better than I do now." His gaze went to her paws, attempting to gauge or predict her reaction. She could have run off and there was no easy way for him to stop her, but he wanted her to hear this first. "Worldly novelties aside, I believe in strong affiliations and matching with one's equal. It was what I was taught from the very start. We call it one's àme sœre; and, plainly, if I didn't think you were the one-" His eyes came up to met hers, "I wouldn't have asked."

         

ADELARD

heat stroke, bring the fire black smoke, I take it higher

Adelard continued to jaunt right when she expected him to stroll left, her brows arching with both intrigue and amusement. Tokens, walks - share a secret or two. Sounded excellent to her, after all, wasn't time on their side? And yet...

Worldly novelties aside, I believe in strong affiliations and matching with one's equal.

It was the most clinical he had sounded to that point, at least in her opinion. Curiosity blossomed within her mind over whether or not that meant his professed attraction was simply a matter of believing she had good genes. Had she known more of his past, it would have been like a burr within her skull seeding paranoia that this was all just another attempt at living up to the standards and desires of those who raised him rather than a true indication of how he felt. As it was, his following proclamation was more than enough to wash away those whispers.

Àme sœre. The one.

She was frozen like a cornered fawn once more.

"Are you saying you love me?"

They were the most fragile words she had yet to speak.

For the first time in ages, he didn't think about them... the missing and the others. All he could see was her.

She grew motionless and, in turn, he, too, ceased all movement. If she was as vulnerable as she looked, he knew better than to pursue her. This was a dance he knew all too well.

"Are you saying you love me?"

"Is it too much?" he swallowed with a cant of his head, beseeching the thumping heart in his ribcage to stop skipping beats. "Because, yes. Je t'adore beaucoup-" Near-forgotten language, his father's native tongue, came back to him. He shook his head as if he had said something forbidden. Whether it had been locked away, or he had been reluctant to speak it, he couldn't say, but Woya brought it out in him. "I will tell you this once. There is a fire within that draws me to you. I can't explain it." His limbs trembled visibly for a second. A moment of weakness, "I am sworn to Saga's service. I would kill and die for this pack, but I would give anything, do anything, to find out if you feel the same."

         

ADELARD

heat stroke, bring the fire black smoke, I take it higher

There he went, in French and everything. She hadn't been familiar with the prior phrase, recognizing only the tongue and it's weight given the context, but this one Woya knew for each and every syllable that composed it. They weren't perfect replicates of the words she'd been looking for, but sincerity and intention never appeared to waver within him.

The mention of Saga was a poignant reminder of why she could not yet give him the answer he likely hoped for. Her voice was tenderly resolute as she spoke next.

"It's going to have to be time," Woya confessed, "because I don't know."

She could give him honesty, though.

"Some of my biggest secrets?" there was hesitation, but it was brief. She didn't want to hurt him, especially in this moment after everything he'd said and done for her. He deserved to know, however, to have the chance to walk away now.

"I've been tryin' to force you into bein' the new Hudson. Which was wrong. You're so much more than his shadow, but..." the corners of her lips twitched upward, the ghost of a smile passing through, "it was easier. To pretend you aren't."

Yeah, she was just a giant, floundering hypocrite.

"That's the kind of shit I need to sort through. I need to know that, this isn't just because I'm hormonal, and impulsive, and because yer making my head spin. ... Because you are."

There was more, but only if he hadn't already heard enough. She reigned in her tongue to give him the opportunity to either disengage or send her spiraling with feeling once more.

(This post was last modified: Mar 14, 2022, 04:50 AM by Chan.)

She didn't have an answer for him. She didn't know. That was fine. They had time. The season was not yet over but, Adelard had no intention of rearing whelps this season if she was not ready.

Woya admitted that she had tried to force him into Hudson's place and this only fueled him further. Even if she confessed to knowing that it had been wrong, it stoked his inner desires. Fire feeding into fire in the simplest of forms.

He continued to scrutinize her, sensitive to her every sound and shift. Maybe he had her where he wanted her. Maybe not. Either way, there was a part of him that dared to think it, to crave it, to draw, at last, a final conclusion. This was how to keep Huddy from hurting them, the wolves of Fools Gold Chasm, ever again. Adelard would take his sister and he would love her with a love so fierce it eclipsed everything else. No matter how dark his intention, the romance was real. It not only had to be, but it had already ingrained itself into his very core.

"Good," was all he could say at first. A mischievous spark shone in his eye, but there was nothing malicious about his body language. In fact, he had relaxed even further than he had before. "Though, I can't promise to not be impulsive. It's... in my nature." It's how they raised me. "When you're able to sort it all out, I'm all ears." He gave a bob of his head, "Until then, I forgive you."

         

ADELARD

heat stroke, bring the fire black smoke, I take it higher