The things we love destroy us

Nothing filled his dreams, nothing but silence. His mind was blank. Pulled from his sleep, the wolf lifted his head, and blinked. His eyes, lilac and burning, squinted through the darkness that fell across the quiet den. The stone floor was cold, and the wind held a nip to it that was practically warm to Vahaelarr. His thick pelt welcomed it, welcomed the whispers and promises of the arriving frost. Soon, the trees would be nipped with ice and the grass would cease its growth. The trees had already begun to turn from green to orange and brown. 

And then, Winter would be upon the wolves of the Vale. 

At his backside, he felt the warm presence of his mate. His mate. Something he still hadn't grown used to. The young man he had once been would've been dumbfounded had he known he'd one day be close in such ways to the Stormrift Princess he'd always been sweet on as a boy. Quiet, so not to disturb her, the wolf pulled himself from his resting position and only briefly allowed his eyes to linger over her slumbering form. All was quiet, except for Vahaelarr's mind, which had suddenly exploded with thoughts. 

He could no longer sleep, and so he slowly began his walk towards the entrance of their den where the moonlight trickled in softly. 

For @Gjalla

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Far be it from Gjalla to miss the subtle shift at her side, the heat of a second body disappearing. Frowning, she roused from the edges of slumber, chasing away the remnants of dreams.
 
Still drowsy with sleep, she blinked hard to coax violet eyes open. A blurred figure, unmistakably him, pivoted toward the den entrance, slinking outside in near silence. With a soft exhale, claws grazed the cool stone as she rose to her feet, an instinctive urge compelling her to follow.
 
Her voice, a soft murmur, cut through the stillness of the night. "Can't sleep?" Gjalla knew the feeling if that was it. She'd felt it several times in her weeks within Velaris, plagued by a relentless swarm of thoughts.

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Foolish hopes it had been for Gjalla to not be disturbed, to not be pulled from her rest. He'd known it the moment he'd stopped at the entrance of the den and began his brooding episode of watching the night pass. He'd heard her move, rise from where she'd been sleeping. It was only confirmed when her tired voice broke the silence that creeped eerily through the hollow, stirring him from his vigil, bringing his periwinkle gaze to slide slowly towards the ebony woman who approached his side. 

“No.” His reply was short and sharp, but there was affection in his eyes, something reserved only for her. He closed the distance between them eagerly, pressing his side into hers, a pleasant sigh slipping past his lips the moment her fur mingled with his own. “But that doesn't mean you should not.” Words that fell from him upon the saddle of a airy and light chuckle, his nose reaching to press warmly, tenderly to her ear. There he held it for several moments before he pulled away, his crown tilting downwards so that he could peer upon her. 

Beneath the moonlight, she was swathed. The stars illuminated her, casting her in the glow of a deity. Vahaelarr knew that he was greedy in wishing that she would only remain his forever. 

His nose pushed through the cords of her cheek fur. “Don't worry about a fool like me.”.

A tease, but knowing Vahaelarr, there was some truth hidden within it.

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Her side pressed into him, welcoming the caress with a sigh of contentment. His nose found its place against her ear, and her eyes fluttered at the gesture of intimacy, the warm breath fanning over her fur.

The subtle tease in his words drew a smile from her, a flicker of amusement. "A fool, perhaps," Gjalla whispered. Her nose nudged against his cheek fur in a gentle reassurance. "But my fool. It's my job to worry about you," she added, a trace of warmth in her gaze.

The corners of her mouth dropped, catching the restlessness evident in his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" The princess hated to pry, but she wanted him to be okay — offer some sanctuary from the storm. That's all she ever wanted.

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He huffed against the curled ringlets of her cheek fur, his warm breath permeating briefly against her fur. His voice a honeyed vox against her ear, warm and melting. “Is that so?” He laughed lightly, before his head lifted once more and he pressed his glower into the rolling hills before them, a shadow cast across the fortitude of his handsome face. 

She asked him to talk about it, yet she was the last person he could talk to it about. There was a deep shame that clouded his judgement, something misty that hung like a fog around his heart. He thought of Tove and the things he had felt the few times he'd spent in her presence, things that could've been more, things that felt like a betrayal to the woman who stood at his side. And now, he felt guilt for he ignored Tove. When he saw her, the wolf veered in the opposite direction. Avoiding, avoiding, avoiding. 

So Vahae lied, and he found no problem in doing so. Something that months ago he wouldn't have been able to do, something he would've detested doing, something that was a clear line he would -- morally -- never cross. “There's nothing to talk about, love.” He spoke it effortlessly into the wind, allowing the currents of the breeze to take it and carry it away so that he might not have to think anymore about it. “Just one of those nights. Come,” The wolf moved, slowly shifting downwards so that he could lay upon his side. 

Bare beneath the stars. 

“Let me worry about you.” He nudged her, beckoned her to join him. “You've been troubled. I see it in those pretty eyes of yours.”

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Gjalla watched as her mate slumped into the ground, laying flat on his side to become one with the grass. The moonlight painted him in silver, and her heart stirred at the sincerity in his gaze. Her eyes traced the contours of his face, reading the shadows and expressions that played across his features. Searching for something more, if only for a second.
 
After a moment passed, she followed suit, ducking her head into the puff of his chest. His breath fanned over the crown of her head, and she'd stare up at him doe-eyed with an exhale.
 
Vahae's warmth left cracks in the ice of frozen walls built to keep everything in, and it felt good to let them open without fear. "If you must know," Gjalla began, collecting her thoughts, "..I suppose adjusting hasn't been as easy as I wanted it to be." The princess admitted, gaze shifting to the stars. It was not her tasks she struggled with; hunting and patrolling were her strong suits. Uncomfortable stares and awkward interactions, however.. those were unbearable. "Tamir is... nice. He doesn't look at me like he wishes I'd drop dead. I cannot say the same for the others."

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It felt right; the way Gjalla melted into him, the way her head planted itself gently into the thick fur that ringed his neck. Warmly, he leaned further into her, allowing his fur to further envelop her, pressing the heat that radiated from his larger frame against her. He knew that Gjalla had been troubled, he'd seen it. Heard what others spoke about the both of them. It was something he didn't want for her. 

But he couldn't just turn his back on Velaris. Not with how far he had come. If he could, they would have been gone by now. He would have taken her somewhere else. 

“I know.” The wolf breathed out against her ear, tucking his nose affectionately against the side of her head, pressing against her cheek. Here he could lay for hours, tucked away at her side, his form perfectly pressed to hers. He drew a thick leg upwards and delicately draped it across her side, paw coming to press against her fluffy underbelly. Vahaelarr watched Gjalla through a quiet gaze, admiring her beauty that caught in the light of the stars and the moon. “Open your heart to them.” He expressed. “And maybe you will see the ice begin to thaw.”

It was what he had done with Tamir, and with Faust. Speaking of Tamir; his name fell from her lips and his ears perked, curiosity lingering upon him. “He is a good man.” Vahaelarr agreed, but something akin to agitation stirred in his gut. He found himself tugging his mate closer, as if he needed to cling harsher to her, keep her under his watch at all times. 

Vahaelarr wanted to ignore the feeling — but it'd be difficult. But he wished not to linger on it anymore and the wolf moved his head, bringing his tongue to rasp gently across the back of her head, grooming the fur that fell in ringlets along her neck. A pleased hum rumbled within his throat and chest, and the wolf found himself drowning in her scent whilst he showered her in his affection. 

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