[ P ] hello again

It had been ages since she had last seen him, ages, and yet time had not seemingly forgotten to touch him. His thick, dark fur was just as abyssal as she recalled. Those eyes, like amethysts, glittered with that same mischievous light that danced over a metallic coldness. It was an expression that she had trained herself to appreciate for she knew, without having to ask, that he was a man that did not balk over committing horrific deeds. Deeds she didn't want to ask about for fear of truly realizing what he was capable of. No—Isolde wished to keep her suspicions as merely that: suspicions. Hunches. Assumptions that he would rise to the occasion if asked to assassinate, maim, or kill. Assumptions that this mischievous light was a glow of affection that he reserved for her—or others that had stepped into his inner circle.

But perhaps that was her being overly self-indulgent.

Just because he treated her well—and always had—that did not make her special. She could very well be one of many. It didn't feel that way... but then again... did she know him well at all?

Her heart leaped to her throat at the sight of him and she paused, completely at a loss for words. And then a quiet voice whispered in her ears: but he is special to you.

Special in a way that was fond. Special in a way that was unnerving. Uncomfortable, even.

"O..." The first syllable of his name reached her lips and she paused. In truth, she'd never expected to say his name again when she'd left Cyrileth. "Odysseus."

"We are all young and naive still."

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code by claerie , art by calahand


@Odysseus

my demons come to play

The tavern was neither overly quiet or overly crowded, it was pleasant enough that the flow of conversation never stopped. The bitter taste of booze lingering on the back of his tongue. Alcohol warmed his veins and chased away the worst of winters bite. The cool breeze tugged at his dark coat whenever the door swung open, regardless of whether or not he looked up. It was the warm caress of a woman that would drag his attention from the current conversation. Her sweet voice was slightly slurred, emboldened by liquid courage, so that a string of dirty promises could drip like honey from her lips. A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as his gaze sparked with vague interest.

He had only recently arrived in the lowlands and thus far he hadn't been completely disappointed. Securing a few jobs had proven more difficult than he imagined in this more rural part of Rionnach and each one was just as mundane as the last. The women here were new faces and while they may have acted like shy farm girls, they were no different in the end.

O-Odysseus. Amethyst eyes swung her way. There was immediate recognition and surprise. "Isolde?" He had seen her in ages and truth be told, he hadn't expected to see her ever again. If asked, he might have said that was the reason his gaze slid up and down her body, taking in her earthen colors and feminine curves. Without a second though, he dismissed the other woman, hardly sparing her a glance which earned him a dirty look. "This is a pleasant surprise." Deep baritones rumbled in his chest as a dark brown lifted in silent question. He leaned towards her, his attention suddenly entirely on her as his lips stretched into a dazzling smile.

@Isolde

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It struck her then the hilarity of it all—it being precisely this chance meeting.

Isolde was not a Lowlander but she was partial to the lands. They were not mainlanders but not wholly highlanders either. Torn between the two, even if there had once been a time when they'd been Scots through and through. But they were softer, smarter, more willing to see reason than to dig their heels into the mud and fight to the bloody end over which culture was right. As the daughter of a clansman, Isolde felt a kinship with the lowlander's way of life. She'd never wanted to carry the torch or the banner, never dreamed of being wrapped in it when she died "a warrior's death". Nay—Isolde had wanted peace. Or at least the absence of struggle.

She had thought leaving would fix things. The grass would be greener, the pastures more fertile. Wolves would be smarter, less... violent.

Drawn in by a star-worshipping cult, Isolde had found comfort in their tutelage and the togetherness that they'd sold. Only, in creating such a unified identity, they had labeled all others heathens. And they'd murdered plenty. Their whole home within the Maiden's Tears had been seated upon a pile of bones she had ignored. They hadn't even been hard to find.

Isolde left when it had become clear that the blood had started staining her paws as well and the guilt still haunted her.

Perhaps that was why she had wandered into this tavern on this evening. Not because she liked to drink—it was much the oppoiste—but because this was a place that fed on guilt. On sorrows, on nightmares. She'd feel some kind of kinship if she lingered long enough.

Yet here Odysseus was. He hadn't been a part of the Cyrilethian cult, but he had been there. Had witnessed her whilst she'd been little more than a bird roosting within the tree of their lies. She'd vouched for them, had espoused their beliefs—and it wrankled her to know that he knew. Seeing him brought it all back with a rush and she felt bile rise in her throat.

Yet her heart equally squeezed and she felt a warmth in her belly. He'd offered to help her, though. In the end she had left on impulse without ever saying goodbye. She'd gone home.

Had he followed her?

There she went again being overly indulgent.

Briefly, her green gaze flitted to the woman that had been speaking to him. What had been a vaguely gauzy atmosphere had become sharp. Witnessing the woman's glare, Isolde sharply turned her attention back to Odysseus. She wouldn't risk an altercation.

Although Odysseus did not make her any more comfortable. She could feel the way his gaze traveled over her and she briefly looked away. Internally, she told herself it was just her imagination—but this was no secret truth. Just like the cult's murders, Odysseus' lust hadn't been hidden. She'd just clung to innocence, partially because she'd liked the chase, and partially because she didn't know what to do with this knowledge.

It felt improper. But it also felt...

"You smell of alcohol," Isolde answered, intentionally not leaning back when he leaned toward her. The scent of him caused her heart to flutter, but she forced her expression to smooth. Of course, she would not be surprised if he noticed every small detail about her. He always seemed to.

"Why are you here?" She asked, canting her head slightly to the side. It was in part to inspect him, in part to reveal the curve of her neck.

"We are all young and naive still."

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code by claerie , art by calahand


@Odysseus

my demons come to play

She brought with her memories of the past. He could recall Cyrileth quite well. Some of it was good and some of it was bad, just as it was everywhere else that he had traveled. Once again he found himself on his own, his siblings presumably off on their adventures. At least here he was busy, he had found a purpose that settled him and he flourished.

Under the intensity of his stare, she looked away. Subtle amusement crossed his dark features, there one moment and gone the next. You smell of alcohol. His answering chuckle rumbled softly. "You should have some, you might relax." He teased and he did so shamelessly. Leaning back on his haunches, he regarded her closely. She had just vanished, disappeared into thin air without a single word. No offensive had been taken, but he had found it surprising and maybe disappointing.

Isolde was a tease. Whether she knew it not. She demanded to know what he was doing her but would soften the delivery with a tip of her head, flashing the soft curve of her throat. "I should be asking you that. You're the one that disappeared." There was an innocence about her that he wanted to dirty and from day one he hadn't kept it a secret. "You missed me that much?" His taunt was light, though he had no doubts that it would ruffle her perfectly placed feathers.

@Isolde

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He suggested that she have some alcohol under the pretense that it might help her relax. As if they were renacting an old conversation from the past, her brow knit and she shook her head. "I don't drink." Because that was her nature. Inflexible, strict, committed to ideals of purity. It was only him that seemed to press at the seams of her convictions, always searching for a loose thread that he could tug on. And, to his credit, there were some. Whether they were always there or he seemed to bring them out in her, being in front of him always added the concern in her mind that she might simply unravel.

He'd relish in such nakedness.
She was not so sure if she could look at herself in the mirror afterward.

"... You're the one that disappeared."
Ah, fair. Isolde's green eyes flashed with apologies she didn't say.

His jest caused her to roll her eyes slightly, but the gesture caused her to make eye-contact with the spurned woman from earlier and she looked back at Odysseus quickly. Cyrileth had not been so prosperous as to have this teaming night life with bars. As such, she had only been able to imagine Odysseus' allure to other women. Now, she was being forced to face its effects.

"I am from here." A pause, and then she explained more fully. "From the highlands to be exact. I left because of political unrest..." She paused, thought of how such "political unrest" was still alive and well, then finished her thought. "But it was finally time to come home."

"So, why are you here?"

"..."

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@Odysseus

my demons come to play

He wasn't the least bit surprised when her face pinched and she declared that she didn't drink. It pulled a low chuckle from his lips as he shook head. Unlike her, he most definitely did drink and he would take a sip, savoring the burn of alcohol down his throat. He'd lick his lips, the subtle movement provocative, though he'd never tell whether it was intentional or not. "Maybe you should." He mused, pushing his drink her way, already awaiting her rejection.

She rolled her eyes at him, ignoring his question. When she did offer up an explanation, it was not one that he had imagined. Rionnach was her home. He had always assumed she had been born and raised in Cyrileth, she had been so content amongst the pack she had been apart of. Born and raised in the highlands, it was a surprise that she had left home at all, she didn't strike him as the type to leave her birthplace, her family. Time eventually brought her back home, though political unrest had not improved in her absence.

So, why are you here? He didn't answer her right away, considering his words carefully. "I was just passing through, but the mainlands had some opportunities for me." Odysseus wasn't shy about anything he did or said, but he also wasn't about to drag her into the darkness that was his life. Isolde was soft, she would snap beneath the weight of the knowledge. "So I've stayed, this is my first time in this area though." Initially he had been anxious to leave this dull place, but now he found himself content to stay just a bit longer.

@Isolde

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In truth, she had lied. She did drink just not socially and not here and not with him. Isolde's reputation was one that she had picked clean from the moment she'd learn to find some shame in her Highlander roots. Since then, her commitment to being palatable to all manner of high society had become a compulsion. She had worked hard to rid her voice the Gaelic lilt and, in completing her law degree, had felt as though she could never engage in any reverly. It would be too highlander in nature and Isolde would absolutely perish if anyone saw her drunk. As a result, when she did choose to sip on wine or beer, she did so at home. Alone. In a place where Odysseus could not use her lowered inhibitions against her.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to press. Isolde breathed out a sigh of relief and, for a second, felt a flash of familiarity. She was beginning to fall into step with him again, proverbially of course.

And then he did press and she felt a flash of indignation. Isolde looked down at the drink, suppressed a sudden longing for the alcohol's bitter taste, then shook her head. With a dainty paw, she pushed it away from them both. "Maybe you shouldn't," was her light little challenge, but she truly wouldn't kick up a fuss if he took his drink back. It was part of his charm to be the daring devil with bourbon in one hand and a woman in the other. Granted, said woman had been ousted the moment Isolde had arrived—a fact that both pleased and unnerved her.

When he explained why he was here, she felt her chest constrict at the words: just passing through. So he would... be gone, at some point. He would leave.

Isolde chewed on her lip, gaze dropping to the table in thought.

"So I've stayed, this is my first time in this area though."

She looked up and there was a wane smile on her maw. "I'm glad you have. I hope you grow to like it, political unrest and all," she mused before moving to stand. "I should be getting back to work but..." Isolde paused, realizing that she didn't wish to go yet somehow felt as if she had to. "...I hope to see you around."

And she meant it.
Yet, simultaneously, she knew that the more she saw him, the more lonely she would be when he ultimately moved on.

Oh well. Disappointment was not a stranger in her life.

- exit via Isolde heading outside and making a beeline to her office-

"..."

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@Odysseus

my demons come to play

The smirk never left his mouth, even as she turned him down and pushed his drink back towards him. He had no such qualms about drinking in public, it was practically a part of his image. The liquid went down easily as he finished his drink. After a long day, sometimes it was only the burn of a stiff drink that made it all go down easy. When his paws were soaked in blood and he was weary, it was the warm rush of alcohol that brought him solace. That and the company of a beautiful woman. Today though, no blood stained his paws and matted his fur. "Always the good girl." He teased.

A subtle smile crept across her lips when she looked up at him. He held her stare, his usual boldness ever present. Her words almost made him laugh, but he swallowed the sound. As polite as ever, she still carried herself with a rigidity that almost admirable. Isolde did not bend her ideals anymore than she had back in Cyrileth. Time had not vanquished his desire to see her snap.

Intrigued had his gaze followed each movement as she got to her paws, as if she already planned to leave. A dark brow arched, as if to say leaving already? Work would be her savior, offering her an out to once again slip from his grasp. "You will." Her parting words were met with the low rumble of promise. Without another word, he'd watch her leave in silence. But he didn't stay. Rising from his seat, he too would leave this bar behind.

-exit via lowkey stalking Isolde-

@Isolde

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