Warm like the river sun

On a clear autumn morning, a dark brown she-wolf waded into the river. Its clear, glassy surface reflected green light in its deepest parts, while in the shallows the muted colour of stone shone through. She bit back a gasp at the sharpness of the cold on her tender paws.

As she swam farther, however, pain shifted to relief. Her fur had grown thicker in anticipation of winter, and without the river stones under her feet, the icy waters soothed the still-healing scabs. She dove under the surface. The water flowed evenly here, and she had always been a strong swimmer; her mother had once laughed that perhaps she should have been named for an otter. She had been a sleek and playful yearling; the nickname would’ve fit.

When the chilly water started to sink into her fur, she turned back towards the bank and shook herself off. There, she found a sun-baked rock to dry up on.

She lay there for a time, resting her freshly-cleaned feet. For all her initial misgivings, this valley wasn’t such a miserable place to live. Her sister should be happy here. That much Merel had to admit. As for herself, however…Merel did not yet know her own thoughts. She’d been avoiding the question. If she remained here, it should not be only for Periane. Tamir had been kind to her, at least. Tove, too, though she suspected the fellow she-wolf would sooner see her gone.

Fortunately, the one who could answer at least some of her questions had finally made himself known. Merel’s ear swiveled back as she heard Faust approach.

“Good afternoon, Faust,” Merel said, turning her head just the slightest. “Or should I say Sevir?”

---

@Faust

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Faust tugged himself along the path of the forest towards the river bank. The telltale warning signs that winter was coming were approaching all too fast. His fur would begin to thicket an his shoulders and at his hips. Flakes of fur would be clearly sticking out, desperate to be groomed, and sometimes fur tufts would drop on the ground behind him.

When he closed in on the riverbank his head swiveled towards a stone that was basking in the sunlight. There, lounging upon the rock, was Merel. Her muted brown coat with taupe stripes and earthy scent had him taking those measured steps towards the boulder. Intrigue had him by the throat, pulsating with every inch that disappeared between them. But he controlled himself. His ankles cressed the embankment, letting the water run over his paws as he stood there, looming over the so-called Blackbird.

But when she addressed him by his title, his face visibly lost any ounce of kindness it held. While in name he held such a high position, he would rather sacrifice his feet to the jawed teeth of the fish in this river. Rank meant nothing. Family was everything. But his grim expression rolled over easy— she didn't mean any harm.

"Blackbird." He would greet her in return. He noticed her fur stuck together and curled at the ends with the way it was drying against the sun. She had gone for a swim? Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Considering all the loose fur on his body, maybe the water would do it some good. At his feet, he saw a pale silver fur from his back float by. "How're your paws?"

The question came naturally, his tone shifting lightly to urge his minuscule concern forward. But his tone was a bit quieter, ever so subtly, as if he were masking that he actually gave a shit. Because he does.

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He seemed to dislike the title. Perhaps he did not enjoy being the leader? Merel frowned the slightest; she hadn’t meant to offend. Though, from what little she knew of him, he always seemed rather somber.

Everyone in Faust’s family seemed to carry some sort of burden. Merel did not know if it was shared, nor what it might be. It was not her place to ask, but she couldn’t help but wonder. There were no elders among their pack. No parents. No pups, besides the overgrown ones yapping about. (Alright, maybe that was a little mean.) Just young wolves—not much younger than herself, admittedly, but still. It worried her.

They had been forced to learn to care for themselves much too early. Just like herself.

“Much better. Tove is a very skilled healer. But I’m sure you know that,” Merel said with a smile. “I’m afraid I may have caused her some undue stress.”

Merel eyed Faust’s shaggy coat, tufts coming loose as he walked. Good God, she thought. It took all her self control not to stride over there and start combing his fur herself.

“If you want to go for a dip, there’s space on this rock for two,” she said, scooting over to one side. “You look…itchy.”

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Merel looked at him with an ounce of regret for pulling his title on him and he suddenly wished to reverse time to undo the look on his face. He didn't mean to upset her. Embarrass her. But it was done now and he didn't look away from her, even when his mind begged him to.

When Tove's name rolled across her lips he couldn't help but look away then, coy smile taking over his stoic features. Yes, he does know how much of a skilled healer she is. Where Faust excelled in the hunt, she managed to stitch him back together time and time again. He supposed he didn't make it easy for her, but gave her all that experience she needed to perform as they got older.

"I doubt it," he turned back towards Merel, fighting the urge to scratch the back of his neck. "Think she's getting a bit bored." Many of them could handle themselves. Faust hasn't come to Tove with a true injury once yet. But maybe that's because he was scared of taking true risks. True things that could endanger him. He supposed that went for all of them.

Fuck. He couldn't take it anymore. His hind leg raised and his neck crooned towards his abdomen. With a satisfying scratch, an assorted plume of fur of varying colors flew out and down the river stream. Impressed by the amount, his mouth formed and upside down smile. His attention returned to the blackbird, an irritated look on his face.

"I am."

It came out as a grunt. The amount of fur he had on his body only made things more complicated. With some failed attempts to get the furs on the back of his shoulders, he sighed.

"Water's too cold f'me." He uttered the words, almost as if he were a defeated baby.

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Merel just looked at him wearily. Too cold? Really? She just barely suppressed a giggle. Combing his hair for him would’ve been too much; she was fairly certain if she was seen doing that, Tove would finish her off once and for all. But there was something else she could do.

She leapt down from the rock with a small huff, back into the icy river stream. She waded towards him, calmly, slowly. Intently. As if she was merely going to groom him. Until—

Merel jumped into the water with an enormous splash, thoroughly dousing Faust in cold water. With a light cackle that betrayed none of her evilness, she paddled away furiously—fully expecting retaliation.

---

misc skill: trickster

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Faust's brows lifted when Merel strolled off the rock with a glaring pep in her step. Curious to see what she'd do, he'd hold himself still. He didn't even attempt to take a breath. Not around her when she was capable of anything. A wit with her tongue that kept him on his toes.

But nothing happened except for the faint sound of a 'splash' and his thick coat being drenched with the cold river water. With a hiss of his teeth, he spat out the water that dripped into his mouth, and he pivoted on his heel. Towards the river he'd look, seeing Merel begin to paddle away with clear panic in her pawstrokes, but only mischief held her gaze captive. He mirrored his own look, feigning a 'you'll regret that,' expression.

His lip curled revealing such a devilish undertone and finally, with a curt shake of his head, breached the water surface. The adrenaline rush that blasted through his veins was ravenous. Cold water soaked his thickening coat and some loose tufts came with it. When his head emerged, he shook out the fraying water, and set his target on Merel as she tempted to swim away.

But Faust's size held an advantage.

Not to say he was a good swimmer, average at best, his large limbs acted as propelling agents as he'd catch up to her. Once he did, his paws would smack the surface of water in front of her face, splashing her with a full force. "This your plan all along, blackbird?"

He'd accuse of her, a playful smile on his face. A genuine one. "Troublemaker."

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Her methods might be cruel, but it had worked. She glanced over her shoulder as the large wolf splashed after her, and tried to paddle faster. Alas, her weight did not work to her advantage in the water. She let out a yelp as a wall of water hit her.

In revenge, she turned around abruptly and slapped the water again with her forepaws. With less force than before, admittedly, but enough to send a small splash Faust’s way.

“Bold of you to assume I have a plan,” Merel giggled. When was the last time she’d played in the water like this? Much too long, she thought. Her sisters had been yearlings then, herself barely considered an adult. Faust was smiling, too, and she grinned back. So even he could smile! Ha!

She circled around, trying for a different angle of attack.

“Well, someone’s got to make some fun around here,” Merel retorted. “What’s life without a bit of trouble?”

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Faust kept his eyes on her as she continued to circle him in the water. He'd attempt to turn his body when he could, but the density of the water had his limbs start to burn with resistance. He'd settle for the occasional turn of his body, but wondered exactly she was trying to get at.

'Some fun,' she had said. Faust rolled his eyes. There wasn't much time for fun. Not when he had to scout the territory with such vigor and opulent ferocity. The only time for celebration was during the times of the festivals, but even the nearest one was more than a month away. At least by his mental calculation, that is.

"Peaceful." He retorted, raising his brow with a brief challenge. "Growing antsy? Bored?" Maybe it was time for Merel to obtain a full time task, then, if she was so restless inside their borders.

Or maybe he needed to set a challenge on her shoulders. A challenge that would have her prove her worth to him and the other members. Still a new thing, she hadn't the opportunity to showcase any of her skills except cutting her feet on the mountainside. She'd have to grow stronger in that regard. Softpaw, his mind called her.

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He rolled his eyes at her, but she’d seen that smile. He’d enjoyed this, briefly as he could. She suspected she might be testing his patience, however. It seemed he’d yet to learn to take advantage of life’s fleeting joys.

Merel turned away, heading back to the riverbank.

“Periane isn’t my only sister,” Merel said. She shook the water from her fur before hopping back up on the sunbaked rock.

She’d found no evidence of their scents yet. If she had, she would already have departed in search. But Faust did not need to know that yet.

“Would you have me stay here, Faust?” she asked him point-blank. As he evaluated her, so she evaluated him.

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When she turned towards the riverbank he would follow. Clammoring up the rocks, he shook out his fur. Chunks of stray furs went with it, but not nearly enough to cease the itching. He'd listen to her as his back foot came out to glean his side. A good heap of fur came out, clearly easing the weary expression on his face.

"More birds?" He teased, feigning a deep desire to know more about her family. He knew of Periane. Their interactions brief, noting the way his shadowsinger took a liking to her presence. Her wellbeing could be under his jurisdiction, not the titan's.

Her words shocked him. His face dropped, clearly taken back. If she wanted an emotion from him to be so outwardly plain in sight, let it be this one. For a moment he just stared. He was perfectly content with letting her be a visitor, a momentary vagrant while her paws healed. When the time was right, she'd flutter away like the bird she was born to be. Periane didn't have the same desire, as far as he was aware.

"Yeah." He said, still in shock before he nodded his head. "Of course you can."

There was no hesitation in his voice. "I'll pair you and your sister for tasks, too, if you'd like that?"

It was the little things he thought he could do to make her happy. To make her want to stay. He was not in the business of clipping bird's wings. Maybe leaving out extra seeds for them, but certainly not holding them back within a cage. There was a desire for more behind Merel's eyes. He could see that. Whether her presence was temporary or permanent, he didn't know, but also...didn't care. If she wished to say, then that was that. She'd stay.

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She watched him carefully. The shock on his face—she hadn't expected that. Nor his immediate answer. Just like that, he welcomed her. As if he really did want her to stay here, and just hadn't believed she might consider it.

This was not the golden prince who had used her, and then thrown her away when she'd gotten knocked up. Merel almost felt foolish now for fearing that history was repeating itself—for attempting to see the similarities. Faust wasn't trying to ooze his way into her bed; he was only trying to make his way in a world that could be harsh and unforgiving. All he wanted was to protect his family. Just like herself. She could see that clearly now. And whatever the situation with Tove was—well, Merel was wiser now. As much of a troublemaker as she was, when it came to matters of the heart—she was careful. She had no interest in being caught up in a lover's quarrel. Hopefully, the healer would figure that out someday.

So at his offer, she offered him a kind, warm smile. A real one.

“Then I will,” she said simply. “I think our skills are a bit different, but I would be happy to hunt with my sister again.”

She looked out across the river again, watching the sunlight dance on its dappled surface. Tove's words came to mind: she is safe here. Periane was safe. That was true. And maybe Merel could believe that she was safe, too.

“I may have to leave if I learn that one of my other sisters are...alive,” she continued, wincing over the last word. She blew out a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “But I always fly back. Sometimes with more birds in tow.” Merel glanced back at him with a playful glint in her eye.

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It was here that Faust realized how much he adored to see Merel's smile. A genuine one that broke through the playful facade that she upholstered so well in presence. A natural performer she was, grasping and understanding her audience with such heightened reverence. She was just a bird playing at tricks of magic hoping to find her way home to her sisters. Working her ass off to find her family again. Didn't he do just the same? Alright, maybe he didn't cause trouble exactly...but the concepts held similarities in perspective.

Crazy to think that one smile could send the titan into a funneling spiral of warmth. His chest filled with it— that smooth texture in his blood that made him all sweet. His own smile was desperate to mirror hers, but he withheld. Don't. But the calls of his subconscious would be ignored. Instead his head would tilt away from her, hiding the flush of embarrassment that heated his cheeks. His dark complexion would mask such meager feelings, but the action was reflexive.

"Periane has a liking for the arts," Faust would raise his brows towards Merel, hoping to inquire more about her. "'Least that's what Tamir says."

He thought that even if they didn't share the same skills, she'd appreciate the time with Periane regardless. At least...that's what he'd want if he was her. If he had been separated from Tamir or Raenar for such a long time, all he'd want to do is be around them. Bask in their presence that'd he miss so much. Speaking with Merel made him realize just how much he cherished his brothers.

Faust had just gotten used to the idea of Merel staying when she spoke again. About leaving. He said nothing. He could only nod.

"The Roost is made for birds, Merel." He'd remind her. "This is your nest just as it is much mine."

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Merel grinned. Roost! Of course. How she’d missed the play on words before, she couldn’t say.

“You know,” she said, chuckling. “That never occurred to me. But you’re right. Maybe I was meant to come here.”

For the most part, she no longer believed in fate. This was one of those moments, though, where she wondered if maybe there was someone looking out for her up there. She didn’t think she’d been entirely forgiven, but maybe finding Velaris—and her sister—was a sign of a step in the right direction.

Signs, ha. Merel tried not to look for signs anymore. No, what was truly good in this place came from the efforts of the people who dwelled there. No God or deity could be held responsible for that.

“Well then, Faust,” she continued. “I suppose you could say the Blackbird is at your command.” No one would ever truly control her, of course, and she was sure Faust knew that by now. But she could follow instructions. If she felt like it.

She pretended to bow with a flourish of her paw.

“What would you have me do first?”

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Faust couldn't help the hearty chuckle that left his chest at her dramatic bow. Such a theatrical one. He had a feeling that maybe she would stir up more trouble than meet's the eye, but that was to be determined. For the moment, he would accept her bow.

"What an honor." He'd remark with his own attempt at sarcasm. Where to place her was another question. If he remembered correctly, she was fond of hunting, wasn't she? Stealth didn't exactly seem her forte, but that was based on his own assumptions of her character. She surely seemed to like to chat up others, him included. He had fallen to her charismatic whims, too.

"You like to hunt? Or was that just a stunt you pulled with that goat?" He would question her, wondering if she did pull all that just for a small show of entertainment. Regardless it earned them a meal, but at what cost? Merel's feet were still battered and unable to be worked on for the next week at least.

But with the condition of her feet, it would make things all the more difficult. For her to actually complete a task would put further endangering her feet at risk. "Softpaws..." he'd remark under his breath, quietly, but definitely enough for her to hear. "Shoulda' told you to not climb the mountainside, but I wanted to see how far you'd go."

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“They’re not quite as soft anymore,” Merel said, sticking one scabbed paw in his face to make her point. He didn’t quite apologize, which brought a flash of irritation to her gaze. But then she sighed and put her foot back down.

“I knew it was reckless,” Merel admitted. “I did it because I thought it might bring me closer to finding Periane.”

Her smile returned. “That, and it was fun. We should hunt again sometime. So you can see what I can do—without me ending up in the healer’s den. Though, Tove has offered to teach me some of her skills.”

In hindsight, she hadn’t minded that particular outcome. She couldn’t exactly thank him for bringing her to those cliffs, but it seemed that things had worked out after all.

Well, more or less.

“You caught me once, Faust. But the next time won’t be so easy,” Merel added with a mysterious smile.

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Faust's head inclined to take a closer look at her healing paw. It was scabbed and clearly raw from the fall. He tsked and shook his head with a nonchalance that he typically adorned, but only uttered his words softly. "It'll get easier— the cliffs."

It's not like she exactly had a choice in the matter. The pads of feet from Velarion wolves would be some of the sharpest and thickest skin on their bodies, honed to pure perfection. In retaliation, he held up his own forepaw to show her how his was different. In comparison, the pads of his feet were much lighter due to the hardened shell and cracked at certain edges— places where his foot should've been torn open on the cliffsides but instead had been protected.

He didn't argue with her when she mentioned her sister. Periane. Her taupe and cream colored sister who, in contrast to Merel, looked nothing like her. But there was a familiar air around the both of them. The way they spoke— their vernaculars held the same intonation that was vaguely familiar. But he had only spoken to Periane once.

And then Tove's name came swirling back. Everywhere, he sighed, she was everywhere.

"Maybe we should start by teaching you how to scale the cliffs," his brows raised, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. "So it doesn't feel like I keep holding in you in a cage."

The last thing that he wanted was for Merel to feel like she was trapped. Had he done that? By willingly letting her climb the cliffs knowing how dangerous they were? Did he contribute to this? A sudden, dreary wave of guilt washed over his feet, halting him in place. His expression went rigid.

"I don't want this to be a cage for you." He confessed, his tone vulnerable, and only slightly, slightly shaky.

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Merel eyed the proffered paw. Indeed, it seemed she had a long way to go before she fully accustomed herself to life in this valley. She would make it work, though. If Faust and his fellows had adapted, so would she. Merel had survived in far harsher places—though not with many fond memories to take home.

She hoped this time would be kinder. If only for her sister’s sake.

At Faust’s admission, her expression softened. He seemed to have finally understood her resentment. She’d meant the words lightly, but he had seen through her. And although she felt a bit guilty for bringing it up, that meant more to her than any I’m sorry ever would.

“Then it won’t be,” Merel said reassuringly. “I don’t fear you, Faust. I feared what you might want, at first. But I know better now.”

With that, she stood up, tail swishing.

“So! Training starts tomorrow?”

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There had been a clear moment of relief. A release of the tension in his shoulders at her reassuring comment. Faust had an issue with himself— the tendencies he harbored from his father's black blood— the habit he had of dubbing things as 'his' when he never claimed ownership of anything except the land they walked on.

And he could only feel more entitled when she didn't fear him. He didn't expect to be feared, but her words put him at ease. The air was still heavy with their conversation and he desperately, desperately, hoped that it would shift in a better direction. Faust hated talking about his fucking feelings. Boo. Woe is him. A fucking baby.

His eyes grew when Merel bounded up with excitement. Not many were this excited for training. He counted two— her and Rhea. Huh. It wasn't a lot, but two was an odd number to find himself marking it as a coincidence.

"Whenever you'd like."

Time was not an issue. Faust needed to do something other than walk the borders of the territory. He needed something to excite himself with. A prospective challenge, maybe. He wanted to see if Merel could break out of her shell even more. Show him something real instead of this show that she put on for him and the rest of the wolves of Velaris.

He couldn't imagine being so performative. So awe-worthy. The thought struck him: what was real about her? The only thing that he could tell for certain was the love for her sister that she held near and dear to her heart. But the rest...the rest is a muddled mess that he couldn't decipher. It had his head spinning around everything about her. It made him want more. Know more. See her more, even, if she'd wish for such a thing.

"Now?"

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As motivated as she might be to get into shape, Merel remembered Tove’s words. She would try to take care of herself. Try. If not for her own sake, then for Periane’s. She couldn’t lose her again; Merel would be no use to her sister if she succumbed to infection.

She sighed through gritted teeth, though it was not Faust who annoyed her.

“Tomorrow,” she told him. “I would start anytime, but my paws disagree.”

With that, she hopped off the rock. She glanced over her shoulder at the sun-dappled leader.

“Well then, if you don’t have any tasks for me yet…how about some lunch?”

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Tomorrow. Tomorrow could work.

Not like he had any real plans anyways.

She hopped off the rock and met him face to face. Faust stood unwavering.

"Lead the way."

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