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+--- Thread: PRP it's been a nightmare, and not that you care (/showthread.php?tid=10542)
it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Tiberii - 3/4/2026
RE: it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Shiloh - 3/4/2026
![[Image: shybadge.png]](http://magatia.net/x/shybadge.png)
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
It did not occur to him that he should have heeded instructions until he was cast out into the callous storm.
White surrounded the Red Lion on all sides, battering him as his form hurtled through the winter air. Ice-edged winds throttled him on all sides, their teeth biting against his skin as the previous warmth of nothingness he’d been ensconced in was stolen away. Breath was trapped inside his lungs - if any existed at all in the seizing cold - and his limbs flailed as he attempted to manipulate his body in preparation for impact. Shiloh twisted this way and that, but a drunken sensation lit within his stomach as he made the realization he could not tell up from down in the abyss of snow - it all looked the same to his unadjusted eyes as he remained in free fall.
He couldn’t even tell the time of day.
Disoriented, panic fluttered to life beneath his breast bone and he managed to roll his body in time for the first tree’s impact. Snow-laden branches of the evergreens rattled what little air remained within him as he made a stilting and awkward descent through the copse of trees and toward the ground below. The motion lacked any grace and preparation, but he was reluctantly grateful for their break - if he had made contact with the ground first, of which there would have been little give beneath the snow covering it, he likely would boast more than sore spots and a few cuts.
They were nothing to the bear mauling he’d received before being spirited away from Mythris.
Epona, Conor, and Amalthea seemed convinced that the sudden and complete withdrawal of the Goldencourtes had been caused by the veil between this world and theirs. Shiloh, especially, was an anomaly it was attempting to sort; when death certainly waited to claim him again within Mythris after his encounter with the bear, it swept him away just in time to keep it from winning. Life and death was something balanced delicately by the gods, or so the most pious in his family maintained, and he was an outlier they were determined to resolve. His presence in Talamh had rightfully upset said balance, given he had died there once, and the uncertainty of what would happen if he remained there was one of the reasons driven into the family finding out how to reverse course. At worst, he would die - at best, he would have been otherwise excised to keep both life and death healthy.
At least, the avoidance of such was the drive for them, as none of his family wanted him to be dead, even if it meant he had to live apart from them. His reasoning was far more selfish.
He wanted to go back to her.
He searched for answers, for ways to claw his way back to Mythris. It would have been inconceivable the last time he was human for him to consider giving up his oath and everything he’d ever worked for to return to a different world, but he was - it wasn’t a consideration, it was a promise. Shiloh had no intentions of returning to the battleground and, thankfully, the Matriarch was not of mind to argue it. Amalthea gave him leave, instead helping him explore every avenue of how to return him to Mythris - and anyone else who desired the same strange world.
War would come for them soon, whether he was there or not, and she suspected he would only die again as life’s balance corrected itself. In her words, there was “no reason for you to die twice and I can’t employ a dead man, now can I?”
He made the wise decision at that time to not point out she could have made him into the mockery of life that she turned her cat into instead - Shiloh had no intentions of living half-alive.
From his first brooding moment back in Talamh, he was consumed with the nothingness where Tiberii was supposed to be. He suffered through watching his sister and Fox embrace Talamh as their bond grew, even if Fable would clam up when he brought attention to it, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why Tiberii hadn’t been brought alongside him. Fox, as far as Shiloh was aware, had been nothing officially precious to his sister, so why had he gotten a pass between worlds when Shiloh was certain his own soul was cleaved to Tiberii’s?
In the relative solitude he wrapped himself in for the entirety of his stay back “home”, he wondered the question until he could only suppose it was the gods’ punishment for his lack of belief in them. He knew they existed, he knew they sometimes walked among them, but he detested their means. Even now, Shiloh felt mortalkind was just the vapid puppets the gods liked to manipulate for their own amusement; they ladled hardship onto their shoulders to keep them supplicant for relief, never with the intention to truly remove it.
Knowing the promise from Rhiannon that enabled his parents to revive again and again alongside one another, he still could not bring himself to give the gods credit. To make it so, they had required Epona to die and Alistair to mourn her for years and years in the very first iterations of their souls. It was the least the damned gods could have done for their sacrifice, if anyone wanted his opinion on the matter.
Then there were the wars, the unrest, the prejudice written into the bones and sinew of so many - useless, prideful viewpoints that did nothing but divide. The gods could intervene, but they didn’t - not even when children paid the price. Those without blemish were cut down alongside the guilty.
It was callous. The knight’s jaded view of it all left a sour taste in his mouth, which turned to iron on his tongue as a limb smacked him square in the jaw. A fresh ache woke as blood oozed from his bitten tongue, a grunt punctuating the howling winds as his trajectory slowed. Everything in him hurt and he didn’t know the last time he was so fucking cold; he had never been kind to his body, never afforded it a chance to truly recover before he put it through the next wave of torment in the name of honing himself into a lethal weapon, and he felt it now. Old war wounds translated to his canine form as they had before, roused now beneath the assault of nature.
Like arms delivering his beaten body as some sort of twisted gift, the tree’s final branch relented beneath his weight and dumped him onto the ground and elicited a pained groan from the knight - his form landing on a very solid one that, had he been more coherent in the moment, he would have recognized anywhere.
White surrounded the Red Lion on all sides, battering him as his form hurtled through the winter air. Ice-edged winds throttled him on all sides, their teeth biting against his skin as the previous warmth of nothingness he’d been ensconced in was stolen away. Breath was trapped inside his lungs - if any existed at all in the seizing cold - and his limbs flailed as he attempted to manipulate his body in preparation for impact. Shiloh twisted this way and that, but a drunken sensation lit within his stomach as he made the realization he could not tell up from down in the abyss of snow - it all looked the same to his unadjusted eyes as he remained in free fall.
He couldn’t even tell the time of day.
Disoriented, panic fluttered to life beneath his breast bone and he managed to roll his body in time for the first tree’s impact. Snow-laden branches of the evergreens rattled what little air remained within him as he made a stilting and awkward descent through the copse of trees and toward the ground below. The motion lacked any grace and preparation, but he was reluctantly grateful for their break - if he had made contact with the ground first, of which there would have been little give beneath the snow covering it, he likely would boast more than sore spots and a few cuts.
They were nothing to the bear mauling he’d received before being spirited away from Mythris.
Epona, Conor, and Amalthea seemed convinced that the sudden and complete withdrawal of the Goldencourtes had been caused by the veil between this world and theirs. Shiloh, especially, was an anomaly it was attempting to sort; when death certainly waited to claim him again within Mythris after his encounter with the bear, it swept him away just in time to keep it from winning. Life and death was something balanced delicately by the gods, or so the most pious in his family maintained, and he was an outlier they were determined to resolve. His presence in Talamh had rightfully upset said balance, given he had died there once, and the uncertainty of what would happen if he remained there was one of the reasons driven into the family finding out how to reverse course. At worst, he would die - at best, he would have been otherwise excised to keep both life and death healthy.
At least, the avoidance of such was the drive for them, as none of his family wanted him to be dead, even if it meant he had to live apart from them. His reasoning was far more selfish.
He wanted to go back to her.
He searched for answers, for ways to claw his way back to Mythris. It would have been inconceivable the last time he was human for him to consider giving up his oath and everything he’d ever worked for to return to a different world, but he was - it wasn’t a consideration, it was a promise. Shiloh had no intentions of returning to the battleground and, thankfully, the Matriarch was not of mind to argue it. Amalthea gave him leave, instead helping him explore every avenue of how to return him to Mythris - and anyone else who desired the same strange world.
War would come for them soon, whether he was there or not, and she suspected he would only die again as life’s balance corrected itself. In her words, there was “no reason for you to die twice and I can’t employ a dead man, now can I?”
He made the wise decision at that time to not point out she could have made him into the mockery of life that she turned her cat into instead - Shiloh had no intentions of living half-alive.
From his first brooding moment back in Talamh, he was consumed with the nothingness where Tiberii was supposed to be. He suffered through watching his sister and Fox embrace Talamh as their bond grew, even if Fable would clam up when he brought attention to it, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why Tiberii hadn’t been brought alongside him. Fox, as far as Shiloh was aware, had been nothing officially precious to his sister, so why had he gotten a pass between worlds when Shiloh was certain his own soul was cleaved to Tiberii’s?
In the relative solitude he wrapped himself in for the entirety of his stay back “home”, he wondered the question until he could only suppose it was the gods’ punishment for his lack of belief in them. He knew they existed, he knew they sometimes walked among them, but he detested their means. Even now, Shiloh felt mortalkind was just the vapid puppets the gods liked to manipulate for their own amusement; they ladled hardship onto their shoulders to keep them supplicant for relief, never with the intention to truly remove it.
Knowing the promise from Rhiannon that enabled his parents to revive again and again alongside one another, he still could not bring himself to give the gods credit. To make it so, they had required Epona to die and Alistair to mourn her for years and years in the very first iterations of their souls. It was the least the damned gods could have done for their sacrifice, if anyone wanted his opinion on the matter.
Then there were the wars, the unrest, the prejudice written into the bones and sinew of so many - useless, prideful viewpoints that did nothing but divide. The gods could intervene, but they didn’t - not even when children paid the price. Those without blemish were cut down alongside the guilty.
It was callous. The knight’s jaded view of it all left a sour taste in his mouth, which turned to iron on his tongue as a limb smacked him square in the jaw. A fresh ache woke as blood oozed from his bitten tongue, a grunt punctuating the howling winds as his trajectory slowed. Everything in him hurt and he didn’t know the last time he was so fucking cold; he had never been kind to his body, never afforded it a chance to truly recover before he put it through the next wave of torment in the name of honing himself into a lethal weapon, and he felt it now. Old war wounds translated to his canine form as they had before, roused now beneath the assault of nature.
Like arms delivering his beaten body as some sort of twisted gift, the tree’s final branch relented beneath his weight and dumped him onto the ground and elicited a pained groan from the knight - his form landing on a very solid one that, had he been more coherent in the moment, he would have recognized anywhere.
RE: it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Tiberii - 3/5/2026
RE: it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Shiloh - 3/5/2026
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
What air hadn’t been robbed from his lungs over the course of his descent rushed out on impact with the “ground.”
His body screamed for air as holes seared into his vision like overheated film tape. When at last he dragged in a breath, he gulped it down and his rigid body went lax - but not for long, as the body that softened his landing bucked his weight and he rolled to the side roughly, his cheek landing against the snow.
With a nose full of snow, he shook his head to try and dispel the cold menace before the snarl ripped through the air and his gaze snapped toward the source. His efforts to rid himself of the snow was forgotten as he stared straight at the woman crafted from cinder and smoke.
In his earlier struggle for breath, the rapid drumbeat of his heart in his ears had blotted out the voice that chastised him - but he need not hear her voice to recognize her. The two were frozen, figuratively and near-literally considering the raging storm, and the knight found himself incapable of dragging his gaze away. A tremor not owed to the cold worked its way down his spine and each leg, sourced in both relief and an equal measure of fear.
Fear that she wasn’t really there, that she might disappear if he blinked, that maybe she had given up on him or forgotten him - but the spell was broken the moment she said his name.
It was her. She was here, and so was he - regardless of how little mind he paid to Conor’s instructions or how rough his arrival had been, none of it mattered when she stood before him.
The pain wracking his frame was pushed to the back of his mind as he shoved himself to his paws. His breath still came in misted huffs, but stormcloud eyes were clear and trained on her as he took a step forward.
He didn’t know where to begin. There was so much unsaid, so much to tell her - the weight of his promise to her that he had inadvertently broken was quick to settle along his aching shoulders.
Shiloh wasn’t really afforded an option before the powers that be tore him from Mythris, but he didn’t feel that was a good enough excuse. He should have tried harder, fought more, done better.
He should have been back sooner.
Shiloh remained rooted where he was, defying the instinct to press forward and curl around her. His brows were furrowed, eyes searching as they held her sunglow ones. He braced himself for her judgment, no excuses at the tip of his tongue.
His body screamed for air as holes seared into his vision like overheated film tape. When at last he dragged in a breath, he gulped it down and his rigid body went lax - but not for long, as the body that softened his landing bucked his weight and he rolled to the side roughly, his cheek landing against the snow.
With a nose full of snow, he shook his head to try and dispel the cold menace before the snarl ripped through the air and his gaze snapped toward the source. His efforts to rid himself of the snow was forgotten as he stared straight at the woman crafted from cinder and smoke.
In his earlier struggle for breath, the rapid drumbeat of his heart in his ears had blotted out the voice that chastised him - but he need not hear her voice to recognize her. The two were frozen, figuratively and near-literally considering the raging storm, and the knight found himself incapable of dragging his gaze away. A tremor not owed to the cold worked its way down his spine and each leg, sourced in both relief and an equal measure of fear.
Fear that she wasn’t really there, that she might disappear if he blinked, that maybe she had given up on him or forgotten him - but the spell was broken the moment she said his name.
It was her. She was here, and so was he - regardless of how little mind he paid to Conor’s instructions or how rough his arrival had been, none of it mattered when she stood before him.
Tiberii,he returned, half-surprising himself when the name echoing in his mind like a fervent prayer made its way onto the cold air.
The pain wracking his frame was pushed to the back of his mind as he shoved himself to his paws. His breath still came in misted huffs, but stormcloud eyes were clear and trained on her as he took a step forward.
He didn’t know where to begin. There was so much unsaid, so much to tell her - the weight of his promise to her that he had inadvertently broken was quick to settle along his aching shoulders.
Shiloh wasn’t really afforded an option before the powers that be tore him from Mythris, but he didn’t feel that was a good enough excuse. He should have tried harder, fought more, done better.
He should have been back sooner.
I’m sorry,he decided on at last. The words hung in the air for a moment as he swallowed around the lump in his throat, his mouth feeling dry.
That I didn’t keep m’promise.
Shiloh remained rooted where he was, defying the instinct to press forward and curl around her. His brows were furrowed, eyes searching as they held her sunglow ones. He braced himself for her judgment, no excuses at the tip of his tongue.
RE: it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Tiberii - 3/6/2026
RE: it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Shiloh - 3/6/2026
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
Each moment felt as though it encompassed eons. Every atom in his body wanted to surge forward, to draw her near and seek out the familiar medley of smoke and snow and the Vale that lingered on her - but he didn't. It took every ounce of restraint and every heartbeat was another battle, another near-failure in every lesson of discipline he'd ever been taught.
The depth of her eyes laid bare an emptiness she must have felt while he was gone and guilt joined its brethren, shame, as they curled around his heart. He tried not to wince as she stated she thought him dead - it did nothing to dampen the despair roosting in his chest. Not for himself, for her - she, who had lost so much in such a short life. And all he had done was added to the pile.
He was supposed to help her shoulder it. That's what they had come to an agreement on in that cursed cave - they helped one another. While it was true he nearly had died, evidenced by the ragged scars carved into his flank and over his hips, that scarcely mattered to him now.
Shiloh blinked slowly, brows dimpled as he searched for words he didn't have. How did one remove such pain? Months lived, thinking he was dead? He had known - hoped - she lived yet and the time spent apart was a hellscape tailored specifically to him. If he had thought her dead, he couldn't even fathom.
He ached to take a step, to press his side to hers or pull her close, to prove he wasn't dead, but he remained stock still. Shiloh barely dared breathe, as if he might shatter what was left of her with such an affront. Tiberii was strong, a force of nature, but he saw himself reflected back from her; they were always two halves of a greater whole, too alike to do anything but seek one another out. It didn't matter if realms or time immaterial spanned between them - he'd crawl his way back to her no matter the cost, even if the universe itself dumped him from the sky as it just had.
Every scrape and bruise and sore spot was worth it.
Shiloh had subtly braced himself when he spoke, knowing it was a risk. "Sorry" was an insufficient word; it was hollow, falling so short of what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her every moment away from her had been torture, that he fought with everything in him to avoid being torn away, but he hadn't been strong enough. All of it sounded like an excuse, a cop out, and he wouldn't cheapen what she'd gone through that way.
He had failed, it was as plain as day.
The knight's throat bobbed when the familiar fire he anticipated surfaced, but he didn't look away. She could scorch him until there was nothing at all left of him and he would let her.
She moved closer and whatever he had scrounged together to say dissipated, lost in his laser focus on her movements. Shiloh's heart pounded in his chest, too foolish to avoid the hope that wanted to take root. Anger lined her body, the defiance he knew to be such an innate part of her. That was always their song and dance - the push-and-pull, like an undertow rushing along the shoreline before spinning away.
But something shifted. The hard edges softened, falling away as she hastened forward. The lion had barely a moment to brace himself before her frame collided into his own, but he wouldn't have cared if she had bowled him over. Tiberii's muzzle folded beneath his jaw and a riptide of emotion tore through him, wrenching tears and a silent sob from somewhere deep inside his soul as he folded around her. His muzzle dug into her dark mane, but it wasn't enough.
Shiloh brought a foreleg over her shoulders to draw her nearer, eliminating more of the cold space between them. If he could have found some way of melding them into one being, he might have done it - but as it was, all he could do was hold her and allow fire and cinder fur to mingle as he drank in her warmth and offered his own against the frigid cold.
He dragged his face against her own before pressing their foreheads together.
Nothing would. He would cheat death and fate and defy whatever god rose against him - it might take him time, as it had in this instance, but he would always return to her even if bloodied and broken.
He drew in a shaky breath, the sound wet with tears he didn't even bother to fight.
The depth of her eyes laid bare an emptiness she must have felt while he was gone and guilt joined its brethren, shame, as they curled around his heart. He tried not to wince as she stated she thought him dead - it did nothing to dampen the despair roosting in his chest. Not for himself, for her - she, who had lost so much in such a short life. And all he had done was added to the pile.
He was supposed to help her shoulder it. That's what they had come to an agreement on in that cursed cave - they helped one another. While it was true he nearly had died, evidenced by the ragged scars carved into his flank and over his hips, that scarcely mattered to him now.
Shiloh blinked slowly, brows dimpled as he searched for words he didn't have. How did one remove such pain? Months lived, thinking he was dead? He had known - hoped - she lived yet and the time spent apart was a hellscape tailored specifically to him. If he had thought her dead, he couldn't even fathom.
He ached to take a step, to press his side to hers or pull her close, to prove he wasn't dead, but he remained stock still. Shiloh barely dared breathe, as if he might shatter what was left of her with such an affront. Tiberii was strong, a force of nature, but he saw himself reflected back from her; they were always two halves of a greater whole, too alike to do anything but seek one another out. It didn't matter if realms or time immaterial spanned between them - he'd crawl his way back to her no matter the cost, even if the universe itself dumped him from the sky as it just had.
Every scrape and bruise and sore spot was worth it.
Shiloh had subtly braced himself when he spoke, knowing it was a risk. "Sorry" was an insufficient word; it was hollow, falling so short of what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her every moment away from her had been torture, that he fought with everything in him to avoid being torn away, but he hadn't been strong enough. All of it sounded like an excuse, a cop out, and he wouldn't cheapen what she'd gone through that way.
He had failed, it was as plain as day.
The knight's throat bobbed when the familiar fire he anticipated surfaced, but he didn't look away. She could scorch him until there was nothing at all left of him and he would let her.
No,he offered, the word falling from his tongue as he searched her gaze. He implored his voice to find something that so much as inched upon that he wanted to say.
It's only th' beginnin'.
She moved closer and whatever he had scrounged together to say dissipated, lost in his laser focus on her movements. Shiloh's heart pounded in his chest, too foolish to avoid the hope that wanted to take root. Anger lined her body, the defiance he knew to be such an innate part of her. That was always their song and dance - the push-and-pull, like an undertow rushing along the shoreline before spinning away.
But something shifted. The hard edges softened, falling away as she hastened forward. The lion had barely a moment to brace himself before her frame collided into his own, but he wouldn't have cared if she had bowled him over. Tiberii's muzzle folded beneath his jaw and a riptide of emotion tore through him, wrenching tears and a silent sob from somewhere deep inside his soul as he folded around her. His muzzle dug into her dark mane, but it wasn't enough.
Shiloh brought a foreleg over her shoulders to draw her nearer, eliminating more of the cold space between them. If he could have found some way of melding them into one being, he might have done it - but as it was, all he could do was hold her and allow fire and cinder fur to mingle as he drank in her warmth and offered his own against the frigid cold.
He dragged his face against her own before pressing their foreheads together.
I wasn't dead,Shiloh murmured, whisking his tongue over the side of her muzzle as a measure to comfort himself as much as her.
But even if I died, no grave could ever keep me from comin' back t'ye.
Nothing would. He would cheat death and fate and defy whatever god rose against him - it might take him time, as it had in this instance, but he would always return to her even if bloodied and broken.
He drew in a shaky breath, the sound wet with tears he didn't even bother to fight.
I never stopped thinkin' about ye an' lookin' for a way back,he admitted.
Nearly drove m'mad.
RE: it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Tiberii - 3/7/2026
RE: it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Shiloh - 3/7/2026
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
Shiloh couldn’t help but marvel at the renewed connection. Her ragged edges fit alongside his, she was the other half to an existence he pined for, for months. Although the memory of being without her was still fresh, it was overridden by the now, the moment they were in. He would endure each moment all over again if it landed him back here, entwined with Tiberii.
She looked up at him and he lowered his gaze to hers, meeting it. Usually so quick to grab for stoicism when faced with showing weakness - but he felt no such compulsion here. His hold on the woman tightened, drawing her impossibly closer as though he feared she might drift away if he didn’t. Truthfully, it was to settle himself.
He could hear the brokenness in her voice, and he could easily see the scene he’d left behind through her lens. Shiloh had wondered what happened after the veil tore him away; it apparently hadn’t cared to clean the scene he left behind. He recalled the fight easily. The bear had been enraged past what seemed natural; its movements were jerky and fueled by a pure, unadulterated ire he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen in a being that wasn’t of the same sentience as himself and those like him. It didn’t seem to care how deep he bit, how many times it fell - it didn’t give any sign of letting up until it fell, lifeless.
Though the encounter had clearly cost him a great deal, he was grateful he was able to stop the threat before it made it closer to Dawnbreak. At the time, Hexx and Golde’s children had been on the ground - it was unacceptable for the behemoth to be even a step closer.
It had been the closest thing to an answer as any of them could come up with. Even Conor, who had lived within a sanctum of the veil for years, could not begin to guess as to why Shiloh continued to be volleyed between worlds. All he could say for certain was that, with the veil properly patched, it shouldn’t happen again. Meaning if he died this time, there would be nothing to ferry him to relative safety.
The chuckle that crept past his lips surprised himself when she told him, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t allowed to die this time.
His stormcloud eyes met her fiery ones until her nose ghosted along his jaw; his lids softly closed and he leaned into the touch. The contented sigh that pressed through him stole away any of his residual rigidity, leaving him to bask in her proximity.
Peace had always been something hard-won for Shiloh. He found it sparingly, in such small doses he once thought it wasn’t something one could actually attain. Even among his family, he was rarely at rest; his mind ranged over safety, the future, if they had everything they needed, if he could do enough for them - but somehow, someway, amid the howling winds ripping past them, he felt a measure of peace.
It was just them, reunited, at home in the middle of nowhere. The rest of the world could have fallen away and he wouldn’t have noticed. He was tuned into the flow of her breathing, her unhurried touch against his cheek - he noticed immediately when she drew away and his reverie shivered, threatening to break for reality, but not for long; Tiberii eased back into him and he relaxed again with a soft exhale.
Her words accompanied her breath against his ear and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine, tempered by the grief the words inspired. He hated that his unintended departure had affected her so, that she had suffered at all because of him. The sentiment sprouted ichorous roots in his chest, pumping fresh shame into him.
He should have felt worse for breaking his oath as a knight. Though Amalthea technically gave him leave, the promise he made as a knight extended beyond his tenure - over the years, it had become an intrinsic part of himself. Denying it went deeper than a bent knee; for the first time in his home realm, he chose to be selfish. Shiloh wasn’t sure what that said about him, to be an oathbreaker and have no regret for turning his back on the kingdom he’d served and been a part of for so long, but he would do it again.
For better or worse, that world was no longer his. It hadn’t been for quite some time.
Shiloh breathed in Tiberii’s familiar scent, reminding himself for the hundredth time in as many seconds that he finally found her again. It had all been worth it, even if he doubted so in the moment.
His eyes crept open to half-mast as she drew away, just enough to face him. Shiloh’s gaze followed her, just as it always did, and the realm of storms and sunlight met again. He couldn’t look away from her face even if he wanted to, especially when she admitted she had missed him.
It wasn’t lost on him what such a confession cost her - both of them were bad with emotions, especially conveying them. Sometimes he wondered what outsiders looking in thought about their interactions; typically, it seemed like they flirted on the knife’s edge between violence and affection. They spoke their own language, it didn’t matter if no one else understood.
His muzzle inched forward, stealing away one of the lingering tears on her cheek with an affectionate rasp of his tongue.
When his muzzle drifted away from her cheek so he could look her in the eye again, he faintly quirked a brow and one of his customary lopsided grins shifted along his lips.
Because they were in the middle of a fucking blizzard, lest he forget.
She seemed to draw into that fact at the same time as him. A rueful sigh gusted from his lips and he delivered their surroundings a glance full of ire. Leave it to the weather to shatter this moment - he had waited ever so long to be reunited with her.
She looked up at him and he lowered his gaze to hers, meeting it. Usually so quick to grab for stoicism when faced with showing weakness - but he felt no such compulsion here. His hold on the woman tightened, drawing her impossibly closer as though he feared she might drift away if he didn’t. Truthfully, it was to settle himself.
He could hear the brokenness in her voice, and he could easily see the scene he’d left behind through her lens. Shiloh had wondered what happened after the veil tore him away; it apparently hadn’t cared to clean the scene he left behind. He recalled the fight easily. The bear had been enraged past what seemed natural; its movements were jerky and fueled by a pure, unadulterated ire he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen in a being that wasn’t of the same sentience as himself and those like him. It didn’t seem to care how deep he bit, how many times it fell - it didn’t give any sign of letting up until it fell, lifeless.
Though the encounter had clearly cost him a great deal, he was grateful he was able to stop the threat before it made it closer to Dawnbreak. At the time, Hexx and Golde’s children had been on the ground - it was unacceptable for the behemoth to be even a step closer.
I think I must have been close t’death,Shiloh pressed his nose against her cheek before kissing the spot he nudged. He had been so weak in those final moments, unable to fight as much as he would have wanted.
Just like when I died as a knight, I was taken away.
It had been the closest thing to an answer as any of them could come up with. Even Conor, who had lived within a sanctum of the veil for years, could not begin to guess as to why Shiloh continued to be volleyed between worlds. All he could say for certain was that, with the veil properly patched, it shouldn’t happen again. Meaning if he died this time, there would be nothing to ferry him to relative safety.
I wish ye hadn’t had t’see that, an’ then t’not know where I went or if I was even alive,he sighed, brow furrowing. He hated the power that had done that, even as, in the same moment, he was overwhelmed with gratitude at being able to return to her side. It was a complicated, conflicting blend of emotions. Would it have been better for her to see a dead body? Probably, even if it was harder in the moment - she would have had closure, something to bury. Instead, she’d carried an open wound, based on the past few moments.
The chuckle that crept past his lips surprised himself when she told him, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t allowed to die this time.
I can agree t’those terms,he assured her, nipping gently at the longer fur of her cheek.
Where ye are is where I’ll stay, Fireband.
His stormcloud eyes met her fiery ones until her nose ghosted along his jaw; his lids softly closed and he leaned into the touch. The contented sigh that pressed through him stole away any of his residual rigidity, leaving him to bask in her proximity.
Ye are even more beautiful than I remembered,he confessed when his eyes cracked open marginally. Had he been able to put the visuals in his head to his tongue, he might have compared her to the mist gathered atop dark, moonlit waters. As it was, however, he couldn’t find the words to convey it.
Dreams don’t do ye justice.
Peace had always been something hard-won for Shiloh. He found it sparingly, in such small doses he once thought it wasn’t something one could actually attain. Even among his family, he was rarely at rest; his mind ranged over safety, the future, if they had everything they needed, if he could do enough for them - but somehow, someway, amid the howling winds ripping past them, he felt a measure of peace.
It was just them, reunited, at home in the middle of nowhere. The rest of the world could have fallen away and he wouldn’t have noticed. He was tuned into the flow of her breathing, her unhurried touch against his cheek - he noticed immediately when she drew away and his reverie shivered, threatening to break for reality, but not for long; Tiberii eased back into him and he relaxed again with a soft exhale.
Her words accompanied her breath against his ear and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine, tempered by the grief the words inspired. He hated that his unintended departure had affected her so, that she had suffered at all because of him. The sentiment sprouted ichorous roots in his chest, pumping fresh shame into him.
I tried - I never stopped tryin’,Shiloh returned, nuzzling his forehead against hers.
I wasn’t m’self either. I’m sure if ye asked any o’ m’family, they’d say I was a right arsehole th’ whole time. Abandoned m’oath an’ focused on findin’ m’way back.
He should have felt worse for breaking his oath as a knight. Though Amalthea technically gave him leave, the promise he made as a knight extended beyond his tenure - over the years, it had become an intrinsic part of himself. Denying it went deeper than a bent knee; for the first time in his home realm, he chose to be selfish. Shiloh wasn’t sure what that said about him, to be an oathbreaker and have no regret for turning his back on the kingdom he’d served and been a part of for so long, but he would do it again.
For better or worse, that world was no longer his. It hadn’t been for quite some time.
Shiloh breathed in Tiberii’s familiar scent, reminding himself for the hundredth time in as many seconds that he finally found her again. It had all been worth it, even if he doubted so in the moment.
His eyes crept open to half-mast as she drew away, just enough to face him. Shiloh’s gaze followed her, just as it always did, and the realm of storms and sunlight met again. He couldn’t look away from her face even if he wanted to, especially when she admitted she had missed him.
It wasn’t lost on him what such a confession cost her - both of them were bad with emotions, especially conveying them. Sometimes he wondered what outsiders looking in thought about their interactions; typically, it seemed like they flirted on the knife’s edge between violence and affection. They spoke their own language, it didn’t matter if no one else understood.
His muzzle inched forward, stealing away one of the lingering tears on her cheek with an affectionate rasp of his tongue.
I missed ye, too,he told her.
More than I’ve ever missed anyone or anything.
When his muzzle drifted away from her cheek so he could look her in the eye again, he faintly quirked a brow and one of his customary lopsided grins shifted along his lips.
Ye will have t’get sick o’ me before ye ever have t’miss me again,he promised. Despite the edge of teasing, his eyes burned with words yet unspoken. He had never been so certain in his entire life of what he felt for her, but the moment was wrong to say it.
Because they were in the middle of a fucking blizzard, lest he forget.
She seemed to draw into that fact at the same time as him. A rueful sigh gusted from his lips and he delivered their surroundings a glance full of ire. Leave it to the weather to shatter this moment - he had waited ever so long to be reunited with her.
Aye, it would seem so,he agreed before straightening his frame next to hers. Sidelong, he glanced at Tiberii, his earlier smirk returning.
Ye don’t have t’ ask me twice t’share a confined space with ye.
RE: it's been a nightmare, and not that you care - Tiberii - 3/9/2026