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Morrighan falls quiet with his compliment about her daughter. A shyness stretches like an ill-fitting coat across his Regent’s body. Tenebrae looks away, his eyes falling down to the flagstones at their feet. There is a small smile upon his lips as amusement settles itself into the curve of his mouth. 


He wants to tell her to take joy in his praise. He wants to lament that it is not just shyness that has her quieting, but how she seems, in that moment, so utterly deprived of compliments. The monk would shower her with them if he could. Deliver them constantly until her frustration with them gave way to acceptance. Yet, for all the has heard of Morrighan, he does not think he would survive the experience. The monk would bear the burns of his attempts as scars to remind him how he fought to make her feel valued. It might be worth it…


And then, they move on and leaving the subject of Maeve, feels too much like leaving light and entering into the darkness of their mutual suffering. Tenebrae will go, he will step into the tight, smothering darkness of his own grief, for, as he watches Morrighan, he knows she has been there too. The way her limbs tremble, he can nearly hear the way her bones knock together, a chattering like teeth in despair. He pretends he does not notice. He is sure the ghosts of his losses are as tall and dominant as hers.


She never loved me.


The monk’s eyes closed, pained. Now he does turn away. Oh, but he is torn by indecision. The need to hold Morrighan, breathe into her skin and say, I know how that hurts. Unrequited love is the most wicked of arrows.


She tells him to find a new purpose and now, now he looks to Caligo and knows his purpose is already decided, by him, by his goddess. To renew his vows to Caligo, it felt like love and in a simultaneous breath like a sentence of punishment. It was. Could he endure it forever? Could he be Sisyphus?


Slowly Tenebrae turns from Caligo. “I think you are right,” he says, to Morrighan, to Caligo. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the Disciple could not escape the thought that a new purpose in servitude of Caligo felt.. Empty.


The monk takes a breath and turns away from his goddess’ statue. He looks to Morrighan as he smiles a smile that is no smile at all. It is a small, sad, thing. 


“I hope you will find answers after your talk with Caligo, Morr.” Tenebrae murmurs. His shadows shift, concealing him as he turns for the door. They wrap tightly against him, like a cloak, as he steps out and away into the chill winter air.

~ Fin <3 ~

some women fear the fire
some simply become it

Is this what trust felt like? She hadn't trusted anyone for… as long as she can remember. Perhaps Antiope is close to that point, but even then there are some days that Morrighan finds herself questioning. There have just been too many times that she's been let down that it's caused her to expect the worst from others.

But Tenebrae- he's different, genuine. Perhaps, dare she say it, she could consider him a friend. The way that she's already opened up to him and he to her, it's a strange, almost uncomfortable feeling.

Morrighan watches him leave and then waits. It's more to give the man a head start back home before she followed. Although maybe a small part of her is staying so she can have one last moment alone under Caligo. The Regent looks up at the deity's statue again, but there are no words left. It seems she's confessed everything for one day.

She sighs and finally heads home.

"Speaking."