Syrinx had seemed...withdrawn from the pack he had decided to join. Olympus didn?t feel like his home--not yet, but he would stay until it felt as such. He was stronger than their discern with him being there. He had not done anything to harm them; nor had he attempted to aid them. He had stood from the outside, however, he was bolder than this, and his Empress had the right to know. He hadn?t seen Virgil except in passing and she looked scorned. He allowed her solitude, but enough was enough. His care for her was not fake and he wanted to express that as best as he could and so in the dead of the night he went to her. Finding her was...never hard.
Virgil was the only one that he sought to keep any kind of tabs on. She was a strong and fierce girl, but was her power waning? Was her influence fleeting? Olympus was not the stronghold he thought it was going to be at the moment. Perhaps speaking to her over such a matter would be best. He did not want to discourage her, though, Syrinx had to admit that he felt an inclination to solve the problems. Had she not been the one to solve his problems way back when? Had she not been the resolution to his abandonment of Amenti? She stood for him and now he boldly sought the same for her. Brightened eyes crossed over the enclosure that she called her den and he sat back on his rear. He watched silently as though he could call her with his thoughts and it would be mere moments before a growl resonated in his abdomen drawing to a bark and then silence. She would hear him. She would come. He had given her no reason to deny him.
Illness consumes her, the swell of her stomach being the reason. Each step she takes falls heavily, like a weight. There is something gaunt about her, and it is clear that each passing day brings a drain on her health. Duties become more difficult, her head swimming in a sea of fog. She blames him, her one night lover, the man who had been her anchor in the most turbulent of seas. Syrinx. He is responsible for how she feels, she decides. And he calls for her, and she comes.
Golden gaze sits upon him, wondering if he can feel the heat, the anger. She wonders if he can see the weight of her stomach, the round curves of maternal bliss that grace her figure. She wonders why such a joyous thing can never be joyous, why agony always ails her bones when she just yearns to be happy. Why must she always be stifled by darkness when all she yearns for is the light? ?They are yours,? she confirms. They are yours, and they are killing me slowly.
Syrinx had not thought of the possibility that would soon present itself to him, though should he really be shocked? There was everything in order for her to be with child. He had no reason to be upset though, and when the news fell upon his ears, when she swayed towards him and the ever slight engorgement of her abdomen was visible, he was not upset. He could not find it within? himself to be damned that he was having new children. Children that he could actually have a hand with. Children that he could raise to be true Adravendi. He had failed with his girls. He had failed miserably. He was young then. In addition now he was with a slightly less flighty individual. Virgil was a warrior. A queen. She would not only nurture them for survival, but she could not fail, and he doubted very little she would fail at being a mother. Especially when the brood fell from her own body.
Syrinx stood and cocked his head at her. He was...unaware of the reaction she sought and moments ago a low huff of affirmation had been the only thing to be lifted from him. Now though, he began to feel as though words were ever necessary. What would she want to hear? why did he care to please her ears so? Perhaps because she carried his brood. Perhaps because this was his second chance. Likely so, that it was because he cared for her. He found her eyes with his own and carefully moved towards her, ?I?ll take care of you. I?ll be a more prominent role to you, to Olympus...I want to raise them too,? A join parenthood with Virgil? That?s exactly what he wanted. It sounded perfect i his head. Being her forever lover...that was something he wasn?t pushing. He would wait and see where children left the two. For now, he could say feelings were certainly acting against him--or with them.
She wonders if he sees it, the slow demise that?s come about her. The ridges of her spine that poke through, the loss of a gleam in her gentle golden fur. This will not be easy, and she will not be stunned if the pregnancy should kill her. Her stomach sits in a constant state of revolt, refusing to keep anything she might try to eat down. Pains occasionally run through her, severe and crippling in a most concerning way.
He promises to stay, and she nods her head. There is a tired look in her eyes, placed there from one too many sleepless nights. ?It?s not been going well,? she confesses to him. ?There?s something wrong,? she admits. It?s a curse, of course it is. She can only hope that she will not birth the demons of this world, that the pregnancy itself will be her only punishment. She can't react to him promising to stay, not when such means little to her. So many have promised her they would never leave, and yet she finds herself perpetually alone.
