Totally didn't just pull this idea out of my butt >> I've decided that Valentine was sickened during the epidemic. Yay drama!

Each step taken away from his mother had served to cool the yearling's temper. The boy now reclined under the shade of a crooked old tree. He was chilled to the bone and at a loss at what to make of it. How could just laying eyes on her tear him apart so thoroughly? Valentine had been so sure of himself, so confident in his ability to hold himself together, that when the opportunity presented itself for him to confront his mother it hadn't crossed his mind that her presence would be enough to wound him. He sighed, gaze turning down to stare at his paws. Fear was beginning to creep into his system, doubts as to whether or not what he was doing was a bad idea. What if she rejected him? Tore more pieces from his heart and left him to wallow in a puddle of his own emotional blood? She'd done it once already. When the world was ending and he was dying, her priorities had become painfully obvious. Had she thought him too far gone? Not wished to see him in his final moments? Like Zaria he had been left for the sickness to claim. The boy had laid in agony, pleading with the demons that toyed with him for release, for someone, anyone to aid him, and none had come. Instead he was left for the darkness to claim. Valentine's jaw clenched, vivid memories of the hallucinations that had plagued him tickling his senses in phantom remembrance. His resolution strengthened; he would wait here for her until there was no doubt as to her decision. "Speaking" Thinking

It had not gone unnoticed that her son decided to show his face when she had claimed these lands. She could see the anger etched into his dark features, but he had fled before she had a chance to speak to him. As soon as those around her knew of her plans, she would depart. Silver limbs carried her after her sons trail diligently until she had caught up to him. So much had happened since she had last seen the boy. Zaria had died, and as far as she knew, Valentine had remained unaffected by the plague. She herself had contracted the illness and needed to get away from the toxic lands. When she returned, she did not expect her two remaining kids to support her, or even return. But Senka had, remaining as aloof as ever, though clearly displaying her support. Valentine, though his presence had been brief, she knew what he wanted. Ever since his father had left him alone on the island, she knew what he wanted. She had started to give the boy what he sought so desperately after, but then illness struck the land. She now had a chance to start fresh. She would slow to a walk as soon as his combat figure slide into her line of vision. He looked so much like Taurig, his only defining feature behind his facial markings that marked him as her own. She would not halt until she stood before him, only a foot or two standing between them. "Valentine." His name rolled easily off her tongue, her words were gentle, but not unusually so. She had never pampered her kids or sugarcoated life or her ways. He knew what to expect from her. And though she didn't always show it, she loved all her children dearly and would fight for them with her dying breath. WORDS HERE

A single soot tainted ear would flick back in uncertainty as his mother approached him. He wanted to be angry with her, to lace his feelings with venom and spit them in her face. She had left him when he needed her the most. True, he was inhabiting the age between childhood and adulthood, and was fully capable of handling himself, but his abandonment hadn't come during a time of leisure. Sickness struck down even the most capable, randomly choosing from all walks of life. As far as anyone had known at the time it could have been the end of those afflicted. They were a family, tied by the unbreakable bonds of blood. She should have been there. Valentine regarded her with a strained expression. Unknowingly, he was letting himself become vulnerable, wearing his emotions for any to read. He wanted her to understand how deeply he'd been wounded, but struggled to find the words to express himself properly. The ability to articulate was one he had yet to master; add inner turmoil to the mix and the boy was nearly speechless. She stopped before him at a distance reserved for intimates; the space between them scant enough for him to feel the force of his name as it left her lips. Valentine. It tickled his senses, igniting in him memories that were largely pleasant. Her voice made his stomach twist, but he could not find the will to be hateful. "Please tell me," he spoke in hushed, near breathless tones, "How is it that a mother can leave her child when he needs her most?" The boy wished to convict her on the matter, to have her understand the kind of hurt he had felt upon realizing that she was gone. "Speaking" Thinking

A brow would lift as he spoke. His cobalt expression was strained in a way she hadn't seen in some time. His words would have her eyes narrowing fractionally. What in the hell could he be talking about? Silver haunches reclined towards the earth, thick plume curling around delicately around her hips. His next words would ignite a fire that burned without remorse. "What in the hell are you talking about?" The newly crowned Queen would hiss softly. It was unknown to her that he had fallen victim to the plague just as she had. She had fled the lands shortly after the death of Zaria, and as far as she knew, Valentine had been good health. She would peer down at him through narrowed eyes, silently demanding to know what he was talking about. She had never been one to beat around the bush, she preferred things straight forward and to the point. And yet her son sat before her, testing her patiences by asking questions she knew nothing about. She forced down a growl, remaining silent as she waited for him to elaborate. WORDS HERE

This was his mother; he was familiar with her ways. And yet somehow her reaction to his words managed to surprise him. Perhaps in his fantasies about their reunion he had painted her far softer, more motherly and sympathetic that she was capable of. He should have known better and maybe there was a small part of him that had, a part that wished to raise her temper so his own could be quipped and he could vent his frustration without remorse. Whether or not he knew it, the boy was on the defensive; when things soured, unless there was more to gain otherwise, Valentine had grown accustomed to keeping his expressions neutral. It was now, now that his mother was managing to look down her nose at him as if he were the shorter of the two, that his features eased out of their pained expression and took on more reserved qualities. There was more surprise to be had at her words. Surely she was lying, painting herself as the innocent as if she hadn't run off on purpose without so much as a good-bye. He refused to believe that she hadn't known, refused to belief that he'd lived these passed seasons heartbroken because of a lie. She was self-centered and heartless, and she'd left him to the wolves on purpose. His heartache made it nearly impossible for him to believe otherwise so readily. The tip of his tail took to flicking like a cat's--the only outward sign that he becoming unsettled. "When the plague struck I was sickened. I thought I was going to die and convicted of this, I went looking for you." This was the heart of his problem, the very center of his wounds, and he couldn't keep the emotions wholly contained. Valentine hated the idea that he was showing his mother weakness and so the tears that welled up in his eyes, those hateful drops of saltwater, sent his ears slamming back and his expression morphing into one of inner loathing. Angrily he blinked them away before continuing, determined to not let himself get so close again. He wouldn't leave here having his mother believe she had conceived a weakling. Surely she could understand the depths of emotion that could move even the strongest to acts they weren't normally prone to. "And you had fled. Everyone had." Referring to the venom she had just hissed at him, he said, "Can you really fault me for thinking I was going to die alone, like Zaria?" "Speaking" Thinking

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For a moment her expression would soften. He had fallen ill with the plague after she left. He had been left to fend for himself during the terrible sickness. She would never forget the hallucinations that assaulted her mind, the blood that spilled from her eyes, or the fever that sent chills to her toes. And her son had caught it. Luckily for him, by the time she left, parts of the cure had been found. Tears clouded his cyan eyes, and a sigh wold roll gently off her tongue. She felt awful, now knowing that her child had suffered the same fate as she. He had sought her out and she was nowhere to be found. Unfortunatley for him, next words erased any pity she held. Lips would curl back to reveal ivory daggers. A growl rumbled in his throat."Your sister did [b]not[/i] die alone. Don't you dare talk about something you weren't around for." Her words would lash out like a venomous whip. Eyes burned with anger as her hackles bristled. How dare he. A snarl threatened to break free of her barely controlled temper. Her control began to fray, the edges of her vision tinged red, though she didn't move from her place. She would not strike him, nor move to comfort him. He had crossed a very thin line. Muscles would twitch beneath her pelt as she waited for him to respond. He hadn't even come to see his sister during her time of sickness. Nor did he show his face when the Queen had buried the girl. And yet here he stood, proclaiming to know everything. WORDS HERE

His words backfired. The boy became aware of their flaws the moment they left his lips and by then it was too late. He hadn't been there, he didn't know, but he pressed on anyway. "No," the word left his lips forcefully, the letters tainted with bone dry, sullen humor, "I was sick." Valentine had been sick. He'd found himself frequently losing touch with reality and during those times of insanity, he'd wandered. More than once the boy had woken and not known where he was. His gaze, once locked on his mother's face with white hot intensity, dropped to the ground as he admitted, "I wasn't aware she had died until I found her grave." Even then he hadn't believed it, convinced that the illness was playing tricks on him. When it had begun to sink in that she was indeed dead, Valentine had seriously considered digging up his sister's resting place to prove himself wrong. Although he hadn't done it, he would refrain from telling his mother about the almost desecration. The boy's ears would pin, hating the sting of her words and the way they punished him. He was loath to part with the words, but knew they were owed and so an apology would fall from his lips, "I'm sorry, that was wrong of me." All he'd wanted was for her to understand the heartache he'd been left with when he'd realized that he was once again alone. Honest, perhaps to a fault, he would voice his thoughts, "I just wanted you to feel what I felt when I realized that I was alone again..but it was unfair to bring Zaria into this." "Speaking" Thinking

His denial came forcefully from his lips and it landed on deaf ears. She didn't want to hear his excuses that may or may not be true. He was not around for his sisters death, nor her funeral. He claimed to have no idea until he stumbled upon her grave, and slowly her anger would begin to dissipate, though her gaze was still hard and cold. It had been an awful day, first some fools dared to trespass into her lands, then she stumbled upon her dying daughter. The silver Queen had been forced to bury her child and thus driven from her home with no desire to stay in the confines of plagued land any longer. It was a shame that he son had suffered of the same plague, and she pitied him, but he had no excuse for bringing up Zaria. No one did. Finally his anger seemed to dissipate and an apology slide from his lips. He tried to equate his feelings of abandonment to the feeling of loosing a child. A sigh would leave her lips, taking with it the last of her anger. She bit back any sort of remark that dared to hang on her lips. His sense of abandonment would never be the same as losing a child and having to bury them. Never. No ones pain could equate to such a thing, and if anyone else had dared to speak such a thing, they would lose their foolish tongue. "Stay here with me in Arcanum for a bit?" She would lower herself to her belly, stretching out her forelimbs so that they draped leisurely over his. Audits would tip forward, a brow lightly delicately. She hoped he would stay. It would please her greatly to know that all of her kids were within her pack, within her home, safe and sound, as they should be. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as she searched his cyan gaze if he would allow it. WORDS HERE

On the heels of his apology was a moment where the fire in both parties would settle. Neither were the type to let the flame die entirely; instead, in the case of the boy at least, it would be harbored for later use; held close and at the ready to be unleashed upon whoever spewed atrocities at him next. He grew weary of conflict and yet, perched atop his shoulder like a whispering demon, was the desire to rage. His mother would speak no more on the matter, instead asking him a question that caught the boy wholly off-guard. Surprised, he would sigh, fatigue seeping into his features. Of this he was certain: he was ready to be reconciled with his family and he was utterly spent on being wounded. Cataleya would move to rest her paws on his and Valentine would let her, choosing to settle his gaze upon their stacked limbs. This. He had missed this. The boy's gaze would lift to find that his mother's eyes were on him, her gaze far softer than the fire she had aimed at him scant moments prior. That was all he wanted and was likely the closest thing to an apology that he would get. Later, maybe, that wouldn't be enough for the boy, but for now he was sated, satisfied with what little resolution he was being given. With quiet certainty, he replied, "I'd like that." "Speaking" Thinking

He wouldn't move as her paws draped over his, allowing the contact to remain. His tones were quiet, but certain as he accepted her invitation to stay. A smile would lift her lips. For now the storm had passed and things were mended between them. But sooner or later things would blow up again, tempers would flare and relationships would train. "Excellent." She would shoot him a brief, but genuine smile. "Think about what rank you want, in the meantime you'll be Juvenile. When you've decided, let me know and I'll test you." A brief note to remind him that even as her child, he still had a place within the pack that he needed to work for. After that, she wasn't sure what else to say. She never been a doting mother, she didn't do the whole 'lovey dovey' thing, she had always been cool and detached, though watchful over her kids. None of that had changed, if anything it would become worse. Ever so slowly her heart was once against hardening into a beating stone. Kylar was more detached than ever, his presence between barely there and nonexistent. She was merely protecting herself. Her mind was twisting in dark ways, forming plans with the cruelest intent. But not an ounce of it showed. Her expression never shifted, nor did she lash out. But deep down she longed for her brother. He had vanished, presumably dead. She longed for his cruelty and his love. She craved the reminder her gave her of what she was truly. WORDS HERE