Phylux awoke next to the twin statues, his vision of the goddess still fresh in his mind.
You need only recover it.
Was it so easy? To repair something that that was so hopelessly broken? He’d tried once before… Time hadn’t worn holes in his memory. Despite his wounds having long since healed, his clash with Ravus still ached.
He made his way down to the pond, throat dry, and painstakingly washed the grime from his pelt. If he was going to begin repairing the damage he’d done, he wouldn’t make much headway covered in filth. With that finished, he found himself… lacking direction. He made his way back to the twin gods, unsure where to begin. Praying for guidance… But the goddess had left him. Or perhaps, she had simply stepped back to observe. Either way, he was on his own now. Sniffing the wind from this vantage point, he felt mildly relieved when he couldn’t find either of his two greatest wounds. He wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with those yet.
It was Rire who appeared first, and was first to receive his apology. A bow. A touch.
So sorry, my friend, but the buck didn’t understand. To him, there was nothing to apologize for. Together, they danced, and before long, others had come. The rabbit. Little Ciel. Phylux felt that in such a diverse and beautiful group, surely happiness would return to him… and indeed, his sadness decreased tenfold. But the ache was still there. The two wounds in his chest. Him, and her.
With another apology, Phylux excused himself from the group, wandering off into the forest in search of the first. Her. The red and black stag doe.
(finallyyyy, I'm so sorry
Ravus was finding it easier to be a stag these days. It was an image she'd cultivated carefully at first, but then a role she found to be so natural she would have stopped and wondered whether she was doing it all wrong--if stags were allowed to stop and wonder. Indeed, she found the demand to push aside second guesses and embrace confidence and self-indulgences to be just another appealing aspect of this warped version of masculinity. The celebration of action over words. It gave her what she was looking for; a reason not to mourn or wonder what she could have done differently, or what she could do now...
That was why when she thought she saw the familiar wisps of black on white out of her side vision, she opted first not to trust her eyes, which remained fixed steadfastly on the bank. Phylux didn't acknowledge her anymore because she tried so hard not to give him a reason to. Ravus knew that. And she hated how she felt around him too much to subject herself to it willingly; if she was honest, she'd probably gone out of her way to avoid him. Just his presence diminished hers--she had proven herself to be a brute, and she was reasonably sure she knew how the bird stag felt about those who used violence when it wasn't needed. She was nothing. She was worse than nothing.
When Ravus finally allowed herself to chance a look in Phylux's direction, his presence confirmed, she refused to think he was here for her. The pond was always crowded at this time. In point of fact, several fawns were present, and Ravus didn't think Phylux would trust her enough to risk getting her riled up near them. He probably wasn't even aware she was there. But like most things she didn't understand, Ravus wanted it over with as quickly and as cleanly as possible, so within time she stood, stretched, and traversed the pond by a few willow trees until she stood again, more or less isolated from the other deer, and willed the tenseness out of her posture.
(NOPE :I HORRIBLY SCARRED AND
Phylux wandered diligently through the forest, checking spots where deer usually found comfort. But... he didn't know Ravus anymore. Didn't know where she liked to eat, or rest. Didn't know any of her haunts. It was only when thirst began to gnaw at him that he made his way to the pond, head hung low with defeat. He would search later. Although, the longer it took to find her, the more likely it was that his nerves would suffocate him. It had taken this long to work up the effort to find her. To speak with her. How long would it take the second time, if his confidence failed him? He dipped his beak beneath the water, letting it run up across his face, enjoying the cold bite that sank through his plumes.
He'd barely shaken the water off when he noted a familiar set of colors resting on the far bank. He stared openely, his heart picking up its pace, but she wasn't looking toward him. She was looking everywhere except toward him... Which meant that she'd seen, knew, that he was there. When she rose a moment later, stretching languidly with utter control, he knew for certain. He looked around the edges of the pond, noting the tiny ones playing there. He couldn't start something here. Couldn't risk it. He would have to find her again another day...
But she was, as usual, already a step ahead of him, making her way toward an isolated spot. He took a deep breath, wading slowly through the pond in her wake. He surfaced a small ways away, closing the rest of the distance on dry land.
Well, relatively the rest of the distance. He left a wide gap between them, wary of her reaction toward him. Always wary. He didn't understand her actions, or her motives, which made her unpredictable. He hadn't quite decided how he'd handle this. What he'd say, or do.
"Good afternoon, Ravus..." he said carefully, bowing low.