Cinnamon girl ˖ ࣪⭑

Toska's head was spinning, causing her to drift between consciousness and unconsciousness. Her closed eyelids were awash with vibrant hues of crimson, azure, and lavender, imbuing her recollection with vivid imagery. She remembered the day when her kingdom recognized her as an adult, no longer the young girl who trailed behind her sister. It was the day when she was introduced to society as more than just Dušan's daughter. However, her family was torn away from her only a week later.

Gingerly blinking open her olive eyes, Tos dragged her gaze around the surrounding forest. It looked like her home, yet it lacked the one thing that truly made it home - her family. Their scents had vanished, replaced by the earthy aroma of the conifers. She craved the invigorating minty scent of her father and the piquant aroma of her mother. Toska's nose could only detect her floral scent, mingled with the scent of the earth. It solidified the notion that she was utterly alone.

Struggling to rise to her paws, Toska resembled a young fawn taking its first steps. She made her way towards the lakeshore, her eyes scanning the shoreline for any signs of life. A soft sigh left her as she dropped her rump onto the gravelly ground. She picked up a small stone and nudged it towards the water, captivated by the ripples on the glassy surface. Her mind was just as tumultuous as the water's surface, consumed by her heavy thoughts. Toska wondered if they knew she was gone, or if they had continued living as if she never existed. She almost wanted to say she felt as if she were kidnapped. But Toska knew better than to think of her situation in that way.

Maybe this was her chance to live as Toska, not Dušan's precious swan. She could experience life in her own way without having Seren or her parents hovering over her. It would be her first taste of freedom. And gods, did she want it.

---

@Beck <33

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Whatever strange twists of fate the gods had woven for him, for now, he would remain in the realm with lands that shifted like the tides. And not dissimilar to the tides-- There was a hidden peril in the sheer beauty. A factor that would not go unnoticed by the young gent, but rather it would come to be appreciated as wholly as to be celebrated. For his eyes were large and imbued with an insatiable wonder, a longing to discover it all. A tireless curiosity that turned the man would be connoisseur of all the things this new place would come to offer. He could only grasp at what kind of secrets she may hold, what sort of treasures she kept locked away and guarded by her dragons of olde. 

The small violet flower he had plucked from the field of his awakening had been carefully stashed away in a small earthly cavern. For now, the tight dwelling would serve as a cache for his treasures until he could locate one that more suited his needs. Specific visions had flooded back to him on occasion, strings of drying herbs, the scent of rose petal potpourri, a collection of gems that gleamed and glittered with reflections of the unknown. While he hadn't found himself a suitable string to dry his little flower, he could only hope the cool dry conditions of the earth would preserve it enough until he could fashion one. Perhaps a reed from the lake was the answer he sought.

Peony and rose hooked him like a snare. Dusted upon the sweet swell of another early morning, what he had hoped, or rather expected to find were the respective flowers awaiting him. What he happened upon was another thing entirely. A feminine smell twisted with the floral, a sugary lure that invited him into her proximity without a second thought. His reed could wait.

Ever so small, he might have thought her to be a large waterfowl with blanched feathers had he not been so close. Her limbs were slender, her body petite and lean like that of a dove. Beck's steps halted when he saw her, head held high and tail loosely draped between the impressive length of his legs. He was confident even in a world overflowing with obscurities, dangers that may lurk around every bend, and she, well, she looked lost. Had the land changed on her as the pale woman had warned? Her perfumes were different than that girl's, foreign. Maybe, just maybe, she had been like him?

Announcing his presence from a distance, he cleared his throat softly. A friendly smile unfolded across his lips with the only hope that hers may be motivated into doing the same. “Good morning,” Masculine baritones rumbled from deep in his chest. By nature, the tones carried a velvety quality of tender benevolence despite the fiendish size of the chords they had developed from.

@Toska
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Toska, as usual, was lost in her own head. She wondered about how this new world changed the life she once lived. Did her betrothed notice her absence? Was he searching for her? Or had he moved on to her still single sister? Toska could only hope Maroš remained faithful. Though Toska knew that was not possible with an in-demand bachelor like him.

Toska trailed her eyes over the picturesque vista, seeing almost nothing on the lake's glass-like surface. She had hoped to see other animals, maybe waterfowl or the occasional fish but found nothing. Not even a minnow. Toska had always been fond of wildlife, especially her namesake. Swans had always been something Toska loved and what her mother called her. Her precious little swan, she always said.

Her head jerked up at the sound of a voice. A masculine voice. Wide eyes landed on the tall man standing nearby. Gods, he was handsome. The thought had appeared before she could stop herself. No. No! She had Maroš. She shouldn't think that of another man. But she couldn't deny what she saw. Tall, dark, and handsome. He was everything she was told to stay away from. Mama would not want her speaking to him, but she couldn't help herself.

“G-good morning, sir.” She breathed, her wide olive eyes trailing up to the man's odd eyes. They were pools that held the sun and the ocean's deep depths. They were mesmerizing. Toska had never seen such beautiful eyes before. They drew her in and made her want to trust who their owner was. Nothing about him made her feel afraid. He seemed, kind. Toska felt like she could trust him. Oh, she how hoped she could.

Toska could not help her gaze from trailing over the man. He was attractive, tall, and well-muscled. He resembled Maroš. Not in color, but in stature. Even the confidence that exuded from him. Why were the fates pulling at her like this? Bringing this man to her when she was lost. Presenting him as a savior. His fresh, earthy scent snaked around her and slowly filled her senses. He was, intoxicating. A taste of what freedom could be.

In a weak attempt to shake away her thoughts, Toska shook her fur and shuffled her paws. “Wh-what do you call yourself, sir?” She inquired, eyes looking everywhere but him. Gods, I need to stop stuttering. The thought hit her like a smack from her mother. It was unladylike; improper and frowned upon. Toska fell silent once more, not trusting herself to speak properly. Gods, why me?

---

@Beck

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A bouquet of large, glossy, much-divided leaves borne onto annual stems and harboring many heads of showy pink flowers is what the man hoped to uncover on that river edge. Ones he could pluck between diligently careful teeth and retrieve happily to his humble hovel, the buds bouncing between his jaws, eyes merrily crested like a dog with a bone. However what he discovered instead was not the desired peony or river reed, and albeit taken he was with the prospect of the plants, interacting with this girl seemed all the more important. A delicate porcelain statue that drifted upon dainty paws, he'd imagine she required no more than the gentle prod of the breeze to propel her forward upon those lithe pillars. Much like the first he had happened upon in these strange new lands, whatever it was to be called, she too was a rather small thing. A petite frame that curved and bowed in a feminine way and sculpted her in the finest silken linens. 

Her head jerked up immediately, the once tranquil demeanor that enveloped her features in a daydream shattered behind the shock in those large doe eyes. He winced. Perhaps he should have placed his footfalls heavier, should have exhaled with more vitality. Anything to have kept from thieving the girl away from the fantastical places she visited within her mind, all only to end up startled. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and the sudden urge to pacify her. Upon his face, a wordless apology was clearly scrawled across those dark contours.

Beck could not help but shift beneath the weight of her stare and the heat that radiated from behind it. It wasn’t the first time he had been scrutinized in such a way and he knew it would not be the last. Never would he consider himself a draw, a stud, an attractive suitor, a reason one would look upon him with wanting. Instead his insecurities were laid bare upon his face, and he, being the melancholy man he occasionally could be, imagined that’s all anyone else could see. His strange eyes, his jagged scars, his massive size… Perhaps the fear he instilled. He would occasionally make bets with himself to what drew their stare. Play games to keep his mind at ease with feet planted firmly upon the ground as he stood in an unilluminated spotlight. For he was the ringmaster, and he might as well smile while he held the attention of his audience.

His gentle gaze turned thoughtful at the girl’s inquiry. What did he call himself? Would he choose another name if he felt he could? A smirk cracked his lips, a hint of mischief perking at the edges. “Well, Beck is the name my mother gave me.” He continued to smile despite the pain that twisted behind those commonplace words. It became a hot knife that seared his skin, only after it had already cut deeply into the velveteen flesh. One that he would later toss into a dark room and lock tight the door behind him, lest his demons escape beyond their shroud. “And you?” His head fell to the side, eyes trained on her observantly. He stiffened slightly, taking a step nearer to her. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you looked.. lonely?” He spoke the last word with trepidation, hesitating on it before finally releasing it gently into the atmosphere. 

If she was like him, awoken in this strange place and still clutching her own faint memories to her chest, he could only imagine just how lonely this girl may actually be. How lonely and how violently confused. A rose left to wither in a desert storm, out of place and robbed. What pain she must be dueling behind those beautiful olive depths. Then again, maybe he was incorrect. Maybe he so desperately had pleaded with the gods not to be marooned on this island alone that he sought similarities while there were none to be had. The mismatched colors of his eyes drifted over her again, wordlessly wondering if she would reveal herself, a penny for her thoughts that he would gladly offer up.

@Toska
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Toska couldn't help but steal another glance at the dark man. Her eyes drank in his rugged features, noting each and every scar she could see on his handsome face. He had lived a difficult life, it seemed. Just the thought of the kind man suffering made her heart hurt. No one deserves to suffer in life.

Toska saw his friendly expression shift into one of sheepish embarrassment. That alone solidified the fact there was no way he could be Maroš. Her fiancé was never hit with embarrassment or ever showed it. He was confident, a rising man in their society. He had nothing to be embarrassed by. But gods, this man before her showed emotions she had never seen in Maroš. He was, alive. He smiled at her. He looked like him, but nothing within him was the same.

“Beck?” She repeated, her voice a soft call in the morning air. Toska quite liked his name. It was different from the names given in her homeland but beautiful nonetheless. “It is a beautiful name that she chose for you.” Tos gave him a kind smile, her keen eyes nothing the way he quickly hid the emotions with a smile. She couldn't understand why, but she saw the pain that flashed for a second before disappearing into kindness once again. “My papa named me Toska.” She squeaked under the warmth of his gaze. No one had ever paid attention to her like this before. Not even Maroš.

Her ears fell at his question. “No need to apologize. Your intuition is, correct.” The last word was almost a whisper. She didn't want to admit it to herself, let alone this stranger but it was true. She was alone. Toska wanted this to be false, to show that she wasn't alone but she couldn't. She woke up in these strange lands alone. But maybe, just maybe, this chance meeting could change things for her.

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“Thank you,” It was the only reply he would offer up to her statement. Perhaps he ought to begin calling himself something different, something with memories no longer attached like chains that rattled to a single word. A forced smile lifted his lips. He had been executing one so long he had mastered the feigned genuinity. It kept others from asking questions, most of the time anyway. Her voice came again, this time it squeaked, a girlish noise that reminded him she was quite younger than himself. He would begin to wonder if she had only just left home to begin her life anew. “It's good to meet you, Toska.” His smile grew a fraction, encouraging her. 

He had spent the entirety of his life being the massive wolf that he was. Granted, in pup-hood he was of course quite smaller than the adult version of himself he had grown into, but even as a child others would stare, intimidation evident on their face. Just as long as he had been pained by the emotions behind their scrutiny, he had developed tactics he used to attempt to overcome it. Of course there were situations that left him yearning to be an imposing creature of the night. To cause his adversaries to turn tail and run just at the thought of the size of his jaws compared to theirs. Though those occasions were few and far between, and as such, he desired to keep it that way.

Little went unnoticed under the watch of his keen eyes, including the way her ears slopped and hung with emotion. He was expecting her to say more, to offer up an explanation of some kind, though it seemed the well had run dry. Instead of plaquing her with questions about her current status, Beck decided to err on the side of caution. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally upset her more with a misplaced inquiry. “Need some company?” He'd offer the words with a pleasant grin, a slightly overzealous one produced with the intent of cracking her lips into a smile of her own.

@Toska
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She almost regretted her words upon seeing his face. Toska could see the pain that swam in his gaze, and she almost wanted to comfort him. Ha, comfort someone she barely knew. But her heart wanted to. Tos could sense the pain within him, and see it in his mannerisms. In the way, his smile never reached his eyes. Toska could see that he was plagued by memories of before, of memories he didn't want to remember.

But she recognized it. She saw it in herself when she was with Maroš, never fully happy to take a walk with him to his favorite place within their pack's territory. “The pleasure is mine, Beck.” Toska dipped her head, focusing her eyes on the earth. She couldn't show how much this man captivated her. How much she enjoyed his fresh alpine scent. How much she wanted to reach out and see if his fur was as soft as it looked. All thoughts that she knew she shouldn't have.

Toska could not help the girlish excitement that bubbled up at the sight of his smile. He was so handsome and kind. “I, I would love that. Thank you, Beck.” She allowed a soft smile to grace her lips as she beckoned him to sit beside her. She didn't fear this towering male, not in the slightest. She trusted him to be near her, to join her in her solitude. “Are you from these lands?” She asked, her gaze trailing up to his own. Her rounded eyes searched his own, for what she didn't know. But she wanted to know him.

She was curious about this man, in ways she knew she shouldn't be. Maroš should be the only one she had eyes for, the only man she should ever think of. But gods, this man had a kind air to him. A calming presence that did not make her feel like she needed to run from him. Toska would happily stay in this place with him, enjoying the peaceful silence of the lake. But Toska knew better than to daydream about this man. He very well may already have another to spend his days with and was instead being polite. Toska knew that no one would ever see her as more than a little girl, a doll.

But Toska knew better than to allow herself the freedom. She was still Jędrzej Wilk's daughter, his prized swan. There was no changing that fact. And she would still have the sword at her throat, the chain attached to her collar of pearls. She may be away from her beloved family, but they still had their hands on her leash. Papa still controlled her. Mama still made sure she acted like a demure little lady. A man like Maroš does not want a dirty girl, Toska. Remember your reputation. The thought hit her like her mother's paw. If she returned to them, what would Maroš think? Would he think of her as a dirty girl? No longer worthy of his affections? Toska knew it was all a plan to protect the Wilk family from ruin. To keep her Papa in power and provide an alliance. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I, I'm sorry. I must seem rude.” She said hurriedly, a warmth spreading on her cheeks. She felt so, nervous around him. It could be that she had not spoken to a man other than Maroš or her father before. Or that she had no real experience with, anything.

---

@Beck <33

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Beck would obey as she beckoned, carefully striding a few steps closer before he would place himself down beside her. The ground became progressively more moist, cooled and saturated the closer to the cusp of the lake he strode. He shook his head to disagree with her question, those large sage colored gems linking to his while he settled upon the rocky ground. “Not at all.” A small chuckle escaped him, but the reaction was more to himself than it was to her. The reality of his situation was absurd, how was he even to explain such a thing?

It had been around a week since he had woken up in the meadow, a week since he could remember. There was a gap in his timeline, the events before his arrival blurry and out of focus. Part of him wondered if the lands would move again, if he would suddenly be transported back to that mountain. Perhaps he would be brought to a new place entirely? The feeling caused him some anxiety, causing his nights to become long and restless as worries arose when his lids began to slip shut each night. Would he build a life for himself only to have it whisked away in a matter of moments, not even to be remembered.

Toska’s quiet words severed him from his thoughts rather abruptly. “What? No,” His brows tugged together, knitting into a firm line as he peered down upon her. They traveled the gentle slope of her head, slipping down the muted tones that blended into the gentle white silk adorning her neck. Warmth crept over her cheeks, painting the pale earthy tones pink.

She had been so small, so petite. Not as impossibly small as Vienne but smaller than he was familiar with. In comparison, he had been colossal. Surely she was straining her neck just looking up at him. The nervousness settled upon her, taking over her every feature. Was it his size? Was she suddenly regretting his proximity now that his body had been a wall for her gaze to scale? Beck’s spine stiffened, his eyes turning down, flecked with concern. “Why do you say that?”

@Toska
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@Beck <3

---

The girl felt her heartbeat increase as the man came to sit beside her, out of fear or nerves she didn't quite know. But she did enjoy looking into those glimmering pools of sapphire and topaz. They are beautiful. She couldn't help the thought that arose when she met his gaze. She wanted to fall into them, allow herself to drown in the freedom he could offer her. If he even wanted to.

Toska knew she should not have asked questions, kept her mouth shut and simply replied when spoken to. But she wanted to know. She wanted to know if Beck was like her, brought to these foreign lands with vague memories of the past. Or perhaps he was lucky enough to remember it all and cherish memories of before. “Jestes jak ja. Obcokrajowiec. — You are like me. A foreigner.” A small smile appeared on her lips. They were the same.

Toska was once more pulled from her thoughts by the baritone of Beck's voice. He was so, close. She could now see the delicate scars that decorated his face. They each held a story, a piece of Beck within their raised marks. But now Toska realized just how large the man was. He was a mountain, like the one she could see in the distance. Tall and unwavering, a force of nature. And though his outward appearance demonstrated strength, she felt as if he was more than that. Beck was a kind soul, filled with hope and a kindness Toska never would have expected. She could feel his gaze trail over her, and it made her feel warm. Feel that he cared. “O, Boże. — Oh, God.” Toska mumbled, once again that nervousness rising within her. She half-expected her mother to suddenly appear and chastise her for being near a man without a chaperone. To drag her home and lock her away, just like before. But Toska knew deep down that would never happen again. She was safe from the Wilks here.

“My mama would disapprove of me staring.” She replied, voice hushed. The words sat between them, a reminder of the life she lived before. Toska would never be able to shake off the shackles the Wilks placed upon her limbs or ignore the rules they ingrained into her very soul. They have become a part of her, a voice that would linger in her mind.

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Foreign syllables spilled from her mouth. Decorated with an accent he hadn’t yet acquainted, she spoke in a tongue that was lost upon him. But then his gaze fell southward. Her lips had parted just barely, curving to reveal a small smile. It was soft, a delicate and beautiful thing. It reminded him of a gentled whisper, a secret that only the two of them had been savvy to.

Wry features smiled gently with uncertainty, almost apologetic. It was clear that this man hadn’t held any meager shred of understanding to her words from before, though that same language greeted his ears again. The tangled response, if he could call it that, did little to soothe the worry residing in the creases of his handsome face. His brow arched, parting the way for confusion as it mingled there in an obvious display. Weight shifted between his two front paws but otherwise the man did not react. He simply waited, waited for the clarification that would not come.

Beck being the patient creature that he was had no trouble with taking pause, but it wasn’t the delay that had bothered him. The pale girl he had come to know as Toska, had appeared tormented every now and again. By what he didn’t know. That he couldn’t hope to unravel should she not offer those tangled ribbons up in words and sounds that made sense to his empathetic ears. His brows came together more, pinching in a line above quietly observing gems as she mumbled. An emotion appearing akin to anxiety clawed its way up her spine and over her shoulders once more.

Something in her deflated then, a balloon that had been robbed of the air to keep it afloat. Her voice was a soft coo, barely a whisper. Beck searched her eyes, attempting to unearth the meaning behind that quiet admission but ultimately had come up empty handed. He cocked his head, uncertain if it was he who she had been declaring an apology to or the disembodied memory of her mother. Despite the unknowns, an easy smile returned to his face as he tipped his forehead to her. “It’s quite alright,” A chuckle lingered upon his voice. “I can imagine that I can appear… daunting?” He offered the word he thought she’d see, what he thought they all might see.

A beat, then his ears flecked back atop his head, tucking downward. “Should I go?” He presented the words to her as an out, something she could take and cast him away should her trepidations of him grow too uncomfortable. A part of him burned with the string of her nervous expression, though he couldn’t say he was unable to understand her worry, but the notion of it bothered him all the same.

@Toska
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@Beck <3

---

Toska caught herself slipping into her natal tongue, her way of soothing her nerves. While the common tongue was spoken in her homelands, Toska always slipped into Polish; the shared language between her and her betrothed. Perhaps deep down she wished to teach this man her language, to have someone who could understand her words. To have something only they knew. But Toska was getting ahead of herself. She didn't even know if this man enjoyed her company or would ever want to meet again. “I am so sorry, Beck. It is a bit of a habit to slip into my mother tongue...” She trailed off, the look of confusion silencing her. She should've been more aware.

Toska took a deep breath, her eyes focused on the gray pebbles beneath her feet. “I apologize if I seem, distraught. I promise, it is not you but rather, my memories.” Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to word her thoughts into the common tongue. “You are rather beautiful.” She released a squeak and fell silent after blurting out her thoughts once again. Perhaps this time was a good thing, though she could already hear Mama's scolding. A lady does not speak her thoughts.

“Jesteś skarbem, Beck. — You are a treasure, Beck.” She smiled, quickly reaching up to brush her nose against his cheek. Toska had never been so bold in her life, but with this man, she felt she could be. She had never called Maroš anything other than his name, and while she knew it was wrong, it was befitting for Beckard. He had a good soul, she could see it in his eyes. Feel it in his words, despite his somewhat brutish appearance.

Her ears fell back against the slope of her head at his question. No, she didn't want him to leave. But she would never forgive herself if she begged him to stay. “I would enjoy the company, but. But I would understand if you'd rather find another.” While her words hurt, she did not want to keep him here if he'd rather leave. While she saw him as a treasure, she could not say he viewed her in the same light. Maybe Beck viewed her as nothing more than a child, just like Maroš had. Nothing more than just another pretty face.

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In someways he had understood the hinderance. It wasn’t a common occurrence that he would slip into his mother tongue, but occasionally a word or a phrase here and there would leave his mouth when the moment felt right. Situations that brought unparalleled anger had, at times left him ranting and raving in his preferred language. A genuine agitated French man he could become, yelling his foreign profanities at the heavens above. It felt natural, honest. He smiled looking down at her, wanting only to waive away the apology that had creased soft lines into her forehead. She hadn’t beed bestow any, not for something that lay so close to her own heart.

She had reminded him of the tides. A push and a pull, a give and a take. Every time she reached out, the wave stroking against the shore, something unseen would drag it back out to the sea and into dark waters. Within her dwelled the reasons that he was not privy to. Which, coincidentally, made him all the more curious to unearth them. Intrigue drove him, an unspoken ambition to unlock that sealed up box only to bare witness to what was hidden within. She spoke of memories then, another clue to the puzzle snapping into place. A soft hum vibrated his lips before they parted to speak, though they were almost immediately silenced by the words that next left her.

The man stilled, his mouth barren with response. His ears flicked backwards, the thoughts clamoring in his head as a loud and obnoxious cry. She thought he was beautiful? Something dark flashed in his eyes, something altogether tormented. Though it was gone before she would have been able to notice, buried back up in the tomb where it belonged. A smile quickly folded out over her face, shy and subtle, then she reached toward him. In one graceful glide, her toes danced over the river stones and eliminated the distance between them. In a move as equally as swift, her nose traced a thin line over his face. It was brief. A soft ghosting caress that heated him. The words she had spoken still rang in his ears, the language a soft coo full of meaning he hadn’t understood.

Observing her carefully, his gaze strolled the delicate curves of her face. Following the gently flowing strands of long pale fur at her cheeks, his eyes glided carefully over her features until they wandered into the depths of those bright green eyes. He allowed himself to slip into those deep pools, their waters rising far over his head as he sought answers he could not quite grasp. He did not lean away from her touch, but nor did he move into it. Instead he simply had allowed it to happen, watching the woman quietly beneath a curious brow.

He hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of the situation. It perplexed him in its entirety. She had perplexed him. Though his heart grew heavier with concern, he remained as he was and began with the simplest step in an effort to navigate into that lock. “I’ll stay as long as you’d like, Toska.” He glanced downwards before his eyes returned to hers. “Would you like to talk about it? Whatever is making you feel the way you are?”

@Toska
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this has taken forever, and this may be short while I try to get back into the groove; I am so so sorry ;u;

---

Toska's heart hurt. The girl could not convey the pain she felt in her soul, of the fears and worries that ate at her sanity. No words could describe how she felt, what she was thinking. But at his question, Toska could feel the swirling sea of emotions within her swelling, creating a wave that was sure to drown her in time.

"I.. I. I do not know how to explain." She replied, round eyes concentrated on the stones beneath her. There was no way of explaining her feelings to him. Nor did she want to burden him with her garbled mess of words. Nothing made sense, not even to her. What would she tell him? That she feared a mother who was not even here? That she worried someone of her past would find her here and ruin her? Her family? There was nothing either of them could say that would change her feelings.

"There is nothing I can say that will explain the feelings of my heart." Toska sighed, her verdant eyes studying the unique patterns of the river stones. The girl didn't trust herself to meet his gentle gaze. To open up to a kind man she didn't know. Her heart wanted to, but her mind knew better. Her mama raised her better.

Ladies don't complain.

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