Reconnaissance
With a deep breath she crossed the border, stepping over the carcass of a long-dead deer that marked the territory line. The snow beneath her paws crunched defiantly, echoing her resolution in the utter stillness. The journey was fraught with dangers- all she knew of the Syndicate's lands was the warnings they had been issued to not go near, foreboding and creeping like the gnarled, naked trees that loomed over her now. Nevertheless, her ears swiveled, alert to every sound; her eyes narrowed and meticulously traced the unknown terrain for any signs of Caedes.
Her heart pounded in her chest like a drum with every step she took, each beat a litany of anxiety. But she didn’t have to look long before she caught his scent- she could pick it out from anywhere. As quickly as she could, Mariah followed the trail, her paws moving in a rhythmic determination. Her breath plumed out before her, invisible tendrils intertwining with the frigid winter air. And after several gut-wrenching moments of apprehension, he finally came into her view.
Caedes trudged through the familiar terrain of the Syndicate territory, his body a canvas of fresh wounds. Each step felt heavy, his mind a haze of exhaustion and numbness. The battles over the past days had done little to alleviate the storm within him, only serving to deepen the chasm of his despair. His fur, once sleek and dark, now hung in tangled mats, dirt and blood clinging to it stubbornly.
As he neared his den, the sight that greeted him was a visceral reminder of his failure and the horror of that night. Blood stained the ground, mingling with the remnants of Aurelia’s last moments. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sickening stench of death, in the corner lie what he knew to be bits of her skull and brain matter. The den, once a place of refuge, was now a grotesque scene of destruction. The shelves and storage containers were strewn about, some salvageable and some not. His workbench was cast on its side, his work; parchments, anatomical drawings, specimens of poisons and various organs, were littering the ground in neglect. He had not been back here for many nights now, and it was as horrible as he’d imagined.
Caedes’ eyes, dull with sleeplessness, took in the remnants of his home. His paws hesitated at the entrance, claws digging into the dirt as if the ground itself could anchor him from being swallowed by the void. He felt the buzzing in his ears grow louder, drowning out everything around him. He was barely aware of his surroundings, his mind consumed by the memories of Aurelia and the monstrous visage of Sephiran. Most notably, he wondered if he would freeze up again once he stepped inside.
With a strangled growl, he took the plunge, the buzzing in his ears amplifying to a deafening roar. He didn’t notice Mariah’s scent or presence, his senses overwhelmed by the grisly scene before him. With each step the air felt thick and suffocating. He closed his eyes, his breath shuddering as he tried to hold back the tidal wave of emotion threatening to drown him.
He had been so lost in his anguished attempt at normalcy, to cleanse the den and perhaps return his peace of mind… that he hadn’t noticed Mariah's approach. Her scent, usually a comfort, was masked by the overwhelming stench of death and decay that permeated the den. It wasn't until he heard the crunch of snow beneath her paws that he realized he was not alone.
Caedes turned slowly, his eyes locking onto Mariah’s. For a moment, he was unsure if she was real or just another figment of his tormented mind. A memory, maybe? Born of insomnia and the desire to be free from his trauma. But the concern etched into her features, the determination in her silver gaze, anchored him to the present. His breath hitched, a ragged sound in the cold, still air.
“No…” He gasped, his voice raw and strained. “No. You can not be here.”If she were discovered here, she would be another puddle of blood and viscera to clean up – and so would he.
Unless otherwise stated, assume he is not wearing his feathered skull mask.
The word "Caedes" hung in the air like a weighted promise, spoken by Mariah in a voice barely above a whisper. The deafening silence of destruction settled around them, but her words cut through it like a sharp knife. She stood before him, small and fragile against the chaos, yet determined and resolute in her purpose. "I am here because you need me," she said, each word laced with sincerity and emotion. "And I...I need you." Her voice caught on the last words, a plea for him to understand the depth of her concern, the lengths she would go for him. A moment of tense silence passed between them before she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Her heart pounded in her chest, echoing the gravity of her confession. "Let me help you," she pressed, willing him to see the sincerity in her eyes.
Caedes' heart clenched at the sound of his name spoken so tenderly. Her piercing gaze, unrelenting and full of concern, cut through the thick haze of his despair. The sight of her, so small yet so resolute against the entrance of his ruined den, stirred something deep within him. He saw the silent plea in her eyes, the depth of her concern, and the determination that drove her to stand before him despite the dangers. Fuck.
His emerald eyes, a mix of anguish and desperation, locked onto hers. “Mariah, you must leave.” He pleaded, his voice barely more than a rough and hoarse whisper he fought to control. He could feel the futility of his words even as he spoke them. Mariah had always been stubborn, her loyalty and defiance unwavering. The very fact that she had ventured into these lands spoke volumes of her resolve. He saw it in her eyes, the same determination that had driven him into countless battles, the same fire that refused to be extinguished.
He took a shaky step toward her, his legs unsteady, each movement a struggle against the weight of his exhaustion. His body swayed slightly, muscles tensed with the effort of staying upright. “Please.” He implored, his voice breaking but rising in volume and desperation. “I cannot lose you. I will not see you harmed.” This he spoke in a growl, unlike anything he had aimed towards her before. His jaw clenched, and in a swift movement, his raven, perched above the den's entrance, took flight. Third Eye's goal was simple: ensure the silence of the flock managed by the Katil through sedation, which Caedes always had prepared on its talons.
But her words hung in the air, each one a lifeline thrown to him in the stormy sea of his anguish that drew his attention back to her haunting orbs. ‘I am here because you need me,’ She said, her voice barely above a whisper yet resonating with profound sincerity. ‘And I... I need you.’ The catch in her voice, the raw emotion behind her confession, struck him to his very core. For a moment, he stood frozen, torn between the urge to push her away to protect her and the desperate need for her presence.
“Mariah. Damn it all! Leave!” The obsidian brute began, his voice booming with emotion. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, taking a step forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes, dull and haunted, sharpened as he looked into hers, seeing the sincerity and the plea for him to let her in. He stood tall, his powerful frame looming over her, his musculature flexing beneath his matted pelt.
Unless otherwise stated, assume he is not wearing his feathered skull mask.
The fire in Mariah's eyes blazed brighter with each word that left his lips, mirroring the tumultuous emotions swirling within her. Her heart clenched at the pain that lingered behind his words. She tore her gaze from him and fixed it on the raven, its wings spread wide as it soared high above them, a harbinger of impending danger. But even in the face of this threat, she stood firm, her determination strengthened by Caedes' desperate plea. Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the howling wind like a sharp blade.
Mariah's body faltered, her footing unsure as she came face to face with Caedes. His powerful aura radiated a palpable force, threatening to push her back. The weight of his final words stirred a deep anguish within her, but she fought against it with every fiber of her being. Her feet planted firmly on the ground, she stood tall with a determined stance and an unwavering silver gaze, meeting his towering stature with a quiet defiance.
"No," she spoke firmly, her voice soft and gentle like a falling snowflake but carrying the undeniable steel of resolve.
Caedes felt Mariah's determination hit him like a physical blow. Her words, refusing to abandon him, rang through his head with conviction. She stepped forward with purpose, closing the distance between them, her eyes blazing with a fire that mirrored the blaze within her. Her challenge sent a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over him. Her defiance, her resolve – qualities he had always admired – now filled him with a deep, unsettling fear. He took a menacing step closer, towering over her, his presence almost overwhelming.
“Mariah.” The dire beast growled, frustration and power dripping from his voice. “You do not understand the danger you are in. If you stay here, if they find you-…” His eyes flashed with a volatile mix of anger and desperation. Without another word, he grabbed her by the scruff, his grip firm but not harsh. His movements were rough despite his care, his massive form easily dragging her into the ruined den. He deposited her onto the floor, his skull whipping back to the entrance as he yanked the curtain furs closed.
“Get inside.” He ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “If you are going to be stubborn, at least fucking stay out of sight.” His heart pounded as he stood there, the anger and desperation giving way to a deep, aching vulnerability. He glanced back at her, his eyes softening momentarily. The sight of her, so determined and relentless, brought a mix of emotions that he struggled to process. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her, not after everything he had already endured.
Inside the den now, surrounded by the remnants of his past, Caedes felt the weight of his grief and guilt pressing down on him. He glanced around, his eyes lingering on the bloodstains, the broken remnants of his life. Of his mental fortitude. His eyes dimmed, his body fell still, his breath became shallow, and his fur bristled as his breath caught in his throat. “Fuck…”
Unless otherwise stated, assume he is not wearing his feathered skull mask.
Her eyes flashed with defiance, the heat of her anger momentarily offsetting the freezing temperature of the den. “You cannot command me, Caedes,” she retorted, her tone icy as she stood up to him. As much as she shared his concern for safety, she would not be ordered around like a subordinate. She was not a pup to be scolded, nor a helpless creature to be coddled. But of course, in the silence of the den, the hostility began to fade as she witnessed the transformation in his gaze, from one of hardened determination to something softer. Something that mirrored the vulnerability she herself felt.
Observing the intense anguish that veiled Caedes' expression, Mariah felt a pang of empathy stabbing at her heart. "Caedes..." she began, her voice softening, the name slipping from her tongue carrying tremors of concern. She moved towards him, her nimble body weaving through the sparse light illuminating the witness of the transformation in his gaze, from one of hardened determination to something softer. Something that mirrored the vulnerability she herself felt. But as she witnessed the change in her demeanor, she quickly shifted her attention to the grizzly sight that he was entranced in. It was the scene of a brutal murder from what she could tell. Bone fragments, clumps of bloodied hair, and other unrecognizable tissue littered the ground, and the scent of decay was still very much present in the otherwise sterile air. The rest of the den was a disaster area. Shelves broken, work surfaces flipped over, parchments, jars, containers, broken, scattered, torn. It was an intense scene to begin to process. But in that moment, her attention remained fixed to the man she loved- her own expression morphing into one of regretful remorse.
This was it. This was where he lost Aurelia.
This was where he lost his fleeting peace of mind.
Almost as quickly as their tempers had blazed to life did the reality of the state within his abandoned den splash cool water on them. Her words of defiance, her jab at his care of himself, the fury that he would force her out of sight fall on his deaf ears. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his massive form trembling with the effort to contain the storm of emotions within him. He was so focused on taking in the scene. Brows furrowing in response to his name, trying to rip his gaze away and back to those lifesaving orbs of hers. But he can’t. It’s all he can do not to start tearing off into the forest, to look for another fight to occupy his mind. But this was his home, his workplace. His passion, strewn about the cold floors. Discarded and neglected.
He looked back at her, his emerald eyes filled with a raw, desperate plea. His haunted gaze was drawn away, settling carefully on the decaying puddle that Sephiran had left behind. “I have lost patients before. I have seen death, enough blood to paint all my memories red, but as a healer… as a warrior too, I was never meant to freeze. Never meant to be so shocked that I stood idly by.” The vulnerability in his voice was a stark contrast to the fierce, commanding presence he usually held. He stepped closer to her, his massive frame trembling, and pressed his forehead against hers, seeking comfort in her closeness.
“I want you to leave, not because I do not want you here, but because I would never recover if the same fate befell you.” He murmured, his face contorting into a grimace as he very briefly imagined it.
The den’s cold air seemed to amplify every emotion, every edge of his ragged mental state. He could still smell the metallic scent of blood lingering in his nostrils, the paralyzing grip of it that had rendered him useless in her final moments. “But I am filled with so much hate. I did not know I would be… so affected by what happened that night. I do not know what it was. I need to know why I cannot settle my mind. Was it how he did it? The knife? How he cursed at her while he killed her? How crazed he was, daring to cry for what he was doing to her? Her helpless tears? Or the children crying at his feet while he did it?” His massive paws clenched into the dirt, his claws digging deep as if to anchor himself to the present, to prevent himself from being swept away by the tide of guilt and regret.
His gaze finally dropped to the ground, his shoulders sagging instead of rolled forward in dominance like moments ago. “I thought that if I could come back here, I could clean up, and set everything back to its rightful place.” And maybe he would go back to normal as well.
His body shivered as if the memories were physically assaulting him, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Look at it. Everything I thought I was, or that I had become; reduced to this. It is so laughable.” His voice was low and bitter, barely more than a harsh whisper. “I am nothing but a boy, plagued by memories forced upon me, playing pretend when I have no business dealing with lives if I am so resentful of my own.”
Unless otherwise stated, assume he is not wearing his feathered skull mask.
"Returning home is a step. But it won't scrub away the memories." Mariah's voice was soft, threading its way through the stillness of the den. Her piercing silver eyes gazed steadily at Caedes, their familiar bond and unyielding determination reflecting in their depths. The stillness of the room seemed to hold its breath as they spoke each word, the weight of poisoned memories hanging heavy in the air.
"You're not just a boy, Caedes," she whispered, her voice barely audible against the cold stone walls of the den. "You're a warrior...standing tall despite all the unspeakable atrocities that have befallen you." Her heart swelled with empathy for him - for the deep-seated pain etched in his every movement, for the terror that lingered behind his eyes, for the raw vulnerability he exposed in this moment.
Mariah reached out, her slender paw gently unclenching his from the dirt. Her touch was light, but it carried a firm resolve. She listened to him as he tried to reduce the event down to its smallest components. The finest details. Why had it triggered him? Was there one simple aspect to blame? Only he could possible have the answer to that question, even if had yet to discover it. Slowly, she guided his trembling paw towards hers, intertwining their touch in the gentlest of ways. "Do you want to try and figure out why, together?” she asked, her voice steady and clear despite the tremor of emotion beneath. She didn’t know how they could achieve it, but perhaps if they talked about it- retraced his steps, that could help?
As he explained the reason why he begged her to leave, she heard him, but would not accept the inclination that she was meant to just abandon him here to handle this alone. “Because I won’t go about my life afraid of what may or may not happen.” She said lightly, holding his gaze a few more lingering moments before moving forward. There was a working surface that had been flipped over near her- one that she moved to straighten. If they were going to straighten things, they needed to get started. And rather than getting lost in the daunting task of processing the situation, she adopted the assumption that the best course of action was to simply begin. “Now are you going to help me, or shall I do it alone?” Mariah said firmly, without glancing back to see him. There were several scattered parchments that had laid strewn about the floor- things she thought could have likely sat atop the table when it had been thrown. Of course they could get everything properly sorted once things were picked up. But for now … it was just a start. They just had to start.
Her voice, soft but firm, threaded through the stillness. Her words, though gentle, held truths that pierced through his cynicism. Mariah went on to reassure him, her empathy palpable, reaching out to him in this dark moment. Both in her wordage and her actions, her slender paw gently grasping his own from the dirt; her presence grounded him.
‘Do you want to try and figure out why, together?’ She asked, her voice clear and steady, and it made him pause and think. He’d told her of the night Aurelia died… but had he ever explained how deep this pain ran in his memory? No, he had not.
‘I won’t live my life in fear of what may or may not happen.’ Her eyes lingered on his for a moment before she moved forward, starting to straighten a flipped working surface near her. Mariah’s actions were purposeful, not waiting for him to respond or move, but he sensed a silent invitation for him to join her.
‘Now are you going to help me, or shall I do it alone?’ She asked firmly, without looking back at him. The brute huffed, lips pulling into a hard line as he grit his teeth and moved. Her determination spurred him into action, and he found himself at her side, brows furrowed again as he contemplated his next words while his paws tended to the messes.
As they worked to restore order to the den, Caedes felt a sense of purpose returning. A calmness that lacked the numbness he had felt initially. Each piece they picked up and set right was a small step, like she’d said. With Mariah by his side, being here seemed a little less overwhelming.
As Caedes continued to methodically gather the scattered remnants of his den, his mind drifted further back, deeper into the labyrinth of his childhood. The things he had not told her, only hinted at. Maybe… It was time to tell all. He’d already let her see him at his worst, what was more shame going to harm?
His voice was detached as he began, as if recounting a story that belonged to someone else, but the weight of each word betrayed the scars that still lingered on his soul. “I was very young when I first learned that not all wounds or afflictions are visible. Not because I was raised to be a healer.” Caedes explained, his emerald eyes unfocused as he spoke. This had to be done. “My father, Daedalus, was a kind, and softhearted man. Ordinary, his only talent being that of a medic. But he was always scared, haunted, never truly living. He had an illness of the mental sort — that made him see, hear, and feel things that were not there. Despite this, he tried to be a good father.” It was easy to talk of these things, the life he’d had before that day. His lips curled upwards as he spoke, a bittersweet smile, eyes far away as he deftly sorted through the broken containers. “My father was born that way, but for me it was normal. I never really knew what was true and what was his imagination. But I think… I want to believe that he had held onto reality in his youth. He taught me about herbs, about healing. He spoke of his life, his mother, his father, and how he came to be a slave of the Saxe in the past. He was taken as a political hostage when he was a yearling. His mother and father never got him back, their pack fell before they could reclaim him. He never came back into contact with any of his kin, and all he had was Astrid at that time. The mate to the Sultan. She taught him, raised him, became his mother for all intents and purposes. My grandmother.” Caedes' voice was soft, low, sentimental despite the reality of the story.
“My father… he is many years old, but his mind.. he is— much younger. I was born when one of the Saxe’s, an aunt to Sephiran, took a liking to him. I do not think my father had much cognitive capacity for consent. I doubt my mother offered a choice to him in the first place.” He paused, his hands stilled. “I hate my mother. I am glad she abandoned me to him when I was born a runt.” Caedes growled, shaking the thought of his mother away from his mind.
He was silent for a while, musing, fingers setting the salvageable shelves back into place. He supposed telling her those details would only serve to have her sympathize with his father.. but that wasn’t such a bad thing. Perhaps Astrid had truly succeeded in getting him to forgive Daedalus.
“A normal day. This day’s memories in my head I can not get rid of, my father and I went out to gather herbs. It was supposed to be a simple task, something we had done many times before. But that day was different. He froze for the first time, his eyes wide with terror at something only he could see. Muttering, crying. Then, he snapped. Unlike anything I had ever seen from him before.”
The memory of his father's eyes, wild and unseeing, sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted to avoid her eyes, but he was locked into her gaze as he continued. “In his madness, he turned on me, like a rabid animal. He attacked me with our old herb collection knife. I could not move, I could only cry and beg, and scream. His fingers that had always trembled except when he was doing fine medicine work, steadied.” Caedes’ face grew impassive, the memory sending an ache throughout his body. But he continued, and gods did it feel good to speak his pain into existence. “He carved these scars into my flesh. Meticulously, over hours, until he was satisfied with the results. He was completely mad by then, blaming me for things I did not understand. He said it was my fault, that I was the reason for his torment. That I was not real.”
Caedes' voice wavered slightly as he relived the pain, both physical and emotional. But this was reality, and he would not run from it like he would in a dream. “Later, I found out that these scars completed a picture I had no idea about. My father had been driven to madness from the day I was born, by the belief that I was his father, a replacement for a Caedes Messorem I had never met, who bore the very same name and scars. The very same appearance as me. A twisted legacy, a nightmare I had no choice but to inherit.”
He clenched his jaw, his gaze dropping to the ground as he continued. “I spent weeks bedridden after that, cared for by Astrid, and Kaino. They were my only solace at that time. When I finally recovered, my mother took an interest in me for the first time. She saw me not as a runt, but as a potential warrior. She ripped me away from Astrid and my father, who never recovered his mind. My grandmother is probably still trying to cure his mind, even now.”
His tone grew colder, more distant. “She trained me relentlessly, pushing me to the brink. That was what it took to become a Saxe, for me. I had to prove myself, to endure pain, to transform from a broken boy into a true-born Saxe. Maybe it was the only way I would have thrived as I have. And not dwelled on my pain like now.”
He looked up at Mariah, his eyes hollow but resolute. “You asked me why I would want to be a Saxe. I do not believe I ever had a choice.” The silence that followed was heavy, but there was a sense of release in sharing his story.
Unless otherwise stated, assume he is not wearing his feathered skull mask.
But even then, Caedes eventually captivated her attention- her silver eyes filled with a profound sadness she did not try to hide. She had asked him for his story and he didn’t hold back. His words etched a gruesome, wrenching tale of suffering and endurance, of a child transformed into a warrior through pain and determination. Yet in his story, she also saw the strength and resilience that had shaped him into who he was. There was a raw honesty in his confession, and it cut through her heart like a sharpened blade. She paused then, her gaze locked onto his as she took in the enormity of what he had shared. She knew of his battles, of the physical trials he had endured. But this was different. This was a glimpse into the labyrinth of his psyche, a map of the scars that marred his spirit and echoed in the depths of his dull emerald eyes. The very ones that she admired for their beauty.
Her eyes remained fixed on him, studying the vulnerability that shone in his emerald gaze under the harsh clarity of his admission. He looked away, unable to meet her concerned gaze. The air in the den had thickened, every sound carrying the weight of their shared pain and understanding. She cautiously closed the distance between them with quiet steps, her paw reaching out hesitantly to touch his battered fur with a tender gentleness that seemed out of place in their harsh surroundings. "Even if you have nothing else, Caedes," she spoke softly, her voice as gentle as her touch, "you still have choices."
Working together they made considerable progress in a short amount of time. Of course, there was still plenty left to do, but her attention kept wandering to the site where Caedes’ friend had drawn her final breaths. She was torn, in wanting to deal with it herself- so Caedes wouldn’t have to. But also not wanting to take that task from him if it was part of the closure he needed. Allowing her attention to slowly return to him, Mariah offered him a saddened smirk, waiting to see how he wanted to progress.
Caedes felt the weight of Mariah's gaze on him as he spoke his story into existence. Her silver eyes blazed with a depth of understanding and empathy that both comforted and unnerved him. It was difficult to tell her these things, to open himself up so much. His eyes flickered away from her, struggling to hold her gaze, even as he felt her presence grounding him in the present. But then the gentle pressure of her touch pulled him back from the dark recesses of his memories as she spoke.
“Choices?” He repeated softly, the word foreign on his tongue. He forced himself to meet her eyes again, seeing the sadness and determination in her expression. “You make it sound so simple, Mariah.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he searched for the right words, his nails flexing into the ground. “It's hard to believe in choices when it feels like every path leads to more suffering.”
His gaze flickered to the spot where Aurelia had died, the memory of that night a fresh wound in his heart. He saw Mariah's eyes follow his, the silent offer in her expression clear. She wanted to help, to share the burden, but this was something he had to face himself. “You are... so kind.” He continued, his voice steadier now. “But this... this is something I need to do. Aurelia was my... friend, and I owe it to her to face this. To honor her memory when I could not stop her death.” At the very least, that much was true. And even if he did not beat himself up over the fact it would remain so.
He moved toward the spot where Aurelia had taken her last breaths, his steps slow and deliberate, each one weighted with the gravity of his emotions. He crouched down, his fingers brushing the ground as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. His heart ached with apologies to the stain on the ground, the mush that remained of her head. And then he moved to wet a fallen cloth with the spring that leaked from the far corner of his den, returning only to stare down at the bloody puddle.
“You know..” He said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I thought I was stronger. That I could not feel like this. Grieve. Wish they were alive. But if I felt nothing, I think I would feel very, very weak instead.”
With that, Caedes began to clean the area, his movements slow but determined. Each sweep of his hand with the wet cloth, each careful touch, was a small step forward. He was meticulous about it. It was painful, but necessary. As he worked, he felt a shift within himself, a tentative belief that perhaps, just perhaps, he was past the initial grief. Mariah's presence by his side made the task a little less daunting, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of himself return. The him that survived.
Unless otherwise stated, assume he is not wearing his feathered skull mask.
His desolation hung heavy in the air between them, and she fought against the urge to pull him closer, to shelter him from the relentless storm that was his reality. But she knew he needed space, to grieve and wrestle with his own demons. The silence between them was filled with a mutual understanding
Mariah nodded slowly, her heart heavy with emotion as she gazed into his determined eyes. She could see the weight of the recent events settling on him, and she knew he needed time to process everything. Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the scattered objects that lay haphazardly around them, a visible reminder of the chaos that had taken place. The walls seemed to echo with the lingering tension and unease. There certainly wasn't a shortage of work to be done, but Mariah found comfort in the simple act of tidying up amidst the turmoil. Moving across the den, she found a new spot that needed attention. It was a small gesture, but one that brought a sense of control and order in a situation that felt so out of their hands. The she felt otherwise helpless against.
As his words drifted to her ears, Mariah hesitated, her paws coming to a rest on a crumpled piece of fabric. The task of folding it suddenly forgotten as she turned to face him. Her heart swelled with empathy, throbbing in rhythm with his own quiet acknowledgment. "It's okay to feel things," she spoke lightly, offering her support and understanding. It gave her hope that even while the wound was still raw, he was slowly starting to heal.
Caedes felt Mariah's delicate fingers run through his coarse fur, tracing soothing patterns that momentarily eased his tension. Her soft words brought a fragile sense of hope with them, a begrudging wish to believe her words. Her empathy and quiet strength were truly a lifeline, he’d not forget it. Her understanding was clear, and it almost made him smile despite everything. The silence between them was heavy with mutual understanding, a shared burden they both bore. As Mariah moved across the den, tidying up, Caedes watched her. Her quiet work brought a sense of control to the chaos around him.
As he finished cleaning the stained ground, he stared at it for a while, eventually his eyes came to the needle he had used on Aurelia, and with a careful touch he grasped it and moved to begin to clean it. “Mariah,” He began, his voice rough with emotion as he worked with the trickling spring at the corner of his den, “Your strength helps more than I can say. But you must leave soon. Now, preferably.” The brute moved to place the needle in an intact jar, preparing to keep the item for the memory it held. He’d almost forgotten the danger she was in, being here. What if Sephiran came, what then?
Caedes took a deep breath, his massive frame still running ragged by his sleeplessness, his exhaustion as he stared at the jar. “I do not know how to handle the coming days.” He admitted, “My cousin. My work. This… It is a shame you are seeing my home like this, under such conditions. Quite the welcoming sight.” He glanced around the wreckage of his den, steadily coming back to order. His eyes met hers again, and he felt a surge of emotion, a mix of gratitude and regret.
Unless otherwise stated, assume he is not wearing his feathered skull mask.
Mariah turned to face him now, her silver eyes locking with his emerald gaze. She moved slowly towards the brute, stepping carefully among the debris that littered the den. Her heart ached for him, for the turmoil he was going through. She knew the weight of guilt and regret all too well. "Caedes,” she said softly, "This is not your fault.” Her words were gentle, a phrase she had said countless times to him now. And even though she knew he refused to accept it, she was going to continue saying it. "None of us," she continued, slowly, "can control everything around us. The...the relentless sway of fate, the sudden upending of our world - it befalls us all. It is not a result of weakness or failure on your part." She paused, swallowing hard as her gaze bore into his. It wasn’t that she thought the hundredth time telling him the same thing over and over again would be the time that she finally convinced him of it. But it was her method of conveying she would never give up on him. She would never willingly give him over to himself. And she hoped that he understood that. "Every home has its moments of disarray," she added, her gaze drifting around the den. Some more than others, obviously. But she would expect the scene of such a tragedy to be pretty. "The condition it's in... it doesn't change who you are, which is who I am here for."
Caedes felt the weight of her words as they settled into the silence of the den. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a heaviness that mirrored the conflict within. Her insistence was something he couldn't possibly ignore. His demeanor softened, if only slightly, in her presence. More somber, more accepting.
“Thank you.” He began, his voice low as his gaze flicked to the entrance to the den, a flash of a raven’s telltale black feathers passing by. Probably Third Eye keeping the Katil’s ravens none the wiser. “I cannot risk your safety for my sake. I promised your sister, and your father.” He glanced down at the needle he’d set down at his feet, the sharpened spine catching the dim light within the jar. His brows furrowed momentarily, betraying emotion in a quick flash. But then it was gone, and he was… steadier.
As she turned to face him, her silver eyes locking with his, he felt a pang of guilt and something deeper, something that felt like hope. Her words, gentle yet firm, echoed in his mind as he nodded. The unmovable decree left him no room for argument, and he knew she wouldn't back down.
“I promise.” He said quietly, the words feeling like an oath as he rumbled them into existence, “I will come with you.” His gaze dropped to the ground, then back to her, eyes resolved to get her out of the territory without trouble.
He watched as she moved slowly toward him, her steps careful amidst the debris. His eyes followed her, a mix of gratitude and apprehension visible in their depths. When she spoke again, her voice soft yet resolute, he felt a flicker of warmth in his chest.
‘This is not your fault.’ She said, and though he wanted to argue, to refute her claim, he held his tongue. His ears flattened slightly, unwilling to let their conversation go on any longer when they needed to get moving. But her conviction was something he couldn't deny. Her gaze bore into his, and he saw the determination in her eyes, the promise that she would never give up on him. It was a comfort he didn't know he needed, but now he couldn't imagine being without it. His posture relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “We will need to disguise you a bit better though.” He said, sardonic smile encompassing his maw as he reached out, his paw brushing against hers, a promise of solidarity if nothing else. His touch lingered, a thanks, and a display of affection from an emotionally exhausted brute. Then he began to rummage around for a fur to wrap around her, and a bundle of herbs pungent enough to hide her scent from a common passing nose. Just in case. Hopefully it would do the trick.
Unless otherwise stated, assume he is not wearing his feathered skull mask.
She watched as he rummaged, his massive form crouched over the ground. The tenderness in his movements was something she had almost forgotten in this entire tragedy. The Caedes that existed beneath the scars. It allowed her to keep the embers of hope burning within her chest, giving her strength. Hope that they would eventually get through this. She watched him, her silver eyes taking in the strength of his form and the gentleness with which he moved. The gruff exterior belied a tender soul, one that had been bruised and scarred beyond recognition but still held an unseen beauty. His coat, matted and dark, shone under the dim lighting. There was an undeniable intensity, and she could still see that he was still carrying the weight of the world on his back. But they could still hope for better.
Blinking away her thoughts, recognition crossed her mind at what he was insinuating. “What do you have in mind?” She asked lightly, an edge of suspicion lining her tone. But of course, when he brought out the fur and particularly aromatic herbs, she understood. She draped the hide over her shoulders and back, and once they were prepared. She took one last sweeping look around his den. It really was in far better straits. As she returned her attention to Caedes, she gave him a gentle nod- a subtle affectionate grin. “Lead the way.” Perhaps he could find them a more direct path than she would have tracing her steps back to Elysium.
"Mariah Mendacium"
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