RP:Through Thick And Thin

Summary: Tiber, and a few lycans from the Amber Lunation, perform at the Whaler’s in Cenril. Their band, The Augustus Rivers, is a huge hit and the place is packed with fans. Lanara arrives late, as she had held a meeting for the Swan Division, but she’s excited to support her husband. Franz makes an appearance and hints at a future meeting with the Lowell’s, and it’s obvious that he’s stalking them after he leaves his mark on the witch’s hip. Later that night, Tiber and Lana get into their worst fight to date, which involves jealousy, fear, stubbornness, and uncertainty about their future.

Part of the Waxing Crescent, Wayward Course Arc

Tiber :: At The Whaler’s, the crowd swarmed. Sailors clinked their drinks together and females were screaming their usual drunken fan-girlness. “The August Rivers!” As in, summertime rivers. Tiberius had changed his original name from his brother into a band because he now had Greyson, Nick, Bjorn, and Violet in his crew. All interested in the tang of sweet, indie music. It was one of their first shows, and Lanara could not make it. He is not worried, as he knows there is other rogue business she has to deal with and future concerts to be had. He likes the glory and spotlight anyway. Greedy man. By the time Lanara would get there unknowingly, it would be the third set. One of the finales to the open mic at the bar. The stage is dark and Celeste sits to the side as she is producing fog for the band as she has a free evening. Tiberius stands in the dim-lit lighting plucking strings of his guitar in his Alternative Rock aesthetic (an out-of-character note of the actual band’s song, Cake - Friend is a Four Letter Word). Greyson plucks strings of his own guitar to back up Tiber’s in a minor tone. Black jeans, loafers, denim jacket, corduroy, brown flannel underneath. A whole other vibe than his usual suits and class. The intro has an eerie, suspenseful vibe. If anyone knew Tiberius, the creator of Augustus Rivers–he was a sap, but also a sly man of heartache, but also an upbeat groove. “To me, coming from you,” rest. “Friend is a four letter word…” Tiber’s voice is flat. Quirky. Like he was talking in song in tune. “‘End’ is the only part of the word, that I heard, call me morbid or absurd, but to me,” the man drags out in that low baritone. The drums kick in which Violet is on. The young silver-haired lycan beating on the drums in the rhythm of Tiber’s guitar. “Coming from you,” he drags. “Friend is a four letter word.” The drums and the guitars sink together before Bjorn is coming in with the trumpet in an up and down spiral in build up to sync with the guitars and drums in a quirky different ballad. Nick knows a little bit of the mini-piano, and is back-up singing behind Tiberius in his ‘coming from you’ echoes. The light is shadowing the band member’s faces to make them appear a little more intense in their movement and jamming of the song. Tiber bends his knees with the beat of the song before singing close-tightened to the song in a single place forward on the stage. Girls swoon up at the front. A couple guys swoon too, but Tiberius cannot look at anyone as this song has a personal touch from the past, but he adores the bounciness of people in the room. The only inspiration he needs to sing this song from deep roots, and she was not even in the crowd. Or… was she?

(Post 1 of 2) Lanara lands a few feet behind the familiar local and hears the sound of the indie music vibrating against the exterior walls, a smile on her face, as she imagines her handsome husband onstage, along with a few members of the Amber Lunation. Tonight is a huge night for them, and although she told Tiber that she would be unable to make it, she has arrived for the third set. Thankfully, she had changed clothes after work and before the meeting with the two prospects for the Swan Division, otherwise she’d be partying in scrubs riddled with dog hair! She mutters a few words and her broom vanishes in thin air, but she doesn’t enter the bar automatically, as she takes a few moments to apply lipstick and finger comb any frizz from the loose curls of her long chestnut hair. The witch is clad in a satin scarlet halter top that bares her pierced navel and slender shoulders, a pair of skin tight black pants that hug her curves and enhance that already legendary derriere, and a pair of black peep toe stilettos that add three inches to her height.

(Post 2 of 2) The gussied up elf takes sexy to a whole new level, as she steps into the Whaler’s and gently pushes her way through the crowd so that she can get closer to the stage. Celeste pumps the fog machine and Tiberius sings a song that she’s not familiar with, and so she pauses, watching her beloved, though he cannot see her, just yet. Knees bend, he belts another heartbroken line, and it’s then that he looks into the audience, as though searching for his muse. The fog parts and there she stands, captivating chocolate eyes intensely locking with hypnotic amber, and it seems that time stands still. As though they are the only two in the room and cannot look at anyone or anything else. Lana feels her face floods with warmth as a few in the audience look her way, as though they are putting it all together, and that Augustus Rivers has a lover! A few women could care less, and they helplessly reach out their hands, wanting to touch the man that drives them wild with his handsome face, unforgettable talent, and a voice that is honey to their ears. The trance breaks when an old friend, a blonde that she used to dance with at the Lazy Eel Lounge, throws an arm around Lana and suggests they have a couple of shots. Lana smiles and nods, before she blows Tiber a kiss, and waves to the others in the band. She proceeds to the bar and takes a stool that is directly lined with the stage, so she won’t miss a single second of the show, and her friend Sugar rolls her eyes as they are poured shots. “Spill Lana. Are you and Rivers an item or something? You have that crazy look in your eye whenever a girl reaches out for his attention and I’m pretty sure I caught you drooling a few seconds ago.” There’s a pause as Lana doesn’t hear a word that Sugar is saying, as she’s trying to figure out the meaning behind the lyrics, “I-End? Four letter word as in a curse? Maybe he doesn’t want to be just friends, and that broke his heart, obviously in the past?” Sugar shakes her head, “Girl. You didn’t even -hear- me! Ugh. Anyways! Look over there! Those guys are totally checking us out and I bet we won’t have to pay for these drinks!” Sugar waves to the group of men, but Lana throws back her head and drinks a double shot, before she slides from the stool, “Thanks for the drink, but I’m married. You can have them all, Hun!” A chaste kiss is offered to the confused woman’s cheek, before Lana returns to her spot in the crowd, slowly dancing in place and ogling her man. As she’s dancing, she spies the group of men that have arrived at Sugar’s location, and the blonde points at the stage and shrugs. Is someone asking for Lana? The witch narrows her eyes and a shiver runs through her as she recognizes one of the men as none other than Franz. Is he stalking Tiber?! This isn’t really his scene and she has the sinking suspicion that both her husband and herself are being followed.

It was easy playing that heartthrob. He would rake in more money that way if anyone ever booked him to play. Because Augustus Rivers is not the only man performing anymore, there is a mutual agreement between players. Sappy heartbreak love songs, love songs, or just very intensely jam-out alternative songs that can be upbeat or sly. There was a pattern. This song, however, is a song about someone being in love with another person, but put in the friend-zone. Tiber is not in the friend-zone, as he is a married man, but there is definitely Greyson, Violet, or Bjorn still single and ready to mingle. Tiberius is the face of the band, as he has to play the part of the character in the song. Lanara is a good target, and well, the crowd could see the infatuated look on the man’s face at Lanara. And the witch would know to put on a good front to keep Tiberius looking like that artful, maudlin man that girls swooned after. Even if the song was not about him. Maybe a time ago, when the witch left back to Kelvar, but no more. He is able to pull that memory close to him to nail the song for the audience. When Lanara Lowell inches up through the crowd when the thick fog dissipates, he holds still for a beat as he finds that familiar pool of chocolate. The animal empath is tantalizing in that scarlet top revealing her slim shoulders and navel, and the soft-playing man cannot tear his golden gaze away from her. When Lanara wore red…? He cannot finish that thought, “The words that you’ll be saying might be betraying the way you feel about me,” The sultry elf made it and he can feel the pulse in his chest lift as she stares at him like that. He continues the song and she walks away from the stage as another girl is wrapping an arm around her. He knows he needs to break his gaze away anyway and he continues to the crowd. The trumpet picks up again from Bjorn who is ogling Lanara, himself. The dark haired man cannot help it. Lana’s the hot Luna of the pack. Once the song comes to a slow, and Tiber ends the last line with, “Friend is a four letter word...” The song ends. “Thank you, thank you very much. This is The August Rivers.” During the cheering, eyes sink over to… another familiar shape in the crowd. Franz…? Bjorn, Greyson, Nick, and Violet are taking their moment to shine, but Tiber is blatantly staring until he snaps back out of it with the screaming women in front of him. “Thank you!” Automatically a plastered, faux smile hangs on his face. That is all he is able to really muster because right now, eyes were slipping through the crowd to locate his wife.

Lanara watches as one girl is obviously fumbling with the clasps on her bra, and those dark eyes narrow into slits, because only -she- is allowed to shed clothes for her heartthrob of a husband. She is about to cast a spell that will add a little zing to the woman’s fingers, hopefully a warning bolt of electricity, though it will intensify if she happens to continue with her provocative idea. A hand lifts and she’s about to utter the words, only to have her hand taken by someone from behind. “Looks like I will get my dance after all, Mrs. Lowell.” Franz whispers in her ear, and she can hear him well, even with the music blaring, thanks to her enhanced senses. The witch spins around and a good foot away from him, but he maintains a grip on her hand, as his other hand painfully squeezes the left side of her waist. She’s caught in his grasp and although she can wield her magic and evade any further contact, she doesn’t want to cause a scene, because tonight is huge for her husband and packmates. Lana forces a faux smile and allows Franz to lead her around the floor to the mid-tempo beat, but she doesn’t speak or make any eye contact. She hates that her back is to Tiber, but maybe it’s for the best, as he will blow a gasket and there will be lots of bloodshed. The firm pinch on her side is causing her eyes to wince a little, because Franz happens to be a lycan and is either unaware of his brute strength, or he’s intending to manhandle the little witch. As the song ends, Lana meets Franz’s gaze and he releases his hold on her, “Tell your husband to be expecting a letter from Sylvi and I, very soon, along with a housewarming present. We want to have you both over for dinner to discuss some business opportunities.” His tone isn’t friendly and the look in his eyes is threatening, but a moment later, he claps her on the shoulder and laughs as though they are old friends, “Thanks for the dance, Mrs. Lowell.” He moves through the crowd and heads straight out the exit and into the night. Lana steals a glance at her exposed flesh and sees that the area Franz had squeezed is already bruising, but she kept the peace, and that’s what’s important. She turns to face the stage again and she catches Tiber’s gaze, “I love you, Augustus Rivers! I’m your number one fan!” She cheers along with all the others in the room and claps, a proud smile on her fair face. That grin and applause pass to each member of the group, too, though she quirks a brow at Bjorn as he is drying his mouth with a cloth. A drooling trumpeter? Way to get chicks, Bjorn!

Tiber keeps passing glances through the crowd to Franz–all the while glancing at a woman who is reaching to throw her bra on stage. Watching the man’s every move. The grip of Lanara’s wrist and how she tries to tug back. That little blip of Franz not letting go, and he is wondering if he should stop the gig. But then, the two are dancing… talk about a harsh blow for a moment. Friend. End. Love. What was going on? Between the song and thoughts, he cannot get himself to hear through the screaming girls in front of him either. Lanara’s eyes look intense as she stares away from Franz the whole time. Something is not right, and Tiber’s blood is boiling as the tiny dancer is being groped by that silver fox. Franz was -not- an ugly man, by any means. Wealthy, chiseled, salt and peppered? Ding. Ding. Ding. The Kelvarian escapes eventually and comes up to cheer for him, but he cannot wrap his brain around an interaction like that. The fog swarms in, and although the crowd cheers for an encore, Tiber cannot. At any chance he gets, he steps off the stage, and if the band has to do an encore without him? So be it. “Ladies and gentlemen, have I introduced my good friend Greyson Briars?” The crowd howls for the tall, dark-haired man with a piercing blue gaze. “He will get the shine tonight, as he is killer on that guitar.” Tiberius calls and pats Greyson on the back. Giving the crowd a show. Nick looks a little miffed at that moment, since he was a -previous- Backstreet Bard who has incredible talent and deserves to shine again, but… nope. Greyson gets to. Greyson waves at the crowd before, “Hey, this song is dedicated to a past lover who did not really like the way I handled my life.” And on that note, Violet already knows what Greyson is thinking and the drums kick in automatically. “The reason, my love, my priorities got so messed up,” Nick is in the back on the piano and Bjorn still on that trumpet in low to build up sounds. And the crowd goes wild again. Tiber disappears from the stage at that moment as he takes his exit towards the back of the bar. Amber eyes search through the crowd to give Lanara that gaze. It looks like Tiberius is going to the back alley and taking the back exit and the music behind him fades distantly. She would get the memo. Automatically, Tiberius is pulling out a cigarette to ignite in the back alley. Just take a drag. Why was Franz there?

Lanara smiles at Greyson as he takes the stage and she notes that the girls in the audience are going crazy for him, too, and it’s just something she will have to grapple with and accept. Her husband is gorgeous and a star, and chicks go with the territory. She trusts Tiber. She just mistrusts other women… Especially as that girl from earlier finally chucks her bra onstage and it lands a few feet away from Greyson. The lycan is blushing, but he’s also shredding on the guitar and very much in the zone. He soaks up the spotlight, while Nick frowns in the back, lamely playing the piano. Will he ever shine again? Maybe he can contribute by writing a couple of songs, he thinks, as he will do anything to receive the admiration that the audience is giving to Tiber and Greyson! As Tiber exits the stage and gives her a knowing look, Lanara turns and heads out the back exit, slipping into the alley. She runs up and hugs Tiber so tightly that it causes the pain in her hip to sting harshly, but she doesn’t care, “I am so proud of you, baby! You owned that stage! I’m so glad that I was able to make it, but I wish I could have gotten here earlier.” She stands on her toes to kiss him on the cheek, trying to avoid the flame from his cigarette. She’s deeply intuitive and Asha also is in distress, so Lana pulls back and frowns, “Is everything okay?” Had he seen her dancing with Franz? Of course she plans to tell him, but she doesn’t want to ruin his night, especially after their first live performance! “Are you going to go back in there and sing some more, or do you want to head home?” Lana’s brown eyes look a little lighter as the moonlight shines on their forms, and there’s a hint of sadness in her gaze, but she’s trying to hold it together. Tonight is all about Tiberius Lowell.

Tiberius puffs on that rolled cigarette. The smoke slipping from pale lips, and once Lanara comes into view, he dabs a few ashes. His body relaxes once she clings to him. He trusts her too, but he does not trust men–which causes a ripple in his body. He knew Franz never stood a chance, but the way he was groping on his wife. The fact that the man had a cling of Tiberius’ life too did not make it any easier. Tiberius felt like he was losing control. The musician grins at his wife as she is taking the grimness out of the situation that lingers between them. A hand moves to settle and squeeze on her derriere. His breath is tainted with alcohol, but he is not entirely drunk. Just buzzed to take the singing nerves off as he usually did. Though, it makes him more handsy with her. He drags on that cigarette before blowing out. He wants to press her up against the alley wall, take a claim from feeling such a sting from his boss he was trying to avoid and shake off. Eventually the roll is tossed and stomped on before he fully engulfs her. He leans in for a kiss that appears more desperate. He was mad about Franz, but not with her. “Are you okay?” He brushes fingers against her soft, mocha skin. “I assume, we’re done after Greyson sings, but… I need to stay and help clean up our equipment when they’re done. Though Greyson has the stage, he might not give it up. The band was his idea in the first place.” Beat. “Just… are you okay?” He knows that she would not -willingly- dance with Franz. He watched her try to pull away from him, but he was not happy with the older lycan. He felt like a teenage boy compared to a man like that. He takes her hand gently to look at her wrist for inspection. He was truly worried about the aggression from Franz, especially when he knew Lanara’s history with tainted men man-handling her. Not that Tiber was any better, but at least he would never physically harm her. Words were another as he had a hard time with lash outs, but they were working on that. Carefully. With time.

Lanara doesn’t comment on the fact that Tiber’s smoking, because she does too, when stressed. For a moment, she considers snatching it from his lips and taking a drag of her own, but instead she drinks in his appearance. Somewhat brooding, amber eyes that look a little buzzed, and the scent of alcohol on his breath, and she’s still just as captivated. Lana had two shots and she feels that familiar tingle, but she’s gotten mildly better at handling her liquor since lycanthropy entered her veins. Tiber leans in and kisses her with so much need that it arouses her, because usually, it’s her needing all of him. A hand lifts to caress his cheek as the other clutches a fistful of his shirt, and as their tongues dance she forgets the chaos that had happened moments ago inside the bar. All that matters is Tiberius Lowell, as her world revolves around this man, and she growls softly as he breaks from the kiss. Thoughts drift to the things they could do in the privacy of this dark, empty alley, and the desire in her eyes is evident, as she pulls his mouth back to hers and kisses him with urgency. The sound of a bottle crashing against the ground in the distance is enough to quell her lust, and she nods in response to Tiber’s words, “I will stay and help you all clean up. There’s nowhere else I would rather be, I’m just so happy that I was able to catch you all for a song!” The witch diverts her gaze when Tiber asks if she’s alright, and she clears her throat, “Franz forced me into a dance and he pinched me pretty hard… But, I didn’t want to cause a scene or ruin your night, so I endured the pain.” She turns slightly and shows him the purple handprint that marks her silken flesh, an ugly sight on the curve of her hip, “It’s just a bruise. Nothing is broken. And he said that Sylvi and him are sending us a housewarming gift and we have to meet them for dinner. I feel it was meant to be a threat. Then he left.” The bastard had marked Lana as a future victim, or perhaps as his property, and she knows this won’t sit well with her husband. “I don’t want to upset you or ruin your night, this is big for you all, and I’m sorry that Franz showed up to collect his dance.” She manages a small smile and tries to lighten the mood, “My day was great though, aside from that creep! I saved a mastiff’s life, and I have two potential Swan’s! Leo and Lora both need a -lot- of work, but it was a great first meeting!”

Tiber is keen on pressing that witch up against the wall of the Whaler’s. Hands trace around her soft curves, the weaker hand is getting some grip to it, thankfully. As he gladly took moments throughout the honeymoon to go to physical therapy. The man is all about groping the legendary behind. When she responds, lips linger on her neck now to fill the silence from him. The desire. His words are low when he pulls slightly back. “So loving,” he smirked in thanks, and he pulls back with those questions. The bruise is witnessed and the sound of grinding teeth would be heard from the man as he stares at her discolored hip. Purple. Even if that man is not magical, his eyes are flamed with anger. She would tell by the hard stare. The concerned eyes. The intense expression. The housewarming gift, however? The man lets go of her backside and takes a few paces back as he looks up and down the alleyway in that alternative, layered look. He feels foolish for singing in a crowd. Not stopping the show. Playing around while Franz has other plans that Tiber cannot reflect off of. A hand runs through his dusty blonde hair and he does not look at her. “We need to up the ante on our home. Another layer of keeping that package from ending on our porch.” He seems agitated. Flaky at the words from Lanara’s mouth. Was that… fear in his face when he cannot look at her? A threat. The Catalian feels that already just by the thought of a package. Tiber used to be one of his packages. A man with a deathly hand. ‘My day was great..’ she goes on in her banter, and he cannot even think about what -she- feels. Not at all. He is scared. Not for him. For her. The mark on her body. The thought of another round of torture from someone new. The Catalian messed up with his surroundings. He knew he would pay. ‘Leo and Lora…’ did he just hear her say ‘Leo’...? “Great.” His mouth is tight, and eyes look over her outfit once she mentions that… blonde creep. Not a creep. Another who might have an inch over him. “Glad you had a great time with Leo. Sure he really enjoyed himself, Minx,” he is staring at her. Hard. As he knew they had a history of knowing each other. Who knew what happened before him? The jealousy is pinging in his brain at this raw moment. Franz got loose in his mind. He’s raw. Vulnerable. Stupid. Those sneaky little names. What other pet names did Leo have? What other things did they do? The situational thoughts stew. This was not good.

Lanara feels as though Tiber’s hard stare is directed at her, as though she invited Franz to try to rip the flesh clean off her hip bone. She mistakes his fear for anger and when he takes a few steps back, her lips feel numb and her flesh grows cold, as a moment ago they were getting hot and heavy. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make a scene.” She hadn’t made a scene, if anything, she avoided any possible confrontation. Tiber won’t even look at her now, as though she’s been tainted from a single dance, and she crosses her arms and bows her head. She feels small and doesn’t know how to fix things, but when her husband speaks of increasing the security on their new home, she sighs, “We already have a ton of enchantments in place, and plus, the Pack house isn’t too far away. You have immeasurable strength and I have my magic, so I don’t think we should be too scared of receiving a bottle of wine or a basket of cheese.” Is he overreacting or is she downplaying it? Lanara doesn’t know just how bad of a man Franz is, but she does get goosebumps on her flesh whenever he’s around, and he nearly broke her hip with just a simple squeeze of his hand. She takes a few steps closer to Tiber and extends a hand to let him know that she’s on his side, and that their love can get them through anything, but his next words have her pulling her hand back. Lana’s temper flares as Tiber dares to insinuate that she had been unfaithful, with Leoxander, of all people! He finally looks at her, but it’s in disgust, as he thinks that her attire had been chosen for the pirate. “How. Dare. You.” He uses her code name and says it as though she is something dirty, and the witch will not stand for this kind of treatment. “Leo -AND- Lora! I had no idea who was going to show up, but it’s my duty to train those that want to be in my division. Mind you, we are working along with this group, so that you no longer have to work beneath Franz and other lowlifes. I posted a message, and those two were the only ones to show. I’m not going to tell Leo he can’t be a Swan, when he’s the one that leads all of us.” Tears swell in her eyes as she shakes her head, “So, it’s okay for -you- to sing and dance for girls that are throwing their underwear on stage, girls that will gladly go home with you on any given night. But, I have to just sit home and not have a life, or earn coin, because you can’t trust me?” Lana shakes her head in disbelief, equally parts sadness and anger, but their argument is put on pause as Nick sticks his head out the door, “Hey, Lana! Glad you came!” His gaze shifts to Tiber. “They want you out there for another song. What will it be?”

Tiber is shaking his head at Lanara’s words as now he has fingers on the bridge of his nose. Bottle of wine? Basket of cheese? His wife does not get it, and he cannot fathom it either. Push the barriers back to the creek woman with a fatty zap, mkay?! His mind is screaming, but he is so discombobulated that he cannot get an explanation out. Especially when Leoxander is tugging in his nerves. Leather shredding against his nervous system. Lanara is flaring, but Tiberius is -not- having it. ‘How. Dare. You.’ and he is not saying ‘oh, sh*t’ this time. Instead, he is still stuck in that stiff posture. ‘It’s my duty to train…’ she is backfiring him and, no, he is -not- having it. Not with the mix of emotions he is feeling. Especially when fear lingers. This was rare for the Catalian. Tiberius is not scared of much. Losing Lanara? Yeah, that is in the mix of why he feels the way he feels. ‘You no longer have to work beneath Franz and other lowlifes’. That cuts. Deep. Eyes flash in an instant. “So you think I’m a lowlife? What? Is that the best you feel you could have got?” He is taking it personally now. “I can give two sh*ts about useless garments that mean -nothing-. I’ve been through hell and back for you to be with me, and you think I’m a -lowlife-?” Why is he sitting on that? He hates his job… clearly. Magical honeymoon, but what about the true face of what Tiber's reality was? There is way more he is not sharing at the thought of Franz lingering around his wife. Are those tears pricking in his eyes? He is singing through his nose at this point. If she doesn't know what fear and anger is, now is the time. He is red-faced. This was a new blow. One the Kelvarian has never seen before. Nick pops his head out the door. Tiber lashes out. “Have freakin’ Violet sing, dude! Figure it the hell out!” Nick looks wide-eyed and slowly shifty eyes back through the door to let Violet take the stage to fill in the gap.

Lanara shakes her head at Tiber’s words, “I never said -you- were a lowlife! I said that you worked for lowlives. There’s a big difference! The only issue with your past that I ever had was when you were an escort, but we moved past that, and you are taking over Skitch’s enterprise, you teach guitar, you’re in a band, alpha of a pack, and so much more now! I’m -proud- of you! I didn’t think I was settling when I married you… But maybe you settled by marrying me.” The tears fall, unbidden, twined with low self-esteem and heartache. She’s angry, but she’s hurt, “You basically just called me a whore and looked at me like I’m trash, Tiber! Why are you being like this? I dress sexy -for- you, and because I lived my entire life in seclusion and wasn’t allowed to peer into a mirror or wear revealing clothes. I work my ass off to maintain this body, a body which you seemed to want a few minutes ago. And I went through hell and back to be with you, too!” She lifts her hands to swipe at her tears, “Leo is an acquaintance that I hired a few years back to protect me as my own father was stalking me. He stranded me after a few days, as he was bored, and I ended up dead. Even if I was single, do you honestly think I would want to jump in bed with a man that did that to me? He’s a business acquaintance, nothing more. You can be a Swan, too! But if you’re so damned unsure if I can be faithful… Then maybe you should just…” Divorce. The word hangs on her lips but it’s so ugly that she can’t bring herself to say it, as her heart shreds with just the thought of a life without Tiber in it. This is the first big fight they’ve had in a long time and it seems to hurt more than any that she can recall. Lana can’t see that Tiber’s insecure or that he’s afraid of Franz claiming her as his next victim, she can’t see past the hurt. The fight has gone out of the witch and she just stares at her husband for a long moment, before eventually speaking in a soft voice, “I should probably head home… I’ll, uh, see you later.” Fresh tears spill onto her cheeks as she stares at the ground. She doesn’t want to ride her broom while crying, she’ll probably crash into a tree or something. “Tell the others I enjoyed the show…” She tries to pass by Tiber, so that she can begin the long walk home.

Tiber does not get the difference with Lanara’s words. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re literally digging a hole.” The only issue…? There was an issue with the escorting… but she had not been in his shoes. How would she know what kind of life he had to live to get by before her? “I sacrificed for survival,” he says strictly. Everything else she is saying is lacing over his past-self. The same self that is going to cause them a situation for the future. She says he could be a Swan too. He takes in every bite of her words: Leoxander, her attire, herself, occupations, this is real marriage. Raw. But she holds the dangerous silence of divorce. All the while, he sucks in his cheeks. When she looks down in a soft voice, he is not done with her, so he grasps out for her arm. Not rough. No, he is better than that, but she needs to listen. His grip is soft–not anywhere harmful. The Catalian would never. “Do you realize that these are all the things that I did–” he cuts off. Once she loved him. He changed for her. For the good, that was. But… she does not get it. “I didn’t call you a whore.” He grinds his teeth. “You’re putting words in my mouth, Lanara,” he side-eyes her. She was better than that. Scandalous, exciting, daring, but why was she putting taint over her free personality? A label? Is this how degrading men in the past were for her? “I trust -you-, Lana. I don’t trust -him-. Don’t you get it? I don’t trust Leoxander. I don’t trust Franz! Don’t you get it? I want to protect you!” He echoes through the alley and he is throwing his hands in the air at this moment as he lets go of her. Stay, Lanara. “You never told me he abandoned you. I get no background for these people you know. I don’t need you to work on your body for me. I want you to dress how you are. I think you’re amazing. Every. Damn. Inch.” He does not touch her, however. “You want to run at the worst. I’m not the worst. People want the easy way out with…” Divorce. “You married me. You married all of me. I married all of you.” Beat. “Truth is? I’m scared of that. That you married -me-, Lana. I say things you don't like. I try. I do, but...” He presses an arm against the wall of the bar and hovers over her with that liquor tainted breath. The lycan dares not to touch her, however. A boundary of trust. He would never touch her out of anger. “Franz…” It echoes hollow throughout the darkness. “Lana, I’m terrified.” Was this real…? What was that hitch in the air? The uncertainness was nerve wracking. Was that really coming out of this lycan’s mouth…? “I don’t have any control… please. Just… please, Lana. Don’t go home alone. I’ll explain everything. Please. Just… come home with me.”

Lanara hates that they both have an unhealthy habit of twisting each other's words when angry, and she shakes her head, “I -know- that Tiber. I know you did bad things in your past, and so have I, hell, we are -doing- bad things in our present, too! I was just saying the only thing I ever remotely judged you for was the escorting, but I understood, because you needed coin to survive.” Her breath is shaky as he takes her arm, and she cannot help but flinch, because that’s a fear that’s instilled after years of abuse. She doesn’t fear Tiberius, however, but she had been at the hands of his employer a short while ago and she has the mark to prove it. She can already predict the nightmares she will have for the next several days. Slowly, Lana lifts her head and her teary chocolate eyes level with amber, “I don’t care about the horrors you may have done. Don’t you get it? I love -you- Tiber. The good, the bad, the ugly sides. All of you. I care about your safety, that’s the main reason I wanted you to focus more on us and less on the dangerous jobs. I’m not running away from you, but for a minute there, it sounded like you wanted out of this marriage. That you’re unhappy that I have jobs that put me in positions you dislike, with people you dislike. But… I don’t care if the world burns, as long as it means I can have you.” Marriage isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, and it scares her that they even thought of the D word. Her heart pounds wildly with worry as she thinks of Tiber fleeing from their marriage, and he can probably read that look in her eyes. Scared. Fear of abandonment. He reassures her about her dress code and tells her that he trusts her, just not others, and she silently agrees. Because she doesn’t trust anyone around Tiber, either. They are possessive of each other, and it’s more than being wolf mates, their souls have been bound since creation. “I didn’t tell you about Leo from my past because you never asked, and because it literally was a weekend gig, years before I even met you.” The pirate isn’t some dirty little secret, he was merely passing through a phase in her life, and they had only reconnected as of recently as someone else was running the rogue scene. Lana pales slightly when Tiber’s voice catches in his throat and he admits that the reason behind all the gaslighting of tonight is because of fear. Of Franz. She doesn’t know the things he did or had ordered others to do, and she cannot fathom the depth of Tiber’s fear, but it terrifies her because she has -never- seen this side of the Catalian. Even though they are having an ugly fight, she yearns to comfort him, and so she steps closer and slowly coils her arms around his middle. Lightly, she rests her head on his chest, and she presses him against the side of the building, holding him in place. The witch isn’t known for letting things go, nor does she ever back down from a verbal argument, but her earlier hurts are pushed under the rug. The main priority is letting her husband know that she loves him and that she’s here to stay, through thick and thin, regardless of his past playing catch up. “I’m not going anywhere.” She whispers the words and rubs his back, in an effort to soothe him. They stand like that for the duration of Violet’s song, and for another song after that, before the band calls it a night. “Let’s help clean up and then go home and talk, okay?”

Tiber feels like his head is spinning when she repeats that she ‘knows’ about his past. Bad things, yes. Bad things that made him lash out like this. ‘I love -you-’ he is grasping at her words. He knows this, but right now he is having a hard time processing everything all at once. Especially after seeing Franz. She is teary, and he feels like he cannot even look at her at this moment. “-Sounded-, Lana, I never spoke of it. I married -you-. I proposed to -you-.” The Catalian puts emphasis on the fact that he made the choice to choose her. Love her. They were imprinted soul mates. There was no way he was going to ever break away from her even if he was tainted with sick jealousy. When Leo is mentioned again, he pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek to do anything but speak. The man does not respond to the thought of ‘asking’ about the other lycan. Instead he bites his tongue, so he would not have swirled down another rabbit hole. That flinch of hers causes nausea to settle in his stomach for a moment, but he pushes it down. She knows he would not hurt her, right? Her reaction is causing him to doubt himself. The witch then holds him in place as she pushes his back up against the building. His chin tilts up as he stares at the dark sky as she forms around his front. The smell of her perfume mixed with salty air and alcohol. The Kelvarian was there, but the Alpha was clueless on what to even do. He needed a plan. A debrief with Greyson to protect the boundaries of their home. His and the Pack House. Shakily he breathed in to catch a breath, as he felt like he had nothing left to even say or give. He thinks, at least. The emotional man was like a ticking time bomb. ‘I’m not going anywhere’--she may have to. If she stayed with Talyara for a while? That would work, right? Silent thoughts. The protective aspect gets the best of his brain. Light hands settle on her back, but they are motionless in his stewing. “Uh, yeah, I think that’s… best.” Hard words, fear, and confusion lingered between them. The Catalian could feel it. He would gently push her away. A hand brushes her arm before he parts away from her back into the building to help the crew.

Lanara cannot read the Catalian’s mind, but she feels that he’s tense, and that he doesn’t seem to want to speak. She feels as though she’s trespassing on his inner thoughts, and he barely returns her hug, leaving her feeling unwanted and scared. As they break from the embrace, Lana keeps her head bowed, so he won’t see the surprised sadness in her eyes. He regrets marrying her, she thinks, and she blinks back fresh tears. If they weren’t married, Franz wouldn’t be targeting them. Tiber never would have left Cenril. Things would be safer, jobs would provide lots of gold, and her husband wouldn’t have a target on his back from a powerful enemy. Lanara knows he won’t say the words, but surely, he must feel them. She ruined his life, altered it to a point where Tiberius was unsure of himself, and bombarded with the responsibility of a marriage and a family of lycans. The witch never felt this unsteady in their relationship, she has -never- seen Tiber in this state, and she’s terrified of what’s going to happen next. Do they divorce? Will he return to working for Franz? Are they going to perish for putting their love first and foremost? Her mind is racing and her heart feels as though it’s breaking as she follows Tiber back into the bar, drying her tears with the back of her hands. The fakest of smiles is forced when they head onto the stage, so that they can pack up the gear, and she speaks despite the fact that her voice is hoarse and thick with emotion, “I’m so proud of you guys, you all were amazing tonight.” She doesn’t sound very happy, even given her best efforts, and Celeste frowns and raises an eyebrow. Bjorn, ever the dolt, throws an arm across her shoulders and gives her a half hug, “We are so glad you could make it, Lana! Want to come out with us and celebrate? You gotta! We’re going to check out this new sushi place that just opened up, and we are going to get our drink on with some Sake!” Lana looks at Tiber, “Actually, I’m going to head home, but you all go ahead! I think I’m coming down with a little cold.” She doesn’t even need to fake the sniffles or watery eyes to convince them. Directly to Tiber, she offers, “You go, too. I’ll be fine walking home alone. I can handle myself. Or walk me home and then head back out. You really should celebrate with them.” He’s their Alpha, and even though they’re fighting, she doesn’t want to upset the Pack. They are so proud of themselves and really want a night out! Lana turns from Tiber and helps Celeste put some flyers in a box, and package up the fog machine, and the healer leans in and whispers, “It will pass. He’s probably upset that you danced with that man, but you -are- a dance instructor! It goes with the territory, Luna, so try not to fret.” The girl means well, as she pats Lana on the shoulder, and assumes that Tiber is sick with jealousy. They work in silence for the next several minutes, until everyone seems to have finished packing up their instruments. Thoughts continue to unfurl in her chaotic mind and the witch mutters a quick goodbye to those closest to her, before she steps down from the stage and heads towards the doors. She needs air or she is going to be sick.

Tiber is not really sure what he is processing. Divorce was -not- it, however. He has no idea what is turning in the little witch’s mind, nor does she with him. The man was assuming some sort of grim thought. Not splitting, though, no, he was thinking that Lanara was going to get hurt -again-. The brink of her death, could he handle the possibility again? The man places his guitar in his guitar case and he slings it around his body. The drums are carried out into a nearby carriage, the trumpet stored away as well, and a mini piano. The horses would have a lot to carry back on the trek. Tiberius looks over his shoulder as Lanara tries to make the decision to go home alone. Tiberius is not trying to let the rest of the members know that there is tension, but it seems odd that Lanara would not come. Greyson is blatantly staring at this point when Lanara is not going with them and his piercing blue eyes look towards the Alpha, staring stiffly at his wife. There was definitely something wrong–the Beta felt that. Tiber interjects, “I’m walking you home,” he adds. Why was she wanting to get rid of him? His voice tries to lift an octave to help the situation. It sounds feign. “Different ways to celebrate.” He says before moving to the bar for one last shot. Bjorn yells loudly. “Oh, I -get it-! You two are going to do the nas–” Violet thumps the back of Bjorn’s head before the dope can finish. Greyson follows Tiberius. “Dude, why doesn’t she want to come out with us?” Tiberius scrunches his face from the sting of whiskey. “I’ll just talk to you tomorrow.” The stand-offish lycan moves from the bar. The guitar is still strapped around his body as he says his goodbyes. He does not trust Cenril with his brother’s guitar. For once Lanara does not even pay one mind to him as he can see her brain stirring--what did that mean? He lurks behind her until they are outside in that sea air.

Lanara knows that Greyson knows something is amiss, but she makes sure not to meet his gaze. The Beta is very attuned to Tiber’s mood, and whenever there is trouble in paradise, he tends to pull it from his Alpha. Tonight, however, he’s not having any luck. Bjorn’s comment would usually have Lana giggling, but she doesn’t acknowledge the joke. Instead, she exits the bar and takes a few steadying breaths, turning to lock eyes with Tiber as he joins her outside. His brother's guitar is slung over his frame and he intends to escort her home, ever the gentleman, even if there’s whiskey on his breath. Lana doesn’t take Tiber’s hand or walk close at his side, he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want affection in the alley, and so she keeps her distance. She doesn’t trust herself to look at him again, because she will dissolve into tears, and right now she cannot look weak. She’s determined to act ‘tough’ and indifferent, raising those walls to protect her vulnerable heart, because her mind whirls that tonight will end in heartache. The clicking of her heels is the only sound she hears, save for her heart hammering loudly in her ribcage. Asha whines, obviously in pain, and she downright ignores Luca for the first time in several months. Eventually, they arrive at their home, and Lana marches up the front steps and unlocks the door. There aren’t any immediate threats that she can see, and she doubts they are being watched or were followed. The door opens and she steps over the threshold, preparing to close the door in Tiber’s face, “Thanks for walking me home... Have fun with the others!” She’ll do anything to prolong the time between now and whatever Tiber intends to do, because she’s so caught up in her emotions that she cannot think clearly. “Want me to take your guitar? I can put it away.”

The clicking of heels echoes through the cobble roads. It would be okay, this silence. It’s unnerving, he feels, but at the same time, his head spins with the mixture of alcohol and… his old boss. It was best to be quiet, in case Franz was lingering in the back alleys, right? The man is full of paranoia as he walks with his wife back to their home. When they reach the borders of Sage, there is more ease. Not that Franz did not know where the couple lived, but… this was now his familiar territory as he spent months memorizing trails in this forest. The two came up to the yard, and they had made it. No packages, no lingering people. Just their home. The man breathes out, as if he had been holding his breath since Cenril. He reaches in his pocket to pull out a flask. Of course he would, and he unscrews the lid to sink back another swig. Once they reach the steps, however, and Tiber is trying to follow Lanara through the door, he frowns. “Thanks for walking you home?” There is confusion that flows from his mouth. “Babe, I don’t need you to take my guitar because I’m not going all the way back to Cenril tonight. I’m staying here. We need to talk about this. Come up with a plan.” Clearly they were on two different topics in their heads. His foot is wedged through the door, so he already had a foot on her, so he is wedging himself between the entrance and her. “Are you…” the thoughts begin to sink in. “Are you trying to kick me out for the night?”

Lanara freezes, lips parting and her eyes wide with fear as her husband shoulders his way through the door, flask in hand. He says he wants to come up with a plan, and she stammers, “N-No. I’m fine with how things are…” Tears prick her eyes and she takes a step back as he steps in and closes the door, the audible click of the lock slipping into place, as she realizes that she cannot run. He’s drinking, just as he had done when he was single, and she was in Kelvar. He’s already acting single, and Lana shakes her head, but when he asks if she’s kicking him out, she pauses. He means to keep the house for himself. Will she move into Corrine’s old room at the Pack house? It dawns on her that she may not survive the breaking of their imprint, not that she would want to live in a world without Tiberius Lowell. The witch turns and heads straight for the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinets until she finds a wine glass, which she fills to the brim with a bottle of expensive wine. It was from a fancy winery and meant to be used on their first wedding anniversary. Since they won’t be together at that point, she drinks up, heartily sipping from the glass and gathering her thoughts. By this point, Tiber has joined her in the kitchen, and she stares at him with tears trickling down her cheeks, “I’ll stop teaching dance, I won’t hang out with anyone you don’t approve of anymore, and I will dress like I belong to a convent from here on out.” In a sense, she will give up everything, if it means keeping the man she loves. “I can’t part with the sanctuary though, I just can’t. So you’ll have to deal with it.” Her gaze drops to the half empty glass of wine, and she feels as though she’s only half of an elf now, lost without her mate. “I’m sorry.” She truly believed him when he proposed and when he stood at the altar, that it was what he wanted. She should have known better. Tiber was always against marriage and kids and the white picket fence lifestyle. It’s her fault. Lana is crying openly now and hating that he’s seeing her fall apart, because she had wanted to put on a front, to not award him the vision of her world crumbling to nothing. “I shouldn’t have pushed to get married, or encouraged you to lead a life of crime on your own. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.” She confuses his ‘plans’ for Franz to be plans for their marriage ending. “I don’t want a divorce. But if you do this, Tiber? We are done for good. I’m not going to come back and just let you crush me again… And if you leave me, don’t think you can just waltz back into my life. I will be long gone.” She takes another sip of wine, her gaze glued to his face, searching his eyes for an answer. Lana’s face is etched in pain, and through their bond, he should be able to feel her hurt. “What ‘plans’ were you thinking about?” He wants the house, she assumes, and the Pack will remain with their Alpha. She cannot think or speak beyond this, as she clearly has a breakdown in their kitchen.

Tiberius Lowell stares down at the woman as tears prick in her eyes. Tears. She was scared. Right? She had the right to be, in his brain. The man slips in, but he does not take golden eyes off of her as she pauses when trying to push him out of their home. Wait… was she scared of -him-? The witch walks away from him too quickly. The flask he had is placed on the counter–clearly still full with the lack of hollow sound when he sets it down. The girl is quick to itch for a drink and the two stare at each other. Him, in his buzzed stupor, and her’s in her… to become buzzed stupor. She was a lightweight. He knew the Kelvarian like the back of his hand–he thought, anyway. The tears that stream down her face when he stands in the archway. “Don’t be scared–” how could she not? He was. He cuts off, however, when she starts spilling off everything she could leave behind for him. The list continues as she speaks to him. The Kelvarian talks of cutting off everything she adores. The lean, tall man only parts his mouth as if he wants to talk over her, but he cannot squeeze in a word. What is happening? The girl sobs, and his heart twists, but a furrow remains in his brow because… -what is going on-? ‘I shouldn’t have pushed to get married’--wait what? ‘I don’t want a divorce’--wait what? “Wait what?” He verbally questions his thoughts. Finally. She is spiraling, thinking he will leave her. Come back and play the game like the rest of the men who pursued her. “Lanara, your thoughts are not ones that even crossed my -mind-. Where the hell are you getting these thoughts of divorce? Why are you even assuming the worst? Have I led you astray? When have I -ever- thought of leaving you? Stop thinking for me.” He is brutally blunt and stern. Maybe even a little peeved at her thinking. Back in the crossfires of his love for her. He was hurt by her pain, and he hates that she is drowning in her headspace. He was back in the intensity of passion for her. Which only grows fierce in his voice, and he hates how he sounds right now. Mixed in the fight to keep her, but also mixed to not hurt her in the fight to keep his stance on what he is truly thinking. The wind has been sucked from him again. ‘What ‘plans’ were you thinking about’? “My plans are to get you as far away from this house as possible. I was thinking you could maybe stay with your sister in Frostmaw. Until I can get things settled down here.” Still stuck on that same thing. Tiberius was not communicating with her on what he was truly thinking that whole time, leading the witch’s thoughts in a different path. “I need to know that you’re going to be safe for the time being because if Franz shows up, I don’t know how well I can protect us. I’m gonna work on a plan with Greyson–tomorrow.”

Lanara flinches at Tiber’s stern tone when he insinuates that she is doing the thinking for him, causing her to fall silent for a moment, as she looks at him as though she had just been slapped. As her Alpha, he can command such things, but as her husband, she expects a much gentler tone. Can’t he see that she’s hurting and desperately grasping at straws to save their marriage? This fight is a never ending circuit and the witch throws her hands up in defeat, “Don’t you remember our conversation outside the Whalers? You said ‘you married me and I married you’ and that scares you! What the hell am I supposed to think? You couldn’t even -look- at me, right after the Leo comment and how you looked at my clothes! I tried to comfort you, because you are scared, and you just brushed me off! If you won’t communicate with me, Tiber, then my mind is going to make up these worst case scenarios. And it’s really not a stretch, given all the drama that ends up on our doorstep, and the fact that we have fought tooth and nail for -three- years to be together.” Lana sips her wine, nearly to the bottom of her glass, when she hears those six words that send her over the edge. In a moment of madness, she hurls the glass across the kitchen and into the dining room, where it smacks against the wall and paints it with crimson smears. Tiber rolls the words ‘stay with your sister in Frostmaw’ off his tongue as if it’s a consolation prize, and the witch is not having it! She’s practically screaming, “No! I’m not going -anywhere- and I don’t care if you can or cannot protect me. I died -three- times, Tiber, and frankly, I’m getting sick of fighting for my life at every turn. The Goddess didn’t put us in each other's lives just for me to die two months after our wedding! And I love how you have to discuss things with Greyson, but you can’t work on a plan with me, your mate! If you’re so afraid of Franz, then I will do whatever I have to do to protect you. Because I took vows, and they mean something to me. We promised to be by each other's side for all time, so how come when the going gets tough, the first thing you want to do is send me away?! If I’m meant to die, let it be in the arms of the man I love. And if you are meant to die, then I want to be there, dying with you.” Her voice breaks at the end and she covers her face with her hands, trying to shield him from seeing her tear stains, “If you love me, you wouldn’t send me away. You would understand! It’s always going to be us against the world!” Scalding tears coat her cheeks and she chokes on her sobs, as she tries to move through the room to go pick up the broken glass, while continuing to hide her face from her husband.

Tiber frowns deeply. If they were going to be exposed to one another, he might as well go all in. That was marriage. Reality. Being true to a partner. “I do remember. And you marrying scares me because -clearly- you are not going to like choices I make!” He retorts. When she claims he cannot look at her, he looks away from her because… she is right. He cannot wrap around the process of… him. Communication. That was what she wanted. “Then, communicate with me, Lana! You think that I’m distant, call me out! I’d do the same. I’d do anything for you.” And in a blink after his next confession, the glass is hurled across the kitchen. He ducks, even if it is not directly aimed at him. The man seethes at the hurl of wine across the kitchen. “Yes you are! You -died three- times, Lana! I get a -choice-! This is the reason why I’m trying to do something about it, so the Goddess won’t have another reason to save us! Frankly, we don’t have a lot of reasons to save your life! She already did so much for us–especially when I was selfish enough for wanting to keep you here with -me-!” The stubborn man is consistent, and now, it is basically a yell-for-yell match. “We have nothing left to offer, Lanara. I’m not letting the prick win!” He is talking of Franz. When she covers her face with her palms, he is running his hands through his hair as he is very worked up. “How could it be us against the world when it’s the world against us?! I love you! I am trying to -protect- you so I won’t lose you again! Yes, I am turning to Greyson! Because losing you? That is the worst thing that could ever happen to me again!” The words are clipped as if there is a ghost in the room. The ghost of the past. Losing her again. When she moves to pick up the glass, he moves to kneel down to help her in his shaky aggression. He does not look at her either, but he knows that they both care. Eventually, he stands up. “You’re mad at me? Fine. But thing is, Lana, I’m selfish. I can’t let you go. Please,” he is stern, lost in emotions, muddled. “Please let me do this.” She is crying, and he knows that this is wrong, but he feels irrational. Self-absorbed for his own heart. Tears mindlessly stream his cheeks, but his face remains the same–as if he cannot even recollect that he is crying, himself. Stubborn man.

Lanara continues to cry, because she cannot even form words at this point, she’s just a bundle of emotions. Shakily she picks up the shards of glass, not even noticing that one chunk deeply cuts into her palm. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins and she doesn’t feel the blood that trickles down her arm and onto her crimson blouse. Red on red, seems to be the theme, as both lovers are a shade of boiling crimson. This is the worst fight they’ve ever had, and Lana feels as though her heart has been shredded, because miscommunication is what caused things to get so undeniably out of control. She’s grateful that Tiber isn’t looking at her, because she doesn’t want him to witness her raw pain, as she loathes being vulnerable. She poured her heart out to him and he still is refusing to see reason, because of his need to protect them both. Deep down, she knows that Tiber speaks the truth, because if Franz is such a threat, he will stop at nothing to hurt them. Harming Lanara is the easiest way to strike a nail in Tiber’s coffin, and Franz knows this, and will use that against the Catalian. At the break in Tiber’s voice, Lana gives the male a sidelong glance, just noticing that he’s crying, “I love you. I don’t want to leave… The only way I’m leaving is if we go together. Let’s find a safe house! Or rent a different room every night in a new town!” She turns and faces him now, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his cheek, and instead she smears it with her blood. Lana winces and pulls back, “Sorry...” There is blood on both their hands, neither of them will ever be called a saint, that’s for sure! Maybe if they showed some backbone to Franz? Or made a deal? Witches and wolves against Franz and his mobster goons? It could work, right? Magic and mayhem for the win? “Why can’t we show a united front? I have powers, Tiber. I have friends in high places; Cenril, Enchantment, and my kin from Kelvar. We have the Pack, now! Why can’t we just train and warn everyone, and just hope that Franz was blowing off some steam? Maybe things won’t get so bad? He’s used to people backing down, right?” She’s hopeful. She cannot be without him, even for one night. “I can’t be apart from you, baby, I can’t. To me? That’s worse than death. Please… Let me stay with you. Wherever that is?” She thinks about her sister, holed up in Frostmaw, “If I am a target, I’m definitely not bringing Taly into this! I won’t be safe anywhere, right? That’s why we need to stay together, and you are almost ready for your surgery! Your hand will be fine, and it will all work out.” She’s talking so fast that it’s hard to keep up, but her tears seem to be slowing down, as she cradles her injured hand on her lap and looks into Tiber’s teary amber eyes. They both care so much that it makes them stubborn, but she hopes she’s reaching him, even a little. As Tiber rises, she bows her head and looks at the puddle of blood that’s collecting in her palm, in the shape of a heart, albeit a broken one.

Tiber does not notice the cut upon her palm from the glass. He is in luck with seeing her raw pain because he is almost vaguely understanding his own. Numb to the situation despite the unconscious. It is easier for him to move forward. ‘The only way I’m leaving is if we go together’. He cannot fathom that. She cannot be here. He needs control, right? The control freak looks at his beloved who is smudging her face with crimson. He missed a beat through their fight. How could he help her throughout the intensity of his boss if he could not even catch glass cutting her palm? Intoxication. Was it the alcohol? Should he stop or was it the coincidence of the night? She pulls back and he is reaching a hand forward for her hand. Gently. He wants to see the damage. “I don’t want you to risk it all.” But truth was? He could not do it alone. “I-I don’t know, Lana.. I-I I’ve worked for a lot of people in the past… Franz is… No, no…” he is rejecting, but he also cannot describe the intellect, one step-ahead persona Franz held. She wants to stay with him instead of going off to her sister’s house. And his heart throbs. He looks down into the small pool of crimson developing in her hand. He moves to reach on top of the dining table for a nearby napkin to dab on her bloody skin. Lanara wants to stay with him through the thick of the situation. The handkerchief presses against her skin and his eyes finally land on her own. “Thing is, I was never going to run. This is our territory.” He grinds his teeth. “You want to stay…” He is not the biggest fan of this idea, but… she mentions his surgery. The way he could only just play the guitar tonight. Switching frets easily. She is a mess, but because he is… him, he can follow her. Instead of saying anything yet, he reaches out to pull her into him. “Losing you… You have no idea. You have never lost me and really, the thought of divorce to lose me was… ridiculous,” this was true and he was blunt about it. It had always been her–no one else. “I am not going -anywhere- still.” He makes it clear. “You’re so stubborn,” he whispers against her forehead. He presses his lips against her forehead before pulling back to look at her clearly. “Tomorrow we will come up with a plan with Greyson. Protect the borders. We need watch–at all costs–wherever we travel from now on.”

Lanara doesn’t mind the pain in her palm, for it cannot compare to the fear that grips her heart. Fear of losing her husband. Fear of being apart from him, for any amount of time. Does he truly not want her around? He’s gently dabbing her hand with a napkin and she’s numb, all cried out at this point, and as one last tear splashes onto their joined hands, she steals a look at Tiber’s face. He’s tired, still buzzed from the liquor, and he is obviously panic stricken from the news about Franz. He’s afraid for their safety. She starts to see things more from his point of view, but she’s unrelenting in the fact that they remain together. Tiber seems to be warming up to the idea of defending their territory, and she wonders if he still means to send her away. The mark on her hip is darker than before, the bruise intensifying rather than healing, because her skin tight pants probably weren’t allowing ample blood flow. Or maybe Franz had been harsher than she thought, as she had been drinking and was so emotional. Did the bastard nearly break her hip?! As she’s pulled into Tiber’s arms, she drinks in his scent, cologne and whiskey. Eyes close and she wraps her one arm around him tightly, making certain to keep her bloody hand out of the way, as she doesn’t want to stain his clothes. The fight seems to have left both of their forms, and all it took was a long silent walk home, a screaming match, breaking glass, lots of tears, and an injury. At least he’s being the gentle husband she knows and loves, and she nuzzles his shoulder with her head, weakened from her emotional outburst. “I love you… I’m never leaving you.” They reassure each other, and she faintly smiles when he states that she’s stubborn, “I learn from the best.” Tiber. He’s far more stubborn than she is, but on this matter, neither of them wanted to budge. Greyson will take Tiber’s side, she’s certain, so she holds tightly onto him as though this hug may not last forever. Will tomorrow be a repeat of tonight’s fight? Can she get him to see reason? Or will Tiber give up and let her stick around? She feels her anxiety prickling again, because she’s not a witch that deals well with uncertainty. “Okay… I will make sure that I don’t travel anywhere, alone. And… I can up the levels of protection on the house enchantments. Maybe we should adopt another dog, too? A guard dog, one that won’t lick an attacker to death.” Lana pulls back a little to look into Tiber’s hypnotic hues, and she softly asks, “Are we okay? I’m sorry we fought…”

Tiber keeps her pressed tight against him as he holds her palm with the cloth to ease the blood. It comes to a slow, finally, and he knows he should do more to mend it, but she is pressed against his body. He feels territorial, emotional, impulsive. Her closeness as she wraps an arm around her–careful to not squeeze on that bruised hip. Holy hell. ‘I love you,’ and he feels it too as his heart beats against her own. ‘I learn from the best.’ That jest creates danger, as he is clinging to her so close like he is about to lose her. She talks of a dog, another pet… really? But one to protect their house. His mind twists, until she pulls back to look into his honey-glazed eyes. Chocolate intoxicates him as he stares into her eyes, and his own eyes linger down on her lush lips. Her tear stained face. She is full of apologies, but he is full of lust and remorse for their altercation. His lips graze against her own gently at first before leaning in completely as he inhales her in. He presses against her as if he is using his body to apologize. Show her love. Feel her love. All of her. The man would trail his hands to her back-end before he would lift them both up to standing. “I,” he breathes against her lips, “love, you too.” He is handsy, but careful about that injured part of her. He hates that Franz got a piece of her… Tiberius was desperate at this moment as he hated the toxicity of what he could become. Eventually he pulls back in that lustfulness that fulfills him. His head pressing against her forehead. “Come upstairs,” he is drawn into her. His eyes lace her injured hand. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.” Mending regrets. Physical and mental.