i've been stuck in goddamn peacock hell lately so my work on the story has slowed considerably but! still some writing is happening. a snippet from what is currently chapter 5
βPretty Vanya was informed of new-old detailance by his dearest Dima, of course,β Vanya retorted heatedly, glaring up at him with his black eyes glistening like little pools of tar, and The Wolf found he was newly acutely aware again of just how small the creature was. Funny, for a god. βAnd therefore it must be at least a little bit truth, as he had previously explained to his most dense wolf friend who does not listen! She told to him that the lubov had laid down within the maze-house, and it closed its eyes, and there where it didnβt move from again was a bed of lindenflowers! They were there always! It died upon them! Oostal only forgot! All of Oostal did!β
βIf all of Oostal forgot, then how did Dima know? She only knows what sheβs heard, anβ you know it.β
This, finally, seemed to nonplus Vanya, as he quite clearly had no good retort to that point, opening his mouth to respond once, then twice, and finally a third time, and all unsuccessfully. Ultimately it led him only to close it with an audible click of teeth and a pointed glower. The Wolf sat back in victory, gazing upon the little god with a triumphant, smug smile he must have hated.
Eventually Vanya collected himself, straightening as well to mirror his obstinate opponent, and dug his heels in with no further explanation.
βIt is the lubov. Pretty Vanya is right.β
The Wolf shared that headstrong stare for a long time, longer than he initially intended, but it felt good to. Perhaps being uncharacteristically clever shall help him again, the way it had at the start of this troublesome quest when heβd managed to convince Vanya to take Sirree with them. Sirree might just be his windfall again.
βWell, as far as Iβm concerned, itβs no place for me, and itβs no place for Sirree, either. Itβs dangerous. Not safe.β
βI have already been there, though,β Sirree said, speaking up for the first time in the span of the conversation, and The Wolf felt his argument unravel to an abrupt and lamentably quick end. During the commotion, she had hunched over in apparent boredom, resting her elbows against her knees and her chin within her palm, and gazed upon him with polite interest, and it did nothing to make her seem less of a blithe, unearthly creature, and it made him feel quite bare suddenly. βPapa has taken me there lots of times. It doesnβt feel very dangerous, Mr. Wolf. Itβs actually very nice. Itβs very warm. You might even like it.β
