Fool's Gold Chasm somehow here is gone

August 14th; Late evening; Overcast Clouds; 68° F, 20° C.

The Vale was starting to feel different. For the first time, in what seemed like a long while, Adelard could feel the moisture in the air. Whether it was from the arrival of the evening or the subtle shift in the season, he could not yet tell. Having returned from a quick drink, the Leader was very much ready to settle down for the night.

In the wake of Marrah's departure - which had happened much too soon after Caelyn's leave (in Adelard's opinion) - Adelard was grieving yet again. Half-lidded eyes sought the gathering dark at the entrance of the Chasm. A lifted paw failed to bring him any closer to it and, instead, he fell into a lumbering heap in the ferns nearby.

He set his dark head on his crossed paws and exhaled all the air in his lungs. His heart felt heavy. His head was in a fog and his throat was sore. He was tired. Very tired.

Woya had seen him disappear amongst the ferns, their colors beginning to subtly return. The crimson made Adelard stick out all the more, and it was easy to see his large frame at rest long before she reached him. She still chose to trip over her husband, tumbling atop him with a large, crooked grin spanning her muzzle.

"Oh wow I totally didn't see you there babe, my bad," she jested, twisting to get cozy rather than taking her weight off of him.

The loss of @Marrah had taken its proper toll, and Woya had only recently been able to rebound from it. She did so with as much energy as she could manage, trying to trick herself into positivity. This time, it was going to be the last time. This time, the water was going to stick around.

But, this time... she couldn't make it right, the way she'd promised to. She could only hope to make it a little bit better.

When it seemed that the tension in his ears could release, the points shifted skyward once more. He steeled himself behind closed eyelids. The soft footsteps crept closer; the dark tufts of fur at his shoulders and nape stood up in a subtle warning. But, then... in flashes of white, he felt small pangs of pain across his body - wherever Woya's bony little joints dug into him.

"Oh wow-" An exasperated grumble sounded from his throat. Had it been anyone else, he would have been livid. "I totally didn't see you there babe, my bad."

The creasing of his furrowed brows softened as he opened his eyes. Even if she had toppled over him, he still lay there on the forest floor as if nothing had happened at all. He slowly lifted his chin, nudging his nose to her shoulder and taking her in for a moment. Another small sigh and a rather wry grimace. These days he was either way too grounded (very formal and serious) or downright churlish (with dealing with the cubs). He uncrossed his forelimbs, his paw sweeping across the dirt. "Can I help you, m'dear?" his brow rose. With Woya, it was always a light and flirtatious game of sorts; he just hoped he wouldn't rain on her parade.

         

ADELARD

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

Woya snuggled into his plush fur, appreciating his warmth and breathing in his scent. That he didn't immediately return her playful energy in full was not a surprise, and she wouldn't want him to act if what he really needed was to simply be in his misery. It wasn't what worked for her, but Adelard could no longer do wrong in her eyes and was allowed to cope however he wished. Settled atop his hefty frame, she began to groom the fur about his throat.

"You could teach me French," she teased, paw pushing briefly at his shoulder. More and more the children were picking up on the fact she did not know most of the foreign words they'd learned from their father, and truth be told it was a little annoying. Though, at the same time, watching Adelard bond with them in that way was extremely endearing too. She could hold onto the hope that despite who all they had lost, her offspring would still be brought up in a strong, bonded family.

(This post was last modified: Sep 19, 2022, 05:34 AM by Woya.)

She nestled into him first, taking him in just as he had with her. Comfort in the highest of forms. His eyes closed in momentary relief, a quick meditation. But, then, she perched along his spine and set her tongue across his neck, somewhere where he knew brown met white.

He blinked his eyes open again before settling back down, the right side of his face in contact with the cool earth.

"You could teach me French."

His face remained emotionless, his mind caught, for some reason or another, on wonder. French had always been his "other tongue" but no one had ever thought to explain it to him. He had always assumed it was based on where his ancestors had originally come from. Woya's paw at his shoulder didn't even faze him.

It took a few seconds more for him to drop the train of thought and come back around. A low grumble emitted from him, a sound meant to soothe and nothing more. The day was done, and he was here. With Woya. And they were finally allowed a moment alone together.

"Ah, love," he crooned to her, a hint of a smile forming on his maw. "But, would you use it?" His left eye cracked open, only able to spy a sliver of her pale coat. "It'll take some practice..."

         

ADELARD

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

Woya couldn't help an amused snort as his answer. Her smile took a wry turn and she ceased her preening to look down upon his handsome dial. She moved her paw from shoulder to spotted cheek, the pressure far more gentle but still present as she retorted.

"Oh, like the swarm won't give me plenty."

She'd hoped the nickname would ring less true as they grew and dispersed in their play, but the litter of seven still had their moments. Maybe a bit too many of them, but she loved them no less for it. In fact, their energy had likely come in large part from her, mirroring her own rambunctious youth to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Woya rolled off of him then, perhaps more restless still than she'd thought. She lay now in the soft grass and loam, facing Adelard with one sandy eye open and stretching her legs out to reach betwixt his.

"They're catching on, y'know. That I can't understand it. Who knows what they'll plot?" she jested.