[But putting the future from his mind does not stop it from arriving, and bringing various demands along with it. The following weeks are busy; meetings and paperwork for the estate pile atop similar for his own affairs—business matters, personal projects, political studies, Faerie arrangements. All require his attention, either with or without his husband’s assistance. But after yet another meeting with a correspondent Iago is not meant to know about, Liem at least allows himself to feel tentatively optimistic about the momentum these efforts are generating. Even if he does feel stretched thin at times, at least he can take pleasure in the knowledge that his and Cardan’s schemes are beginning to bear fruit.
It is enough to put him in a good mood the next time he gathers himself for a meeting with his father. Iago has been in good humour lately besides; he has seemed pleased with Liem ever since the end of Cardan’s long trip to the Undersea, and despite the added pressure keeping Liem busy, lately he hasn’t earned a single criticism about his handling of estate matters.
But the most terrible thing about his father’s displeasure is how often it falls upon him entirely without warning.
He so easily forgets this, during pleasant stretches—and yet, once he is alone with his father, how small and feeble his better efforts seem to become; how stupid and numerous the mistakes he’d previously put out of his mind. It feels so unfair, when he has tried so hard to please his father despite everything else demanding his attention. Only, Iago has always demanded all of what he has to give; he has always had a special talent for making Liem feel wretched for withholding any scraps for himself.
He leaves his father’s sitting room in a haze of tightly-held misery, his diligent mien long since collapsed into a despairing, submissive quiet. It is a poor state for him to be encountering anyone else in, and when he passes his husband on his way from Iago’s quarters, he can manage only a curt facsimile of a greeting before he must excuse himself to escape the strangling confines of Iago’s house, even if just for a few hours.
Without so much as pausing to change his clothes, he disappears into the woods.]
[ For all that he has not trusted Iago for a single second since his arrival and for all that the Duke has loomed, spectre-like, over their plans -- his awfulness had always been a rather conceptual thing. Whatever tension Cardan had felt between father and son had usually come from Liem. If Iago was sometimes backhanded, if he seemed exasperated with his son's rigid work ethic and uncompromising focus -- well, Cardan could not rightly condemn him without branding himself a hypocrite.
(Except, of course, that he's a prince, and Liem's trusted companion besides, which makes his heckling entirely different.)
At any rate: it is not until that night that he sees it. Liem's closed-off, muted expression sinks into his gut with an aching familiarity. Watching his tense silhouette retreat nearly prompts Cardan to hurry after him. Except: he cannot. Iago expects him in his chambers presently. This in itself does not matter to him, but his second realization does: Iago has set the timing of their respective summons, and he must, inevitably, know that they would meet in the hallway.
He knows this trick. He loathes this trick.
He breathes out, affects his most self-satisfied expression, and swans into his father-in-law's rooms.
It's not as difficult an hour as he expects. Liem may not have been charmed by Dain, but Cardan has no such immunity to his father-in-law. If he ignores the part of himself that's seething, it is easy enough to go along with the pleasant conversation and easy jokes at his husband's expense. His petty, cruel impulses are never so far from him, and he has much practice at being foolish.
He drinks quite a lot of wine.
Eventually, he will bid his pleasant adieu and saunter unhurriedly back to the office he knows will be empty. Well, empty of the occupant he's looking for, at any rate. He spends several minutes getting into a fight with Gusairne by insinuating that it is he who is Iago's favourite, then flounces smugly back out. It is a lovely spring night: the moon is shining, and the breeze is warm and fragrant. A perfect night for a ride by anyone's account.
A short while later, he lands the moth in a clearing, jumps from its fluffy back, and sets off into the woods, silent as a glittery shadow. It does not occur to him to be wary of the thicket -- not in an ordinary wood like this, not when he's focused on his husband's near presence. Only his twitchy fingers hint at his disquiet, worrying at the wedding band that glints in the sparse silver light. ]
[The forest covering much of the Talbott lands is indeed beautiful, if not quite so lively as those in Faerie. The air is alive with the scents and sounds of spring greenery and night creatures, and the wildness of it is a far cry from the forbidding, luxury-draped stone of the sprawling family home. Mundane wood or not, it is a place for losing oneself in, if even for a short while.
And still, the silvery depths of the forest are not what have drawn Liem here, away from his father’s clever barbs and effortless derision. Rather than seek out the familiar hill with its spreading oak and its fond memories, he has headed instead into another part of the wood, one riven with rocky outcroppings and smelling of the nearby river.
It is from beyond one such outcropping that they come, heralded by an impromptu chorus of short, overlapping howls rising and falling as they emerge from the dark: nearly half a dozen wolves, all furred in grey, black, and brown. They lope out of the trees from either direction, circling around to come at Cardan like a closing net, yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight. As they approach, it becomes clear that not a single one is built smaller than a full-grown man; the largest of them weigh probably twice that much.
They give him little time to act, whether to fight or flee. As one, the tide of furry bodies closes in until Cardan is penned in by large, pacing beasts and five sets of intent lupine eyes. The largest of them, a storm-grey animal who gleams silver where the moon hits it, moves in first; rearing up on its hind legs, it thumps heavy paws against his shoulders to stick its large, audibly-snoofing snout directly in his face.]
[ Cardan had not been thinking about the wolves. He'd heard them -- once or twice, in distant chorus -- and he'd heard Liem talk about them, but much like Iago's menace, they were a thing outside his direct purview. And, just like with Iago's menace, it had not occurred to him to be afraid of them up until the moment of confrontation.
He's afraid now. If they had given him time, he might have run, unwise as he knows the action to be. Then again, wisdom would not have led a man to stroll into the woods without any weaponry or means to escape a pack of predators. Wisdom is certainly far from his mind now, as his heart jumps into his throat and his breath tangles with his thoughts, which are mostly, Oh, I am so sick of trying not to die.
He only manages to take one hasty step backward before he realizes he's trapped, which occurs just before giant paws crush his shoulders. The weight of the animal is enough to make him stagger -- the wolf's hot breath, likewise. In his more morbid daydreams, he'd always thought he'd stare his death down with defiance, but as it turns out, his eyes squeeze shut without his conscious input. He does not wish to watch himself getting mauled. He does, in fact, not wish to get mauled in the first place, which is at odds with the fact he finds himself frozen in place, his fists clenched and his chest squeezing his lungs tight. ]
[It all happens very quickly: The wolves closing in, cutting off any escape. The leader rearing up, paws slamming into his shoulders, hot breath gusting over him, its panting jaws lunging as if for his throat.
Except that instead, while his eyes are still closed tight against this onslaught, the heavy snout with its damp nose bumps right into his mouth, and his face is very thoroughly sniffed. Almost immediately following this, he will feel the remaining wolves crowding closer to smell every part of him they can reach, from his hands to his trousers to the hidden tail beneath his shirt. None of them seem inclined to lick him, but this may seem a small mercy given how bold the animals are with their noses. It takes some time before the lead wolf sees fit to return to all fours, as well, which it does only to sniff the rest of him properly, tail held gaily aloft like a waving banner.
Then, finally, the sound of soft footsteps approaching over the forest floor heralds the arrival of his missing husband. Liem appears from around the same outcrop that the wolves flowed out from behind, looking rumpled and wary as he investigates the object of all this curiosity. The eyes that fall on Cardan are hesitant.]
[ Cardan is experiencing a variety of mental states: panicked apprehension, apprehensive confusion, confused surprise, and, finally, extreme discomfort. The last is less related to the wet noses suddenly encroaching on his personal space -- not that he likes those -- and more to the sudden realization that he may have tremendously overreacted. ]
...shit.
[ His face feels hot. He'd known about the wolves; he'd known they were Liem's wolves, and that his husband was nearby-- Though it is a small blessing, he supposes, that he didn't cry out for Liem like a child.
Still, Cardan is relieved to see him, despite his own shame and Liem's strange hesitation... well, perhaps not so strange, given what Cardan was doing before he'd come here. Guilt slips into his already lush bouquet of unpleasant emotions, but this, at least, is familiar and easily ignored.
He has a purpose in coming here, after all, and not one that will be helped by wallowing. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders, trying to look as dignified as a man in his situation is able. ]
Being savaged by someone's pets, at present. [ He glances down at the sea of fur and wet noses, a little helpless despite his dry tone. How is one supposed to react to this? He's still in danger of being pushed over, if not actually attacked, and growing more covered in long silver fur with every passing second. It is ridiculous.
--but that's not what he came for. His gaze finds Liem; a frown crinkles his brow. ] I am here because you're here, Liem. Why else? Now would you-- [ A chilly nose finds his palm; he jerks it away. ] Would you call them off? Please.
[As soon as Liem makes his careful way over to the source of the noise and finds Cardan there, dismay dumps icy water down his spine. He hadn’t wanted to be found, hiding all the way out here while he’s still recovering from his embarrassing attack of self-pity. He doesn’t dare risk Cardan finding out that he’s like this: that he doesn’t know how to be happy without him, that he isn’t actually in control of anything at all, that he isn’t worthy of anyone’s trust or regard or respect. He isn’t ready to pretend again—not yet—and he hadn’t thought Cardan would come looking for him before he was.
It’s exasperating, to have things complicated like this. He can’t help but raise a brow at his long-suffering husband, now braving the intrigued attentions of several very large animals.]
What part of you is being savaged? [he asks equally dryly, obvious though the answer is. The pack has long been curious about Liem’s mysterious new mate; of course they all want to inspect him far too thoroughly for comfort.
As though to emphasize this truth, one of the younger wolves sniffing Cardan’s glittery trousers lets out a sharp sneeze. Liem’s mouth firms automatically to suppress a smile.]
You’ve said your hellos, [he says firmly.] Give him space. [Finally, the wolves obediently retreat, the smaller two turning tail to race back the way they came, intent on sharing the news. The remainder continues to mill about, keeping an eye on their visitor and smelling the surroundings he might have touched in passage.]
You didn’t need to come out here, Cardan. I would’ve returned soon enough.
[ The indignity of being sneezed on -- by a creature with a raw meat diet and terrible dental hygiene, at that -- almost manages to distract him from Liem's obvious lack of enthusiasm. He can't help but think back to the night of Balekin's revel, at the way Liem's face had lit up when he'd stormed through the crowd towards him, radiant enough to singe the edges off of Cardan's fury.
This is, evidently, not like that. No matter. He brushes himself off, which has the effect of redistributing the fur and glitter down the front of his clothes. With a sigh, he decides he has given up on looking presentable -- they're in the woods, why would he care -- and instead turns his attention to his no less dishevelled husband.
He'll take a moment to watch him, as if evaluating a spooked animal. His track record with comforting Liem has left much to be desired; in this, his husband is still as opaque as ever. ]
I disagree, [ is what he finally says, in the deliberate tone of a man weighing his words. He thinks back -- on Iago, on the strange, terrible hour he's spent with his father-in-law, of the unflattering portrait he'd painted of both Liem and himself, and feels his jaw tighten. Familiar shame sinks into his belly, hot and acrid, and suddenly, it's difficult to temper his words at all. ]
...I am not your father's man, Liem. You cannot expect me to pretend away his misdeeds.
[If Cardan had quit while he was ahead, if he had spoken his disagreement and continued on along diplomatic lines, perhaps Liem would more willingly accept his company. It isn’t as though he doesn’t yearn for Cardan’s companionship during difficult times as well as during happy ones; even now, the want to fold himself into his husband’s embrace aches forlornly behind his ribs.
But it is his own failing that he wants this so desperately. The desire for comfort only reminds him that in his life, in his duties, in his marriage, he is an imposter, only pretending to be able to fulfill his own promises. When Cardan mentions Iago, Liem’s spine snaps straight, and a sudden, cornered-animal shame burns low in his throat.]
What misdeeds? [he demands, abruptly painfully aware that Iago might have said anything at all to Cardan in his absence. He might know exactly why Liem ran out here to hide amongst his wolves; or, he might know only a web of insinuation and lies.] I am not out here because of some wrong he has done me. It is no strange thing to quarrel with one’s father, nor to desire a few hours’ freedom after the fact.
[If Cardan is looking for reasons to pin this on Iago because of Liem’s stories of his past misdeeds, he will only be disappointed. It is hardly wicked for a man to be stern with his grown son and heir.]
[ Cardan's stare turns to one of incomprehension. This is not the course he expected the conversation to take. He had thought Liem would deny that he was upset, or, if he were feeling particularly foolish, deny that anything had happened at all. He had not expected him to defend his father as though Cardan had dreamed up the thing he'd witnessed.
It's shocking. Beyond that, it feels like an entirely new kind of horror. He is used to monsters justifying their deeds; this is something else. His brows draw together-- just before he catches himself, wrenching his expression back to something calmer, more shuttered. He sets his shoulders back, relaxes his hands.
When he moves towards Liem, it is careful, but he doesn't take his eyes off of him, and he doesn't stop until he's close enough to touch. ]
No, [ he agrees, in a voice too level to feel like his own, ] you are here because you're hiding. I am here because I know what I saw.
[ He's monstrously angry about it, but that's not new. He swallows the rage down, for now, though its hot fingers claw up his throat anyway.
He is going to touch Liem -- if his husband lets him, anyway -- reaching up to brush light fingertips over Liem's cheek, down the line of his jaw. ]
I know what a wound looks like, Liem. I've spent enough nights licking my own.
[The tension inhabiting Liem’s spine only pulls tighter as Cardan moves nearer, closing the space between them. Though he does his best to maintain his own dignity, he can feel shame colouring his cheeks with each word his husband speaks. In a strange way it reminds him of the night Cardan had revenged himself on him in the bath, except Cardan is not the one who has wounded him this time, and Liem has nowhere to go to escape, unless he wants to simply run off into the woods. But the feeling that his husband has seen his hurt too clearly is the same.
He cannot even deny what Cardan has said. He is here because he is hiding: from everyone, including his father, but especially from Cardan. As warm fingers brush his face, the look he aims at his husband might almost be betrayed.
What is he meant to say in the face of this? The caress against his cheek extinguishes his flash of defensiveness as quickly as it sprung alight, leaving only an awful, squirmy frustration at the prospect of being perceived so nakedly.]
I didn’t want you to see me like this. [He frowns, his gaze skittering away from Cardan’s as his fingers fuss restlessly with his cuff.] I’m fine. I just need some time to collect myself.
[ It stings: that unhappy, flushed stare, as if Cardan had knocked ink all over Liem's homework. He should know -- he had spent so much of his life finessing ways to torment others, to ruin their days and make them as miserable as he was. Perhaps he had simply grown too skilled at it, for his husband to look so haunted at his mere proximity.
A better man would have left Liem alone.
Cardan, being a bully, only sighs and slides his fingers into the short hair at Liem's nape, a gesture vaguely reminiscent of scruffing an obstinate puppy. His other finds its home at his husband's waist, pulling them infinitesimally closer together. It's not an embrace, not quite, but he figures it will make it awkward for Liem to try and escape, should he decide to be done with Cardan altogether. ]
I do not know what it is you think I'm seeing. [ Not a man who's fine, certainly. ] But I will close my eyes, if you so wish.
[ That's plainly not what Liem means, but since his husband has elected to stop making sense, Cardan does not feel beholden to it either. ]
[Liem submits reluctantly to the grasp of fingers in his hair, the deliberate hold of Cardan’s hand at his waist—touches that should be comforting, except for the prickle of shame beneath his skin, rolling through him as Cardan pulls them that slightest bit closer. Except for the part of him that resents being forced out into the open, like a snail pried out of its shell, even if it is by the man whose love he desires with such painful intensity.
Even if it would be far worse to not have Cardan come looking for him at all.
But because Cardan is here, and regarding him so deliberately, Liem releases his fidgety grasp of his cuff and rests his palms instead against his husband’s chest, looking him in the eye as though by focusing only on Cardan, he might ignore all the things that brought him here to begin with. His expression makes every effort to be steady, whether or not he feels ready to be.]
Now that you have sought me out, what do you intend to do?
[ Though Cardan's offer to shut his eyes had been earnest, he suspects it would be difficult to ignore his husband's uncharacteristically rigid response to being touched even then. But that's fine, so long as he's not pushing Cardan away. Cardan's fingers stroke through Liem's hair, draw tight little circles at the base of his skull -- an idle, gentle caress, except that nothing he is currently engaging in is idle. He wants to be soothing, want Liem to find distraction from whatever misery has him so tightly in its grasp.
The cool hands on his chest are progress, at least -- which is good, because Liem's question is surprisingly difficult to answer. He turns it over in his mind, trying to find some angle, some key to the puzzle. But everything he comes up with is bad: too demanding, too selfish, too likely to end up making his husband feel like he has to contort himself to Cardan's whims. It's funny, the way he feels like he never quite has the right words when it comes to Liem and Liem alone. Sometimes he wonders whether love has made him stupid, except he's never been this way with Nicasia. And so--
And so.
He does close his eyes, after all. He closes them, and then he draws both his hands forward, so that he can cradle Liem's face in his palms and press their foreheads together -- a gesture so familiar he doesn't need to see him at all. ]
Just this. For now.
[ He has so much practice navigating in the dark, now. It takes no guesswork at all to brush his mouth over Liem's brow -- a little off-center, but that's fine -- and then pull him into that embrace after all, tucking his head against Cardan's shoulder. And if his husband is stiff about it, well, Cardan has time; eventually even Liem will have to grow weary of his own anxious thoughts. ]
[Liem’s question doesn’t really have a right answer, and even when he asked it, he had been expecting to have to field a demand in return. Obviously Cardan followed him here with the intention of involving himself in some way in the fallout from his meeting with Iago. How, Liem doesn’t know, but it’s plain his husband refuses to remain ignorant and uninvolved. It had seemed easier to just ask Cardan what he wanted and resign himself to giving it, whatever that might end up being. In Liem’s personal life, that’s often the way of things.
He should have known better.
When has Cardan ever been satisfied with such a thing from him? When has he ever retreated from his husband without Cardan, eventually, pursuing him? Of course it was never petty concessions that he wanted.
The slide of warm hands framing his face does freeze Liem where he stands, leaving him rigid and uncertain as his husband, lover and companion dips near to rest their brows together. He doesn’t know what to do with the tenderness that moves in his chest as Cardan brushes a kiss over his forehead.
Nor does he know how to contend with it when Cardan pulls him closer, and he suddenly finds himself folded into his embrace. He still hates that his longing for comfort is so pathetically obvious—but Cardan is so warm, and his arms feel so safe, and he smells like the only home Liem has ever needed. Much as Liem wishes to pretend otherwise, he’s been yearning for this ever since he stepped out of his father’s rooms, defeated and miserable, and saw Cardan out in the hall.
He can do nothing, then, but tuck his face against the familiar crook of Cardan’s collar and wrap his arms tightly around him, so he can hold him like he never intends to let go. He can do nothing but give in to his want to forget, to indulge in the feeling of being held and for just a few moments, simply let himself be comforted by the man he loves more than anything.]
[ Liem tightens his arms around him in turn, holds him close like he's a little desperate... and, despite everything, Cardan's black little heart sings with triumph. It feels right; it feels like a key clicking into a lock -- one of many locks in store for him, maybe, but one he's opened all the same.
He turns his head to bury his nose against Liem's hair and breathe him in, smoothing his palm along the tense line of his back. He can't help being a little selfish about it. Despite Liem's obvious suffering, despite the thorny knot of problems yet left to untangle, Cardan will never not feel joy at having him -- here, nestled close to his chest, where he belongs. There is an uncomplicated happiness to touching Liem, real and solid and Cardan's, a gift he never expected and certainly doesn't deserve. But if the world is to be unfair, he is glad to see the scales tip in his favour, for once.
For a while, he stays just like that: perfectly content and still, except for the hand stroking Liem's back. Though he will, eventually, speak again, his murmur muffled against the side of Liem's head. ]
Do your wolves have names?
[ He's opened his eyes, in the interim, so that he may see the animals. His hold around Liem doesn't loosen; he doesn't intend for the question to end the interlude of their embrace, only shepherd it to happier pastures. ]
[It is astonishing how easily Liem’s mood can transform from distressed to quietly contented, simply because of the introduction of Cardan’s arms around him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he still feels the rumblings of that same frustration from before, refusing to die completely even now, but at present it is easy enough to ignore—as long as Cardan keeps holding him like this.
Part of him still feels like he shouldn’t be letting this happen—that he shouldn’t be leaning so on Cardan’s willingness to take care of him. It would be best if he could straighten up from their hug completely rejuvenated, and reward his husband for jostling him out of his dour mood. But he is not resilient enough for that, and he won’t insult Cardan by trying to pretend otherwise. He stays nestled close, wrapped in Cardan’s arms and Cardan’s scent, and tries not to think of anything else at all.
He will think about his wolves, though, since Cardan has asked. Liem’s face is still tucked against Cardan’s chest, but he can hear the pack moving about, and knows full well that while one of the adults headed back towards the den, the two yearlings have returned and all four remaining wolves have now ambled back over to watch them embrace. Privacy is very much a foreign concept to them.]
Mm, I suppose. [he murmurs.] I’ve given names to most of them.
[Not that they use the ones he’s come up with—but he’s not going to call them Lead Male/Brother or Yearling-Daughter/Subordinate, which is the kind of mish-mash address they seem to use for each other. Maybe something gets lost in translation when they speak with him, though.]
The first to greet you was Half-moon. The smaller ones are Ash and Juniper. The brownish one is Echo. And, um. [He hesitates slightly.] The old, dark-coloured one is just Uncle.
[ He's not sure what he expected, aside from a safe topic for conversation, but he finds himself unexpectedly charmed by Liem's list. Half-moon must be so named because of his silver fur; Echo for her... voice? ]
They are good names, [ he will tell his husband, as if he's an authority on the subject -- he, who has never named anything or anyone. Then again, names do have particular power in Faerie. Perhaps that counts well enough. ] Fitting for wild things.
[ Well. He is not going to comment on Uncle, timid as Liem seems to be about it. Instead, he turns his head to brush his mouth over his husband's silver temple as he thinks about his next question. ]
They seemed to... recognize me.
[ Liem could not have known he was coming; he'd been surprised to see Cardan in the first place. And, despite Cardan's initial panic, he has to concede that the wolves' greeting was friendly, if overwhelming and rather more physical than he would have preferred. Even now, they seem far calmer than animals should be with a strange intruder in their midst. ]
[If Cardan is trying to distract Liem from the things that had brought them both out here to begin with, he is doing an admirable job. He is quite cozily occupied with his husband’s voice rumbling in his ear and his mouth brushing warm against his temple, and the topic of their conversation is as safe as one possibly could be. Would that he could converse with Cardan more frequently from the agreeable vantage of his embrace. He is finding himself increasingly lulled by the luxury of passing time thus as his husband plies him with questions about his wolves. Gradually, the tension bleeds from him and he simply sinks gratefully against Cardan’s chest.]
Of course. They know I am married.
[Liem isn’t surprised in the least by the wolves’ easy acclimation to Cardan’s presence. They are not ignorant, after all; he speaks of his husband often, when he sees them. And even if he didn’t, it would be obvious who Cardan is the moment they caught his scent.]
You smell like me. And frequently, when I come see them, I also smell like you.
[The wolves have had plenty of time to become curious about the owner of that strange Faerie smell. Though he notices, as he continues to snuggle against Cardan’s jacket, that his husband is distinctly glittery this evening—a trait he is now efficiently sharing with his spouse.]
Though I suppose right now you must also smell of moth.
[ It sounds strange -- the thought that Liem must have told the animals of his betrothal, that they would have understood it. What a strange conference that must have been, in the weeks before the wedding. And yet, do wolves not mate for life? Perhaps, then, it is Cardan who is the odd one out, with his idea of marriage as an impermanent, convenient thing.
Liem's further explanation nets him an amused huff of breath. ]
I should be grateful our other acquaintances aren't so perceptive. We'd never keep up the ruse of being at odds.
[ Even if he sounds pleased about it. He likes that Liem smells like him, that they smell like each other, the implicit ownership of it. Even if the only ones who notice are the wolves. ]
...they aren't going to try and take a bite out of it, will they? I'd rather not have to return on foot.
[ He can't imagine that a giant bug would taste particularly good, but he's also never known wild animals to have discriminating palates. ]
[Privately, Liem thinks that the other vampires they associate with must certainly have noticed the smell of Cardan’s blood on the both of them whenever Liem bites him. It would be difficult to remain ignorant of that at least, even if other scents don’t seem so obvious to a vampire’s senses. But the indulgence of a bite now and then does not have the same implication as two people constantly smelling like they’ve been getting their hands all over each other.
But Cardan’s question makes Liem lift his head, just enough to peer at the quartet of wolves lounging around them like a large, furry wreath. He notes that Echo seems to be missing; she must have been the one to leave earlier. Of the remainder, Half-moon pipes up helpfully, telling him, Moths are tasty.
Liem frowns.]
That one is not for eating, [he tells them.
This only seems to intrigue his audience; Juniper asks, astonished, It’s just one? But he’s covered!]
Don’t bother it, either. Leave it well alone.
[Is it really big? I want to see the big moth, adds Ash.
We will observe it from downwind, Half-moon says reasonably, as all of the animals except for Uncle begin clambering to their feet. It is in our territory, so we should know of it. Liem’s frown deepens to a scowl.]
Do not frighten it off.
[Off the wolves go, against his better judgment, leaving only the elderly male stretched out beside them like a lounging bear. Liem sighs.]
[ He observes the strange back-and-forth, bemused. Liem may have spoken to the wolves before, but they hadn't talked back -- and even though Cardan cannot interpret the other half of the conversation, it is obvious that there is one. If he had some inkling that the animals weren't quite regular (albeit large) wolves, this certainly makes it irrefutable.
Surprisingly, he finds it endears them to him, nevermind that his dignity still smarts from the thorough sniffing they'd inflicted. It's just: he rarely gets to see Liem so stern and yet so soundly overruled. His serious, eternally careful husband could use more friendly ribbing, and Cardan's labours alone cannot possibly suffice. Besides, he suspects that this is not the first time Liem has come to them for comfort -- he only hopes that they are more skilled at offering it than he himself has been.
The part of him that isn't jealous is a little grateful that Liem was not lonely all this time.
He glances down at the elder wolf, his mouth a little wry. ]
...and? Am I going to find my mother's pet in peril?
[ Well, obviously not. If he thought that, he would not be so complacent about it, and he assumes neither would Liem. At worst, the moth will leave and he'll have a tedious hike back ahead of him, but that's already not the worst thing that's happened this night.
Still, he would like to be sure. He may not like the giant creature, but even he cannot deny that he has responsibility for bringing it here. ]
[Liem leans his forehead against his spouse’s shoulder, briefly waving a dismissive hand, though his husband cannot possibly see it while it’s still behind his back. But the wolves would never harm any of Iago’s things, which is ultimately what Cardan and his moth are, for as long as they are part of his household.]
At worst, they might get over-curious and frighten it back home.
[Must be a sight when it flies, Uncle observes placidly. Probably the younger pack members will want to at least see it move.
This is why Liem had wanted them to stay away from it entirely, but ultimately the wolves are their own creatures, and he can’t be too surprised that they would insist on seeing the gigantic moth with their own eyes and noses.
Perhaps Cardan will have to walk home with him after all. Liem cannot say he has much disappointment for the prospect of avoiding another ride through the sky atop its giant, furry back.]
[ It is probably no credit to Cardan whatsoever that his concern for the moth's plight dissipates almost immediately -- exactly as soon as Liem's brow touches his shoulder, actually. He can't help it; he's too eager for his husband's trust, especially in the aftermath of their brief argument, and the arguments that no doubt still loom ahead. It's gratifying to see the tension in Liem's shoulders release, even if Cardan still couldn't call him relaxed. At least he's no longer acting like Cardan's presence is a threat.
He can't repress his satisfied little smile. Besides, now that his husband no longer holds on to him quite so desperately, Cardan can raise his hand to stroke Liem's hair, instead, helpfully depositing glitter there also. ]
Then I should be grateful you haven't ventured further out, I suppose.
[ He looks over at the outcropping that Liem -- and the wolves, before him -- had emerged from. ]
[If Liem had any inclination to follow the trio of wolves or otherwise fret about their interaction with the visiting moth, those nascent thoughts vanish as soon as Cardan’s fingers begin stroking through his hair. Lulled by the gentle touch, he leans contentedly into his husband’s embrace and decides that for now, at least, fitting himself cozily into his arms is by far the best use of his time.
But it is easy to relax like this when Cardan asks him such inconsequential things—especially about his wolves, whom he has had so little time thus far to introduce to his foreign spouse. Never previously has he enjoyed the company of both Cardan and his wolves at the same time; lingering here in the forest, content in their company, he is finding ample reason to let contentment sneak its way in between the gaps of his troubles.]
Ha… [He tucks a smile against Cardan’s collar, recalling the way the pack had all bounded off to investigate when they had caught a whiff of his approaching scent.] Quite near, yes.
[Now he turns his head so his voice isn’t so muffled by his husband’s jacket, peeking half up at him from the pillow of his shoulder, even as he continues to keep himself glued there.]
Would you like to see it? The den. [If Liem can convince himself to peel away from his husband and take him there, at least.] The pups are just big enough to come out now.
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It is enough to put him in a good mood the next time he gathers himself for a meeting with his father. Iago has been in good humour lately besides; he has seemed pleased with Liem ever since the end of Cardan’s long trip to the Undersea, and despite the added pressure keeping Liem busy, lately he hasn’t earned a single criticism about his handling of estate matters.
But the most terrible thing about his father’s displeasure is how often it falls upon him entirely without warning.
He so easily forgets this, during pleasant stretches—and yet, once he is alone with his father, how small and feeble his better efforts seem to become; how stupid and numerous the mistakes he’d previously put out of his mind. It feels so unfair, when he has tried so hard to please his father despite everything else demanding his attention. Only, Iago has always demanded all of what he has to give; he has always had a special talent for making Liem feel wretched for withholding any scraps for himself.
He leaves his father’s sitting room in a haze of tightly-held misery, his diligent mien long since collapsed into a despairing, submissive quiet. It is a poor state for him to be encountering anyone else in, and when he passes his husband on his way from Iago’s quarters, he can manage only a curt facsimile of a greeting before he must excuse himself to escape the strangling confines of Iago’s house, even if just for a few hours.
Without so much as pausing to change his clothes, he disappears into the woods.]
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(Except, of course, that he's a prince, and Liem's trusted companion besides, which makes his heckling entirely different.)
At any rate: it is not until that night that he sees it. Liem's closed-off, muted expression sinks into his gut with an aching familiarity. Watching his tense silhouette retreat nearly prompts Cardan to hurry after him. Except: he cannot. Iago expects him in his chambers presently. This in itself does not matter to him, but his second realization does: Iago has set the timing of their respective summons, and he must, inevitably, know that they would meet in the hallway.
He knows this trick. He loathes this trick.
He breathes out, affects his most self-satisfied expression, and swans into his father-in-law's rooms.
It's not as difficult an hour as he expects. Liem may not have been charmed by Dain, but Cardan has no such immunity to his father-in-law. If he ignores the part of himself that's seething, it is easy enough to go along with the pleasant conversation and easy jokes at his husband's expense. His petty, cruel impulses are never so far from him, and he has much practice at being foolish.
He drinks quite a lot of wine.
Eventually, he will bid his pleasant adieu and saunter unhurriedly back to the office he knows will be empty. Well, empty of the occupant he's looking for, at any rate. He spends several minutes getting into a fight with Gusairne by insinuating that it is he who is Iago's favourite, then flounces smugly back out. It is a lovely spring night: the moon is shining, and the breeze is warm and fragrant. A perfect night for a ride by anyone's account.
A short while later, he lands the moth in a clearing, jumps from its fluffy back, and sets off into the woods, silent as a glittery shadow. It does not occur to him to be wary of the thicket -- not in an ordinary wood like this, not when he's focused on his husband's near presence. Only his twitchy fingers hint at his disquiet, worrying at the wedding band that glints in the sparse silver light. ]
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And still, the silvery depths of the forest are not what have drawn Liem here, away from his father’s clever barbs and effortless derision. Rather than seek out the familiar hill with its spreading oak and its fond memories, he has headed instead into another part of the wood, one riven with rocky outcroppings and smelling of the nearby river.
It is from beyond one such outcropping that they come, heralded by an impromptu chorus of short, overlapping howls rising and falling as they emerge from the dark: nearly half a dozen wolves, all furred in grey, black, and brown. They lope out of the trees from either direction, circling around to come at Cardan like a closing net, yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight. As they approach, it becomes clear that not a single one is built smaller than a full-grown man; the largest of them weigh probably twice that much.
They give him little time to act, whether to fight or flee. As one, the tide of furry bodies closes in until Cardan is penned in by large, pacing beasts and five sets of intent lupine eyes. The largest of them, a storm-grey animal who gleams silver where the moon hits it, moves in first; rearing up on its hind legs, it thumps heavy paws against his shoulders to stick its large, audibly-snoofing snout directly in his face.]
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He's afraid now. If they had given him time, he might have run, unwise as he knows the action to be. Then again, wisdom would not have led a man to stroll into the woods without any weaponry or means to escape a pack of predators. Wisdom is certainly far from his mind now, as his heart jumps into his throat and his breath tangles with his thoughts, which are mostly, Oh, I am so sick of trying not to die.
He only manages to take one hasty step backward before he realizes he's trapped, which occurs just before giant paws crush his shoulders. The weight of the animal is enough to make him stagger -- the wolf's hot breath, likewise. In his more morbid daydreams, he'd always thought he'd stare his death down with defiance, but as it turns out, his eyes squeeze shut without his conscious input. He does not wish to watch himself getting mauled. He does, in fact, not wish to get mauled in the first place, which is at odds with the fact he finds himself frozen in place, his fists clenched and his chest squeezing his lungs tight. ]
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Except that instead, while his eyes are still closed tight against this onslaught, the heavy snout with its damp nose bumps right into his mouth, and his face is very thoroughly sniffed. Almost immediately following this, he will feel the remaining wolves crowding closer to smell every part of him they can reach, from his hands to his trousers to the hidden tail beneath his shirt. None of them seem inclined to lick him, but this may seem a small mercy given how bold the animals are with their noses. It takes some time before the lead wolf sees fit to return to all fours, as well, which it does only to sniff the rest of him properly, tail held gaily aloft like a waving banner.
Then, finally, the sound of soft footsteps approaching over the forest floor heralds the arrival of his missing husband. Liem appears from around the same outcrop that the wolves flowed out from behind, looking rumpled and wary as he investigates the object of all this curiosity. The eyes that fall on Cardan are hesitant.]
… Cardan? What are you doing here?
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...shit.
[ His face feels hot. He'd known about the wolves; he'd known they were Liem's wolves, and that his husband was nearby-- Though it is a small blessing, he supposes, that he didn't cry out for Liem like a child.
Still, Cardan is relieved to see him, despite his own shame and Liem's strange hesitation... well, perhaps not so strange, given what Cardan was doing before he'd come here. Guilt slips into his already lush bouquet of unpleasant emotions, but this, at least, is familiar and easily ignored.
He has a purpose in coming here, after all, and not one that will be helped by wallowing. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders, trying to look as dignified as a man in his situation is able. ]
Being savaged by someone's pets, at present. [ He glances down at the sea of fur and wet noses, a little helpless despite his dry tone. How is one supposed to react to this? He's still in danger of being pushed over, if not actually attacked, and growing more covered in long silver fur with every passing second. It is ridiculous.
--but that's not what he came for. His gaze finds Liem; a frown crinkles his brow. ] I am here because you're here, Liem. Why else? Now would you-- [ A chilly nose finds his palm; he jerks it away. ] Would you call them off? Please.
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It’s exasperating, to have things complicated like this. He can’t help but raise a brow at his long-suffering husband, now braving the intrigued attentions of several very large animals.]
What part of you is being savaged? [he asks equally dryly, obvious though the answer is. The pack has long been curious about Liem’s mysterious new mate; of course they all want to inspect him far too thoroughly for comfort.
As though to emphasize this truth, one of the younger wolves sniffing Cardan’s glittery trousers lets out a sharp sneeze. Liem’s mouth firms automatically to suppress a smile.]
You’ve said your hellos, [he says firmly.] Give him space. [Finally, the wolves obediently retreat, the smaller two turning tail to race back the way they came, intent on sharing the news. The remainder continues to mill about, keeping an eye on their visitor and smelling the surroundings he might have touched in passage.]
You didn’t need to come out here, Cardan. I would’ve returned soon enough.
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This is, evidently, not like that. No matter. He brushes himself off, which has the effect of redistributing the fur and glitter down the front of his clothes. With a sigh, he decides he has given up on looking presentable -- they're in the woods, why would he care -- and instead turns his attention to his no less dishevelled husband.
He'll take a moment to watch him, as if evaluating a spooked animal. His track record with comforting Liem has left much to be desired; in this, his husband is still as opaque as ever. ]
I disagree, [ is what he finally says, in the deliberate tone of a man weighing his words. He thinks back -- on Iago, on the strange, terrible hour he's spent with his father-in-law, of the unflattering portrait he'd painted of both Liem and himself, and feels his jaw tighten. Familiar shame sinks into his belly, hot and acrid, and suddenly, it's difficult to temper his words at all. ]
...I am not your father's man, Liem. You cannot expect me to pretend away his misdeeds.
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But it is his own failing that he wants this so desperately. The desire for comfort only reminds him that in his life, in his duties, in his marriage, he is an imposter, only pretending to be able to fulfill his own promises. When Cardan mentions Iago, Liem’s spine snaps straight, and a sudden, cornered-animal shame burns low in his throat.]
What misdeeds? [he demands, abruptly painfully aware that Iago might have said anything at all to Cardan in his absence. He might know exactly why Liem ran out here to hide amongst his wolves; or, he might know only a web of insinuation and lies.] I am not out here because of some wrong he has done me. It is no strange thing to quarrel with one’s father, nor to desire a few hours’ freedom after the fact.
[If Cardan is looking for reasons to pin this on Iago because of Liem’s stories of his past misdeeds, he will only be disappointed. It is hardly wicked for a man to be stern with his grown son and heir.]
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It's shocking. Beyond that, it feels like an entirely new kind of horror. He is used to monsters justifying their deeds; this is something else. His brows draw together-- just before he catches himself, wrenching his expression back to something calmer, more shuttered. He sets his shoulders back, relaxes his hands.
When he moves towards Liem, it is careful, but he doesn't take his eyes off of him, and he doesn't stop until he's close enough to touch. ]
No, [ he agrees, in a voice too level to feel like his own, ] you are here because you're hiding. I am here because I know what I saw.
[ He's monstrously angry about it, but that's not new. He swallows the rage down, for now, though its hot fingers claw up his throat anyway.
He is going to touch Liem -- if his husband lets him, anyway -- reaching up to brush light fingertips over Liem's cheek, down the line of his jaw. ]
I know what a wound looks like, Liem. I've spent enough nights licking my own.
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He cannot even deny what Cardan has said. He is here because he is hiding: from everyone, including his father, but especially from Cardan. As warm fingers brush his face, the look he aims at his husband might almost be betrayed.
What is he meant to say in the face of this? The caress against his cheek extinguishes his flash of defensiveness as quickly as it sprung alight, leaving only an awful, squirmy frustration at the prospect of being perceived so nakedly.]
I didn’t want you to see me like this. [He frowns, his gaze skittering away from Cardan’s as his fingers fuss restlessly with his cuff.] I’m fine. I just need some time to collect myself.
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A better man would have left Liem alone.
Cardan, being a bully, only sighs and slides his fingers into the short hair at Liem's nape, a gesture vaguely reminiscent of scruffing an obstinate puppy. His other finds its home at his husband's waist, pulling them infinitesimally closer together. It's not an embrace, not quite, but he figures it will make it awkward for Liem to try and escape, should he decide to be done with Cardan altogether. ]
I do not know what it is you think I'm seeing. [ Not a man who's fine, certainly. ] But I will close my eyes, if you so wish.
[ That's plainly not what Liem means, but since his husband has elected to stop making sense, Cardan does not feel beholden to it either. ]
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Even if it would be far worse to not have Cardan come looking for him at all.
But because Cardan is here, and regarding him so deliberately, Liem releases his fidgety grasp of his cuff and rests his palms instead against his husband’s chest, looking him in the eye as though by focusing only on Cardan, he might ignore all the things that brought him here to begin with. His expression makes every effort to be steady, whether or not he feels ready to be.]
Now that you have sought me out, what do you intend to do?
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The cool hands on his chest are progress, at least -- which is good, because Liem's question is surprisingly difficult to answer. He turns it over in his mind, trying to find some angle, some key to the puzzle. But everything he comes up with is bad: too demanding, too selfish, too likely to end up making his husband feel like he has to contort himself to Cardan's whims. It's funny, the way he feels like he never quite has the right words when it comes to Liem and Liem alone. Sometimes he wonders whether love has made him stupid, except he's never been this way with Nicasia. And so--
And so.
He does close his eyes, after all. He closes them, and then he draws both his hands forward, so that he can cradle Liem's face in his palms and press their foreheads together -- a gesture so familiar he doesn't need to see him at all. ]
Just this. For now.
[ He has so much practice navigating in the dark, now. It takes no guesswork at all to brush his mouth over Liem's brow -- a little off-center, but that's fine -- and then pull him into that embrace after all, tucking his head against Cardan's shoulder. And if his husband is stiff about it, well, Cardan has time; eventually even Liem will have to grow weary of his own anxious thoughts. ]
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He should have known better.
When has Cardan ever been satisfied with such a thing from him? When has he ever retreated from his husband without Cardan, eventually, pursuing him? Of course it was never petty concessions that he wanted.
The slide of warm hands framing his face does freeze Liem where he stands, leaving him rigid and uncertain as his husband, lover and companion dips near to rest their brows together. He doesn’t know what to do with the tenderness that moves in his chest as Cardan brushes a kiss over his forehead.
Nor does he know how to contend with it when Cardan pulls him closer, and he suddenly finds himself folded into his embrace. He still hates that his longing for comfort is so pathetically obvious—but Cardan is so warm, and his arms feel so safe, and he smells like the only home Liem has ever needed. Much as Liem wishes to pretend otherwise, he’s been yearning for this ever since he stepped out of his father’s rooms, defeated and miserable, and saw Cardan out in the hall.
He can do nothing, then, but tuck his face against the familiar crook of Cardan’s collar and wrap his arms tightly around him, so he can hold him like he never intends to let go. He can do nothing but give in to his want to forget, to indulge in the feeling of being held and for just a few moments, simply let himself be comforted by the man he loves more than anything.]
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He turns his head to bury his nose against Liem's hair and breathe him in, smoothing his palm along the tense line of his back. He can't help being a little selfish about it. Despite Liem's obvious suffering, despite the thorny knot of problems yet left to untangle, Cardan will never not feel joy at having him -- here, nestled close to his chest, where he belongs. There is an uncomplicated happiness to touching Liem, real and solid and Cardan's, a gift he never expected and certainly doesn't deserve. But if the world is to be unfair, he is glad to see the scales tip in his favour, for once.
For a while, he stays just like that: perfectly content and still, except for the hand stroking Liem's back. Though he will, eventually, speak again, his murmur muffled against the side of Liem's head. ]
Do your wolves have names?
[ He's opened his eyes, in the interim, so that he may see the animals. His hold around Liem doesn't loosen; he doesn't intend for the question to end the interlude of their embrace, only shepherd it to happier pastures. ]
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Part of him still feels like he shouldn’t be letting this happen—that he shouldn’t be leaning so on Cardan’s willingness to take care of him. It would be best if he could straighten up from their hug completely rejuvenated, and reward his husband for jostling him out of his dour mood. But he is not resilient enough for that, and he won’t insult Cardan by trying to pretend otherwise. He stays nestled close, wrapped in Cardan’s arms and Cardan’s scent, and tries not to think of anything else at all.
He will think about his wolves, though, since Cardan has asked. Liem’s face is still tucked against Cardan’s chest, but he can hear the pack moving about, and knows full well that while one of the adults headed back towards the den, the two yearlings have returned and all four remaining wolves have now ambled back over to watch them embrace. Privacy is very much a foreign concept to them.]
Mm, I suppose. [he murmurs.] I’ve given names to most of them.
[Not that they use the ones he’s come up with—but he’s not going to call them Lead Male/Brother or Yearling-Daughter/Subordinate, which is the kind of mish-mash address they seem to use for each other. Maybe something gets lost in translation when they speak with him, though.]
The first to greet you was Half-moon. The smaller ones are Ash and Juniper. The brownish one is Echo. And, um. [He hesitates slightly.] The old, dark-coloured one is just Uncle.
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They are good names, [ he will tell his husband, as if he's an authority on the subject -- he, who has never named anything or anyone. Then again, names do have particular power in Faerie. Perhaps that counts well enough. ] Fitting for wild things.
[ Well. He is not going to comment on Uncle, timid as Liem seems to be about it. Instead, he turns his head to brush his mouth over his husband's silver temple as he thinks about his next question. ]
They seemed to... recognize me.
[ Liem could not have known he was coming; he'd been surprised to see Cardan in the first place. And, despite Cardan's initial panic, he has to concede that the wolves' greeting was friendly, if overwhelming and rather more physical than he would have preferred. Even now, they seem far calmer than animals should be with a strange intruder in their midst. ]
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Of course. They know I am married.
[Liem isn’t surprised in the least by the wolves’ easy acclimation to Cardan’s presence. They are not ignorant, after all; he speaks of his husband often, when he sees them. And even if he didn’t, it would be obvious who Cardan is the moment they caught his scent.]
You smell like me. And frequently, when I come see them, I also smell like you.
[The wolves have had plenty of time to become curious about the owner of that strange Faerie smell. Though he notices, as he continues to snuggle against Cardan’s jacket, that his husband is distinctly glittery this evening—a trait he is now efficiently sharing with his spouse.]
Though I suppose right now you must also smell of moth.
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Liem's further explanation nets him an amused huff of breath. ]
I should be grateful our other acquaintances aren't so perceptive. We'd never keep up the ruse of being at odds.
[ Even if he sounds pleased about it. He likes that Liem smells like him, that they smell like each other, the implicit ownership of it. Even if the only ones who notice are the wolves. ]
...they aren't going to try and take a bite out of it, will they? I'd rather not have to return on foot.
[ He can't imagine that a giant bug would taste particularly good, but he's also never known wild animals to have discriminating palates. ]
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But Cardan’s question makes Liem lift his head, just enough to peer at the quartet of wolves lounging around them like a large, furry wreath. He notes that Echo seems to be missing; she must have been the one to leave earlier. Of the remainder, Half-moon pipes up helpfully, telling him, Moths are tasty.
Liem frowns.]
That one is not for eating, [he tells them.
This only seems to intrigue his audience; Juniper asks, astonished, It’s just one? But he’s covered!]
Don’t bother it, either. Leave it well alone.
[Is it really big? I want to see the big moth, adds Ash.
We will observe it from downwind, Half-moon says reasonably, as all of the animals except for Uncle begin clambering to their feet. It is in our territory, so we should know of it. Liem’s frown deepens to a scowl.]
Do not frighten it off.
[Off the wolves go, against his better judgment, leaving only the elderly male stretched out beside them like a lounging bear. Liem sighs.]
Wonderful…
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Surprisingly, he finds it endears them to him, nevermind that his dignity still smarts from the thorough sniffing they'd inflicted. It's just: he rarely gets to see Liem so stern and yet so soundly overruled. His serious, eternally careful husband could use more friendly ribbing, and Cardan's labours alone cannot possibly suffice. Besides, he suspects that this is not the first time Liem has come to them for comfort -- he only hopes that they are more skilled at offering it than he himself has been.
The part of him that isn't jealous is a little grateful that Liem was not lonely all this time.
He glances down at the elder wolf, his mouth a little wry. ]
...and? Am I going to find my mother's pet in peril?
[ Well, obviously not. If he thought that, he would not be so complacent about it, and he assumes neither would Liem. At worst, the moth will leave and he'll have a tedious hike back ahead of him, but that's already not the worst thing that's happened this night.
Still, he would like to be sure. He may not like the giant creature, but even he cannot deny that he has responsibility for bringing it here. ]
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[Liem leans his forehead against his spouse’s shoulder, briefly waving a dismissive hand, though his husband cannot possibly see it while it’s still behind his back. But the wolves would never harm any of Iago’s things, which is ultimately what Cardan and his moth are, for as long as they are part of his household.]
At worst, they might get over-curious and frighten it back home.
[Must be a sight when it flies, Uncle observes placidly. Probably the younger pack members will want to at least see it move.
This is why Liem had wanted them to stay away from it entirely, but ultimately the wolves are their own creatures, and he can’t be too surprised that they would insist on seeing the gigantic moth with their own eyes and noses.
Perhaps Cardan will have to walk home with him after all. Liem cannot say he has much disappointment for the prospect of avoiding another ride through the sky atop its giant, furry back.]
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He can't repress his satisfied little smile. Besides, now that his husband no longer holds on to him quite so desperately, Cardan can raise his hand to stroke Liem's hair, instead, helpfully depositing glitter there also. ]
Then I should be grateful you haven't ventured further out, I suppose.
[ He looks over at the outcropping that Liem -- and the wolves, before him -- had emerged from. ]
I assume they den nearby?
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But it is easy to relax like this when Cardan asks him such inconsequential things—especially about his wolves, whom he has had so little time thus far to introduce to his foreign spouse. Never previously has he enjoyed the company of both Cardan and his wolves at the same time; lingering here in the forest, content in their company, he is finding ample reason to let contentment sneak its way in between the gaps of his troubles.]
Ha… [He tucks a smile against Cardan’s collar, recalling the way the pack had all bounded off to investigate when they had caught a whiff of his approaching scent.] Quite near, yes.
[Now he turns his head so his voice isn’t so muffled by his husband’s jacket, peeking half up at him from the pillow of his shoulder, even as he continues to keep himself glued there.]
Would you like to see it? The den. [If Liem can convince himself to peel away from his husband and take him there, at least.] The pups are just big enough to come out now.
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