SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )

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Set between the 1st and 2nd round fights!

The trip to Northfall had become an intended respite amid stormclouds that had converged for so long. When he first told his sister and nieces of the festival, there had been one additional party he thought would also come: Archon.

That, for obvious reasons, had not come to pass.

Fable had been tight-lipped on any specific details as the children were often within earshot, citing only "differences" when he tried to nudge her for explanation as to why she and Archon had split. He planned to angle for her to at least stay within Dawnbreak for a few days once they arrived home after the tourney - she needed to rest, and he could see the air of utter fatigue that surrounded her. He'd known her for decades, he knew his sister.

The dissolution of their marriage should have brought the knight at least a tinge of sadness, but it didn't. His faith in Archon had been shaken ever since he told him that Fable was dead for reasons he never even explained. It had been difficult to keep a neutral face on around him since, but it had been necessary due to the five tiny lives that were his nieces.

While he questioned Fable's thought process in even producing them, he wouldn't wish them away - and he understood, he thought. She had lost her previous litter and, while he doubted she intended to replace those missing lives, he suspected this was what she thought would bind the broken parts of herself.

It did not seem to be what her marriage needed, however.

Shiloh had initially felt guilt for not being there when it all crumbled, but he had other matters to tend to that took the shape of a smoke-and-cinder woman. She had lost Genghis - all of the Shakti-Vaes children had - and he was needed there, even while he was needed back home. He selfishly hoped Fable would be amenable to consolidating the broken pieces of Avon into Dawnbreak for greater support and safety - and so he didn't have to cut himself in two - but he couldn't make that decision for her. He could only suggest.

There would be time for discussion, for laying out how the ailing group would move forward.

For now, Shiloh turned his focus on one of his nieces: Nausicaa.

He had watched with pride as she went toe-to-toe with the other pup and, even though he had to go rescue her from the vicious whelp, it had been brave to even enter the ring. Based on his own lack of appetite for losing, he suspected his niece might be taking her loss hard.

Two branches he had pruned into makeshift weapons were clamped in his jaws as he sought his patchwork niece out. It hadn't taken long to find her and he gave her a quiet boof to get her attention, tipping his head toward his shoulder to ask her to follow him.

It was imperative Fable didn't know what they were doing or she would be dragging him to the ring herself.

She’d lost.

She’d gotten a ring of teeth stamped into the side of her cheek to her neck by the other pup, who’d overwhelmed her in such a way she wanted to cry foul. But she hadn’t been able to do much of anything in the aftermath, except watch her uncle wrangle the shithead who’d decided to make her loss even sorer. Nausicaa hadn’t come back to the fights after that. She’d waited only enough time for the bite to be deemed non-fatal, and she’d stomped off. Rage was her only friend, and the confidant she’d needed. And she couldn’t turn it against her mother, with those hurts lingering in her eyes. Or her present sisters, who she’d resolved to protect wholesale. Her absent sister? Her father? Her chest felt like it would burst when she thought of them, her heart would begin beating like a drum, so fast her head spun. She didn’t know if that was rage, or just a deep feeling she couldn’t name, like grief.

So, in the absence of any target she could reasonably direct to, she had decided to take her anger out on her loss. She branded the other child’s face into her memory, imagined tearing her to shreds over and over again until the lioness in her chest was satisfied. That was how Shiloh would find her, aggressively stomping her feet in the snow as seething spit flew from between her teeth. Nausicaa was muttering as she stopped, kicking the snow until it was in a heap, and stomping on it again.

The boof visibly startled her, making her land with a pitiful plop in the center of her snow pile. Her hackles raised for a moment, teeth twitching into view as she considered who had spoken to her, but it was only her uncle. Her fur lowered, and anger was quickly sharpened to curiosity by the sticks held in his jaws. She was older now, the obsession with sticks slowly leaving her as the world pressed in, but these looked modified. Sharpened. Her expression morphed to one of surprise, eyebrows sharply raising.

You’re letting me use one? Wouldn’t mom freak? In that moment, though, she didn’t quite care. The patchwork child fell in behind her uncle, trotting at his heel as her eyes never left the sticks.

SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )

In his observations, Shiloh had recognized something familiar in his niece. Had they still been within the realm he - and Fable - had come from, he would have had a sword in her wee little hands and teaching her everything she needed to know so she might one day become a member of the Guard.

Unfortunately, they were no longer there, but the spark remained. He could see it, so readily on the surface; it just needed kindling and guidance so his flame-coated niece could wield the power that was so embedded into the Goldencourte family and the blood that ran through her veins.

Shiloh stifled a chuckle when Nausicaa's surprise was so blatant on her features - a favorable reaction, and hopefully one that meant she understood the gravity of this secret they now shared. He was not one to tell children to keep things from their parents, but... it'd be his hide if Fable found out what he was going to do, and he really thought she was overreacting. Hadn't it been their father who gave those interested in the art their first swords? Seeing as Archon was out of the picture, Shiloh wanted to ensure Goldencourte traditions persevered and he could be a good role model for the children who did not necessarily enjoy the softness Fable's lifestyle lent itself to. The world was a thing of many facets, and not all of them benefited from a gentle touch. There had to be those willing to take up arms to preserve the more delicate parts of society... time would tell if Nausicaa was one of them, as Shiloh had been and still strove to be.

Aye, if ye think you're ready for one, Shiloh confirmed, his voice bearing the edge of expectation - did she think she was ready? He took a sidelong glance at his niece to gauge her reaction, but he was fairly certain she would agree quickly.

His paws led them to small clearing away from the hubbub, but not so far they weren't still surrounded by the sounds and smells of revelry. Shiloh shifted his grip on the swords, lowering his head so Nausicaa could retrieve her sword from his jaws. I'll show ye how t'use it, he told her.