when we do it right

When the sun rose in the sky, Tove was already awake. She had been awake before the birds had even begun their song. She lay within the privacy of her den, comfortable and enjoying the solitude, thankful it was something she had all to herself. She was tired of feeling like all eyes were on her, judging her, watching her. She knew it truly may not have been the case but it was a feeling she had not been able to shake. Not since her fight with Faust.

Sighing audibly, the Kallista rose to her feet and shook off the dirt and dust that clung to her dark pelt, stretching out with a yawn. It was time to get going, she couldn't waste anymore time doing nothing. Wallowing in sadness would get her nowhere. She padded out of her den, squinting as sunlight hit her face and a brisk breeze wafted over her form. The long furs around her neck billowed in the wind and she inhaled with a deep steady sound, tasting the air, savoring it. Autumn had always been her favorite.

She started forth, seeking out a particular scent today. Tamir.

It was easy to pinpoint and thankfully, he hadn’t gone too far yet. She called out to him, hurrying her steps. Wait for me, she seemed to say, eyes glued to the man of shadows as she trotted to catch up. She would greet him with a smile, wary at best but nonetheless full of an affectionate warmth. She wouldn’t say it but she hoped he was holding it together better than she had been.

“The Sévir said I must train.” The words would tumble from her when she had settled in beside Tamir, a harshness to her voice. A bitterness, an edge. She would not say his name, her expression souring at his title.

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Tamir had been awake since the moment the moon crested over the Vale, self-preservation a distant yet provocative thought that hadn't yet consumed him. It'd been a near constant since the moment Velaris had prevailed beyond the mere thought it was when they'd arrived, his rather distasteful sleep schedule left him awake more often than most—exhausted all the same. It hadn't mattered the company nor the beat a day could give him, it always remained the same. He couldn't decide if he favored it or not.

The hazy mist of his thoughts dispersed with the melody of a sweet voice and then there'd been Tove, eyes alight. One of his brows lifted expectantly as he waited for her to reach his side but he hadn't slowed. Her very presence irked the memories of their past conversation, a different internal torture to the one he endured then, this one fainter but there all the same. The Sévir. A laugh left the man at such a manner of speaking about their friend.

His head dipped to the woman, mirth twinkling in his eyes before they settled into something respectful—concerning. “He is right, Tove.” He lifted his head again, staring at the path he'd walked hundreds of times over now. He seemed to always frequent the same ones, night or day. “You may be Kallista but you should know how to keep yourself safe beyond that sharp tongue of yours. He only wishes for your safety, we all do.”

He would've thought she understood where their friend was coming from. But Tamir was no fool to the bond Tove and Faust shared. It wasn't unlike the very one Tove and he had, but there was something more, something that went beyond a brotherly love. They'd been together for years, all five of them, growing up alongside each other. Faust, Tove, Raenar, Savan, and himself. Mia, too, but she had always been a recluse. Worse than him. Yet still, the man found it hard to believe Faust would allow lust to mingle with duty.

Tamir sighed. “You both act fools, Starfire. Him especially when it comes to you.”

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The she-wolf settled into a steady pace beside her packmate, two of her steps matching his one. Tove uttered no complaints, thankful that he stayed true to his course, and merely sped up to keep pace. She would not ask for any less and she did not wish him to think she needed any favors.

There was a part of her that felt a soft anxious thrum in her belly in the presence of Tamir, her mind traveling back to when they'd bared their souls to each other with Mother as their only witness. It was a secret she'd keep, locked far away into the corners of her mind. One day it would all be past them.

Tove sighed at him, nodding her head with a wrinkle of her nose as she too stared at the path before them. Just because she understood the reasoning of Faust’s order, it did not mean she had to like it. Right now, just about anything he said made her pulse spark. It made her want to do the opposite but she could not do that. Not when she had to prove she was worthy of her rank, of her place amongst the ranks. She would not continue to be weak. "I know," she admitted with a grumble that rumbled in her chest, distaste on her tongue and dancing upon her wretched heart. “I am not as weak as everyone may think but you are both right.”

“That is why I want you to train me,” she continued. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, giving a gentle huff in his direction. She would have it no other way, even if it meant spending more time with Tamir and coming face to face with their grief. Perhaps that was what was necessary for them both “If you’ll have me.”

His comment about herself and Faust had her snorting, hazel eyes rolling. She nudged at him with her snout, blowing air his way and hoped he didn’t catch the sorrow that was etched into the lines of her face. “Faust is a fool.” Who does not want me - but that part she kept to herself.

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I am not as weak as everyone may think... Tamir stopped at those words, his feet halting in their movements as he turned his attention down to her. Where had she been while the trio of men trained every morning? Where was she throughout hunts that kept them away hours at a time? Where had she been when they braved the Blood Rite, when their strength had been acknowledged by the entirety of their community? Tending to her flowers, patching them up when they needed it, but never alongside them in those times of great strength. So he looked at her with..awe? Discomfort?

He blinked at her in shock, mouth parting with words silent on his tongue. He swallowed after a moment and shook his head. “Iksā iā mandia naejot nyke, tove, yn ao gīmigon hembar naejot daorun. Bona gaomas mazverdagon ao nākostōbā. Issa daor iā quba run unless ao deem ziry naejot sagon, yn gaomagon daor claim naejot sagon mirros iksā daor.” — You are a sister to me, Tove, but you know next to nothing. That does make you weak. It is not a bad thing unless you deem it to be, but do not claim to be something you are not. His heart pinched as he began again, swift glances cast in her direction to ensure he hadn't wounded the dame with his sharp words. She deserved the honesty. Needed it if she were to survive.

He'd expected the next words that parted from her. Why else would she have sought him out so early? He'd doubted it would've been because of their chat by the lake, and even if it were, it would not have been a conversation he partook in. Not again. So, despite the honesty that pierced the gentleness of the morning like a sword to a ribbon, he was grateful she hadn't mentioned it. “I have a feeling you'd pull me by the ears if I deigned to refuse.” Tamir playfully knocked his shoulder against hers, his smile fading as the winds pushed through their furs and mingled their scents in their wake.

Her next actions drew another laugh from him in sync with her chuckles, his shoulders cowering inward as she blew at him. He blew a raspberry at her in retaliation, letting himself settle into the familiarity of their childish banter. He nosed against the tight lines of her face, of her expression, until the sorrow he hadn't dared comment on faded into nothing. “Faust is many things, but he is your friend, first and foremost. Don't forget that.” He murmured against the chorus of their surroundings.

He waited a beat as if his next words pained him just at the thought of speaking the conversation into existence. He'd keep it vague, for both their sakes, but it the words would've left him either way. “Does he know? What happened that day?” If he had, if she'd opened up about that part with him, his "overbearing" ways would make more sense. Hell, Tamir couldn't deny that the thought hadn't crossed his mind from time to time. About all of them.

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Tove was caught off guard when Tamir suddenly stopped in his tracks and she found herself stumbling, screeching to a halt beside him. She turned to stare at him only to be met with a look she did not recognize, one that she had never seen before on his face. Before she could interject, to ask, she found sucking in a gasp, warmth cascading across her slender form. Shame encasing her.

His words hit her hard. Her jaws slackened and her eyes, previously narrowed, went wide and she found herself staring at him. Staring at her friend as his words dug into her core, ripping and shredding her into bits. She sucked in a shaky breath, her mouth opening to deny his claim, to tell him he was wrong but then she stopped herself. Frozen in place, her mouth clicked shut with a snap of her teeth and she looked away from him, taking a moment to compose herself and gather her thoughts.

He was right.

Tove nodded. Once. Her gaze hardened and she squared her shoulders, her teeth gritting together as she steadied her breaths. She looked at Tamir, and while there was no hint of a smile on her delicate face, there was no animosity, no anger. She understood despite the humiliation that threatened to pull her down and drown her. She fought the currents, keeping her head held high, her breaths steady. "Then help me. Kostilus — Please." Fix me.

The tension that had crackled in the air between them melted away as they fell into a playful banter, something she held dear to her heart. Tove couldn’t hold back a laugh as he nosed at her, bringing a paw to push at him, her teeth snapping playfully, a wrinkle to her nose. His comment about Faust did not go unnoticed and she chuffed, keeping her words to herself. He continued to be right, even now. Faust was her friend. Feelings aside, anger aside. He had always been her friend; it was just hard to focus on that when everything inside of her was telling her the opposite.

Her brows furrowed and she shuffled on her feet, unease wafting from her. "I haven't told him," she shrugged, looking away from Tamir then. She swallowed slowly, wishing the lump in her throat to disappear. The she-wolf recalled their swim together and the night he'd found her crumpled after her fall with a frown. Faust knew more than she liked to admit. He saw the way she shied way from the water, noticed the lines of exhaustion that had found home under her eyes and saw how she was different. He knew her. "Not exactly."

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Tamir held his tongue once his peace had been said, his eyes instead watching the woman until the anger and surprise faded from her gaze. Only then did his relief come for him in the form of his shoulders slacked. The weight of her possible disapproval hung on him in a weight he hadn't expected, a weight he'd never experienced before. He knew the heaviness his own words carried, the little restraint behind his honesty. It was a curse as much a blessing, and there'd been a brief moment of shame in his relishing of it.

“I will do my best for you, Kallista. We will start tomorrow at dusk. Make time for my lessons, Starfire, and I will make time for yours. I'll accompany you on any trip you see fit, if only to get Faust off your back.” He murmured as an offering. Tamir was nothing more than a protector of the Vale. He didn't doubt that Faust would soon come to him with the proposition of being Tove's babysitter, as she so called it. It would either be him or the overbearing presence of energy that was Raenar. He suspected his brother wouldn't let the poor girl choose, certainly not if he'd already begun to throw such a fit.

The shadowsinger hung close to the woman's side, the tassel at his back occasionally whispering against her own as they teased and snapped at each other. Her presence eased his heart and sent a wave of fire in the wake of shadows to light her own path. It was liberating but fleeting.

Her words drew his attention back to her a second time “You are closer to him than us all, Tove. He will always see your pain.” He frowned and knocked his nose against her temple gently, his steeled gaze closing as he soaked in the reality of their family's brokenness. “He is in pain too. He takes on our pain and turmoil like it is his, battles the demons so we do not have to. If you think he deserves nothing else, give him at least patience.” Tamir offered her a small smile, but the sadness remained.

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Tamir spoke to her with the utmost respect and while there were no slivers of animosity or cruelty, Tove still felt foolish. Childish. She was supposed to be their Kallista, someone worthy, someone capable of great things and she was lacking. She was missing pieces, an unfinished puzzle and the man before her was laying it all out, putting her flaws on display and she needed to hear it. She needed to accept it, to understand.

Had it been anyone else? She may have reacted more emotionally, more rash but he was a calming presence, the darkness that surrounded him a soothing blanket around her tempered shoulders. “Kirimvose raqiros,” — Thank you friend, Tove sighed with a small smile, nodding at him. Tomorrow at dusk she would finally begin again whether she wanted to or not. She had no other choice. His second offer on the other hand, made her want to roll her eyes and scoff but she resisted, holding her tongue and keeping her frustrations at bay. On that matter, she still disagreed. Tove did not believe she needed a protector - a babysitter. Those times were her true moments of solitude. It was the only time she had to escape the crippling cage of her mind.

“I understand that I may be selfish but I want him to share all of himself with me, even his pain,” she admitted after a long pause, her brows furrowing together. Her gaze was downcast, a flush warming her face. She had never admitted it aloud, never told anyone how she truly felt. Never admitted her affections, her love. “It’s my job to heal, to help everyone, and it drives me mad that I cannot fix the mind…” she trailed off, letting out a huff and bringing a paw to Tamir’s chest, applying gentle pressure. She searched his gaze, hoping he understood. “Se ōdria īlon daor ūndegon.” — The wounds we cannot see.

“The other night, he and I-” she paused, sucking in a breath. Her words were hushed and she suddenly felt very small in front of Tamir, worried about the judgment he would pass on her as if earlier had not been enough. She shook her head. “I think he thinks I am too broken, that I came back wrong. I know we are not the same. I know that.. But – I don’t think he understands that this was here before. That I-” Tove stopped suddenly, shaking her head again as her teeth slammed together. She didn’t know how to tell him and couldn't find the words. A fire had been started, burning a bridge between them that Tove didn't even know how to begin crossing without catching aflame herself again.

She was still nursing burns.

“Tell me about what you have in store for me tomorrow?” Tove changed the subject with a low chuckle, hoping to move on from the topic of her and Faust. Her eyes burned but she forced a smile. Pushing her chin forward, she offered a gentle nudge to Tamir, starting forth on the path again, beckoning him forward. “I must mentally prepare myself.”

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It seemed more and more Tamir was being left speechless by the women of Velaris. First Estelle, then Periane, and now Tove. Each threw something on him he didn't expect—disliked him, loved him, appreciated him. It left his mind reeling, utterly at war with itself as it tried to gauge where each and every one of those women came from. Nothing was ever simple. He supposed he could relate to Faust with that, with the confusion of women now, despite all his relations being platonic. He wondered just how complicated it got when it extended beyond that, if it ever did. A problem he'd extracted himself from; the man didn't love beyond duty.

Tamir nodded to her gratitude despite the way his heart plummeted for her. He'd doubted Faust was simply threatening her with the idea of a babysitter, and the shadowsinger was smart enough to know how strained his brother and the Kallista's relations would only grow to be. But still, the offer would remain whether she accepted or declined, he wouldn't force it on her nor would he allow his brother to do so without his own piece being said. He loved Tove, but his brethren held a stronger bond, an unbreakable one that surpassed the affection he held for the sweet girl.

Another sigh left him as Tove continued, his head shaking as if the moment those first words left her, he'd already begun to disagree. He kept his gaze forward but his posture had stiffened, his breaths short as he tried to reign in the passion, the hurt he felt for both brothers. “Gaomā daor shifang.” — You do not understand. His shoulders braced for the touch of his shadows, sweet whispers in his ears to let go and crumble to the pain of their younger years—embrace it. “Zȳhon ōdres, kallista, iksis insurmountable. Sepār hae īlon zūgagon īlvon breaking, ziry gaomas tolī. Iksi daor taught naejot ilagon īlva bearings rȳ se dekossa hen ābrar, rȳ se dekossa hen vali; issi īlvon naejot ōregon se remember. Īlon remember tolvie vīlībāzma, tolvie ossēnagon, tolvie loss.” — His pain, Kallista, is insurmountable. Just as we fear ours breaking, he does too. We are not taught to lay our bearings at the feet of women, at the feet of men; they are ours to hold and remember. We remember every battle, every kill, every loss.

The shadowsinger's head lifted and his flaring gaze met hers, burning with only a remnant of the pain he hid beneath his dark cloaks. “Īlon remember. sīr bona tolie kostagon nārhēdegon. Ao cling naejot aōha ōdres, tove, nyke cling naejot ñuhon. Nyke watched ao cling naejot zūgagon hae ao plummeted, nyke watched se ōños se ābrar isse aōha laesi fade gō ao mirre sesīr touched se tegon. Skorkydoso gaomagon ao pendagon ziry felt? waking se finding tolvys ziry jorrāelatan gone? gaomagon ao pendagon īles taken rȳ keskydoso jēda? iā gaomagon ao pendagon se qēlos muña vēttan zirȳla umbagon? vēttan zirȳla ilimagho se deaths hen zȳhon lentor hae ziry gōntan zȳhon mandia, gūrotan everything gō finally taking zirȳla tolī?” — We remember...so that others may forget. You cling to your pain, Tove, I cling to mine. I watched you cling to fear as you plummeted, I watched the light and life in your eyes fade before you ever even touched the earth. How do you think he felt? Waking and finding everyone he loved gone? Do you think he was taken at the same time? Or do you think the Star Mother made him wait? Made him mourn the deaths of his family like he did his sister, and took everything before finally taking him too? The man's eyes seemed to widen at his outburst, at the tension in which his paws grasped the earth. He blinked away his haze and drew himself away, sucking his teeth as he went.

“You cannot ask him of his pain if you will not give your own. You cannot heal him without first healing yourself. You both take but have nothing to give.” Tamir's eyes squeezed shut. “You are broken, Tove. We all are.” His voice broke but he ignored it, continuing on without even acknowledging the fact that they'd built something so grand on a crumbling foundation. None of them were healing. He doubted some would heal, from the loss and the pain never spoken of.

He cleared his throat and allowed himself to follow her beckoning, but his words were silent to her last questions. “He knows the brokenness is there...He, too, simply hates the fact that there is nothing to be done about fixing it.” He cast her one last glance before quickening his steps, brows furrowed as he mulled over the facts he had spoken but hadn't dared to admit to himself. How far would they go until they crumbled to their feet? Until they found their hands and legs bound by the chains of the past? Each held a key, a saving grace from their demons, yet all had forgotten how to use it.

For once, Tamir felt apprehension about their future. For what would come. He lifted his head upward and cast a longing glance at the clear sky, a muted prayer ascending from his lips.

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Had it been anyone else in front of her, Tove might have scoffed or turned her nose up the moment he told her she did not understand. But it was Tamir in front of her, so she continued to listen despite the furrow of her brows and the way her nose wrinkled. She ignored the bristle of her furs, the pang to her ego. She let him speak, her ears turned towards him as she patiently waited for him to finish. She listened silently, ignoring the aching in her chest as his words burned her skin. He was a man of truth, always. She had never known him to tell a lie, not to her.

As he went on, she fought the urge to interrupt to tell him that she didn't agree, that pain was to be spoken about. Wounds did not heal if they were to be ignored. They festered and grew infected. Tove may not have understood how to fix the wounds that were blind to them but she knew that much. It wouldn't make sense any other way. Wounds were all the same in some way, weren't they?

He spoke of Faust's time after and she sucked in a shaky breath, hazel eyes falling from Tamir's face then, not wanting to see the fire in his gaze. She understood his emotion, his outburst but it left her full of shame. Foolishness. She had never actually stopped to think about what he had suffered when they all had been taken from him. One after the other, so quickly as if they had never even existed.. She had never thought the Star Mother to be cruel but the fact that he had been forced to handle all of his grief alone..... The realization left her her feeling cold, soiling some of the fiery anger she harbored towards him.

Broken.

We all are.

It brought her gaze back to the shadow master, her eyes searching his as if she were looking for something, looking for answers to questions she didn't dare ask. The words ran on repeat in her head and the moment Tamir's eyes slid shut, she leaned forward to nose at his cheek, blowing out a gentle huff of air. She wanted to tell him it would all be okay but she would have been lying. There was no way to know so instead she settled for nothing. She merely nodded as she pulled away, offering him a small smile before they went on their way.

Her eyes still burned but she shook her head, pushing it all down for now. She didn't want to think or feel anymore. Not right now.

The silence grew between as they walked further alongside the path and she'd nudge against his side when his steps quickened before she took off in a trot, beckoning him to do the same. Her steps would only quicken once his did, hoping to urge him into a race, a grin tugging upward on her lips. If he didn't want to speak of tomorrow, of what was to come, that was fine but Tove needed a distraction before they made their way back home. And only once they'd made it back would she tell him thank you and compliment the way his mind worked and his way of putting things into perspective for her.

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If he was capable of reading her thoughts, he would've disagreed. He would've adamantly proved her wrong—that all wounds were different, festering in their own ways with different scales of pain. Their wounds burned bright, painting the darkened sky of their hearts with stars capable of illuminating the night. There was no need for sun; their pain did it all. There would be no remedy for that, they would not heal. They would be forgotten for years at a time, only to be pulled back up from their lake of sorrows with a gasp of air. It would all come back, it always did.

Faust and Tove had a demented sense of hope. He never understood it, never could wrap his mind around why they believed, and yet his faith in the Star Mother proved more steadfast. Perhaps it was simply him. Maybe his wounds were driven too deep, marring his inward self with scars never healed. Or perhaps it was a punishment for his sister's death, to re-live the pain while he's mocked by his mother and sister for his foolishness. He turned his gaze back to Tove just as hers parted from him. Despite his turmoil, he was soft when he used his paw to lift her chin in a tender action.

“You do not know, Starfire. You have not asked him. Before you question his decisions, before you ridicule him, before you decide to hate my brother; listen to him. Truly let his words register before you paint him in black.” His brows pinched together as he searched her gaze, mutedly imploring her to take his advice and give what little patience she had left for Faust a chance.

He relinquished all sense of touch from her then, tucked away the affection within his gaze the moment her soft touch left him. He could feel his heart begin to stretch into two, beckoning him to choose a side to support, but his mind wouldn't dare will it.

He was momentarily startled at Tove's touch against his shoulder, widened gaze wavering on her form for a moment before he drew his attention back to what she'd encouraged of him. His grin returned then—marginally—as she dared to request something of him she knew she wouldn't win. Like the promise he'd made, he'd push her to her limits, make her stronger, and that wouldn't simply stop at their lessons.

He'd let his lightness surf to the surface alongside her, but it ebbed when their race concluded and he was met with her murmured words of gratitude. He wanted actions, instead, but would've simply nodded and offered her a small smile. Words of promise for their endeavors in the morning a soft jest on his tongue before he'd depart from her.

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