#2puli

Holding down the fort was one hellishly boring job, more tiring than doing deliveries you'd argue. In truth, you were waiting for Texas to return. You always think you've learned your lesson about waiting for her, but seeing her slip in through the squealy rusted door in the middle of the night was another kind of pleasure-- one that warmed the soul.

Well, that is if she sticks to schedule and arrives at the hour she promised two days ago. You sigh, sinking into the couch, debating on shutting the LEDs off. Ultimately deciding not to, remembering many nights you've dozed off into the dark and greeted the morning draped in a carefully placed jacket.

It wasn't more than three seconds you've had your eyes closed before a knock rattled the window, a familiar sequence which settled your nerves, it's her. Dragging your feet towards the curtain, pulling it back to reveal a silvery moon ray with a matching set of shiny canines. You opened the window, leaning down with a content smile "Romeo, O Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" you muse in melodramatic tone, hand extending for her to grasp.

She giggled mischievously, "call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized," bringing your hand to her lips, brushing your knuckles before lifting her gaze to you, her tone low and tempting "a rose by any other name." She finished her line, raising her head back up.

"Maybe even sweeter if it has your name," you muse, hands refusing to part, content with your current predicament. "Wanna hop inside, mademoiselle?" you nodded to the couch, the crisp spring breeze mingling with scented cinnamon and cedar candles, lit to mask the bite of cigarette smoke clinging to the walls.

The white lupo shook her head lightly, "Would the lady accompany me for a moonlit stroll instead," her hand gently tugged you to the outside, her tail swished behind her ragged open coat, ears angled slightly back.

How could you say no when her light blue eyes saw the inside of your heart?

Giving little more than an eyeroll you climb out, quietly setting in a random direction. Exploring the barren peripheries your safehouse was placed at.

Hand swaying lightly, walking shoulder to shoulder and feeling her tail beat at the back of your thighs took you way back into your childhood. You were one of the lucky ones in Siracusa to find their soulmates and live to see them again after, as beautiful as it is, that place would've snuffed you all out…

"So," you start, trying to sound as casual as ever, "how's life on the ship treating you?" Contractual stay there made her harder to see but easier to find, put her in dangerous missions but assured her medical safety. A two edged sword you had many complicated feelings about. Reflected in how she felt your hand squeeze gradually tighter.

Lappland took the lead, waving her hand dismissively "Ah, you know how the old steel trap is," she stopped in front of a beat-up bench. More missing wood boards than not, enough to sit back on, so there she led you, facing the wasteland and the moon gradually descending upon it. "Makes every moment spent out feel like whiskey on the rocks," she gave a subdued smile, gazing at the scenery.

At the opposite corner of the bench, you couldn't help but think the moon made your lover glow brighter than any Sankta's halo, untouched by any hollow heavenly principle they followed. "Ah-I've signed off on a new surgery," she confessed, voice stripped of any dramatic flair "doctors don't like my chances," her stare sunk to the ground.

Experimental surgery, slim survival chances and only now told you about it. The worst part? She's right to do so. Oripathy killed sooner than later in agonizing ways and hers was rushing her into an early curtain call, no amount of medication you bargained her into taking worked. And constantly using her arts didn't help but what was she to do, stop and risk death on the battlefield? No. Worry for this woman was gonna kill you long before she stepped her other foot in the grave.

After long, suffocating minutes, you exhaled deeply and slid closer until your trembling mate was pressed against you. Intrusive thoughts flickered in your mind, how you'll miss her citrusy scent, before your arms enveloped her torso, melting her into your warmth. "You're strong Laps. You'll come back. You always do." Your hand gently brushed her wavy hair, tracing the base of her ear as her head leaned to rest on your shoulder.

A weak smile played at her lips, her fingers tracing little stars into your pant leg. "What happened to 'Lappy' hmm?" she teased, sounding more like herself— the wild white wolf you chased thru Siracusa's streets, the one you watched spar with the other young famiglia heir only for both to dog pile you under the walnut tree. No family business or rules existed there, it was just you three. Sometimes, you were only two, curious and tentative you've discovered your fates were tied together and hoped love would free you from secrecy.

In reality, Siracusa was still a swamp, pushing your white wolf to watch from the shadows as you were married off way too young. Chained to the Texas' family estate you were reduced to an asset, as much as your black wolf fought to shield you, your worst nightmares were no longer imagined; they lived beside you daily. In the safety of the night you and Lappland would find solace in each other. Distance made your hearts ravenous, and during one feverish night in a nameless motel as clothes were ripped and skin revealed, fate had yet another blessing.

"Oh you want corny? I can start calling you my love," you teased, fingers brushing her soul mark above the chest, a wolf forever chasing the moon. "My lune. My lapipi," you broke into laughter at the silly nickname, her own giggle spilling after, a sound etched into your being. Her pulse under your fingertips, precious and steady. Her weight against you an anchor, her breath tickling your neck, long lashes blinking up at you.

And it could all be gone.

"I have a feeling I know the answer," your tone resigned “but… is there any way I can be with you? When y'know." Your lover who you scarcely saw, your soulmate torn from you by disease, your mate who gave everything. And all you could offer was your presence. You felt your entire being falter as you watched her gaze slip away from yours.

"Amore," she began, unsure. And you understood. Rhodes was chaos, infected, mercenaries, criminals, all desperate for salvation. Her oripathy dragged her into violent episodes, barely contained by medicine. And if the surgery failed? Hopelessly watching her lifeless body be rolled into the crematorium, to let the fire take her before your life together even begun. It would be cruel.

You cupped her cheek, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's alright," you whispered into the small world you've carved together. "Just come back to us, please," she was pliable in your hands, letting you tilt her head and kiss the scar across her eye, the bridge of her nose, her checks, the corner of her mouth. Her arms encircled you pulling into her lap, her strength careful, her gaze lifting to you as if you were the only star in the sky. “She misses you too,” you murmured, cradling her face.

For a moment you could see a storm brewing in her eyes, pupils shrinking and dilating again, her grip on you tightening. Her face contorts in protest, a growl thunders out of her throat before dying out as a whine, tears peaking in the corners of her eyes. Gently you drew her against your chest as to say she was not dangerous or deranged. Time passes, none uttering a word until Lappland reluctantly pulled away, eyes red and raw. “I should go,” she mumbled, with no will behind the words, “need to take my morning shot.”

Slowly you shuffle off her lap, offering your arms to lift her from the ruined bench. You've done this hundreds of times and it dawns on you, maybe on her too. Whether for good or not, this was your last goodbye done like this.

On impulse, you bring her hand to your mouth, taking her ring finger inside and carefully biting on it, just enough to leave an imprint of your teeth. Lappland stood speechless, as you smiled at her with reckless hope. "Consider this a promise. Next time I'll have a proper ring," your lip trembles but you will yourself back to the safehouse. In the opposite direction, Lappland was returning to the landship, holding her hand like it was gonna be stolen from her.

The chill breeze prickled your skin, but it was something to focus on besides the truth gnawing at you. Your Lappland. Experimental surgery. Doctors carving her open to dig out those wretched crystals piece by piece. The thought left you numb, so much so you failed to notice the off-roader pulled in front of the safehouse.

Crawling back through the window and closing it behind you felt like jerking awake from a dream-turned-nightmare, the kind that clung to your skin. The sky was pinking with dawn, the LEDs still buzzed and the sharp trace of a familiar cigarette brand lingered in the air. You followed the scent into the kitchen mindlessly.

"I left the door open for you," her voice was dry, her back slouched. Texas sat at the kitchen island swords discarded, work clothes wrinkled, long dark hair loose and messy. A cigarette burned between her fingers as she dragged slowly, exhaling smoke like it might hide the truth clinging to your clothes. She fixed you with a look. "You went to see her."

Here we go again. You hummed affirmatively, brushing past Texas to pull leftovers from the fridge. The microwave filled the silence as you leaned back on the counter, arms crossed. "She came to me," you say finally, watching the smoke weave through the air. The scene was familiar enough to almost feel normal. Texas in a foul mood wasn’t rare—but this wasn’t just road fatigue, and you both knew it.

Texas leaned on her forearms, closing herself like a turtle in it's shell. Lappland, a wound still tender after all this time. "She's dangerous," she murmured, eyes lowered, tail curling tight, shoulders rigid. She waited for your snap-back, but all that answered was the microwave’s sharp ding.

You moved with calm precision, setting the food in front of her like an order. "I'm serious," she snapped, eyes locking on yours. “So am I,” you countered, casually stealing the cigarette from her fingers. "You're not having this for dinner." You dragged the smoke in, staring her down until she reluctantly picked up her food.

Texas knew you wouldn’t talk until she ate, so she complied wordlessly while you let her cigarette burn down to the filter. They were never really your thing. You watched it, while Texas watched you in quick glances. She caught the ghost of a memory, a sunset beneath the walnut tree, smoke she exchanged with you like a kiss, fingers lacing shyly together. Times where everything felt vibrant and new.

You stubbed the bud in her ashtray, taking the empty plate to wash and lingering your hands under the hiss of cold water. The silence you were used to share was now stagnant, unspoken words boxed you in unbearable isolation. You half-wished the plate never got clean.

"Hey," she began, uncertain. Texas had her back to you, her ears only picked up the faucet still running, her nose only smelled Lappland. "I know it wasn't on purpose," it never is, she thinks, her mouth opens but no sound escapes she's grasping desperately, your silence festers. "I just don't want anymore trouble," she murmurs, hand coming to her mouth as if trying to push the words back.

"Is this how you see it, Tex?" your voice was incredulous, the faucet stopped. Blood froze in your veins, all this time, the medication, therapy sessions and weeping over phone calls, was this what granted her absence? "Trouble."

"S/O, you know I didn't mean-"

"I've heard enough."

But the black wolf wasn't standing down "She started the family war," it was too late to stop. The floodgates were open at last.

"Her father gave the order," your restraint wavered "she never wanted that to happen and you know it," you spoke through your teeth. And maybe Texas would've understood any other day.

"Then why did she tell him?" her fiery gaze turned to the back of your neck, only imagining that rancid old man Saluzzo and how much she'd like to cut his head off.

"She thought it would unite us, she was trying to help," you defend in rapid words, voice cracking.

"She hurt you!"

Texas stood up to face you fully, tail bushy and swinging with stress, ears pressed to her head and eyes stinging. She was not going to cry. Why even was she doing this?

"It was an accident!" you turned violently, tears straying from your eyes. "You know what wasn't an accident? When you slashed her eye!" it felt horrible to say, the world fell on your shoulders, your chest heavy with guilt. "She was dropping her weapons," you whispered, trembling as you folded into yourself, crouched on the cold tile floor.

'Well, now that you made her cry, are you satisfied?' A vile voice spoke inside Texas's mind, 'did you enjoy it when she hurt you, do you think it justifies your remarks?' She couldn't be there anymore, soundlessly she stepped away, her world blurry.

Your mind raced, memories replaying behind your eyes endlessly. Lappland, ecstatic over your soul bond, swearing this would unite not only you three but the families as well. The Texas estate drenched in blood, raided and burned. Lappland's thigh torn by originium, tears streaking her face, body convulsing, tearing at her will to let her swords fall of her hands.

Texas rushing in, terror in her eyes. A sudden move startling Lappland. The swing, cold steel slicing flesh, boiling blood soaking your clothes down to the ashy floor. Her apology spoken between drowning tears, her splitting scream of pain, and-

And Texas was back. Crouched in front of you, quiet sobs still fighting their way out her throat. "Hey, I ran you a bath," she said, throat sore a hiccup breaking her sentence. She sat for a minute, maybe expecting you to at least look at her or respond. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, at the first ruffle of clothes you grabbed forward, catching her arm as she was getting ready to stand.

Steam billowed out when you entered with the black wolf in tow, hand still clasped to her arm. Condensation trickled down the mirror as you stripped, letting her settle in the tub first, tail curling in her lap. Occupying the opposite side you let warmth seep into your bones, allowing stress and anger to dissipate. "I'm sorry too," you sigh out after a while, her perking ears plucking at your heartstrings, "we were all young and scared." You bump your knee to hers lightly, your thoughts whispering: would the ghost of your past ever let go?

The conversation dies there as you reach for an unscented bottle of shampoo, lathering your hands in it before passing it to her. Living a normal life was far from reach, but that never stopped you from grasping at scraps where you could. "Can I wash your back?" she offered softly, catching you as scrubbed soap in your hair. How could you say no? You shifted, settling between her legs, your bare torso grazing the lean muscles of her thighs. You toyed idly with the bubbles atop the water as her palms worked firmly almost massaging you, cupping water and slowly letting it rinse you down.

While rinsing your hair you felt her nails caressing an old scar stretching across your back. Nothing but a light line now, you almost remember the number of stitches it took to close. You remember being glad you all got unexpectedly admitted at Rhodes, visiting each other under surveillance, sneaking at night just to be able to hold each other for a minute. When Lappland had to stay behind for treatment you promised you’d visit, you’d endure, you’d build a place for all three to grow old in.

"Cellinia," you called, reaching your hand over your shoulder in a grabbing motion, soon finding it intertwined with hers, "she's gonna go into surgery soon, for the oripathy". Saying it out loud cemented the gravity of it, you felt a reassuring squeeze. You have no clear idea how long you've sat motionless, looking into space feeling lost knowing you could do nothing to help. The water was cold when Texas gently scooped you out, helped you dry yourself and led you to bed.

Golden rays passed through the half opened blinds, you let your back hit the bed. Texas settled on top of you like a comforting weight along with your flimsy blanket, head resting against your breastbone, where two wolves chasing the sun and moon marked your skin. Mindlessly, your hand caressed along her left shoulder blade where the suneater adorned her. Your eyes fixed on the window, watching the particles of dust dance in the sunlight.

"How did she look?" she whispered, barely perturbing the atmosphere around you two, a hand reaching toward your damp locks. "Thinner," you whispered back, fingers feeling up each vertebrae up to her nape and back down. You felt it in the way Lappland lifted you. Her hands trembled and when she walked her steps looked strained, her eyebags were noticeable even in the dark and the crystals looked bigger.

The originium is consuming her.

"Did she seem upset," Texas asks after a moment of fiddling with the ends of your hair, you give a weak smile. "She's her same usual self," you say thinking back on Lappland's laughter, her toothy smile "so full of life," you feel your eyes stinging again "bright… and charming and she wants to come back so badly," you croak, hand coming to wipe away small tears.

Texas' ears pin down and you could practically hear her overthink "But I-" she let out a soft grunt when she couldn't find her words. "Cellinia, she's forgiven you long ago," you sighed in tired exasperation, hand coming up to rub along her ear, her tail swaying slowly "it's about time you two reconciliated," you racked your fingers in her silky hair, bringing your nose closer and taking in her earthy scent, a touch of coffee grounds, tobacco surprisingly no wet dog musk.

"You think so?" she murmurs, unlike herself as she raises on her elbows, her sunset eyes uncertain but hopeful as she searches yours. Gingerly, your hand goes to cradle her cheek. At the end of the day, her heart breaks just as much as yours, hurts as much as you do, bears guilt and works to build a better life for all three of you. Even if in her mind, Lappland would never forgive her for the things she's done.

You hope a stroke of your thumb and loving gaze are enough for now. "I know so, pretty girl," you utter and watch her face redden and try to dig itself into your palm "she loves you, just as I do." You lean in and crane your neck, letting your lips touch briefly.

Having always been better at expressing herself through actions, Texas leans forward into the kiss, steadily pushing your head back onto the pillow. Straying from your lips to your neck and trailing slow, faint kisses to the middle of your chest where warmth was blooming, over your mark. "We'll need to look for a place of our own then," she yawns, letting her head rest back on it, eyes closed, heart a little lighter.