-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-
“Is that so?” He questions, and for a moment it sounds to her like uncertainty. “I think you might be mistaken, my love.” Canaan purses, catching the swift rise of her capri gaze. Circinae can hear the humor in his voice, but her eyes are too adept at seeing the wolf beneath his sheepskin.
How long had he been losing faith in them?
How long has she been ignoring this?
No; she hadn’t been ignoring, as if doing it purposefully. She’d merely been ignorant of it until now. Silently, they look at each other and she can see the wall descend so she lowers her own (her heart lurches at the action, shudders at her choice) because it’s so like her to curl into the strength of herself and let the wolf take control. Behind her once bright stare the glint of ice hardens her features; she grips her second skin and struggles to stifle it though the safety of her claws and teeth scream otherwise.
It isn’t that she wants to defend, not at all. The wolf is her protection when the horse fails, her opt-out of situations that she knows will cut and hurt - a shield.
But.
She cannot, will not use it as an escape from this. Not from the heaviness that taints his otherwise tranquil reply, or from the wavering hesitance that feels like a solid divide between them. She’s a lost member of Taiga, after all. A servant of King Amet; once Protector, once Advisor, and now the Keeper of all of Ischia and her inhabitants.
Circinae will not turn away from the only man who has ever laid claim to her heart.
The stirrings of his strange power play rampant against their colored skins and for a moment, all she can think to ask him is where it comes from. Across her vivid blue eyes a few strands of dark mane tumble into her vision; Circinae blinks them softly away and hears his question as clearly as an echo through the ages. “Not if you’re not there to share it with me.” She says, hardly missing a beat in her willingness to answer.
The soft ridges of her lips reach for the comfort of his youthful face, where she knows they’ll be met with a familiar scent and taste that’s sure to set her world right. Unchanging in both body and loving support, Canaan’s cry for her heart has left her spinning madly out of control and she wants only to cling to the steadiness of him. “Will you spread those wings and leave me?” She asks, neither quiet nor timid.
Circinae
@[Canaan]