[M] Blessed are the hearts that can bend

Alaine Winters · 04-03-2011, 11:24 AM

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Word Count → 5+ :: table © sie

It was clear that he did not understand the apology she made, and that was just as well. Alaine could not explain how it was she had failed him - One day, Gabriel would see the children for himself and he would understand. However, that day was not today, and some of the crushing weight that had filled her ribcage eased. His reassurance was taken in irony - Oh, little you know, my dark King - but the nuzzle was received with relative ease, the final icy tendrils of tension melting from her body as pink nose returned the gesture and temporarily buried itself into a dark and thick pelt. It was a gesture that once would have provoked her to aggression or fear, but with him, there could only be the dull acceptance of what she assumed to be un-reciprocated tenderness.

They had been lovers, and they had known love, in a memory that felt more like a dream. What did that make them now? Better than friends and worse than enemies.

His latter apology and warning pulled her from the canine embrace, and emerald eyes sought burning amber now. She would not flee from whatever knowledge he sought to impart that troubled him so - The woman had never been weak, and she would shoulder his burdens as well as she did her own. No lyrical words were offered to interrupt him, merely a weary but measuring emerald gaze that soaked up the information he offered. She was not surprised to find that he had more children; He had been an experienced lover, after all, and Ezekiel was proof that the Kin suffered from no monogamy. If he fretted for her female sentimentality or jealousy, then he fretted in vain.

The warning, however - A dark tide of foreboding that had sounded so similar from the maw of charming Ezekiel - cast a sharp glint to her eye. For a moment, the fae-collie was silent, digesting the facts she had been presented with. "I am capable of protecting the children, if necessary," Not our children, not even my children. Regardless, her words were not a bluff, and Gabriel himself had witnessed the rare and dangerous pagan-witch side to the generally meek Apothecary. Her words were a blatant return warning to the raven-warrior; if his daughter sought vengeance here, she would suffer for it. "Ezekiel took the news well, though. He seems to believe that your daughter can be persuaded against her grudges." She spoke of her pupil in a gentle tone, and a sudden lovely smile curved about her maw. "I am teaching him my skills, Gabriel. He wishes to learn, and although the travel is inconvenient..." It was essential that the Aquila take warmly to the idea of his son making the foray to her, to learn what had originally been stipulated as a woman's job. "I have made him my Healer's apprentice."

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