Maybe Vandal should've given her decisions more thought instead of jumping straight into it without a second glance at its repercussions. She's sprawled out somewhere in the middle of Haven Island trying to retain a grasp of her consciousness but things are shifting far too quickly and far too often for her to hold anything more than a few strings, and even those are slowly starting to slip from her grasp. She's desperate to latch onto it. She's desperate to keep hold of her mind - what's that? She shifts, writhes, for a second she  feels like there's water seeping into her fur but it keeps disappearing from her senses, like waves, like waves just barely reaching her from the shore.

My little warrior.

Vandal's body jerks to one side, and then she's rolling over again. Did she hear something? She starts to get up but notices that paws have replaced her talons - paws, paws? She has paws again. The juice is making her lethargic, and she raises one hand slowly to squint at the black pads underneath - not green? You must be looking for me... The wind is whispering jumbled words to her, but she pays it no mind in favor of investigating her missing talons - she's sure she would've felt it if somebody tore them off, although that won't explain why paws magically replaced them. Shouldn't they be stubs? Look up, you little pest.

There are voices - she thinks they're bugs, bugs trying to get her attention - and, in the distance, a figure shimmers of glittering gold and long, sweeping fur, and cosmic eyes illuminating the quickly-dimming island. Don't look at her! "There's a face I never thought I'd see again." The voice - it's like the sound of angel-choir, dancing across the heavens in their joyful pitter-patter, the sound of angel-wings and angel-steps and angel-beats. "You're really fitting in with that new form of yours - I like it. Maybe one good thing came out of -"

Vandal runs to her before she could continue her sentence, wrapping long fore-legs around the others neck - burying her face into a white-gold chest. She breathes in, breathes in so deep that her memories ignite with the cinnamon and sea-salt scent. "Aegroixe!" Vandal's cry is desperate, a broken sob clutching into sore throats as she feels the rawness of drowning settling in - the scratch, the ache, bobbing as she struggles for breath that could never come. Her eyes are stinging with tears, crying harder when a soft tongue rasps across her cheeks to clean them.

Vandal's afraid to pull back, to open her eyes, afraid that she'd lose her all over again.

"My love..." The chiming voice whispers across her charcoal pelt, warming her ears as teeth sink into flesh, a familiar greeting - a soft rumble, softer than the seafoam slipping through their paws. "My love, my love, my angel, my little vandal," she utters, each word whispered like a prayer, praying - her mouth presses to the underside of Vandal's jaw and she's choking back a sob all over again. This is not your realm, go back to He- "She can't touch us here. Open your eyes."

And so Vandal does, peeling back her lids, olive-hued irises locking into Aegroixe's speckled blue ones - it's a breathtaking sight, stealing wind from the dark caverns of her chest to decorate the air in an icy mist that lingers, that lingers. "You don't have to go..." There's desperation, again, shivering in her voice, "Y-you can stay here, with me! My brother's here, I-I have a family here, Aegroixe, you'll love them! They'll love you! I love you -"

"Maxine Roux," she whispers back - Vandal shivers at the sound of her own name on the other's velvet tongue but notes the pain twisting behind each carefully-carved syllable. Vandal swallows, hangs her head, but feels her tip it back up with a paw, pad-up, soft on the underside of her chin before tugging at the sides, tugging to form a half-smile. "I would love to - I was going to marry you but I - I'm -" dead. "-gone, and you know this, Max. You know this, you know-"

"I DON'T WANT TO!" Vandal steps back, sharply, recoiling, and her talons scrape across the sand - sand that bleeds under her claws, bleeds golden ichor across the marble floor - no, sand, it's the shore, the undergrowth? It's shifting, everything's shifting, and when Vandal looks up again, she's fading and her heart is breaking all over again. "No, no no no nono please, please!" She moves forward - she reaches up a wing to cup around Aegroixe's back but her spirit - her love - passes through it. "You can't leave me again - please, please..."

"I love you, my little vandal." Her knees weaken, fold completely as she falls onto her stomach, onto the pool of golden ichor, neon eyes watching as the spirit drifts up, fades away, begging, begging for her not to go - don't go, I miss you - and she blinks out of existence. It's sharp, twisting, angry agony writhing in her broken heart, pushing and pulling at the chambers and she's sobbing too hard into her talons, nails digging into her muzzle to keep them stifled.

YOU NEVER DESERVED HER!

Vandal spends the rest of the night curled up in the tightest ball she could muster, and comes to early the next day with a shattered look on her face. She doesn't notice if anybody's watching, doesn't look up until she reaches the Barracuda Bay.

Her confession is simple.

Five words is enough to convey what she wants to say:


With all the rage, the hurt she can muster, she tosses the bottle far into the ocean and watches as her confession sinks to the bottom - right where she lost her.

TAGS • VANDAL ROUX OF THE TYPHOON

Vandal, lost in her thought, doesn't notice the two others approaching until they're already speaking - but she doesn't move, doesn't shift around like she would've in any other situation. Instead, the maned wolf just stares at the spot where she'd thrown her bottle, part of her wishing she could take back the confession she's meant to "symbolically" discard - because how can she possibly discard something that means far, far too much to her?

In the end, she has to, because Aegroixe is gone; it's a confession quite literally lost to the ocean.

Vandal doesn't even notice that she's crying again until she's curling a wing around to rub at her eyes - when it comes away, dampness is lacing through her darkened feathers. She can't meet their eyes. She tries to open her mouth to respond, to say thank you, to say that she's okay and that she doesn't need anything, but as soon as the first word leaves her lips, she's breaking into a shattered sob that she can't stifle anymore. The heartbroken sound hangs in the air, thick and full and laced with mourning, sharp and far too sad a sound to be coming from her.

She can't respond, not in this state, so she hangs her head instead and lets herself ride out the waves of her own grief, hearing them crash across the shore like the angry ocean. Maybe they should leave, she's certain it isn't a comfortable situation for them to have to be around for this - this... she doesn't even know what it is, only that she can't stop it from completely consuming her. It's a mess, she's a mess - a hallucination or not, it feels like she just lost her all over again.

TAGS • VANDAL ROUX OF THE TYPHOON