Howl at the Moon

“Primal, deadly, and awesome. Little in the world can match the werewolf’s relentlessness or brute force. Those cursed by a bite or born into a bloodline carry a great fury within them. But fury, like all emotion, can be tempered and forged into something greater…”

MORE DETAILED STATS | WANTED CONNECTIONS

~

“Do it, please, get him out of my house,” Chloe returns, though there’s a twinge of humor to her tone. As much as she hates the duck, and she does hate it, she knows Connor can take a joke just as well as he can make one, anyway.

Before he had shown up, Chloe might have believed someone when they said he would leave. Things were always hard here, but her situation was unique and unusually cruel at times. She had been abandoned on more than one occasion over her power, and not once could she bring herself to blame others for it. Despite the fact that it was never her choice to see what was written in the stars already, she knew how bad it could hurt someone to know the truth. Who was she to judge if they also wanted rid of the reminder of that demise: Her. 

But, Connor was different. He had dropped everything to come over here, and had her wrapped up in the best hug, promising that he was here for the long haul. And, Chloe believed him, too, which was the other hard part. He had never given her a reason to think otherwise, anyways. No one had ever been so quick to come to her aid at the drop of a hat. “I know you won’t. Thank you.”

They switch gears long enough for Chloe to regain some control over her emotions at least for as long as it takes to gather what they need for wine. She’s not all that knowledgeable on wine, but it’s a comfort in it’s own way, practically injecting her veins with a bit of extra calm.

She motions for him to join her in the living room, curling into the corner of the couch like she’s sixteen again, recovering from the blow of losing the only person she cared about. “I’ve never felt this shitty after a conversation with my Dad. I mean, he pulls this shit once in a while, but it’s easy to brush it off. But, Guide and Cicerone, it feels so real now. He’s just so pissed at me for this when he’s the one keeping secrets.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Connor smiles, because he might eventually get rid of that duck, as another present, but it’s not going to be anytime soon. Part of him is hoping to replace it with something only slightly better but it’s taken some time to truly ponder and decide what it should be. Hopefully after everything is over with and they have a second to breath, he can decide on the next obnoxious duck present to use as another landmark in their friendship.

This was not the first time he had ever dealt with a woman in misery. It had been his life with Lilith after his grandmother had left - every Wednesday hopping on the bus or begging her parents to drive him (or, before everything went bad, Kenny and Cam). If Chloe needed some food, he had a recipe in his back pocket for her. But if she just wanted ice cream and wine, he could provide that too in spades.

“Good. As long as you know, then I promise I won’t harp on it too much,” he presses another soft kiss on her forehead before pulling back. 

They go to sit on the couch and he makes sure to give her space, popping out the cork and pouring them each a glass as he nods along to what she’s saying. Family is hard. Family is complicated. And he thinks sometimes it’s more complicated with all of the extra things that come with legacies that plague the Midnight Underground.

Connor takes a sip before he responds, “Yeah that’s not fair of him. He was keeping secrets from you and I get why’d you be pissed about it. Especially things that important. Add onto the fact that you said there was a lot of stifling your visions and it just is one messy soup of emotions.”

~

Connor comes in like his usual whirlwind self, and it seems to breathe life back into the apartment in an instant. The usual kiss is placed at her hairline as he flits around her apartment, depositing bottles of wine on the counter and tubs of ice cream into the freezer, Chloe following behind him like a sulking shadow. But, Connor won’t let it stand for long. “Your duck son is under a tarp where he belongs,” She mutters.

He’s always been the best at taking care of her. Even before they had solidly declared their friendship. He’d know when to not ask questions and drag her out for a night of fun. And, he knew when she needed his invisible support, to give up a prized possession to her. And, now, he’s dropped everything to bring her wine and ice cream when things turned sour with her family, no questions asked. 

There are days she wonders what she ever did in this life to deserve a friend like Connor. She’d never be permitted to wonder that out loud, but it crosses her mind all the same.

She’s brought into a hug in the safety and silence of the kitchen, and she feels a fresh wave of emotion threaten to swallow her as she buries herself against Connor. But she pushes it down enough to choke out a few words. “I’m just glad you’re here.” If nothing else, at least this proves her Dad wrong. Connor is here. He’s always here, no matter when, why, or where. 

“He’s wrong about that, my Dad. You wouldn’t leave.” It’s mumbled against his shirt, Chloe relying on Connor’s wolf ears to pick it up. 

With that, she sniffles and pulls back, wiping her face dry again. The walls shoot back up, vulnerability quick to be tucked away as Chloe reaches towards the drawer where she keeps her wine opener. “Wine time, if you ask me. I’m too sober to handle this much emotion at once.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“The tarp? So not treating him well then. This is duck neglect. I’m filling a report with Quaknonymous tip line. The other end table looks great though,” Connor teases gently, letting his hand gently run through her hair. As much as he liked the duck, it really had been nothing more than a joke. And the shirt he bought after to match also was. Even if he did plan to wear it next time they went out drinking just to fuck with her.

The next part catches him off guard. He’d been expecting some tears - it was why the rest of his bag had boxes of tissues stuffed inside of it. He just hadn’t gotten to the part where he took them out. Her words are both a knife and a balm. Someone had said he was going to leave her, probably Chloe’s dad by what he’d gathered, and that was the most fucking offensive thing he had heard in his entire life.

“I won’t ever leave you, Chloe. You’ve got a wolf’s loyalty now. That counts for a hell of a lot. We aren’t too easy to get rid of.” Connor places another quick kiss on the top of her head before she quickly departs form his embrace and shuffles off to get the wine opener.

Bottles pop open with little hesitation and he pours them each a glass. If the bottles aren’t gone by the end of the night, he’ll assume he’s a shitty friend who isn’t letting her do this right.

what: wine, ice cream, tissues, and daddy issues who: @connortalbot​

It was meant to be a joyous thing, learning about her past and her family. It was supposed to be something Chloe could celebrate, recovering the long lost journal of her great great grandmother. The book sat on her coffee table in the middle of the room, taunting her after that phone call with her Father. Ruì had lost her sanity in this place. She had to move across the Country when it all became too much for her to handle. And, when the going got tough, Samuel— her equivalent to Chloe’s Connor —told her to leave, and never reached out again as far as Chloe knew. 

You have friends until you tell one of them they’re dying and they leave you behind

Her Father’s voice plays on repeat in her head as she stares at the worn cover of the book in front of her waiting for Connor. She spun the bracelet around her wrist, as she mulled over his words wondering what it would take for Connor to react the same way to her. How many more bombs could she drop until something snapped and her Dad was right? 

How much of that was her own insecurities trying to pray on the one friendship she could count on? 

A knock at the door rips Chloe’s attention from her own introspection, much to her relief, and she wipes unshed tears from her eyes as she beelines for the front door. 

“Hey,” She greets, instinctually sinking against the door as she clears a path for Connor to enter, “Thanks… thanks for coming over, I know it’s late or whatever, I just didn’t really want to be alone.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Connor is nothing if not talented at a cheer up. It started off when he was still a kid and his grandfather had left Lilith a broken, shattered mess of a person. Those half cooked eggs had warmed her heart and even if he was older now and could make eggs better, he figured Chloe needed something a little different. The conversation with her parents hadn’t gone half as well as he had hoped they would and she was upset. As her court appointed dumbass best friend, this was his job.

So he goes to the liquor store, picking up two different kinds of red wine: the leftovers of the Rudolph Red Blend and the Comet and Cupid Cabernet. They were offered on the cheap and he figured the reindeer bottles would at least do something to make her laugh. He’s got his old college messenger bag thrown over his shoulder and inside are tissues as well as two cartons of ice cream.

“Don’t even stress about it, Delphi. You call and I come.” Connor leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead before stepping inside her apartment. “Where’s my duck son? Have you been treating him well?”

The bag gets set down on the nearest surface along with the wines before he pulls out the ice cream and puts it in her freezer. He’s here enough that it doesn’t feel too weird messing around with her things to get what he brought situated. Once it’s all in it’s place, he reaches out, pulling her into a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “For what it’s worth. I know that isn’t a lot. Whatever you need tonight, you’ve got me for. Whether it’s to cry or scream or throw or drink. And should you get too drunk I will help you tomorrow with your hangover.”

“All fae are creative. It’s how they manage to always win in deal making.” Or perhaps that was a different sort of creativity. Vindictive would be a better word for it. Still, no matter what sort of semantics you put on it, a wolf mask was still a boring wolf mask. “Thanks. I will take it as both.”

Nora took the note from his outstreteched hand and rolled her eyes at the little hearts and love notes she left behind. The two really were sickeningly sweet–when they weren’t tearing the world apart in a fight that is. Despite herself, she felt the corners of her lips twitch into a grin. Esme was happy and that would always make Nora happy too.

“I’ll have you know that there is probably plenty of fae who would want to have a little wizard under their control. It’s like having a party trick.” That’s the assumption of course. There was no way for her to really know for certain without attempting to take off her mask but the looks she had been getting throughout the night was enough to make her wonder. It made her grateful for the mask, if only so no one could truly see how off putting it was making her.

Her eyes glided towards Esme once again and shook her head. “I’d be willing to let you be the favorite just this once if it means I can punch that asshole in the face.” Corliss already had such a punchable face. It was only fair that she was able to fulfill on what the Mother Below gave him. 

Like most things with her and Connor, the birthday present tradition started out sweet. When your birthday fell so close to a holiday it was easy for it to be overshadowed (how she dreaded the costume birthday party that her parents tried to give her every year as a kid) and she figured it would be nice to get him an actual birthday present. And even though the sentiment rusted into a joke of itself, the effort behind it was still there. And maybe she did still like getting him things, even if he would hate it. “I’m sure you’ll figure out how to stay warm in the winter. I heard there’s this thing called firewood that can work.” She shakes her head. “I know I don’t have to. That’s why it’s a present." 

Was it a peace offering? Absolutely not. No amount of gifts could ever fix their relationship, but maybe it was time to lay to rest some of their pettier squabbles. "It’s nothing huge anyway. I figured you would need it for tonight. So go on ahead and open it already.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Connor would never understand what it was like to be a wizard, that much was truth, one he should have understood back when they were dating. Maybe it would have saved the heartbreak and strife and pain that neither of them deserved. But that was then, and this was now, and regardless he was grateful he’d learned the lesson eventually, even if it involved a lot of growing pains along the way.

“I’m sure there are. I can’t imagine. I’ve only got two faeries interested in me and I can’t make a meth lab blow up with a snap of my fingers.” He was teasing of course, but that didn’t mean he could send her a pointed look. “I’d let you punch him, if I didn’t know it would end up with your beheading, a thing we already narrowly avoided with one of our group so maybe we don’t do it again. We can’t have 50% of the fucked up four be beheading survivors, what are Chloe and I supposed to do to compete with that?”

Like so many things between him and Nora, this tradition was complicated. Even if he was annoyed by the coal, the fact she thought of him, year after year, had meant something. Maybe they’d been the kind of love that was destined to fall apart, to teach you something, but they had been in love - or at least whatever kind of love they’d been able to have back then when they were both willing to put the most wretched, broken parts of themselves on display.

Connor waved off her comment about firewood. “Yeah, I mean, I could, but who’s going to chop it? Me? Well then you never get to see Esme again because she’s too busy watching. See I’m doing you a favor.”

Eagerly, even if he tried to pretend it wasn’t, he tore the little box open and was surprised to see what was inside: a coin. He blinked a few times, spinning it over in his hands. Congrats on surviving 2022. Well they hadn’t yet, not really, but it surprised him that it was so sentimental.

“Does it explode if I hold it for too long? Is that the joke? Or is the joke that it’s really just a coin?” 

* ✶

Connor Talbot made flowers bloom in her chest, literally and figuratively; one other consequence of their bindings. Perhaps not a consequence though, nothing about this marriage felt like suffering. When they were good, they were marvelous— so enamored with one another, that nothing else mattered. And when they were anything less, well, Esmeray didn’t want to think of those moments; as much as their arguments were born from the way they loved, none of the words said were conducive to their journey threw the fields of dahlias and honeysuckles. Still, it was each of these moments that carved them into who they were.

Esmeray had been blind to it for some time, purposefully so. Avoiding all of those signs littered around her because it didn’t make sense. She was a Faerie and he a wolf; there had been no precedent for their compatibility, no exemplar to follow and yet, so soon as she’d met him she was smitten, and thereafter? All she could do was fall deeper in love with him without so much as realizing it. 

Nesim had seen it, had teased her for it as all brothers do, but even he must not have understood the depth of these feelings. 

They had to be the Mother Below’s most beautiful outlier. “Yours are, so and all,” her words punctuated with a kiss to her husband’s chin. She would have to thank Maivan herself for such a beautiful creation, for her most wonderful blessing; Connor was stardust, moonlight and every other magnificent thing in all of the free realms. 

She can’t help but laugh, a sweet sound like wind chimes as he regards the gift she had given him. Esmeray had taken the very constellation from the skies; if he was a wolf, then it belonged to him, did it not? All she had done was return the stars to their rightful owner. “In the honesties, my selves did not have to do the enchantings for the shimmerings of these. Theirs are the orbs that do the sittings in the heavens of the realmings of yours…” she says, voice softening to a whisper, “my selves did the retrievings for yours.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Connor thinks she’s joking until he looks at her face and realizes she isn’t, not even a bit, not even at all. It sinks in slowly. As easy as it probably was for her to pluck the celestial bodies above from their homes and weave them into something wearable, he can’t help but look upon it with a profound feeling of wonder. To hold a piece of the universe so closely was a marvel. Getting to wear it was even more so.

“You...got me the stars.” It sounds lame coming from his mouth now, but it’s all he can think to say as he stares upon it in wonder. After a minute, the thought to put it on finally crosses his mind and he quickly clasps it around his neck, fiddling with the little stars as he stares upon it in absolute wonder. “It’s amazing.”

There are no words to explain just how he feels in that moment. He’s sure that poets have been trying for centuries to properly gasp the truth of human love. There were only so many words in perfect lines he could think of, but he doubted his own were even good enough. Perhaps Charles’ wouldn’t mind a little taking for the evening.

“She was a Fairy, a Sylph, I don’t know what she was - anything that no one ever saw, and everything that everybody ever wanted. I was swallowed up in an abyss of love in an instant,” Connor smiles. “It’s from David Copperfield. Its long and I don’t remember the whole quote, but I think about you when I go back and reread it. Thank you, Esme, for everything you’ve ever given me and everything you will continue to give me in the future.”

He took her hand, kissing her left hand gently, before pulling her close against him so he could hear the gentle rise and fall of her breath.

『  ☢  』

“I trained a Blackjack legend, and maybe that’s the legacy I’ll leave in this world.” Some of her fondest memories were spent playing the card game, others were spent teaching him silly tricks she’d learned from Carmen. The illusory magic of the mundane, she’d deemed it. Echoes of whatever magic wizards could bend to their will. On her more sentimental days, she’d wax poetic about how her magic had been displaced so she could find one more pure, more fulfilling. Family, as cheesy as it was. But there was something there anyhow, untraceable to the naked out though Lili was convinced that such things existed. 

Or perhaps motherhood had softened her edges, and maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing. Selfishly, she’d thought that it was only fair then, that life had given her another family, another chance, another purpose. 

She laughs then, one of those genuine sounds that had been few and far between these days, “you know scientists are still trying to figure that one out. But there’s merit in being a medical anomaly, beastie.” Like there was in being undead; for all that had been taken from her, had Lilith not gone and forfeit her own life, she wouldn’t have been living this one…as difficult as it was on some days. “I know you don’t because of who you are, but it worries me that you’ve had to take on this role in my life. I don’t want you feeling like you have to take care of me on top of everything else you have to deal with. And I didn’t do any of those things for the praise and glory, Connor. You never have to thank me for any of it.”

Love was unconditional like that; not a transactional thing.

“Henry has enough to deal with, you know…I might ask him about those supplements though, that might be a huge help. Having people around though, that’s—it’s embarrassing, wolfenstein and I hate the fact that I have that lack of control. You shouldn’t have to see me like that. I try to pace myself and I just can’t and then I make myself sick and it feels terrible but I can’t stop it.” Lilith had always wanted to be some immovable pillar of strength for her family, for her boys, but she’d failed so miserably in these past twenty years. Broken, leaning on those who should have been leaning on her.

───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Connor pauses what he’s doing, letting the gingerbread fall where it may so he can reach out, removing her hand from the mug she’s been death gripping so he can interlock their fingers together. He looks at her seriously and his voice gets softer. “I know you didn’t do it for praise or glory, Lili, you did it because you loved me. So let me do the same thing. Because I love you.”

And he would love her no matter what form she took. Lilith Talbot, his grandmother. Lilith Gaumond, his protector. Lili, his best friend. There would be a million more changes in his life, a million more labels and dynamics they might shift through, but marrying Esmeray had given him so much. He wouldn’t leave her, not like his coward of a grandfather had. She would always have him. They would always have each other and for that he could not thank his wife enough.

“Good. Because if you don’t talk to him, I’ll talk to him for you. Or worse, I’ll have Austin ask his girlfriend to talk to him about it. And is that what you want? Really? Think about it.”

He pauses again, “I just want to see you feeling better, alright? It’ll be a process but that’s fine. I’m not going anywhere throughout it. Now, will you please stop mopping and use your grandma powers to help me make a gingerbread house my wife will love?”

“I’ll choose to view the peacock thing as a compliment… and maybe that’s why it’s fitting. Thanks anyway I guess. You look good too. I am disappointed they took the easy option with you mask wise. They should’ve been at least a little more creative.” He was handsome though–but that was a constant with Connor. Especially with his hair growing out, which she had always loved on him.

Nora immediately noticed that he didn’t take a jab back at her and a rock started to form in her stomach. That was their relationship now–they take those easy blows with each other and at the end of the day they forgot all about it and started anew the next. This kindness didn’t belong here–especially when she wanted someone to fight with. How dare Hollis take this from her as well.

“Wait Es gave you a list? I’ve been guessing this whole time.” Not that it mattered, considering she has done her research of fae foods a lot since befriending Esme. But that was besides the point wasn’t it? What if she had forgotten? Luckily for both of them, she wasn’t quite petty enough to have one of the banned foods just to prove a point.

She lightly punched his arm, which, knowing Connor, probably felt like a light summer breeze as opposed to anything even remotely painful. “Don’t do that. It wasn’t even that good of a joke. Don’t make me feel bad for you right now.” And yet, how could she not. He was being paradade around like a show dog. Even if he signed up for this very thing, it didn’t make it any more bareable to watch than Esme’s torture.

“Alright listen. Since the fae realm is literally keeping us from acting normally with each other, I got you something.” She unpinned a small flower from her dress and it immediately turned into a small red box with a white ribbon bow on top of it. “I have no clue what day it is anymore but it was your birthday at some point so here.” She handed it to him with a small smile. “And before you ask, no it’s not coal this year. Hollis already beat me for sourest birthday present and I didn’t want to even try topping them.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───    

“You really think Hollis has a creative bone in their body?” Connor asked with a raised brow, not that she could see it behind the huge mask. These stupid things made the expression game way more challenging. “The Hera aesthetic suits you though. And I mean that as both a compliment and an insult, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling the note out of his pocket. It was still covered in the little hearts and birthday wishes. He would sooner chew off his own hand than let Nora abscond with it into the night, but sharing was caring after all. Even if sometimes that jealous he had about their relationship crept up in the worst of ways. It wasn’t fair, but that was the tangled web they’d weaved for themselves, the whole fucked up four had.

“Calm down, it was mostly because Hollis would grab me. You’re not so in danger of being dragged to the Otherrealm against your will. I promise Ray still loves you. You’ll probably be her favorite tonight as long as we both avoid getting into a fist fight with the Prince. Artemis his face is just...right there though.”

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t been thinking about it since Corliss had absconded with his wife across the dance floor.

He couldn’t help but smile when Nora presented him the box. All these years later and she still remembered. Not that his birthday was an easy one to forget, but she could have, on principle. And yet the presents still came even if they were coal. She’d been special to him, she still was, and sometimes it was a comfort to know that she still thought about him sometimes, that he was still an important part of her life. Even if it wasn’t always for the best.

“No coal,” Connor accuses with a laugh. “Well damn what am I going to fill my fire place up with this year? I’d been banking on it. On a serious note, you didn’t have to.”

* ✶

When he says her name, Esmeray swears its the sweetest sound she’ll ever hear. The way the syllables fall off of his tongue is entirely too beautiful and she’s tempted to tell him that there’s no gift greater than that. To be known by him was its own blessing, to have these moments stripped of any pretense, even more so. When he used her true name, she’d felt seen, more than she had by many of the Faeries in her court. Perhaps they knew her in a way he didn’t but then Connor knew those parts of Esme that were most true. 

She’d spent so many years playing a part— imperfectly as that may have been, but what’s a duchess if not a haughty, self-centered thing? All that grace and poise was soured by idealism, sass and a propensity to question the queen and her children. You could never deny her ladyship because her edges left no room for argument, but she’d always been storm beneath skin, wanting and wishing to have more freedom than the confines of her name allowed.

“I am in the lovings of yours so and all…and I am in the happinesses of having done these givings. That ours will have the timings in the extensions are in the goodnesses, yes?”

As tangled as the three of them were in their relationships, she cared for Chloe still, and she cherished all that Connor and Chloe shared. An odd continuation to their story, but that was okay.

“My selves had the believings that yours were in the likings of the teasings,” she says, laughing softly, “so and even, my selves will be of the benevolences.” Pulling a small pouch from the pocket of her dress, Esmeray holds it up so that it’s in his line of sight. This is one other gift she’d put together for him, the others scattered around their home for him to find, mischievous as she was. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

Most of Connor’s gift to his wife for Winter Solstice had been the house and all the furniture she’d eagerly put inside of it. It seemed weird to not hand her a pretty thing wrapped in a box, but he hoped in many ways this meant something more: the promise of their future. A house was a commitment. Marriage was too, not matter how coerced, but this had been a decision he had made. This was an invitation to follow him along whatever path he dared to talk, one they could travel together, side by side, if she so wanted.

And she had, if the last month was any indication. They’d filled spaced, danced with no eyes on them, and spent many sweet nights in this same spot. He wanted to prove to her how adored she was. Hopefully it came across in everything he did for her, in the house he had silently written forever across.

Forever would not be long enough. But it was a good start.

“It’s really good,” Connor assures her. The very idea that he gets more time with his best friend has made him floating the entire night. That and the shots. The shots were really helping. “You’re really good.”

When he opens the present he stares down at the pendant necklace, watching the way it shimmers curiously. He’s always liked jewelry. His wrist has enough bracelets on it as proof of that and he still wears the best friend necklace, especially now that Lili has hers back. And then his wedding ring. Connor would rather eat silver than leave the house without it on. “Holy shit, it’s pretty. Did you enchant it to make it glow like that? I love it. Another thing I’m never going to take off that reminds me of my wife.”

Of course the house as going to be beautiful. That’s what Talbot money got you. Still, maybe - probably - it was just the fact that it was Connor’s house, a home he’d decided on for himself, and those he loved, that made the sight of it land with quite the weight it did. Cam had wound his way through the lanterns and pre-party hustle inside, and here, at last, to his nephew. He’d thrown the sling back on, after that deerhunt - and left it in the truck, with his catch, gutted and wrapped for the fire Connor seemed… to be making some progress on, anyway. 

Cam threw a wave across the yard - with his better arm - as Connor’s head turned. Led by that wolf nose, no doubt. There was a way to it, particular, that he’d come to recognize. Like Kenny’d recognized the smell of him. And so specifically, too, described with all the near-ridiculous detail of tasting notes: the thickly resinous pine-sap scent of fatwood, the mineral tang of that red thread he always carried, the alum in the dye. Carbolic soap, desert-air-dried laundry. And those fucking cigarettes, Ken had smirked, stealing his then-boyfriend’s smoke, right out of his fingers - instead of starting up a menthol, the kind Connor burned to this day. Missed you, right down to these damn things. 

Funny, how the past was easier to smile about - standing there, over what would be a solstice firepit. Where Ken and him had met, once. Where Connor’d called him, now, more desperate than he really ought to be. Oh, hear the kid fret. As if he could do his own birthday party wrong, somehow, like he didn’t know the traditions of the day as well as he knew the phases of the damn moon. “Don’t you worry. Found the way, all on my own.” Cam tilted away to give the rabbit an in-person peer, a moment’s detour before he gave those bricks a better look-over. “Mm. Might take more than a minute. But we’ll manage. C’mon.” Careful with that shoulder, he led the next round of dismantling. “Hell of a place, pup. Your uncle always said moving out was the best damn thing he’d ever done, when it came to getting along with your parents.” And he’d wish Connor the same. All the gods knew, that family could use some getting along. “How’s the settling in?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The day had involved a lot of back and forth and running around. Winter Solstice was an important holiday for the wolves as a general, but it fell so close to his birthday too. Last year had been a nightmare. Connor had come into his own as a wolf, ready and waiting to take over the pack as their alpha, only to be called unworthy. The pack still whispered in curiosity, wondering if they would continue to break tradition due to his failings. They would never trust him. Why would they?

He was a failure.

So maybe he was trying too hard for Solstice. Maybe he was trying to show these friends, this pack, that he was not a failure of an alpha. If he could provide for them this night they would look upon him as a leader. Perhaps he was just trying to fill that void, and part of him felt bad for it, but there was an emptiness deep within him that was impossible to ignore this time of the year. The stress from the past two months just added to all of that.

“Are you sure you’re alright to do this?” Connor asked as he gestured to his uncle’s arm. “Maybe you sit back and give instructions, old man?” He turns back to the fire pit with a sigh, most of his bluster and confidence fading as he looks at the mess in front of him. “I am shit at this. Settling in is good. We’ve got things unpacked but there’s so much more space to fill. I think Esme’s burned a hole in my credit card.”

* ✶ 

Esmeray had nearly rearranged the stars, wanting to write their story in the skies as Guide and Cicerone had done throughout the years. She knew there would be upset for her tampering, but They loved one another so much as she and Connor— and what was one new discovery for these mortal eyes? Another distraction, another addition to their heavens…but they didn’t deserve to know all of them. So instead she’d plucked the ones in the sky, a constellation fit for a wolf; none other than he. 

“Yours are in the knowings that yours do not have to be doing the earnings of these…my selves will do the giftings of these in the unconditionalities.” Always and forever; even if that had been decided for them by outside parties, she didn’t want anything else. 

She lifts his hand to her lips, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles, thanking the Slumbering One for all she’d been given thus far. The peri she was a century before, couldn’t have imagined this kind of forever. All those years before, she hadn’t allowed herself much love in reciprocity— there were a very many few paramours, one she’d loved so ardently they’d nearly bound themselves to one another, but none like this. None like Connor.

A few years before, he’d told her that he couldn’t love anyone else; that he couldn’t love her, and she’d never felt so broken. Free from the shackles of her station, Esmeray had broken a plethora of rules the Faerie Folk set for themselves. She’d given him her true name, shown him the Faerie that sat behind the glamor and true to form, fell for him without thinking of the consequences. After it all came crashing down around her, Esmeray had resigned herself to another loss. 

But here they were, enduring still. “I would be doing the giftings of these so again and. The selves of Chloe are of the importances, I am in the knowings…” she says it nonchalantly, as if her kind made these ties with humans often. In truth, she didn’t know how the Mother Below would feel about this, but it was done, “should my selves do the returnings of the elses, thus? My selves did the restrainings in the honesties…sides be, your selves are the blessings in the enoughnesses. The rememberances of yours, so and all.” Though that last part is teasing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Connor can’t help but smile again, pressing a kiss to her nose as sweetly as he can. Sometimes he wonders if Esme has even been cherished the way he cherishes her. From what he’s heard about her family, she’s always been used as a pawn, shepherded around from place to place as suited the fancy of the people who thought they could best use her. The thought makes him sick and he hopes that though all he gives she never thinks he sees her as anything less than an equal.

The Talbots were not half as bad as her parents when it came to that sort of thing, but it didn’t mean he didn’t feel used sometimes. There were very few moments he made decisions for himself that he followed through without question. His wife was one of them. No matter how terrible things were, no matter how difficult they got, he would choose her over and over and over again.

“Yeah. She’s important to me. So are you though,” Connor reminds her, threading their fingers together and giving them a little squeeze. “I love you, Dilara.”

He doesn’t use the name often. It’s reserved for moments like this where he can show her the tenderness she deserves with this sort of sweetness. It’s hard not to remember the day she gave it to him and how shocked and honored he had felt. They weren’t anything more than casual fuck buddies - at least not in label. The truth of their hearts were far more complicated than that.

With a grin of a child who knows it’s his birthday, he pulls her closer and kisses her neck. “Come on. Show me what else you got me. Don’t be mean. Or a tease.”

◇ ◆ ◇

He was an intelligent little thing…as smart as he was pretty and Hollis had always liked that about the wolf. There was a challenge to be had in the way he held back from them. 

“Romulus, we Fae Folk are nothing like the rest of you. Call us curious to know what you and your people are made of. I myself have wanted to know how your kind can be broken down and stacked up again and again…we can perform transmutation if adept enough…and yet, to go through such pain and persevere? It would feel like a pinch to me, but I admire you.” 

Or maybe they were bored of whatever they’d found on the other side of the veil; a realm full of dull things and Connor was the shiniest amongst them, a pearlescent Nautilus in still water. A pretty thing to place on the shelf, and he should be so grateful that they were interested— did he not know how quickly these things lost their novelty to Fae? How fickle they could be? They’d hold him close when Dilara grew tired, even after his disrespect.

Even after he kisses the peri in front of them and their brother, Hollis would be so benevolent.

“We’ll kiss again then? To seal this little amendment of course,” their hand reaches up to grab the edge of his mask, pulling it from his face and discarding it. “She may prefer kissing you with this mask between you, but me, I like to look at your face.”

After tossing the mask aside, they’re loosen one of the ribbons from their hair and wrap it around his wrist, knotting it once and the once over before smiling up at the wolf, “we don’t need this mask where we’re going, but I should hope you honor me by wearing my colors. I would loathe to lose you in the vast expanse of our home, but then, I’d never take my eyes off of a creature as magnificent as you. This is a gift to you, and also for me.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was hard to ignore the reminder of just how charming Hollis was. Connor had slept with them for a reason and the attention to detail and research had surely been part of it. They had taken the time to understand the way wolves were, how they behaved, their relationship patterns. Sometimes it made him feel a bit more like a dog being trained but even in this moment, with the mask tossed aside, bathed in the moon, he feels that charm rubbing against him in a pleasant way.

Connor knows he’s just a funny thing in a glass box to watch. He knows he’s their latest toy, their latest curiosities. If he allowed them, Hollis would put him on a shelf next to all the other things they’d thought pretty or worth a glance, only taken down when they grew bored.

He can dwell on how sick that makes him later.

The kiss makes him sicker, arguably, because he knows it’s going to make Esme sick and she’s going to know it’s happened. But there’s no backing down now. This will by the two of them time to figure something out. As horrifying as it will be in the current moment.

Connor presses a soft kiss to their lips, pulling back when he’s allowed so he can try not to crack his teeth with frustrations, with feelings of contempt for himself on the pain he’s inflicted upon his wife in some capacity. At least this is fae custom and not something worse.

“I’d be honored,” he lies, because he can and he will. At least the moon holds promise. “Lead the way.”