Novacaine

Mariah absorbed his words, a hollow ache growing in her chest. The images his words painted were haunting, grotesque, and the fact that Caedes blamed himself for what had transpired twisted the knife deeper. His guilt was as palpable as his grief, and she knew no amount of reassurance would dispel it. Not now, at least. "It's not your fault, Caedes," she murmured softly - a whisper lost amidst the turmoil of his guilt and regret. She didn't need to see his eyes to know he wouldn't believe her, wouldn't accept absolution so easily. But she had to voice it anyway, had to let him know that the blame didn't solely rest on his broad shoulders. As he sat up, so did she. “You did what you could, given the circumstances. You can’t control someone else’s actions, especially not someone as heinous as him.”

She pressed herself closer to him, offering her warmth and comfort in this distressing moment. Outside, the night air was crisp and cool against her body, but inside her den that they shared, it was warm and comforting. The embers from the fire flickered and glowed, casting long shadows that danced around them. “You did a selfless thing for Aurelia- if you were her only friend, just supporting her through her labor was probably the greatest kindness she would have hoped for. That’s not failing her- quite the opposite.” She tried to explain, her voice steady, but soft. Her silver eyes were filled with sincerity and compassion as she looked up at him.

"You grieve, not because you failed her, but because you cared for her deeply." Mariah paused, allowing the words to sink in, hoping he'd realize that his guilt was misplaced. "Your actions, your presence gave her comfort in her final moments. You were there when nobody else would have been. You dulled her pain. You eased her transition, you stood by her through the end, as grizzly as it was." She tightened her grip around him, a silent message of reassurance. "If you had not been there…" Mariah's voice faltered for a moment, before she cleared her throat and continued, "in that moment, she would have faced her end alone, in agony, and the pups that survived, would not have otherwise." The thought sent a chill down her spine. To die alone, without anyone to offer comfort or solace, was a fate no creature deserved.

She could feel him trembling against her, the guilt-ridden confession leaving him a shaking wreck. His breath hitched as he struggled to process the soothing words she offered, his heart aching with the weight of his perceived failure. But Mariah was steadfast- she wouldn’t have it. “You have to know that he would have killed her had you been there or not, right?”

Mariah felt the tremors wracking Caedes' body begin to recede as he pressed himself closer to her, his words hanging heavily in the silent den. "Everyone breaks, Caedes," she responded softly. "It's what makes us who we are. It's how we learn and grow." She raised a paw to gently brush back a stray lock of fur from his eyes. "The true measure of strength," she continued, her voice steady despite the emotion thick in the air, "is not in never breaking, but in how we piece ourselves back together.” She murmmered in the space between them. She pulled away to look at him, to try to meet his eye contact. And when she didn’t get it right away, she asked. “Look at me.” Mariah gently insisted. “I love you now more than I ever have before- if it’s even physically possible.” She hesitated, looking for the recognition in his dulled gaze. "Do you hear me? I love you. Don't ever tell me that I can't make a judgment of character for myself." She said softly, but with a little more of a quiet edge. Mariah couldn’t let him continue in his self-deprecation - her heart wouldn't allow it.

"Mariah Mendacium"