[ P ] Hearth & Heart

Dire strolled along the beach, his paws sinking slightly into the midnight sands with each step. The salty breeze tousled his fur, carrying the scent of sea and sand. Though Calais was a land that tested even the strongest, he had grown fond of its dangers- the jagged cliffs, the ever-changing tides, the quiet solitude it offered.

The stone cottage nestled west of the bay had become his refuge. Humble in its structure, yet steadfast against the elements, it was more than a shelter - it was a home, one he had built with Inessa in mind. The thought of her stirred something deep in his chest, a warmth akin to the fire that crackled within the nearby hearth. He placed the kettle over the flames, letting the familiar bubble and pop' of boiling water fill the room. She would wake soon. After all, he had exhausted her the night before, and the days prior, leaving her in the depths of slumber.

His gaze drifted to the book resting on the wooden table, its pages worn with age. He didn’t understand its meaning - its language was ancient, its symbols foreign - but that had never stopped him from trying. He reached out, tracing the brittle parchment with his claw, as if the stories within could be learned through touch alone.

Outside, the sea murmured, as ever-present and untamed as the land that surrounded them. A quiet sigh escaped him. There was beauty here - in the crashing waves, in the warmth of his home, in the woman who lay just beyond that door...

Table @Calatiah, Art @glacialee

This was uncharted and unfamiliar territory, not just the land but this new place she was to call home—built by the man she told herself time and time again to evade, to possibly even run away from. But she is hooked and hungry for everything she was starved of after all this time.

Her oldest brother tried to use his paw to maneuver her through their lives, tried to make anything stick for Inessa; luckily nothing ever quite did, much to his dismay. She wasn't ever quite against his arrangements, she was however against who he made arrangements with—but it was never her fault the other half of the arrangements backed out. Maybe she was naturally the issue, the reason the others decided she wasn't quite what they wanted.

Then, Dire happened.

He stepped in, intervened and quite literally saved her life. He didn't demand her life to be chained to his, he only made the request. He wasnt denied, of course. But she still finds herself curiously thinking about what would have happened if he were denied, if she fought him tooth and nail against his request or simply just vanished.

If she did that, though, she was would surely come to miss the warmth of both his body and the way his scent lingers in the furs they fall asleep on at night, tangled up in her own fibers. She may even miss the sound of the ocean off in the distance, the smell of salt and sand. She was against his idea of a new home for her, until he pushed her into the warm sands that her paws sank into. She was content—for the time being—and she could feel it so in her bones, in her limbs, perhaps even in her mind, as restless as it seemed to be lately.

She hears subtle rustling about, movement outside of the sleeping quarters and she finally wakes herself up, rising from a bed of softened furs and making her way to the threshold where she stands. She gives herself a moment to observe Dire as he occupies his attention with a book infront of him. Her paws make herself known first, the click and clack of her claws on the stone beneath giving way to her presence. She doesnt falter in her approach, doesnt hesitate, as she wanders closer to his side, her own gaze falling to the book.