He wasn’t there.

It was a steady mantra, a repeating litany of jumbled mess that just didn’t make sense, echoing in her skull and bouncing around the sides of a mind numb with disbelief. By the time that she had reluctantly turned her back on Delumine, disappointed, subdued, angry, late-winter had begun and the Sun Daughter had nearly wasted an entire season looking for him.

Yet he wasn’t there. Why wasn’t he there? What had happened?

Spite had kept her from seeking out Delumine’s new flower-king, or anyone else of their court. For all of their knowledge, they could not provide her with the answers she sought. Israfel had situated herself in their little homestead holed up in the forests and spent weeks searching for Ulric, but her efforts had been fruitless.

Rage and exhaustion intermingled when golden hooves touched down in Terrastella, her chest heaving as her body sagged in the snow, the alabaster of her coat stained grey with rivulets of sweat. She hadn’t stopped, a fire burning hot and dangerous in her breast that wouldn’t permit her to along her journey home. Anger replaced sleep, heartache replaced food and water. It was not the first time that Israfel had lived off of spite alone and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Pulling her wings close as though to shield herself from the stark chill of winter's grasp, the Regent of Terrastella straightened on unsteady, trembling legs. Vermilion eyes burned as they stared out across the landscape, the stone citadel of the Capitol looming just on the cusp of the horizon. It was close. The winding streets of her home diverged around her and she knew their paths like she knew her own heartbeat. Being here upon these familiar cobblestone lanes was familiar and she welcomed its familiarity without question.

All thoughts of him were shoved back into the darkest parts of her mind, and with a great, heaving puff of air that emerged like mist from flaring nostrils, Israfel started the slow, unsteady trek towards the citadel, desperately yearning for her private rooms and a hot drink.

’I’m home,’ she whispered in her mind, and even through their mental bond Israfel knew that Solaris would pick up on her exhaustion. It wouldn’t be long until the Phoenix had returned to her side, as she had left Solaris here to keep an eye on Charlie, the court, and to keep the homefires burning.

Gentle concern entered her mind like a lover’s sweet kiss, and bleary vermilion eyes blinked slowly in response. Solaris’ crisp, curt voice filled her mind only a second later, the concern growing tenfold as the Phoenix felt her fatigue. I’m on my way. Warm yourself, child.

Another puff of breath escaped her and Israfel nodded even though her companion wasn’t there to see it. “I need a fucking drink.” And preferably a hot body to share it with.

"Speaking."

Honestly, Israfel didn’t give a shit about Vespera. She had witnessed the goddess’ disregard first hand, watching them flounder and flail in a time of dangerous madness… But as Theodosia found her along her defeated traipse into the capital, with her pelt of alabaster and lavender eyes of somber understanding, Israfel sent up a silent prayer in gratitude that it was the Warden and not someone else, someone who wouldnt understand.

’Vespera… Thanks for not being a complete bitch.’

“I think it is. You’re a fucking lifesaver, Theo.”

The Regent offered no complaint as Theodosia fell into step with her and gently steered her in the right direction of the closest seedy, run down, back alley watering hole. They moved in tandem, their similar heights, builds, and bodies moving as one, shoulders bumping and wings brushing with simple touches that did wonders to ground Israfel’s wayward thoughts.

Surely he had not left of his own volition. She refused to believe it.

Arriving at the unassuming wooden door that would lead into the pub, Israfel took the initiative needed and shouldered it open. The threshold would only accommodate one horse at a time and so she sashayed through, allowing a flick of her tail in Theodosia’s direction in a playful sort of manner. Catching the door with a hind hoof, the Regent held it open for her Warden to pass through.

’Her’ Warden. Hmm. If that line of thinking wasn’t a slippery slope to Fuck-Up Ville, Israfel didn’t know what was.

Only when Theodosia had passed through the threshold and entered the tavern did she allow the door to swing closed. Already there were a number of patrons nestled in the low-lit interior, the general din and hubbub of voices dying down as curious eyes swung around to face whoever had entered. Perhaps there would be rumors on the morrow why the Regent and Warden of Terrastella had entered a back-alley pub together, but they could get fucked. Israfel didn’t care for them, nor did she care for rumors. Not right now, at least. Somewhere in the back, a bard of a horse was strumming a few notes on a lute, and soon enough the general voices of conversing patrons picked up once more as everyone returned to their own business.

“C’mon.” Together, Israfel now guided Theodosia up to the bar, where the proprietor arched a brow at the two of them as the Regent leaned against the bar of pock-marked, stained wood. “Whiskey, please. And make it a double.” And when the glass was set in front of her, Israfel wasted no time in downing it in one go, relishing the way that it burned her tongue and throat, warming her from the inside out.

Fucking hell.

With their drinks served, a second quickly placed in front of the Regent, Israfel turned her piercing crimson stare into the alabaster face of the Warden, unable to catch Theo’s knowing, far too keen lavender eyes. Her brows narrowed, lips curling downwards in a contemplative frown before she spoke. “... How fares things here? Sorry I was gone for so long. I didn’t anticipate it taking that fucking long.”

"Speaking."