![[Image: Viv_FablePost.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FablePost.gif)
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
Being apart from him was torture, each and every time they were separated.
When he disappeared from Avon, she must have checked the border hundreds of times. She looked for his familiar fox reds, hoping to glimpse them against the Glade's gold-fringed foliage or on her excursions for herb collection. What she wouldn't have given in those days to discover him along her route, his smolder tacked on his face as they picked back up where they left off, as if no time at all had passed.
Upon his return, it truly was as though there had been no lapse, not in regards to the integrity of their bond. It was the turning of a page, but not the end of the book. Her heart had grown no less fonder of him, Fable couldn't discount the idea that there wasn't a way it ever would.
Leaving for the Rise to try and uncover what ailed the world - to protect her children, Fox, and the rest of Avon - had been an exercise in torment. Every step away was heavy, but lighter on the trip back to the Meadows; returning to his side was a homecoming, a balance settled once again. Though she had come home no wiser than when she left, she couldn't find it in herself feel the sting so long as she was folded back into her loved ones - a grouping that very much included Fox, whose absence would be felt like a missing limb.
Far before a time when she knew their souls were designed for one another, the clues were all there, if only she had been looking. Glimpsing those moments with eyes freshened by recent revelations, the deeper meanings were right on the surface.
The sound of her birthname on his lips pulled her ears forward, as though there was an invisible string between his summons and her body with its willingness to respond. Part of her suspected she could hear him whisper a request from a million leagues away.
There was nowhere she could go, nowhere he could hide where her soul would not reach out for his.
One corner of her lips hitched upward, wobbly, as she knew what his words meant. They quieted the uneasiness attempting to set down roots.
He told her many times that he was where he wanted to be, but she had believed others when they said that before, or when their actions seemed to indicate they meant them. Many of those she cared about had entered her circle only to leave - if not physically, then emotionally.
Almost all of her children were currently missing. At least two had perished; her heart was a beacon for the lost and broken, yet everything she touched seemed only to die within her embrace. She never wanted that fate for Fox, for losing him in any capacity after all she had endured would be the final, fatal blow. It was a curse to love so deeply and lose so much.
And her losses were many.
Her first children, those who would never even know her face; Gamma, then two - Eidola and Kyros - who were blood of her blood, heart of her heart. Still yet, Nausi and Illi were within the grasp of time and space without the promise she would see them again within her lifetime.
Then, of course, there was Archon. His departure was one of the heart; she wasn't sure when exactly he had taken his leave, only that he had. There was something in him that did not see enough in her; though she bade him to leave the last time they spoke, he had been gone long before that. Somehow, the knife had twisted deeper than if he had just disappeared one day.
The distance of them had been vast and it was paved with miles and miles of pain and neglect - perhaps not even only on one side as she drew into herself to lick her proverbial wounds; it was the sort of demolition from which one could never recover.
With those experiences burned into her heart, she was not surprised that she was defensive of Fox's perceived (now proven true) feelings for her, so hesitant to bridge the final smidgen of space that kept her from touching them. Yet to hear him speak, her breath held as each of his words hung in the hazy air, she wondered why she ever worried at all - why she hadn't taken him at his word as he told her in so many ways, both big and small, that what she felt was reciprocated.
Emotion clotted in her throat, preventing words to form for a few long moments as she stole back the meager space she'd given up, until the curve of her muzzle was slotted against his. The warmth of his fur against hers, his breath warming her cheek with each tide, was enough to leave her scrambling for words as they all fled her brain.
Still, Fable searched his expression. For what, she wasn't certain, even when she found it. Something seemed to click, a certainty solidifying within her that transcended words. Perhaps there were no words for the levity bidding away the heaviness of her heart. Language failed to capture it.
Every one of them felt insufficient, lacking - as though she tried to measure the ocean's depth with a teaspoon. A wellspring had opened up in the space of her chest long thought to be fortified against all threats; how deceptive its defenses were, to be thwarted by the man before her. He had weaseled past every barrier, but she suspected he had a key the whole time.
There had always been that ease about them, after all. Effortlessly, he got through to her in a way no one else did. He understood her, he looked upon her even now and in the lowest moments of her existence, and he did not shy away.
Where others in her past were left wanting, that was not the case for him.
So deceived.
She didn't say that part out loud, give life to the betrayal she buried within herself, but Fable had a feeling she didn't have to. Fox knew, he'd seen her unravel in the aftermath of everything that had happened, even if she spared Archon's character in ways he did not really deserve by not divulging every injustice.
If she were being truly, completely, wholly honest with herself, she would be forced to recognize that her inexperience and naivety had done her no favors in allowing her to open her heart to Archon - especially when she felt like she truly came alive within Fox's orbit. With Archon, she was compelled to be something, perhaps something she wasn't or would never be - what that looked like, she was uncertain, but she knew without a doubt that she never felt that expectation in Fox's company.
They fell into a song and dance they both knew by heart from the moment they met despite never being schooled in it. The instructions were written in their veins, waiting to be called upon.
By the gods, what she would not give to redo it all - but this was the path fate had given them, for reasons neither of them would ever understand.
She wanted it all. Whatever he would give her.
Fable had been a tad disappointed when he never did. But now? It made sense. Perhaps he felt the draw as keenly as she had, and the curiosity never came to him.
She almost told him so many times.
Fable hedged for a handful of moments longer, debating the harm in telling him now. Perhaps he wouldn't believe her, or maybe it wouldn't mean the same thing to him that it had to her as he had long existed in a world that did not possess the magic she was shaped by for decades.
When he disappeared from Avon, she must have checked the border hundreds of times. She looked for his familiar fox reds, hoping to glimpse them against the Glade's gold-fringed foliage or on her excursions for herb collection. What she wouldn't have given in those days to discover him along her route, his smolder tacked on his face as they picked back up where they left off, as if no time at all had passed.
Upon his return, it truly was as though there had been no lapse, not in regards to the integrity of their bond. It was the turning of a page, but not the end of the book. Her heart had grown no less fonder of him, Fable couldn't discount the idea that there wasn't a way it ever would.
Leaving for the Rise to try and uncover what ailed the world - to protect her children, Fox, and the rest of Avon - had been an exercise in torment. Every step away was heavy, but lighter on the trip back to the Meadows; returning to his side was a homecoming, a balance settled once again. Though she had come home no wiser than when she left, she couldn't find it in herself feel the sting so long as she was folded back into her loved ones - a grouping that very much included Fox, whose absence would be felt like a missing limb.
Far before a time when she knew their souls were designed for one another, the clues were all there, if only she had been looking. Glimpsing those moments with eyes freshened by recent revelations, the deeper meanings were right on the surface.
The sound of her birthname on his lips pulled her ears forward, as though there was an invisible string between his summons and her body with its willingness to respond. Part of her suspected she could hear him whisper a request from a million leagues away.
There was nowhere she could go, nowhere he could hide where her soul would not reach out for his.
One corner of her lips hitched upward, wobbly, as she knew what his words meant. They quieted the uneasiness attempting to set down roots.
Ye are where ye want t'be,she softly answered his question, rehearsing the words he always told her when she tried to give him an out, an excuse to draw a boundary or reject her. She wouldn't have blamed him if he ever bowed out, but he never had - he shut down such an idea with a swiftness.
He told her many times that he was where he wanted to be, but she had believed others when they said that before, or when their actions seemed to indicate they meant them. Many of those she cared about had entered her circle only to leave - if not physically, then emotionally.
Almost all of her children were currently missing. At least two had perished; her heart was a beacon for the lost and broken, yet everything she touched seemed only to die within her embrace. She never wanted that fate for Fox, for losing him in any capacity after all she had endured would be the final, fatal blow. It was a curse to love so deeply and lose so much.
And her losses were many.
Her first children, those who would never even know her face; Gamma, then two - Eidola and Kyros - who were blood of her blood, heart of her heart. Still yet, Nausi and Illi were within the grasp of time and space without the promise she would see them again within her lifetime.
Then, of course, there was Archon. His departure was one of the heart; she wasn't sure when exactly he had taken his leave, only that he had. There was something in him that did not see enough in her; though she bade him to leave the last time they spoke, he had been gone long before that. Somehow, the knife had twisted deeper than if he had just disappeared one day.
The distance of them had been vast and it was paved with miles and miles of pain and neglect - perhaps not even only on one side as she drew into herself to lick her proverbial wounds; it was the sort of demolition from which one could never recover.
With those experiences burned into her heart, she was not surprised that she was defensive of Fox's perceived (now proven true) feelings for her, so hesitant to bridge the final smidgen of space that kept her from touching them. Yet to hear him speak, her breath held as each of his words hung in the hazy air, she wondered why she ever worried at all - why she hadn't taken him at his word as he told her in so many ways, both big and small, that what she felt was reciprocated.
Emotion clotted in her throat, preventing words to form for a few long moments as she stole back the meager space she'd given up, until the curve of her muzzle was slotted against his. The warmth of his fur against hers, his breath warming her cheek with each tide, was enough to leave her scrambling for words as they all fled her brain.
Still, Fable searched his expression. For what, she wasn't certain, even when she found it. Something seemed to click, a certainty solidifying within her that transcended words. Perhaps there were no words for the levity bidding away the heaviness of her heart. Language failed to capture it.
Every one of them felt insufficient, lacking - as though she tried to measure the ocean's depth with a teaspoon. A wellspring had opened up in the space of her chest long thought to be fortified against all threats; how deceptive its defenses were, to be thwarted by the man before her. He had weaseled past every barrier, but she suspected he had a key the whole time.
There had always been that ease about them, after all. Effortlessly, he got through to her in a way no one else did. He understood her, he looked upon her even now and in the lowest moments of her existence, and he did not shy away.
Where others in her past were left wanting, that was not the case for him.
It has always been you,Fable found herself admitting, trawling across the memories they'd created since the day they met. Fate had known what it was doing when it crossed their paths, sealing their meeting with a covenant her ear had not been cupped to, but one she could not deny.
For so long, I was foolish, so blind.
So deceived.
She didn't say that part out loud, give life to the betrayal she buried within herself, but Fable had a feeling she didn't have to. Fox knew, he'd seen her unravel in the aftermath of everything that had happened, even if she spared Archon's character in ways he did not really deserve by not divulging every injustice.
If she were being truly, completely, wholly honest with herself, she would be forced to recognize that her inexperience and naivety had done her no favors in allowing her to open her heart to Archon - especially when she felt like she truly came alive within Fox's orbit. With Archon, she was compelled to be something, perhaps something she wasn't or would never be - what that looked like, she was uncertain, but she knew without a doubt that she never felt that expectation in Fox's company.
They fell into a song and dance they both knew by heart from the moment they met despite never being schooled in it. The instructions were written in their veins, waiting to be called upon.
By the gods, what she would not give to redo it all - but this was the path fate had given them, for reasons neither of them would ever understand.
I fear we have not done a very good job o' bein' just friends,Fable offered, a wryness entering her tone despite the glint of mirth - and euphoric relief - in her eyes. She didn't recall ever hearing of two friends raising children together as they had - the transition from whatever they were before his last return and what they became was so seamless as to be taken in stride. Subtle with the natural flow of it all.
I don't want t'just be your friend.
She wanted it all. Whatever he would give her.
In Talamh,she began again.
Ye never asked me if ye had a soulmate.Everyone always asked - they always wondered aloud, even if they knew of Fable's policy to never divulge the information. She recalled having told Fox before that she didn't reveal what she saw in the strings, but she had been ever aware of the potential he could ask her after his own and she would have to conveniently hide behind her line in the sand or defy her long-standing rules.
Fable had been a tad disappointed when he never did. But now? It made sense. Perhaps he felt the draw as keenly as she had, and the curiosity never came to him.
She almost told him so many times.
Fable hedged for a handful of moments longer, debating the harm in telling him now. Perhaps he wouldn't believe her, or maybe it wouldn't mean the same thing to him that it had to her as he had long existed in a world that did not possess the magic she was shaped by for decades.
Ye did- ye do,she said at last, unable to keep the yearning note from her words. When her voice carried on, it was reduced to little more than a whisper but spoken with the heft of something sacred.
Me.
![[Image: Viv_FableFB.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FableFB.gif)
