Who Will Falter, Who Will Conquer

Alastor held Relm’s gaze, refusing to look away from her. He was searching—searching for something there to give him hope that the pink woman wasn’t hellbent on burning the bridges between them beyond repair. But all Alastor saw was an emptiness, the vacant vacuum of defeat clouding her argent gaze. She had given up. Alastor’s heart fractured so intensely he could feel the pang in his chest every time it beat. She spoke softly, stating she was not afraid of him. Alastor snorted under his breath in disgust. He didn’t want Relm to be afraid of him. He wanted her to go back to the way things were, to the happy moments they shared together, the days of patrols and hunts, the nights of getting tangled up in each other in her den. But as each second slipped by them like grains of sand in an hour glass running out of time, the dire wolf felt as if that was becoming less and less likely.

Relm tried to step past him without another word and Alastor, too struck by agony and heartache, did nothing to stop her. She was there, and then she wasn’t. Alastor took a few shallow breaths, staring at the empty spot that she had just occupied, each beat of his heart hurting more and more. Relm, their children, their relationship… it was all going up in smoke right before his eyes. Dark gaze narrowing, he turned to round on the pink wolf, teeth bared in barely contained frustration and hurt while he watched her leave. "Why are you doing this?!" he snapped at her, demanding some sort of answer that make a modicum of sense. "Why are you letting everything we had burn like it never mattered to you? Was I never going to be enough for you? Would you never be satisfied with what I could give you?" Alastor turned to face her more directly, but not moving to intercept her. If she wanted to keep walking and leave, then he would have his answer.

"Alastor"