[ P ] you knew me in my spiral

She doesn't need his smile to feel it—the way her words have him relaxing inch by inch, melting into the blankets like he is content to stay here as long as she needs him, as long as she wants him. There is something to be said, she thinks, about wanting someone without needing them. Odysseus is a choice she wants to make for herself, her own happiness bottled to hold in the palm of her hand; no one but her will possess it again.

They lay like that for a time, the sound of their steady breathing filling the space until the low tenor of his voice rumbles his skin against her ear. His skepticism grows with each question, sparking her mind into more active thought than she's had in days. Her original reason for being here is obvious enough to them both, but she's never been so viciously bedridden from too much alcohol before. She's never lost track of the days, the last time she ate, what hour of the day it is—

A frown tugs at the corners of her lips.

"I'm...not sure," she admits slowly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "This hasn't ever happened before." The slim list of options left when the alcohol can no longer be blamed has her anxiety rising, her sluggish heart turning over in her chest, her mind racing ahead whilst her body struggles to catch up. Illness is rare in Rionnach, and she's never been prone to it, which pushes her to consider the alternatives. Alternative. Singular. Her stomach flips. "What if I'm—"

Her voice catches in her throat, unable to say her concern aloud. Odysseus, she thinks, is plenty wise enough to follow her line of thought. What if I'm pregnant? It's never been a fear before; such a discovery would have brought joy and excitement in the early days of her marriage. It may have even prevented what eventually fractured them, but that discovery never came, and much to Senka's disappointment then, her womb had remained empty. She'd always assumed that it was her, that her body would fail to provide her with what she thought she wanted most.

But what if the problem was never her?

What if it was Augustine?

how strange,
to dream of you

even when
i am wide awake

code // art

fangs out in the moonlight

Even Senka was confused by her condition, explaining this had never happened before. It was worrisome but her next words made him pause. Odysseus would still. He didn’t tense, he didn’t flinch. His being just stopped. It didn’t take him long to decipher the end of her unfinished question. What if she’s pregnant? At first, it didn’t seem real. But what was truly unreal was the fact he didn’t already have an army of children. Logic told him it was only a matter of time, especially with how often he ended up between her legs. It shouldn’t really be a surprise. Yet here he was, surprised. With a slow and steady inhale through his nostrils, he thawed. Aside from the possibility being unexpected, he wasn’t unhappy with the idea.

It flickered in the possessive gleam in his amethyst eyes. The primal gratification such a possibility stirred. He hadn’t given it much consideration before now, not with her nor any one else. He had gotten the talk about the birds and bees when he was boy, he wasn’t naive. Pups just hadn’t ever been on his radar, on his list of achievements in life. Now it was a possibility. His nose would quiver, taking a drag of her altered perfume. “That would explain why you smell different.” Where her words had gotten caught in her throat, his rolled nonchalantly from his tongue. Beneath the stench of stale booze and vomit, something else was different about her. The crisp scent of the ocean spray and yarrow was now muskier, altered in a way that caressed his instincts, sparking a possessiveness that ran deeper than it ever had.

Rather than being distressed by the news, he was already making plans. “We’ll move you into the redwood when you are feeling well enough to travel.” In typical Odysseus fashion, he offered no room for argument. He wasn’t asking. It wasn’t a request. If she was in fact carrying his pups, she’d stay where he could easily keep tabs on her. The question of the unborn pups parentage lingered in the back of his mind, but he didn’t voice it, not yet at least. She promised her fidelity and while it was her infidelity that shattered what remained of her marriage, he didn’t believe he stood on the same grounds as Augustine.

"speech"

code // art

Odysseus has never been big on his reactions; she supposes it goes with the nature of his profession, well-practiced subtlety that makes him attractive for rich, spoiled politicians to hire. In this moment, she hates how quiet it makes him, how still he grows beside her, how the only thing she can hear between them is the unsteady thundering of her heart. Then his nose is in her fur, dragging in her scent—Senka freezes, grateful for the fact that her face is still buried in the thick fur of his neck. He sounds so casual when he says she smells different, like this comes as no great surprise to him.

Surely, it can't be that easy. That simple.

But it is.

He decides the next step for the both of them and leaves no room for argument—not that she has any desire to deny him. A strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob catches in her throat, and then she's entangling herself closer to him, winding her forelegs around his neck, a hind leg tucked between his, the crown of her head tucked into the hollow of his throat. Just like that, he assuages her fears, making the future something she could dare to look forward to, rather than dread; one sentence, and he smooths away every jagged edge she could have collided with on the fall down. "I don't deserve you," Senka whispers against his skin, pressing a chaste kiss to his throat. But you're mine, all the same.

For the first time in days, Senka sleeps soundly and without fitful interruptions, as though all she'd needed was the cocoon of Odysseus around her, a shelter from the storm.

exeunt senka via sleep

how strange,
to dream of you

even when
i am wide awake

code // art