1/8/2025, 12:00 AM
![[Image: butterfly.png]](https://i.ibb.co/8M4XGqJ/butterfly.png)
Skill: Orator (3/5)
TW: Mention of pregnancy loss
TW: Mention of pregnancy loss
A great deal of restraint went into Fable's stayed paws, the tenuous reluctance that desired nothing more than to crumble and allow her to rush toward her friend and pull him in for an embrace. A restraint, it turned out, that was wasted as Fox served to rattle it and move forward in her stead. He closed the meager span between them, pressing his head to hers - a gesture she returned automatically.
As her muzzle rested just to the flat side of his where whiskers brushed, her forehead to his, she was not oblivious to the ease in which she could have driven her nose into the thicker ruff of his neck. It was a burning temptation that singed her with its presence, but before it could claim her whole, he pulled away - standing to regard her instead.
The friable spark sputtered, but stubbornly did not die - hormones or simply something unearthed from behind the veil of inhibition, she did not know, but she was aware of Fox in a way she hadn't really been before. It was a complicated thing that was composed of many threads in equal measure - relief, guilt, hunger.
Her lips curved easily into a smile with his quip, mischief hooding green lenses.
Once had been enough - more than enough. She did not wish to lose anyone else, not a single other soul.
She knew not how to broach the subject of what had happened in his absence. Part of her selfishly clung to this welcome spot of normalcy - a space with padded edges where she did not have to acknowledge the depths of her loss or the upheaval that consumed them. Here, just the two of them, she could pretend that nothing amiss had happened at all - that she had not lost her child, Avon's borders had not been breached, and her brother had not been only barely pulled from the brink of certain death by whatever force controlled this realm. She could simply slide into their typical dynamic that was light and riveting, two kindred spirits cleaved from the same stone.
But that wouldn't be fair - not to Fox, who had staked his own blood and sweat to hammer out the foundation of Avon in the Glade.
His shoulder brushed hers and she cast him a fragile smile - one that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was glad he had returned and felt at home once more, but her mind dialed away at the running list of misfortunate that had found them in the days he had been reclaimed by the fae.
Focus.
There was no discounting that she valued the bond they shared, she had wondered often of his fate and could scarcely believe he was here, in the flesh, at her side. She bumped her shoulder to his, half to encourage him and half to prove to herself once again that she wasn't imagining things.
Shiloh's return was a silver lining amid storm clouds. It might have been lightning rather than good omen, but Fable was desperate to accept any perceived boon.
Still, selfishly, the greatest loss still hadn't been voiced. She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. Fable hadn't been able to speak of the matter to many, not even Archon's sisters when they visited from Dawnbreak. Surely they might have put two and two together when there were no child milling about her paws, but she did not have the wherewithal to put voice to revelation then.
Even now, her stinging loss flirted between being overwhelming and so distant that it did not reach her, a detachment she was certain her mind had created as a safeguard to keep her functioning.
It did not help that she couldn't shake Archon's commentary when she told him their child was lost. The words clung like thorns, digging deeper the longer she tried to ignore them and simply gloss over it. Her heart bled, but she had shoved it away to tend him - she allowed her own wound to spread as she cleaned his.
That's who she was - the fixer, the seamstress without enough thread to fix herself.
And now, it still bled - silently weeping crimson in her wake as she pressed on. Did he even notice she had been more shell than whole in recent months? She wasn't sure, but she was too afraid to ask for fear of what his answer might be.
As her muzzle rested just to the flat side of his where whiskers brushed, her forehead to his, she was not oblivious to the ease in which she could have driven her nose into the thicker ruff of his neck. It was a burning temptation that singed her with its presence, but before it could claim her whole, he pulled away - standing to regard her instead.
The friable spark sputtered, but stubbornly did not die - hormones or simply something unearthed from behind the veil of inhibition, she did not know, but she was aware of Fox in a way she hadn't really been before. It was a complicated thing that was composed of many threads in equal measure - relief, guilt, hunger.
Her lips curved easily into a smile with his quip, mischief hooding green lenses.
I'll have t' double m'efforts, Mister Fox,Fable returned, her cadence between hum and sing-song.
I have no intentions t'lose ye twice.
Once had been enough - more than enough. She did not wish to lose anyone else, not a single other soul.
She knew not how to broach the subject of what had happened in his absence. Part of her selfishly clung to this welcome spot of normalcy - a space with padded edges where she did not have to acknowledge the depths of her loss or the upheaval that consumed them. Here, just the two of them, she could pretend that nothing amiss had happened at all - that she had not lost her child, Avon's borders had not been breached, and her brother had not been only barely pulled from the brink of certain death by whatever force controlled this realm. She could simply slide into their typical dynamic that was light and riveting, two kindred spirits cleaved from the same stone.
But that wouldn't be fair - not to Fox, who had staked his own blood and sweat to hammer out the foundation of Avon in the Glade.
His shoulder brushed hers and she cast him a fragile smile - one that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was glad he had returned and felt at home once more, but her mind dialed away at the running list of misfortunate that had found them in the days he had been reclaimed by the fae.
I - we - are blessed t' have ye back among us,she told him, words that rang with truth. Something in the emphasis placed on her own importance in his statement fed kindling to the earlier spark and she drew in a silent, sobering breath.
Focus.
There was no discounting that she valued the bond they shared, she had wondered often of his fate and could scarcely believe he was here, in the flesh, at her side. She bumped her shoulder to his, half to encourage him and half to prove to herself once again that she wasn't imagining things.
Ye are lost no more, an' we plan t'keep ye so long as it is your wish,she added, sparing him a grin that slowly faltered into a subtle bow.
Our ranks have become a touch bare,she revealed as her gaze was cast forward.
Koga is gone, Sycamore was injured just last night after a lass I had taken in was abducted - I believe he will survive, but it is critical. We have not found th'wee lass.Weariness worked its way into her being, the growing heft that was added to her mantle.
A few o' th' others have simply disappeared, but m'eldest brother, Shiloh, has been with us for some time.
Shiloh's return was a silver lining amid storm clouds. It might have been lightning rather than good omen, but Fable was desperate to accept any perceived boon.
TW: Mentions, feelings pertaining to pregnancy loss/miscarriage below
Still, selfishly, the greatest loss still hadn't been voiced. She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. Fable hadn't been able to speak of the matter to many, not even Archon's sisters when they visited from Dawnbreak. Surely they might have put two and two together when there were no child milling about her paws, but she did not have the wherewithal to put voice to revelation then.
Even now, her stinging loss flirted between being overwhelming and so distant that it did not reach her, a detachment she was certain her mind had created as a safeguard to keep her functioning.
It did not help that she couldn't shake Archon's commentary when she told him their child was lost. The words clung like thorns, digging deeper the longer she tried to ignore them and simply gloss over it. Her heart bled, but she had shoved it away to tend him - she allowed her own wound to spread as she cleaned his.
That's who she was - the fixer, the seamstress without enough thread to fix herself.
And now, it still bled - silently weeping crimson in her wake as she pressed on. Did he even notice she had been more shell than whole in recent months? She wasn't sure, but she was too afraid to ask for fear of what his answer might be.
I lost a child,she offered at last, herculean effort required to will her tongue into motion. Her ears twisted back, their soft insides cupped back against her ruff.
I... don't know what happened, but...Her words trailed off as her jaw flexed, no further elaboration rising to the surface. She knew those things happened, the pregnancy was a fragile, mysterious thing that operated sometimes on nothing that anyone could plan - but it did not sunder the sorrow.
![[Image: Viv_FableFB.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FableFB.gif)
