Pools of Reflection and Memory

Prophet relaxed into the waters, her fur a glowing halo around her. She felt, if anything, at peace. Though her soul was laid bare beneath a thousand staring eyes, she was at ease. Nothing could shake her now. Or so she thought, as the joy of her bonding day turned to darker times. More recent ones. She could feel the choking guilt, glimpse the despair upon her bonded’s face.

Prophet blinked. She was no longer floating in the pool, but was instead back at the cottage. The rain was pouring outside, characteristic of the cold Roenden summers. It hammered on the roof, pouring down the sides with careless abandon. The little fire blazed in the fireplace, though it was not successful at keeping the shadows at bay.

Her beloved, a lovely midnight runner, was staring into the fire. Her tail twitched contemplatively, Her pelt was thick, but she’d spent most of the rainy day inside, so it was dry. Her shoulders were low, her neck stooped. Fresh tear tracks marred her otherwise pretty, solemn face.

“You shouldn’t go-” Callista whispered, sending a rather pained look in Prophet’s direction. Prophet tossed her head, looking rather uncomfortable at the scene. Now here she was, outside looking in, and ashamed.

“But I have to. I need to get out of here, out of this place,” Prophet said, “It’s not safe for us anymore.”

“Like the underground is any better!” she shot back, baring her teeth, “You always get ideas like these, something about- going off, seeing the world, seeking something better, somevay better. Aren’t I right?” Callista shot her a hostile glare, and she felt her pelt bristle. Anger brewed suddenly in the pit of her stomach, threatening to boil over.

“Do you think it’s easy, being here while you’re away?” Prophet demanded, drawing herself up to her full height, “To not be able to answer the questions of neighbors and the townsfolk while you’re away? Oh, yes, of course, my wife is a Shadowstalker! She’s not home most days, not to mention with the pup on the way. Be serious, Callista! You fret when I’m away, but you’re hardly ever home yourself! What sort of precedent do you think this sets for the child?”

Callista’s icy eyes blazed with fury, as she got up from her spot by the fire, “The last thing I want is for you to be lecturing me on how to take care of my own health. I don’t care if we have a new member on the way-”

“You don’t care?!” Prophet spluttered, “You were the one most eager for it, and now that it’s not convenient for you, you’re choosing to ignore it? You can’t keep living like this. What if I- what if something goes wrong? What if I- lose you both?”

Her bonded’s muzzle pulled back into a snarl, “And so you think that me putting myself and unborn pup’s life at risk in my job means you get to take a holiday? Wake up, Prophet. You can’t keep running from your problems, like you did with the Valkyries. You have to stare them straight in the face and keep your cool. Otherwise, you end up like an empty husk. Broken. Is that what you want? To keep running from the truth?”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Prophet snapped, “I can’t be the one running from the truth when I keep making idiotic decisions day in and out. Don’t you ever stop to think about more than the thrill? Don’t you ever think about me? What it would do to me if you- if you-” Her voice got choked, and she had to look away, clear her throat, “You’re always thinking of yourself, Callista. I want you to think of me. Of us. I’m so tired of being the one who always has to worry for you when you’re late, or make up for the fact that you’re never around. We can’t keep going on like this. Something has to change, otherwise-”

She trailed into silence, hanging her head. There were no words shared, but their telepathic bond was strong. They could feel what the other was thinking. And behind Prophet’s anger, she was scared. Afraid. Just a lost little pup looking for comfort. Validation. The security of knowing her bonded would be home every night. Or every night she wasn’t working.

The hostility in Callista’s eyes faded just a little, leaving behind smoldering embers. Her face was haggard, and she seemed that much more frail. Defeated. Her eyes glinted in the firelight as she looked back to behold it, steeling her jaw.

“Maybe it’s best for you to go, then. See the world. Give me some time to-” she paused, the silence thick between them, “-Give me time to think. It would be best for the both of us to consider- consider what we must do going forward.” She continued to stare sullenly into the fire, “I think, I shall stay here tonight. Don’t wait up for me.”

The weight of her words hit Prophet like an avalanche, and she felt almost winded from the slap of it. She’d then stumbled into their room, the one where they’d shared so many nights together, alone. The nest felt much too large, too cold without her wife by her side. She’d wept silently that night, and deep down, she knew her bonded was too. Though she’d been in this underground, she knew that out there, somewhere, Callista missed her.

Perhaps she was staying safe. Perhaps not. All she knew was that she missed her dearly. The distance had put some things into perspective, especially on those nights where she’d been up, alone with her thoughts and the company of Damocles’ heavy breathing and Karyss’ fretful twisting and turning. She felt sorrow, remorse. Each passing day, she yearned for her beloved more and more. To apologize, to make things right. To come back to her and mend the rift that had formed between them over the years. How’d she been so stupid as to ignore it?

As she rose from the dream, beneath the eyes of the watchers, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. She looked over to Karyss and Damocles, who each seemed rather perturbed, and smiled a soft, gentle smile.

Tears had been streaming down her face, she could feel it. The heavy, wet fur beneath her eyes. But somehow, she knew the sorrow would bring forth joy.

She waded to the edge of the water, looking back at the glowing pool of memory, the Caregiver haedians who gave her empathetic nods of the head, and soft smiles. 

They understood. Everyone made mistakes. Everyone said things they regret.

The difference in each reosean was how they handled it. 

She lifted her head high, raising her eyes to the heavenly reflections on the ceiling. She’d make things right. She had to.

She set out with renewed vigor and a sense of purpose.

Prophet was going home.