out of tune

Milos <3

POSTED: Thu May 09, 2019 7:22 am

OOC: <3 Idk when you wanted to date this but I assumed Thistle had started weaning and speaking a little.

IC:
The knife’s blade was slightly dulled and the tousled woman who held it had to work and press to slice the rabbit meat. Slice might have been an optimistic term for the result: it was more like torn chunks of rabbit, raw, but still tempting enough for the small boy who watched to toddle over to his Mother with his short, frizzy tail wagging.

“Fizzle?” the child asked, his nose twitching as it stretched toward the meat. Eliza’s eyes, when they turned to her youngest, were full of adoration – yet still she shook her head briskly, her flaming curls ruffled by an early morning breath of Spring.

“Y’ain’t big enough yet, li’l Fiz,” she murmured gently. Thistle was still taking mushed meat from his doting Mother.

Even so, the youngest Cormier was bigger than his birth size. His mass had doubled, at least, plumping out his limbs and trunk. His ears had lifted slightly from his skull and showed all the promise of being halfway between Eliza’s floppy look and Milos’s more wolfish one.

The thought of her absent mate made Liz flinch and it wasn’t just the nip of the knife against her forefinger which caused her to draw in a shaky breath.

Thistle growled, glaring accusingly at the knife as Liz slid it back into its leather sheath and tossed it a short distance away. She wiped her cut finger on a nearby leaf before sitting heavily, ears lifting slightly.

Somewhere beyond the clump of bushes the Mother and son sat beside there were the somewhat grating strains of a guitar being inexpertly played. Eliza rubbed her face with the back of one hand, begging tears not to spill from her eyes. Finlay had been playing – trying to play – that damned guitar for at least a week and the only thing stopping Liz from confiscating it was the fact that she knew how her brother felt.
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Don't Stop Me Now

POSTED: Wed May 15, 2019 6:30 pm

Fear gripped his heart as he neared the modest camp the Cormier-Parhelion family kept, its stronghold secure between the ever-rippling embrace of the tributaries that made up St. John's Chokehold. Unpleasant memories mingled with unwelcome thoughts. Were they still where he had left them? Had they gone away, or were they buried beneath the new growth of spring, laying where they had fallen at Degaré's cruel hand? Milos was determined to know, and also terrified of what knowing might entail.

He called out softly, his voice caught somewhere between a pitiful whine and a strangled howl, and was relieved when a familiar sound returned it. It wasn't long before Percival appeared, looking taller and more filled out than the last time he had seen his youngest son. Had he looked so confident and mature when he had left to join Walker some weeks ago? Milos didn't think he did – he couldn't have! – but then, there was little beyond the worry and the relief and the constant nipping of his memories that he confidently remembered.

Percival had abandoned his cloak, it seemed, and was holding a spear. "You're back," he said, his face stoic and his tone serious. If it weren't for the slow wagging of his tail, Milos might have thought his son was disappointed in his return.

Milos dipped his nose, nodding. "Glad to be back again." He did not say "home," though he supposed that it was now. Perhaps because of being away so much, or because he still missed Fiskebyn, it still didn't feel like it. "Missed ya. Missed all o' ya." Percival did not respond back in like, though he nodded gently, his tail still wagging. "Ev'ryone okay? Where your ma?"

"Everyone's fine," his son replied, a strange expression settling on his face that Milos couldn't decipher. Then Percy gestured with his spear to a thicket some distance away. "There, I think..." It seemed to Milos that his son was about to say something more but decided against it and trailed off. "You should see 'er," he said instead, allowing a small smile to grace his lips as he jerked his head in his mother's direction.

And so Milos did, feeling a sense of bewilderment in the wake of Percy's behavior, and before long he picked up the loved scent of his dear mate and followed it to the place where his son had directed him. And then there, beyond a clump of bushes and against the terrible twang of a poorly-played guitar, sat his beautiful Eliza and relief overwhelmed him.

"Liz," he breathed, as though relieved that she was okay. And then he saw the child – one he did not recognize – and his brows furrowed. "Who's this?"

[WC — 469]


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Luperci Mate to Eliza but you'd become my candle in the dark
the sun still rises
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POSTED: Thu May 16, 2019 3:26 am

Liz scrunched her eyes shut as if it might keep the twanging of the guitar at bay. Despite being more distant from everything, she’d grown closer to Finlay over the last few weeks. Sadness radiated from her brother – even when Eliza couldn’t see him, apparently - and it made her heart twinge. But of course it would be pain and longing which brought the siblings together. Those things had kept them together since their parents had died all those years ago.

Eliza didn’t block her ears and so she was able to hear the voices when they rose into the mild morning air. Her eyes flew open, her body tensing. Her own voice didn’t soar on the breeze. Instead of calling out she began to pray silently.

Liz’s mate – the person dearest to her on this earth – was back. So why couldn’t she move a muscle? She wanted to run to him, to tell him everything that had happened in his absence but she felt the crushing weight of fear. Waiting, Eliza stared into the glow of the morning. Her head only turned when a soft, uncertain growl sounded close by.

“S’ok, little one,” she whispered.

Footsteps sounded. Leaves and branches parted – and there stood Milos, ringed by soft light. The man she loved breathed her name and the woman who had been so stoic in giving birth to their child alone thought every pent up tear might fall all at once. Liz let out a whimper; it felt as if she was shedding the weight of the last few weeks though she still couldn’t get to her feet. Not just yet.

As Milos stopped, asking after the child’s identity, Eliza’s grateful whine faded.

“Thistle,” she supplied, as if bewildered that he didn’t know. He should have known. “Percy didn’ tell ya,” she realised, her ears pulling back. The little boy had inched forward and was levelling a bold look at his sire from all the way down on the ground. “Fizzle,” he repeated proudly.

“Our son.”

[347]
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Don't Stop Me Now

POSTED: Thu May 16, 2019 11:03 pm

The soft whining that Eliza emitted from between her lips, though it made Milos' heart ache to hear it, could not disarm him of his overwhelming surprise and confusion at the sight of the child.

Dimmed amber eyes looked the young puppy over, theories and thoughts swirling out of control. With a broken coat and folded ears, the child was very clearly a Cormier, and the ginger hues were suspiciously reminiscent of Eliza. An uncomfortable weight eased itself against Milos' sunken chest and the man turned his eyes away from the whelp when his mate's voice uttered a single word.

"Thistle?" he echoed, his voice hardly more than a whisper. Quickly, his mind tried to puzzle out the meaning of that single cryptic word and he could only shake his head mutely when she uttered her realization. Without a word, Milos recalled how oddly his son had been acting before he directed him to where Eliza could be found and surmised that this – whatever this was – was the source of it.

As the child inched boldly toward him, uttering a tiny word of his own, Milos felt as though he was tumbling down more deeply into a hole of mystery while, all around him, his life was unraveling at the seams.

And then, with those two simple words from Eliza's mouth, he was grounded once again.

Wordlessly, Milos looked from the child to his mate and felt his bottom jaw droop. "Our son?" he repeated, bewildered. Quickly, the aging Parhelion thought back and, the memory of their last union in mind, blew out a breathy chuckle of relief. "We got another son?" And, as though none of the horrors from the past several months had ever happened, Milos smiled. And, for a beautiful instant, it felt as though he was weightless as he bridged the distance between them and held his arms open to embrace Eliza within their warmth.

"Oh, Liz," he whined softly, breathing in her scent deeply. Hesitantly, Milos broke away from her again and turned to his newest, youngest, son. "Fizzle?" he addressed the young pup gently, lowering himself to a crouch. "Lookit ya." Milos beamed. "Got your mama's courage, for sure." And, though the smile was still fixed upon his face, the fallen Captain felt a bitter hope that the child, for his sake, had none of his own traits.

Still crouching, Milos lifted his eyes upwards to his mate's face as a fresh wave of regret for his absence crashed against his soul.

[WC — 422]


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Luperci Mate to Eliza but you'd become my candle in the dark
the sun still rises
even through the rain

POSTED: Wed May 22, 2019 10:06 am

Eliza’s ears were flat against her skull, her eyes wide. She took no pleasure in seeing concern and fear float over her mate’s features but it hadn’t occurred to her that her elder son might not have told Milos about the newest member of the family. Liz was confident that Percy had held his tongue out of kindness – perhaps a wish to give his Father a good surprise after all the man had been through. It was just the sort of sweet thing Percy would do.

Liz wanted the worry to be gone from her beloved’s features but still, for just a few moments, she was unable to offer the toddler’s identity. That same fear the Cormier woman had experienced the first time she’d fallen pregnant had taken root in her gut – the fear that she might have to do this alone, that somehow and for some reason she and her baby might not be wanted.

Tears threatened in a shimmering line against the warm brown of Eliza’s eyes. Her ears were still drawn back when they caught Milos’s chuckle. Eliza watched the relief take over the fallen Captain’s stance, like water being poured from a bucket somewhere overheard. She saw his smile, that gentle expression which had always drawn her in; she saw the light in her mate’s firefly gaze. It felt as if a long time had passed since she’d seen so little worry in his features.

The little boy yapped, wary of the quietness in his Mother and the unknown man standing over them. As Eliza’s arms locked around her mate’s neck and she let her tears fall, Thistle growled.

“Fiz,” the matriarch chided half-heartedly when Milos pulled away to greet the little boy. “Don’ growl at yer Da.”

Because, while Eliza wanted her youngest to be fierce and brave – while he would have to be those things – she did not want him to have his Mother’s knack for pushing people away.

Blinking tears from her eyes, the one-time Navigator let out a long and shaky breath.

“Love... please tell me ya found 'er.”

[363]
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Don't Stop Me Now

POSTED: Fri May 31, 2019 8:54 pm

Eliza's arms around his thin neck were like an anchor that held him to this beautiful reality – this perfect piece of pure bliss that had, throughout all the odds, found him once again. If Milos could freeze this moment, and the joy and the peace and the encouragement that that he felt just then, he thought that he would have at least been tempted to.

But time always slipped by, second by second, and life always moved on.

It was the youngster's growl – weary and uncertain – that broke the moment of tranquility that had settled over the fallen Captain. He blinked as Eliza chided the child – their child – and allowed his mate to unravel her arms from around his neck. "Nah, it's okay," he said softly, looking up at Liz while he lowered himself to a crouch. "He don't know who I am."

Looking back at the little pup, Milos felt his heart swell. "Do ya?" And then, slowly and carefully, the patriarch eased himself down to his stomach until he was at eye level with his youngest son. "I'm your pa, Fiz," Milos said softly, his pink tongue lapping at open air as he inched himself nearer the child. "I'm your pa."

But his ears were still alert – always alert – and Milos heard the shaky exhale that his mate released. One ear swiveled toward her and the aging Parhelion lifted his head. He considered her question warmly, his fiery eyes softening and his nose dipping in a small nod. For good measure, he gave his ivory-crested tail a gentle wag. "We found 'er, Liz," he confirmed. "An' we got 'er back. She's with Walker now, but she's safe." Finally, he thought as he looked back at Thistle, deciding that their son would never have to endure the horrors that his adoptive mother had.

[WC — 313]


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Luperci Mate to Eliza but you'd become my candle in the dark
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