The lioness had unbalanced her, made her flinch at every shadow, twitchy and unsure. Fang would probably kill her for being away for so long, away from her duty, her one true purpose - but that was another thing the lioness had turned sour. Was protecting Fang, being a Merryman, carrying the weight of Finis originea pende with her - was that really what she should do? Had to do? The skunk stopped, sitting down hard and shaking her head as if to clear away the doubts. This isn't getting me anywhere. Have to find Florence.
It was the fifth patrol she'd done through the caves, once per cycle, terrified of coming up empty again... and equally terrified of finding him. What if he didn't even remember her, from their hatching so long ago? What if he didn't consider her his sister, just some fragile burden who couldn't even feed herself? She kicked once at the dirt floor, aching down to her bones from exhaustion and a low, seeping panic. It had been too long, far too long for her not to have found some trace of him, something to let her know he was even still-
Alive.
Oh, god.
There was something glinting in the light of the tunnel, half buried like her own chrysalis once was.
Please, please, please, "please, please, don't be..."
There was something glinting in the light of the tunnel, and the glinting winked at her, beckoning her closer, and she stumbled forwards, claws digging into the ground for purpose, trembling, breath bursting out in too-short pants, eyesight narrowing to tunnel vision. There was something glinting in the light of the tunnel, and it was a crown, yellow and blue and red and glinting, and she was right. She was right again.
Fang didn't love her.
But oh, Florence had.
Fleur took one last step towards the lone gemstone and collapsed, gasping for air, choked off sobs caught behind fused-shut jaws, pink stone teeth bared. She'd failed again, but this time she hadn't hurt herself, no, she'd killed someone, killed her only friend, killed her brother, the only person who'd ever given a damn about her beyond her need to be wanted. "Wake up, please. Wake up. I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry, I. Meant to come b-back..." Her voice was stilted and rough and whispery from misuse, her head ached, her eyes were welling up and none of it mattered because she was too late.
She dragged herself closer by sharpened claws, close enough to touch her nose to the ice-cold stone, clenching her eyes shut and reaching out to pull it closer, curling around it like warmth could bring it's owner back. "Please wake up, Flor. Can't be dead. Not n-now." But the ammolite only dug its six sharp points into her side, irritating the training scars that littered her skin, and Fleur felt an itch beginning to crawl down her spine, down to her toes, opening her eyes with the force of it.
Anger.
It was Diamondfang's fault. If she'd never lied, never taken her away from Florence, he wouldn't have died, which meant she'd helped kill him. She was just as bad, worse, for making Fleur think for a second that she'd ever given a fuck about her past being bigger and easy to please. Images of Florence being killed, his throat bitten out, his body mauled by some imagined predator, or even worse, of him dying cold and alone, shivering and lost, starving or lonely or frightened and then dead. Gone.
Fleur snarled at the tunnel, at the sunlight glittering off of the walls and off of the remains of her friend. She stood slowly, grimacing as she opened her jaw far, far enough to hurt, enough to hear a thin crack! as the right gem-fused bone splintered, sending shards into her cheek. Then she reached down and gripped one end of the tiara, slowly pulling it free from the earthen floor, ears flattening out, removing it and angling it enough to perch it on her crown, a fractured mimic of a dream.
And then, with another crack as her mouth slammed shut, the princess of thieves stalked towards the other end of the tunnel, red eyes burning.
It was time to go home.
[ exit Fleur ]
