9/17/2024, 10:51 PM
![[Image: butterfly.png]](https://i.ibb.co/8M4XGqJ/butterfly.png)
Skill: Orator (2/5)
Thing of whimsy that she was, Fable did not immediately think of how she might affect Fox upon her approach. The lingering scent that so consumed Archon had grown mundane to herself, adopted as a normal affect of her being due to exposure - she no longer noticed it. Its onset had been gradual enough that it seemed to merely blend, though that seemed less true for the men around her.
It probably did not help that there had been chemistry between them - an ember, something that, had either of them nurtured it, could have grown. Fate did not have such ideas, however, and as Fable studied Fox, she thought of the glimmering strings she used to see threaded between individuals. She felt so certain that one would span between herself and Archon, but it did nothing to diminish the fact she held Fox quite dear - a detail that left the dreamer saddened by his absence and cheered by his return.
There were things Fox understood that, as of now, Archon did not. He did not fully know the work the two of them had placed into the formation of Avon's sprawling garden, nor did he appreciate the fulfilling accomplishment in coaxing little green sprouts into full blooms. The euphoria of finding a patch of herbs one so needed were lost on her husband, but she did not hold it against him. They came from different backgrounds, and difference was what made things work.
She noted he appeared to struggle, just the faintest tensing of his frame, and she realized a moment later what might have been the cause - herself. Fable stilled her waving tail, an endeavor that proved quite difficult when she was so pleased to see her thought-lost friend. Would it help him? She had no idea, but she tried.
As he explained what had happened to him, her brows pinched and her expression grew sympathetic. Anyone else who heard his story might think he was stark-raving mad, but Fable was not so quick to discredit stories - especially when she, herself, had landed within Vivarium the way in which she had. The fae were sometimes nefarious, little tricksters who thought only of their own fun and games. As much as they were blessings and stewards of the earth itself, they were also chaotic and catered to their own whims. The plight of humanity - wolfdom? - mattered little to them, at least not within realms she had existed in. Why would the fae care for them when humans had ravaged their world?
But Fox, who she could not imagine wronging the fae, had been spirited away to another side of this strange world - for what purposes, Fable did not know and she hedged they were unlikely to ever know.
Fable stopped herself short from bridging the meager gap of distance between them to press her muzzle to his shoulder in support - she realized, just as her body began to shift, that she would likely be doing him more harm by being so close.
Her expression softened back to something akin to joy, though hesitant. Fox had said home, yet he stood at their border. She supposed that was the way of it in the world of wolves. Back in her previous life, visitors familiar enough to call one's domicile 'home' operated on an open-door policy. It did not appear to work so well in this world - after all, someone had barged in and injured one of their own. Perhaps this life did not call for such warmth, a lesson she felt she would not forget anytime soon.
Fable breathed a soft sigh through her nostrils.
What had she done to so enrage the fae?
Fox added a warning about her presence at the borders and Fable felt heat rise to her cheeks. He had a point - she was not so accustomed to all facets of this 'being a wolf' thing.
It probably did not help that there had been chemistry between them - an ember, something that, had either of them nurtured it, could have grown. Fate did not have such ideas, however, and as Fable studied Fox, she thought of the glimmering strings she used to see threaded between individuals. She felt so certain that one would span between herself and Archon, but it did nothing to diminish the fact she held Fox quite dear - a detail that left the dreamer saddened by his absence and cheered by his return.
There were things Fox understood that, as of now, Archon did not. He did not fully know the work the two of them had placed into the formation of Avon's sprawling garden, nor did he appreciate the fulfilling accomplishment in coaxing little green sprouts into full blooms. The euphoria of finding a patch of herbs one so needed were lost on her husband, but she did not hold it against him. They came from different backgrounds, and difference was what made things work.
She noted he appeared to struggle, just the faintest tensing of his frame, and she realized a moment later what might have been the cause - herself. Fable stilled her waving tail, an endeavor that proved quite difficult when she was so pleased to see her thought-lost friend. Would it help him? She had no idea, but she tried.
As he explained what had happened to him, her brows pinched and her expression grew sympathetic. Anyone else who heard his story might think he was stark-raving mad, but Fable was not so quick to discredit stories - especially when she, herself, had landed within Vivarium the way in which she had. The fae were sometimes nefarious, little tricksters who thought only of their own fun and games. As much as they were blessings and stewards of the earth itself, they were also chaotic and catered to their own whims. The plight of humanity - wolfdom? - mattered little to them, at least not within realms she had existed in. Why would the fae care for them when humans had ravaged their world?
But Fox, who she could not imagine wronging the fae, had been spirited away to another side of this strange world - for what purposes, Fable did not know and she hedged they were unlikely to ever know.
Fable stopped herself short from bridging the meager gap of distance between them to press her muzzle to his shoulder in support - she realized, just as her body began to shift, that she would likely be doing him more harm by being so close.
I got so worried for ye,Fable told him instead, from where she stood.
I tried t'track your scent, but it didn't go anywhere - truthfully, I thought I was just bad at trackin'.She had even asked Shiloh to search when he was out, though her brother had never gotten to meet Fox before he had been blinked away from Avon.
Her expression softened back to something akin to joy, though hesitant. Fox had said home, yet he stood at their border. She supposed that was the way of it in the world of wolves. Back in her previous life, visitors familiar enough to call one's domicile 'home' operated on an open-door policy. It did not appear to work so well in this world - after all, someone had barged in and injured one of their own. Perhaps this life did not call for such warmth, a lesson she felt she would not forget anytime soon.
I'm glad t'see ye all in one piece,she went on.
With all o' th' fires, I fear th' worst whenever anyone leaves m'sight. We just got m'brother back, I was so sure th' idgit had gotten himself burnt t' a crisp out there.He very nearly had, she learned from not only his recounting of what transpired since he was separated from Avon, but by the stretch scarring across his left shoulder courtesy of the flames.
Fable breathed a soft sigh through her nostrils.
Ye have missed much, Mister Fox,she revealed, but did not know where even to begin. It seemed as though the universe craved to pummel them with something new and oftentimes dreadful at every turn.
What had she done to so enrage the fae?
Fox added a warning about her presence at the borders and Fable felt heat rise to her cheeks. He had a point - she was not so accustomed to all facets of this 'being a wolf' thing.
Ye are right,she agreed and offered him a sheepish smile.
Let's catch up closer t' home, then?She tipped her muzzle toward the heart of Avon by way of invitation.
![[Image: Viv_FableFB.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FableFB.gif)
