Dreaming in the quiet of night

@Faust

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The sun had begun to set and with it, the heat had begun to dissipate. Tove was relieved and her steps were less hurried, more lax as she trekked home, freshly picked plants hanging from her jaws. The air itself was more fresh, the crispness filled her lungs easily. This temperature? She liked. The heat from earlier? She could do without.

Her hazel gaze lingered upon the vast skies above her, admiring the oranges and yellows, sunset having always been her favorite, after midnight. It was a wonder how it all worked. How the skies changed to make room for the stars and the moon. If time allowed, she could watch it forever.

Time passed, the minutes ticking by slowly as she made her way back towards what she had become to call home, mind wandering. As much as Stjörnuáti had been forward and lacking boundaries with the way he’d so easily touched her, he had been kind. He had shown her his stock pile of mushrooms without hesitation, and been willing to share what little information he could and proved himself to be friendly. She couldn't help but wonder if that would come in hand now that Velaris had settled. They could use all the allies they could find, right? And Stjörnuáti was a Jarl, a warrior, strong and capable. Hm. Something to ask Faust, she decided. Perhaps they would even get along.

When she finally found herself nearing her destination, Tove wasted no time in maneuvering herself up the jagged rocks that led to the inner workings of Velaris, strong limbs carrying her easily despite the plants that swung from her jaws and the lack of focus she had tonight. She had made sure to grab some more lavender on the way back, hoping to replace her current collection in her den. The older bundles she'd picked had been losing their potency, dampening the effects.

Her eyes were sparkling and one could say she was even curious to see who was around tonight. She was tired but she still had some energy in her, knowing very well she would not be joining the dreamworld anytime soon. She was never that lucky; sleep never came when she wanted. Tove headed towards her den with a plan to put away her recent findings, ears flicking at the sound of nearing steps. Who might it be? Not wasting time or offering a look behind her, the earthen colored woman continued on course, wanting to free her jaws. They could wait or follow, she decided.

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There weren't any corners of the Vale that had gone untouched or unnoticed by Faust. It was the place he called home— he had to know it like the back of his hand, the reflection of his eyes. He needed to know it. All of it. And that included certain locations. Like Tove's den, for example. He wasn't stupid. He knew where most of his wolves housed themselves in the dense tapestry of forest coveted by the sharp mountain ridges.

When he was making his rounds this evening, unable to find sleep, he had lingered around. Playing it coolly, his ears would perk as he heard the soft sound of footsteps. It must be Tove— why would any other wolf be over here?

She didn't notice him, but only turned. She kept walking. He followed. Without a word uttered, he trailed her. His presence was obvious; he had nothing to hide. But no words were able to form on his tongue. He was speechless, hoping that she would acknowledge him before he burst into flames behind her.

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The steps behind her weren't careful or quiet, as if whoever was behind her wanted her to know. That only made her more determined to make it to her den, ignoring the figure behind her. The pungent scents from the plants in her jaws clouded her senses and the scent behind her was muddled, harder to decipher. But it was familiar, too familiar.

The realization made her heart drop and her stomach tighten with anxiety. Of course it was him, who else would it be? She hadn't spent any alone time with him since that night, keeping herself buddy with everything else. Savan, Tamir, even Vahaelarr, an Outsider had made for a good distraction. Even tonight, Stjor had kept her mind busy.

Tove did her best to keep her sudden urgency hidden, keeping her steps careful and slow and most of all, her breaths. She ignored the sudden urge to bolt. It was okay. He wasn't scary, he wasn't a monster…He was just the man who had rejected her. The only thing was, she didn't know which was worse.

By the time she made it to her den, Faust was still trailing behind and her pulse was on fire, racing beneath her skin and her heart was beating so loud she feared it would leap right out of her chest. It's okay, it's okay, she told herself, a quiet plea for only her.

She stayed at the entrance of her den, setting her flowers down with a huff, taking her time. She nosed at them, her hazel gaze glued to the purple petals that hung off the lavender, breathing in the floral scent, inhaling it with a greedy breath. "What do you want?" she blurted out, finally, her voice quiet and unsure, refusing to look at him. All Tove wanted to do was look at him.

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Faust trailed her throughout her tasks. Hot on her trail, he didn't let her escape him from only a few feet ahead. He would say nothing. Nothing as she continued onward. He had nothing to say. But tonight, tonight he let his urges overpower his mind. The anxiety that settled in his stomach after their last encounter made Faust's paws raw as he surfed every mountainside of the Roost. Not one rock went untouched by him as he paced the territory over, and over again.

She didn't turn to look at him. But he knew that she knew he was there. It was no secret. Faust didn't mask his presence— he never would. If Tove didn't want him around, she would surely make that clear.

They rounded the route to her den. She shuffled the herbs she held, and he desperately wanted to meet her half way, to help her organize her stash. To be there by her side. But he stayed grounded on the cracked dirt, unmoving.

Her words snapped at him like an elastic band. He felt his heart crack. He wanted her to look at him. But she didn't even give him that pleasure. That pleasure to see the glimmer in her eyes, that beautiful tone of hazel that drove him mad, kept him up at night.

Faust took a step closer from behind her. Close enough to inhale her scent. It was sweet, as it always—

He froze.

His brows furrowed, his blood ran hot. He took a step backward this time, nausea curling at his throat, twisting his stomach into knots. It was a male scent that lingered around her. One that was foreign, not a man of Velaris. He wanted to roar, to rip the trees into two halves, but he would remain stoic. He would remain the emotionless man that many knew him to be on the outside. Cold. If that's how she was going to spend her time, he didn't have any control over that. But it didn't dull the sting, the verdant pain in his stomach.

"You left today." Faust said it as a statement. Her fur, mixed with a mysterious masculine tone, was more earthy. Different from the trees in Velaris. Faust was not stupid. "Where?"

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You left today. She flinched, the accusatory tone in his voice as clear as if he’d pointed a finger at her. It made her lips pull down into a frown and the anxiety that had been soaring inside her veins dissipated and with it, came her own boiling anger. An anger that caught her by surprise. Who did he think he was? This was the first real interaction they’d had in weeks and this was all he had to say to her?

She couldn't believe it.

Tove turned then, quick, her gaze hard and stormy as she looked towards him, glowering. She ignored the way the very sight of him made her body tighten, and her heart race. Ignored the way the sharp lines of his face, his handsomeness and how his very scent made her weak, made her tremble “Am I not allowed to leave?” She snapped, taking a step towards him, her chin pointed upright.

The she-wolf took in his coldness, his seriousness and it encased him wholly. It was a frozen shield that had never been directed at her and it made her heart ache, a physical jab in her chest. What had she done that was so wrong? He had been the one to reject her, to push her away. Not the other way around, so why was he the one shooting the first missile? Why was he the hostile one?

Still glowering, Tove took another step in his direction, and then another, feeling brave. Her paw came up to push against his chest, ears pinned back against her head. “Must I first get permission from you?”

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When she turned around to face him, Faust had the overwhelming desire to kiss her. To seal their bond with a clash of fur and teeth. But he only stood there, watching as she snarled, bared her heart open to him again. She pointed her chin at him, taking a step close. He did not move.

Faust said nothing as she accused him of such actions. He wouldn't say anything. Anything that he could say would make him sound unreasonable. No, you can leave if you wish, he wanted to say, but the selfish part of his heart blockaded that sentence first and foremost from anything.

She approached him then, her soft paw on the fur of his chest. Her scent enveloped him, warm and—

He stepped away, a soured expression taking over his features.

"I don't care where you went," Faust lowered his head, refraining from letting his lip curl back into a snarl. A feeling of betrayal was hot in his chest, the feeling of a droplet of jealous sullied his blood. "But when you smell... different, it is my job as your Sévir to ask where you've been."

His voice was monotone, gruff. He shut his heart off and away from her. "So I will ask you again, Kallista."

Punctual words left his tongue, slipping from his dried lips. "Where were you?"

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He stepped away from her.

Again.

A sadness flashed within her stormy gaze and she couldn't help but feel hurt. Hurt by Faust, hurt by his sudden anger. She wanted more than anything to fall in his embrace and forget all of this. Tove gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, willing for her nerves to steady, for her heart to calm within her chest. She wished for clarity.

But it did not come.

It was not clarity that pumped within her veins or clouded her head.

His words were flung at her like daggers and she fought the urge to snap his way, keeping her head steady, her body taut. He decided to pull rank on her and she couldn't help but laugh aloud, a bitter sound that didn't sound right coming from her. Didn't sound right on her tongue.

She dipped her head at him and bowed, a curl to her lip. If this is what he wanted, then so be it. She could play her part.

"I was out, doing my job -" Tove's hazel gaze snapped to his as she lifted her head upright, seething. "Which I had planned to do alone but I ran into, Stjörnuáti." She said his name slowly, yanking the words from her behind her clenched teeth. She used her snout to point towards the general direction of Morofjall. "He is the Jarl and a medicine vala of Hrafsnvaktin. He showed me some mushrooms and taught me about them. I was planning on telling you. I was hoping to introduce the two of you for the sake of Velaris. My opinion may not matter as Kallista but I was hoping the suggestion of an ally would mean something."

Most of it was true. She didn’t include how he’d easily touched her as if they were lifetime friends or how it had been not the first, but second time she’d met him. That she would keep to herself.

"Next time I will make sure to get permission from my Sévir or shall I ask for a babysitter?"

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Tove's bitter laugh was painful to his ears. They flew back against his head as he turned away with a dismissive manner, unable to look at her. She explained herself, doing her job, but her job did not require her to tiptoe into the surrounding territories where she could be maimed, killed. Faust knew she was not strong enough to kill an adult male. It would be a stupid assumption of her.

An alliance.

Faust hadn't given them any thought. Velaris was still new, still ebbing with growth. He had no time to be a diplomat, and for Tove to think that she could take it into her own hands...he didn't have words. He needed to cool down. He wasn't thinking straight. He would say something that he didn't mean.

So he said nothing at all in response to her. He grounded himself, taking in a deep breath of air. His mind was racing, but he needed it to stop. "A babysitter may be a nice addition." Faust would say then, a cool tone of his voice that was akin to ice. He couldn't say anything else. He would not address her anger. If she wanted to scream at him, fine, but he would not do the same. Faust was juggling many things— new members, taking care of everything himself. Tove meant no harm, he knew that, but having her slip away from the protection of the Roost didn't sit well with him.

She smelled of another man. Stjörnuáti was his name. The hint of Norse was not lost on him. He hummed, unable to look at her still. "An introduction would beneficial." Faust would say, his tone hushed, quiet. "If you seek him out again and wish to call on me, I will answer."

His eyes finally landed on her once more. His gut twisted with agony. Pain. He looked away again and awaited her words. Whether they be in the form of a shout, a shove, a curse, so be it. He saw the error in his tone, and would only remain stoic before her.

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The Kallista kept out many details from her report, and didn't tell him that she was out many nights, wandering, exploring. Many nights away from the safety of the Roost. If he reacted so poorly to this, to the scent of another upon her furs, how would he react to that knowledge? So that, that she would keep to herself for now.

Tove watched him with a hard stare, watched the way he turned from her as if she were nothing to him. She deflated then, her roaring anger replaced with something more nauseating. Shame. A heavy breath shuddered from her lips and her ears pinned back against her head. Why wouldn't he look at her? What was so wrong with her?

While the next words that came from him still made her furs bristle and eyes narrow, his tone made her frown. It made her entire body ache. "Who shall it be? You?" The question came out sharp, accusatory as she threw the words at Faust. She did not want a babysitter, she did not think she needed one. She may have been broken but she was not incapable. Tove was not useless. She was not a child.

She didn't understand, couldn't wrap her head around this, around them. What had happened? Had she truly made such a dire mistake that he no longer looked at her the same? And tonight, he had been mad first. He had thrown the first blow and Tove had merely reacted. But now? He was giving her nothing. He was giving her a Faust she didn't know, one that she didn't like. This Faust was cold, diplomatic as if she were another newcomer amongst Velaris. It was a stranger that stood before her.

"I understand," she forced the words out with a snap of her teeth, staring at the ground as if she could burn a hole between them. Her lip quivered. She wished she could. "Next time I will be more mindful."

Her next question came out quiet but the fire was still in her gaze as she studied him. She wasn't sure she wanted to answer but she asked anyway. "Why did you seek me out tonight, Faust?" Had it just been to yell at her? To point out her mistakes?

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'Who should it be? You?' "Not me." His answer was curt. Anyone but me. If Faust had to hold her hand, to coddle her, to baby her more than he already did, he would lose himself to madness. More than he already was. Tove drove him insane ever since she fell from the sky, traumatized and unable to walk near a stream of water without burrowing herself in his fur.

Faust had realized it then. The line between protection and keeping. It made him...his stomach turned to knots. Twisted in on itself again. But this was not the same anxiety induced feeling. No. This was pure disgust for his actions. It was here, now, that he would have to leave Tove alone. She needed to grow, to branch out, without Faust acting as a protective shadow over her shoulder.

He wasn't a fool, however, seeing the confusion, the hurt, the pain in her eyes. He wanted all of that to disappear, wanted to make it go away. But he couldn't. Tove needed to not need him. To get over whatever was between them. Faust needed to as well. He didn't even know if she felt nearly magnetic to him as he did her. He didn't want to find out now, either. Not when she needed space. Space is what she needed. He convinced himself of it.

"I..." he breathed, wondering exactly what he wanted when he sought her out. He wanted to be near her. To be enveloped by her presence, to have the feeling of his duties wash away from him in an instant. But to no avail did that happen. He only felt more swamped, drowned in what he must face as a leader. "I wanted to see you."

Faust was not a liar. He was anything but. "I guess I made a mistake."

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Tove was at a loss of words as she stared at Faust, her mind an endless spiral of chaos. She didn't know how to put what she felt into words, what she needed. She knew nothing had been right since they'd all found each other again, since that first night she'd been faced with him again. But she knew that she did not just want him because of her newfound fragility, her faults. While the she-wolf wouldn't have minded his support or his guidance it was not what she really wanted from him.

She had known since the night under the stars when she'd been willing to give him everything, all of her, but he did not want the same thing. He had made that clear and he only continued to twist the dagger in deeper. Tonight was no different.

She listened, her ears turned towards him, waiting to see what he had wanted, hoping. Her face fell. He said it again, like before. A mistake. Always a mistake with her. She inhaled with a deep breath, her chest heaving, her tail tucking between her legs in defeat. Her previous show of bravado sparked her by anger was nowhere in sight.

"I guess so." Tove nodded, the words thrown out abruptly as she turned away then, returning to her pile and not daring to look his way again. She refused to show the pain that colored her cheeks and stained her speckled face. She refused to let Faust see it again.

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Faust had no other words for her.

He begun to turn on his heel. But he stopped for a moment, hesitating in his step. He wanted to turn around, to tell her that it was going to be okay, but he didn't. He didn't. While he may not be a liar, he was also not keen on telling her the full story. "I want you to start training. With Raenar or Tamir— it does not matter."

His voice had been different. He heard it then. His conscience had to separate his heart from his mind, and it felt like he was ripping out his vital organ in the process. This was not easy for him. But it was for the best, it had to be.

"Tove," he'd breathe, just before he was about to disappear into the night. "It'll be okay."

And without another word, he vanished into the night, the heavy pang of guilt collapsing in on his chest.

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