@Auré
backdated to mid-april

damask perched high over the room's crystalline geography, a caroller pinned untouched beneath her taloned foot. the doorway cast her half in shadow: only her eyes and the sharp, broken white of her head and chest cut a silhouette, ghostly around black striation and a mask of gloom. thunderheads rolled in that gaze, deep and dark behind cold irises of shifting quicksilver. she could see his pulse, the telltale webs of vein and artery, the features and measurements she knew so precisely. high time he came. the coward.

he had lied to her. called her his darling, lavished her in love, listened and encouraged and made like he believed in her; but all that time, with every breath he drew, he had kept this unsaid. her own genesis. had he thought she couldn't handle the truth? that it would break her? that she didn't have the brains to figure it out herself? you didn't, though, and the thought brought a twitching tug to damask's lips, pulling them apart to reveal the slightest sliver of teeth. a slip of a talkative grandmother's tongue. that was all it'd been: not the product of his trust or her deduction — an accident. and after it'd come out, he'd been so gutless as to flee the scene without so much as one word about it? to leave her here for days? was that what he called fatherhood? was that so much better than eythan, who had met her only once?

you absolute child. she jerked her head to the side, stricken. you're not angry, not righteous, you're nothing but hurt. holing up here? not eating, not sleeping? keeping up this magic like you've really got the energy? as if you didn't all but tell him to get gone, take off yourself as soon as you could. as if you wouldn't've hidden too if you saw him any sooner. as if you weren't at fault. for letting it happen. for not seeing it first. for making him feel that you're too weak to know.

her claws tightened around her kill, beads of blood welling around them; but she stood up straight, tail sweeping the floor and wings folded tight to her sides. waiting.

He was, in a phrase, absolutely torn up.

Like the foolish man he was, Aure'd thought nothing of never mentioning the elephant in the room - perhaps gone so far as to plainly ignore it as it sat with a cup of tea and cradled its daughter in a wicked fall from the sky and told him all about how well she was doing and that she was a whip-smart prodigy - backtrack. He'd put little thought into the ramifications of it. Looked the other way in that apparent way of his, seeing it not for the deception it was, but just -

Aure was swallowing it down, now. It wasn't easy - the pill choked him up at every turn even as it settled in his gut. He hadn't seen Damask since her meeting Giggle (perhaps another fault of his own.) A thought had come, thinking that he shouldn't press the issue for at least a day or two, and perhaps his darling would come back on her own.

She had not, and it was breaking his heart to know that this little thing he'd been so eager to handwave was - a repeat. Damask and much of what occurred around her was a repeat: Giggle not knowing of her conception; Damask not knowing of her conception -

Backtrack - Oh. There she is.

Lying at the foot of the tower, another blue bird at her feet, bloodied and certainly not dead-for-a-while. A statement.

The wyvern's throat went dry as he alighted, staying some ten feet off, hesitation in every part of his steps, adjusting of the wings, flicking of the ears - worried glances to and fro and a quiet grasping for words that eluded him.

All he had to show for what sat heavy on his mind was a soft "I'm sorry, Damask." He winced - the full name felt rough on his tongue - closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, and tried again: "what happened - it wasn't meant to be hidden from you."

He waited, waited to see if she'd even listen or if she would dance out of sight, out of reach again.

@Damask

@Auré

she almost didn't want him to go to her. the gust of sheer foreboding, discomfort, anxiety, fury that came over her at the sight of him (all these contradictory emotions, the paradox so messy) felt enough to bowl her over. auré landed a fair ways off, making no effort to close the distance — the first of many gestures of care and sobriety. he was ... hurting. knowing him, damask had guessed that he would be, but seeing it hit her harder than any conjecture could: the way he shuffled, tiptoed, cast to and fro, hesitated to speak. she held her fire, a slight puff in her chest — not of pride, but of breath taken and kept.

"i'm sorry, damask."

it took no analysis whatsoever to diagnose his sincerity. and my name, he never ... he doesn't do that. darling would have irritated her, but damask, that showed real gravity. a kind of respect he seldom gave, respect for her as more than his daughter. she exhaled, fighting the temptation to soften —

"what happened — it wasn't meant to be hidden from you."

— and promptly defeating it.

damask's chin jerked sharply downward, crosshairs unwavering, eyes like storms beneath low brows. there it is. that treatment of her like something small and passive, something things happened to. something. his something.

this spell was new, but she'd been practicing. with an audible in-and-out of her nose, the fledgling shaped the wind into a shield before her — a wall, a point, a warning. auré's face wavered, slightly foggy through the filter of the barrier. hers would do the same.

"and yet, here we are. because it was." her voice was already ice-cold, bone-dry, and crystal-clear; but here, a real bite came in, canine teeth flashing through the dark. "why, auré?"

Misstep.

Damask coiled up further, and that divide between them closed in - both in a physical and metaphorical manner.

Misstep... but where? He - didn't know.

Bright eyes stared gravely across the way, a tumultuous cocktail of guilt, worry, concern all in one. Aure hadn't intended to come closer without being invited, but seeing the wind turned against him like the point of a blade, the edge of a pike - it hurt.

"It was," he repeated quietly, another fierce bout of poorly-calculated and -managed thoughts running amok. Scattering any words he had to the wind so he could watch them be shot down one by one by the arrow of "why, Aure?"

Shit, the kid aimed at himself, an internal smack of the temple, SHIT - ! Swearing worked for Eythan, it didn't work for him - he didn't want to seem like he was distracting himself by way of conjuring a wisp -

Bite it down, ease up.

A breath.

Be honest.

Aure forced himself to settle in place, curling his claws around whatever nooks and crannies might've laid beneath them. "When I gave stone for you - when Eythan gave it life, he didn't feel like he could act as a father to you. He had two children before you and... wasn't the father they needed. He wanted to be your uncle, instead of your father - and I..." A gentle, if weary admission, "I made the mistake of thinking that it wouldn't be important that he was, still, the one that gave you life."

His mistake, and he wore it on his face.

@Damask

@Auré

auré acknowledged her correction, and that was more than nothing, but not by much — not enough to stop the gunshot that came next. it palpably hit home.

loaded silence thickened the air. it took him a moment to muster a response, and even then, his explanation was riddled with false starts and dithering delays. damask stood motionless, save for the thump of her pulse and the grind of mental gears — parsing and discarding every word with impatient efficiency. that story? doesn't make sense. she had a father who was kind, devoted, and trustworthy — correct? what difference did it make if eythan called himself another or an uncle, so long as her needs were met? and if this was on eythan, why wasn't he the one discussing it with her? why had he chosen to be a father in the first place? why did none of this hang together? because it's an excuse. he's still hiding something. auré.

(or you're looking for evidence that isn't there. not testing a hypothesis, but proving a foregone conclusion. that's fallacy.)

let me breathe.

with a forcible toss of her head and one small rumbling note in her throat, damask abandoned her kill and pushed through the windshield as it evaporated. that wasn't exactly intentional, and neither was the stiffness in her legs; too much sleepless pacing and too many uneaten meals had hollowed them out. didn't matter, though. just as long as she didn't stumble.

"i made the mistake," he said, and that should've mollified her, even just a little — but it didn't. it made it worse. the chasm between them narrowed to eight feet, enough to make a statement without pushing her own boundaries.

"you're certain that's all of it?" (step.) "i'm not." (step.) "but i do have theories."

Damask came a little closer, a soft noise - of what sort he wasn't sure, though his mind urged that it was one of aggression, disappointment, something not good - echoing from her. The barrier evaporated, but it wasn't an invitation to approach.

The wyvern dug his toes deeper into the rock to keep himself from just rushing forwards, trying to sweep it all under a rug with a few sly nuzzles and embraces. (It was selfish to think that, knowing that they'd already wordlessly established a boundary of minimal physical contact.)

"You're certain that's all of it?"

"I'm not."

"But I do have theories."

Aure... did not want to hear those theories out.

His conscious came to an impasse again, now moving clumsily thought-to-though until at last, he mustered, "that's it." Magicka ebbed and flowed, and he averted his gaze towards the surface of a particular rock - to no avail. "I mean to show you -" he hummed softly, closing his eyes against the soft thrum of a headache. "He was hesitant to share his magic, give life until we reached that - but..."

Here, the hybrid hesitated again, wings shifting at his sides, "that doesn't explain why I thought that it... would change anything. I don't know why I thought it would - whether or not he was your father or uncle or anyone else as your life-giver."

Was it selfish? he wondered idly, did I - think that she would gravitate towards Eythan if she knew he was her father by magic?

Surely... not.

@Damask

@Auré

"that's it." damask lifted her chin, eyes narrowing from auré to the empty space he indicated and back. an attempt at one of his light shows, she inferred: he'd used this spell before, and it matched the occasion. almost karmic how this illusion was failing, too. "i mean to show you ... he was hesitant to share his magic, give life until we reached that — but ..." he's still hiding. dancing around it. blaming it on circumstance. "that doesn't explain why i thought that it ... would change anything. i don't know why i thought it would — whether or not he was your father or uncle or anyone else as your life-giver."

there it was, the crux of it all — and he couldn't even pin it down. his wings were rustling, his stammer worsening, the whole of him struggling; his confusion, evidently genuine.

"allow me to give it a try," damask said, the chill of the offer at odds with itself. got to make him understand. her contention came slowly at first, not exactly hesitant, but deliberate; then gathered momentum, pressed to its inevitable conclusion. "i think" — okay, deep breath — "you knew what i'd seen and thought the lie would protect me. that i wasn't strong enough to withstand the truth, or" — i've got this, i am strong enough, i am keeping it together — "smart enough to find it for myself."

that was not safe. she'd said too much. gotten so caught up in the attack as to tire of it and leave herself vulnerable. if she didn't get back on the offensive, he'd seize on her mistake and rip it apart.

swallowing, damask raised her sights back to their mark and fingered the trigger. how long were you planning to wait? did you think you could keep it a secret forever? she came close to asking — but she already knew the answer to that. with certainty.

"you were never going to tell me."

Bones, that can't be it Aure's conscious mumbled over the prior conclusion, cutting himself on the edge of subconscious and baring what lay beneath: deep-seated, achingly unfamiliar jealousy. It, at first, was wholesome regard for Eythan's worries, his concerns about fatherhood and how he'd unknowingly encouraged Elyon's absence, not helped Eli's upset about it until the poor kid'd been in morning. Somewhere, along the way, it'd been twisted by the young King's devotion.

No, his denial barked loudly, it's not that. In came the subconscious - it is and you know it.

I know.

Damask pressed with her theory, and he shook his head - knowing what he did not want to - in a few harsh, altogether quick but honest jerks, "bones, no -" His throat had gone dry, and he forced a harsh swallow. It felt like cotton was filling his mouth and leeching all the words from him, keeping him from admitting what he needed to. "You are strong - so strong, Dar -" No. "A hunter, skilled with magic, I know you could have taken it from the start, but..."

Wings sunk at the shoulder.

"... but, I wasn't going to tell you on my own. I think -" Another haggard gulp. "'think that it was selfishness." But, how could he articulate? "That - I love you, Damask - so much." The wyvern could practically hear how empty that'd sounded. "Too much, maybe - I... I didn't mean to, but I... didn't."

Damn, bite the bullet!

Bright eyes squeezed shut, "I didn't want you to choose Eythan over me."

The trailing syllables were choked, mired in self-imposed guilt and the quiet destruction of what he'd thought was just innocent love, moving something away and out of sight. Aure was starting to shy away from confrontation.

His father was starting to come to mind in the silence.

@Damask

@Auré

auré's invocation told her exactly what would come next. of course he wouldn't let her mistake go unpunished. she'd been a fool to hope that he would. the fledgling flattened her ears in self-rebuke and lowered her stance to the slightest crouch. bracing herself for the counterattack.

"you are strong — so strong, dar — ... i know you could've taken it from the start, but ..."

stop it. stop coddling me. damask took a step back and snatched her head back and forth, her vehemence a mirror of his. that quickness, that intensity (is honesty.) was denial. hunting, magic, those were different kinds of strength. he'd misunderstood. (but he is trying.) not good enough. she almost objected then and there, except: "... but i wasn't going to tell you on my own." she flinched. "i love you, damask — so much. too much, maybe." again.

"i ... i didn't mean to, but i ... didn't ... i didn't want you to choose eythan over me."

(he's not the one in denial, kid.)

damask was slipping. her muzzle twitched up and down, a near-giveaway of — something, a snarl or a scream or a sob, she didn't know. she wanted all and none of the above, wrestling, losing, shuddering with effort so thoroughly it hurt. just a second. all i need is a second to think it through. (and you're about thirty-three too late.) a little help, then. a sharp intake of breath hissed through grinding teeth, striking at jasper: the windshield again, to hide her face, just so she could collect herself — but (he deserves better from you) a barrier was not what she was given.

instead, a veritable deluge of empathic emotion: sorrow, exhaustion, withdrawal, but above all, crushing regret and fierce, fierce love — immoderate with inexperience, raw and tender and yes an awful horrible mess but for all its similarities it wasn't her mess and even as she reeled and gasped it wasn't her pain tight in her throat.

and the part of damask that was still damask sighed inside at that release. the intoxication of artificiality. a change came over her, visibly. all the fight gone up in smoke.

"i would never," like dusty feathers on her tongue, and these ones hitched: "i'm so sorry."

she staggered and stopped. his uncertainty hers. his heartache, a shrinking chain between them.

She was drawing away - and... Aure didn't understand why. Couldn't understand, unless he broke that self-imposed barrier of respecting his daughter's privacy and never delving into her inner machinations through magic. His voice nearly faltered - but he thought this was what she wanted needed to hear and steeled himself through the monologue anyways.

And... there was silence. Silence that he expected to hurt and it did nonetheless. It was grueling, waiting for that calculated response, listening for whatever words tumbled out from that slightly-twisted muzzle and wide eyes. Damask - to her father's knowledge - had never dispensed anything but honesty and trust to him, but -

"I would never," and here she is, jarred loose from anger (too quickly? Aure almost wanted her to continue to be righteously furious, keep that thundercloud in her gaze her heart - teach him to not decide how important things were to others -)

If he dug his claws in any further, the quicks would split out and start to bleed. He wanted to close the gap so bad, and it showed through the gentle starts and stops of wing motions, his head lowering and then slowly pulling back up as if on a joint and string.

- his turn to say something, wasn't it? Along the lines of... what? "It's not your fault," (okay.) "don't apologize... for me - please." Softly spoken, earnest, and he finally failed to resist that one step forward. It was short, cut at the halfway mark of a full one, and he stood still again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he murmured in that following beat.

@Damask