[dnd!] birds of a feather

Vesper · 07-31-2012, 10:11 PM

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What dramatic Vesper made me write lots. 8D

For one who had lived on her own for so long, Vesper was surprisingly passionate on the subject of loyalty.

She assumed that her hatred and fear toward betrayal had started even before she’d joined the clan. When Marcel had come to whisk the cubs away, when Winter had died at his jaws, she had believed that her sister betrayed her, had not had any loyalty for the family that raised her and instead slinked cowed after this murdering stranger. Hindsight told her that she had betrayed her sister by not fighting harder, not chasing after her, but at the time it’d brewed and brewed until all she could do was fight the world to relieve the anger.

She had not been loyal to anyone but herself, and when she’d joined the ragged coyote gang, there had been no loyalty either. Oliver had inspired fear and disdain and apathy rather than loyalty, and when the time came for Ves to destroy the tyrant, her young lover had betrayed her—had turned away, shaken her head meekly when Vesper asked her to run with her.

And then—Inferni, her new home, which she poured all of her fear of betrayal into and worked harder than other outsiders. She’d risen quickly in the ranks as a result, and she was no longer afraid of betraying her clan; she instead sought to brand other traitors with her teeth.

Blue eyes stared into those of a more turquoise hue when the façade was dropped and Alyssum laughed weakly. She was expressionless, but for a tiny twitch of her mouth when the hybrid began by begging forgiveness. She explained herself then requested that Ves not hate her, which made the scarred coywolf smile—a cruel, fanged smile.

How could she hate this woman? She didn’t even know her. But, at the same time, she found herself consciously pushing down the part of her that did hate Alyssum for the betrayal. It wasn’t the same kind of hate that lent her strength to chase down and kill foes, however, but rather the helpless hatred she felt when Sparrow and Juniper turned away from her. It was the hatred of hot tears when someone left their home, dulled down only because she hadn’t known Alyssum personally.

“You would have been welcomed back,” Vesper said after a moment, her lips relaxing and no longer at odds with her calm posture. She spoke in the past tense knowing that the woman was of a new pack now, and she didn’t think that the woman would want to abandon a home twice; at least, Ves wouldn’t have.

She forced herself to take a deep breath. “Even Lykois leave,” she admitted, hoping that Alyssum remembered the significance of that family name. “As far as I know, most of them come home in the end—but many are still out there.

“I shouldn’t judge you,” the woman added suddenly, which was enough to admit that she was judging her. “At least you did us no true betrayal, at least no more than to your friends. It’s probably best that there’s someone on the outside who understands us, who can speak good for our clan in their own pack.”

She fell silent, and realized that they’d fallen way off the topic of birds, which made her smirk: probably a refreshing expression, because it was ironic and amused and softened her eyes.

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