- his laugh, bitter as nightshade ;

Wishful thinking. The concept wasn't unfamiliar to Tamir, he'd based his entire life around it—through Mother. She alone was the definitive of his thinking, of the wishes he made, the desires he'd part with. While he was cold and calculated, meticulous in everything, it all fell on his backbone. He valued and trusted Mother's blessings and honors with little to no question, simply a brushstroke to the canvas amidst many more. It explained his patience with the lamb at his side, gleeful and eager as she was to begin a new life.

He admired the woman for it and envied her willingness to accept change. He was more attached, more inclined to keep to the plans he'd set out. That plan didn't include this world, so while he didn't believe it to be a curse, there was certainly some trepidation in the way he walked around the topic. Estelle was poor proof of that. He was cautious of her, sure, but her cluelessness and loneliness were ultimately the only reasons he'd extended an offer for her to join him in the first place. He supposed he might regret it later, but later had yet to come.

The lamb, herself, and her incessant need to wander around him as they walked were teetering on the tightrope of his patience. As much as he wanted to stop and ridicule her, there were things to do, men he needed to speak to in order for Estelle to stay at all. The thought only seemed to encourage him more, but he kept his pace. Limbs moved in a languid stretch similar to that of a buck, or an elk in a rut—purposeful and eager, but in no complete hurry.

With a brief but concerning gaze passed over Estelle, he'd finally parted through a grove of trees, pines littering the forest's floor as he sought out Faust amidst the green. The heat of the ground seeped into his pads, a gentle coo of solace from his Mother, he'd presume. It instilled enough confidence in the man should Faust decide to leave Estelle. He had high hopes for the dame and he'd promised her a family, a promise he'd intended to keep. Tamir would be her voice—an advocate. He wouldn't leave her alone.

---

@Estelle + @Faust

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The titan had descended from the mountain. With heavy steps, he had seen the speckle of Tamir's dark fur at the summit. But what he hadn't seen was the wolfess standing beside him, small and fragile compared to his Shadowsinger.

Curious, Faust would call out to him. "What did you bring home today, brother?"

His question was humorous, light. Not meant for aggressive sentiments. A light smile found its way on his face, too, when he approached Tamir. He rounded him on the side opposing from the small girl. With curled cheek fur, she stood out in the light, the stark green of the grass. She looked poised even for such a young age.

Faust would hum, urging his Shadowsinger to relinquish his judgement of this girl to him.

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There was a hymn of familiarity in the back of Tamir's mind, a calling as the man in question spoke out amidst the quietness of the clearing. The Spymaster cast a sidelong glance at the woman idling behind him, still so enraptured in the scenery around her. His lips pulled into a small smile, but it wasn't for her, instead for his lifelong friend.

“Iā lamb tolī besotted lēda se scenery than nyke, iksan zūgagon. Nyke found zirȳla mirrī ways jelmor hen kesīr. She needed a home.” — A lamb more besotted with the scenery than me, I'm afraid. I found her a little ways north of here. The man would've answered, a soft laugh leaving him as he bumped the hip of the dark female, urging her forward along with him.

Once her attention was grasped, he met Faust halfway, standing idly as the other cast his own silent judgment on the woman. “She is smart, aren't you? A little dirty, too.” He'd add in a slow jest, plucking a twig from her mane with his teeth just to prove his point. “She will do well. Once language is learned.” The shadow's head tilted, gaze lifting from Estelle to turn to Faust's.

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Faust hummed as he listened to Tamir, his eyes glancing towards this little lamb. She had been focused on something else. The butterfly passed by her face. Faust would glance at it, too, only for the simple fact that she hadn't been paying attention. Maybe it was only because she didn't understand them, their language, but his eyes still narrowed.

The little lamb had a name. Estelle. A name from the stars. Faust nodded. "Faust. I hope you are well, Estelle."

The titan would ask but continued to listen. She can learn. Anyone could learn. Estelle practically jumped back and forth with immature excitement. She couldn't be more than a year. Maybe a little more. With her abundance of energy, Faust didn't even notice all the twigs and leaves sticking out of her fur. Puzzled, Faust wouldn't say anything.

He waited for a brief moment for the girl to get herself together. To make herself more...presentable, he supposed. Not that he cared all that much. In the mean time, he looked towards his Shadowsinger once more. His words were cool, short. "Ao gōntan sȳrī, lēkia." — You did well, brother.

Estelle continued to utter things under her breath. Strange thing. "You are welcome to Velaris, Estelle."

Faust dipped his head. "You can pursue any trade you see fit." He'd declare. His eyes went from the mahogany girl to Tamir once more. "Jiōragon zirȳla mirri havor." — Get her some food.

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Tamir stared at Estelle with a bewildered expression, utterly astonished by her maturity. He found it endearing, useful even, but he didn't realize it was to this extent. Nevertheless, it meant she was impressionable, she could learn more easily the sooner they got started. He'd hoped anyway, but he assumed just as well that it would not be his sole responsibility to teach her. He doubted she'd find his trade entertaining by any means.

Faust's words were met with a nod of his own, head inclining towards his brethren while his chest warmed with pride for himself. He'd done well.

After the order given, Tamir let out a gruff sound, blinking lazily at Estelle as he awaited her to finish tidying and pay him mind. The man blinked in confusion. He hadn't realized it was his responsibility to make a comment on her appearance outside simply stating its...tendency to collect. He figured she knew, perhaps even preferred it. Regardless, he murmured his apologies despite the doubts lingering in his mind, chest heaving with a sigh.

“Come, Estelle. You must eat.” With that, he passed a stern look over his shoulder at the dame, nodding his own dismissal to Faust before he was beginning a languid pace away from the two. With as easily as she proved herself to become distracted, he was in no hurry to wait, assuming her legs could catch up to him instead.

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He was still facing forward when Estelle finally matched his pace, head lifted as if she'd never seen the commonness of their Vale. He was bewildered and slightly confused at that, but he supposed it was another question for another day what with a new task at his hand.

He blew a breath and stopped for a mere moment, body inclining towards hers as his head ducked. “Language must be learned first. But...yes.” Tamir would've murmured in a dismissive tone as if that detail they could remedy come later moments. Moments he was sure they had, lest she was regretting the offer she'd accepted from him.

“If compassionate, you can be healer. Strong, you can be warrior. List is long.” He remarked gruffly before his shoulders turned and he began walking again, small glances cast at his side in case she'd murmur her desires. Truthfully, he didn't know what field she'd choose, what she found she might desire most. Tove knew better English than he, perhaps she could soothe the nerves of the dark dame, find her a duty satiable.

But for now, he was more concerned with the health of Estelle seeing as his distraction kept him from feeding her at all. His ears turned slightly while the freshly stale aroma of a rabbit rolled through his senses. He'd cost one more gaze her way before his steps hastened, impatience riding on the knobs of his spine.

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Tamir's pelt ruffled the further they passed through the woods, his steps purposeful and only seeming to falter when Estelle fell behind. If it were any other with her, he was sure their patience would've waned, especially at the sound of her quickened patter time and time again. Another inward sigh and his pace was slowing, taking her into account even despite his mind being elsewhere, inebriated in another way.

But then she was in front of him, speaking with such distraught that everything in him stilled. He hadn't smelled anything, still hadn't now that her concerns brought it to his attention. His head turned down to her when he was sure the woods remained quiet, still save for the birds that erupted from their hollows. “It is nothing.” He murmured to her in what he hoped was a soothing tone, something soft but clipped even still.

“It is just an old smell. Rotting deer, or something.” It wasn't enough for him to go searching. There were creatures that lurked within the forest, ones they'd live with as it was their land before Velaris claimed it. He wouldn't dare attempt to cast them out, nor judge the means of which they left their murky floors. “Come, Estelle. You still must eat.”

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Tamir bellowed a sigh, thick with the patience he'd been trying quite hard to maintain. He'd know only what she told him, and right now, that was next to nothing. The girl wouldn't survive on apples and berries, she would not survive without the sustenance only meat can provide. Did she not understand that? Rotting or otherwise, the wolves of Velaris may not always be so lucky to find their dinners fresh. She'd need to learn that.

His shoulders lifted with a deep inhale and his body turned away from her, away from the direction she'd been so fearful of going. “I will do you this, Estelle. Once. Berries aren't fit for strength.” He waited a beat before moving again, his back stiffened against the threats she assumed lurked beyond the brushes they hadn't dared pass.

His head turned over his shoulder then, gaze soft and almost pleading. “It is strength you will need here.”

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For once, Tamir hadn't known what to say to her. What words could he use to convince her of anything if he stumbled on the basics of necessity—food, namely. She was not his responsibility, and maybe that had been his problem. But she forgot that it was he who brought her into the walls of the Vale, he who pledged his responsibility for her well-being, and she whose actions reflected on him. His jaw clenched as he cast a brief glance at her, unamusement ever prominent as she silently displayed her annoyance at him.

“You will learn, Estelle, this place is no place for the picky. Whether it is me who teaches you the lesson or the words of another, you will learn.” There'd been no harshness to his tone, neither malice nor judgment. He was allowing her a moment's advice, but the urge he had to reprimand her burned the tip of his tongue.

His upper lip twitched for a moment before he offered her a stiff nod. “Find a den. Listen for Faust's howl.” He left it at that, his gaze narrowing as he awaited her response. “Or do you wish to find solace from your fears in my presence?”

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He was speechless. What had he done that elicited such a reaction from the lamb? His words were true, did she wish him to lie to her? Tell her the world was kind and gracious to the wolves of the Vale? He wanted to throw that remark at her, wound her more with the words of survival, the words that, to anyone else, would inspire hope and drive. But she was different. Perhaps he should have called her weak, dragged her to that rotting corpse, and showed her the true strength she might need to possess.

His jaw clenched at the volatile thought, the idea of dragging her anywhere unsettled him. Made him sick.

His eyes flared with something silent, warming in a bitter way. “You do fear.” He emphasized as she did, teeth clenching behind black lips. “I fear. Do not be silly.” Stupid, he wanted to say. Foolish. But he'd doubted she'd take that kindly.

He was never going to force her to eat anything rotting, not when prey was fruitful during this time of the year. But she knew little of his duties, knew little of the jobs he'd been tasked to do, or the very tasks he'd brought upon himself. He intended on moving it, not eating something far beyond the presence of death. It'd cast them an illness before it provided them sustenance, but he needed to make a point.

At her dismissal, Tamir's mouth parted on a silent response. What good would his coddling do? At present, she was a burden, as much of one as the other outsiders of Velaris. Regardless of what she thought, until she proved herself useful, that's what she'd be. He let out a sigh and turned, the rotting corpse a distant calling of his name. He'd see to its disappearance first.

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