A haunting melody cuts through the midnight air, heralding the return of the beast who sings it.

Cloven hooves press into the dirt and grass that layers the now dark grounds of the forest, the mistress moon spilling her gentle, pale light across the grassy plain of the meadow and upon the striped hide of the dual horned male. As he walks, tendrils of darkness itself fall and swirl behind him, leaving inconceivable whispers in his wake, wrapping around and toying with the minds of any who may be close enough to hear them. At his side walks the hound from hell itself, yellow eyes glowering as they chose the easiest path to take.

With Crowley's sight lost, it was up to him to lead.

Several seasons had come and gone since wraiths had taken over Helovia, as well as since the pair's disappearance. What had happened to them, Crowley still wasn't exactly sure; the last thing he remembered prior to waking up was that godforsaken cave, surrounded by all of that godforsaken moss. The only thing that the brindle had been able to come up with since awaking from his slumber was that there had been more hiding in that cave, some plant matter that was never meant to be inhaled and... well, the rest was history.

When Crowley had stepped out of that cave, the sun had been hanging proudly in the sky, leaving the brute to only assume that the world was back to whatever most accepted as 'normal'. Or, at least... that was what he guessed, as the heat was blistering, and as Talbot looked into the face of his master, the hound had come to realize that he was covered in a hideous, motley assortment of boils and warts. The stallion's golden eyes were hazed over and cloudy, marking him blind. Where other companions may have laughed at the misfortune of their other half, Talbot had felt only concern; he remembered the curse of the Lady Moon, and it only made sense that it was to blame for Crowley's horrid appearance and sudden blindness.

Being blind, covered in puss-filled boils and not knowing what the fuck was going on with the world wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, but Crowley's concern had gone immediately to that of his family after the initial shock had worn off. Were they alright? Safe? Had they worried over him, looked for him? Or... had they assumed abandonment? His dearest Rhiannon would have grown so much by now, and the poor girl had already lost her mother just shortly after birth. And, what of Arah? Their newborn twins? Guilt clinched at the stud's heart and twisted his stomach into knots at the simple thought of it all.

Did they all hate him?

A gentle wuff pulled Crowley from his silent reverie, and he stopped at once at the hound's warning. There was no danger, however, as Talbot's mind connected to his own and the vision of a stream slowly came to his mind. With his mind derailed from his previous thoughts, the sound of the gently bubbling brook caught in his ears.

"Thank you, Talbot," came the brindle's exhausted voice, before he stepped carefully forward and lowered his head until his lips touched the cool water. It had been a long, painfully slow journey from the Heart caves, and with night upon them, now was a good time to rest and pray that this curse would be over come morning.

"Talk talk talk"

The cool stream water did wonders to refresh and relieve a dry, hoarse throat. Traveling beneath the relentless summer sun had perhaps not been the wisest decision, but in the brindle's current condition, it had been the safest. Dangers of all shapes and sizes were ever present in Helovia, be it day or night, but when darkness did descend upon the land, it seemed to have a way of drawing out the worst of them. Crowley would hold on qualms in raising a hoof against them any other given day, but with the mistress Moon's curse gripping him, doing so could only end in disaster.

Snap!

They weren't alone. Talbot's head shot up at the sound and a low growl rumbled within his throat, spaded tail straightening and growing rigid behind him as he stepped nearer his bonded. The memory of that beast in the Steppe glowed in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that the hound couldn't protect the stallion from everything that came their way, but he would damn well get himself killed before letting any harm come to him.

Crowley had risen his head at the sound and turned his back to the stream, using the bond to look through Talbot's eyes; in his mind was painted a picture of a thick of trees, lit only by the pale moonlight that graced it. While he may have loved to be a menace any other ordinary day, he was no fool and wouldn't call out for this unseen thing to show itself. In no condition to fight, let alone even walk without Talbot's assistance, it was simply a death sentence; and Crowley had no plans on dying today.

But soon, a figure as pale as the Moon herself steps out from the cover of the trees, and Talbot readied himself to dart ahead and attack, but he soon recognized the antlered foe was no foe at all; it was his bonded's lover. Crowley could hardly believe what he was seeing through the bond, but there was no denying that it was her. The ivory lady who had seemed to steal his heart so easily back when the sun had first abandoned them, the one who had plagued his thoughts ever since waking up in that forsaken cave. For a moment he could do nothing but stare in disbelief, and as Talbot settled beside him he took several tentative steps closer to the Impersonator, but was stopped at once when he spied the utter disgust wrinkling her face and the unyielding look of dubiety in her eyes.

His heart aches, and it is unbearable. He's failed her, even after promising to keep at her side after Asch and Arwen's births. He yearned to reach out, to touch her, but no longer does he deserve her.

"Arah," he spoke softly, thickly accented voice brimming with the emotion that's surely etched across his face and within his sightless, cloudy eyes by now. What could he even say to her? Words could never do him justice in trying to explain just how broken he suddenly felt, all the pieces of his heinous heart shattered and strewn across the ground. Perhaps, if he could manage to right himself in her eyes, then she could help him pick the pieces back up.

Her next words, gentle as they were, go through one ear and out the other, spoken in a language that he doesn't understand. Where he might have tossed out a smartass remark to it before, he only looks on with anguish and regret. Drawing in a deep breath, the stallion attempts to gather himself back up, but Gods was it difficult. "I'm so sorry," He chose to began, trying to focus on the angelic face that was Arah's through the bond, but Talbot seemed to be more focused on what seemed to be the mare's own companion, and resisted the urge to kick him for his sudden inattentiveness.

Shoving the image from his mind, he decided instead to focus only on the Impersonator's voice alone. Swallowing, he went on. "There was something in that cave, Arah, that knocked Talbot and I from consciousness. I... I don't know what it was." Even if he did, it wouldn't matter nor amend any of the wrongs he had committed, so he honestly wasn't sure why he'd said it at all. Mentally he cursed himself, wishing now more than ever he could look Arah in the eye and somehow try to explain to her what had happened and how ready he was to make it all right again. But... could he? What all had Rhiannon, Arah and their twins, endured during his absence? That was the real question, the only one that mattered right now to the brindle. He had to know that they were all alright.

"Have you fared well?" Came gentle vocals, "And our girls, Arwen and Asch? Rhiannon? Are they well?"

"Talk talk talk"

Through the film of haze that covered the brute's golden gaze, it was impossible to try and gauge Arah's reaction, her thoughts, or simply to just look at her and take in the form of the one he had come to love so long ago.

But through the bond with Talbot, he could see her, see that tear slide from her eye and glint in the pale moonlight, and in that moment, it felt as though some demon had reached up through his rib cage and ripped his heart right out from his chest.

The male drew in a deep breath, barrel expanding and then slowly deflating as he let it out. A rare ball of emotion had formed and caught in his throat, and he'd of done anything to make it go away, but looking upon Arah and seeing such torment plaguing her features was almost too much. He yearned to step forward, to close the distance between them crane his neck about her own, to let her know that it was alright and that he would never allow such things to happen again, but... Never would he be able to assure that promise was kept. His absence was proof enough of that.

Her gaze was unyielding throughout his explanation, and for a long while he expected her to do little more than state her disappointment, turn, and walk away, never for him to see again. Crowley wouldn't have blamed her, honestly, he had failed her and their daughters; but when she finally did speak, relief shown in his expression, only to darken with worry moments later.

'Save them?'

A deep frown marred the brindle's face as he listened to the pale lady, of how Asch held no interest in her own mother, and of Arwen and her desire to listen to the tales of the dead. That was disturbing, a magic he had been unaware was in his daughter's capabilities, but then again, he'd not laid eyes on any of them since shortly after their births. That, perhaps, hurt worse than anything else. What a terrible father he was.

Even Rhiannon seemed to have escaped Arah's attention, and although he still worried for her welfare and the feelings she more than likely harbored against him, his worry wasn't nearly as great for her as with her young sisters. Rhiannon had more life experience, she was a smart girl, and if he had taught her anything, it was how to hold her own and take care of herself.

And then, then, Arah went on to twist the knife back on herself.

"Arah, no," Crowley's voice remained calm, but held a sort of firmness in it that made it clear he couldn't be persuaded otherwise, "I don't know what's happened to you and them since my disappearing, but... Please, whatever's befallen you, or them, it isn't your fault. You are such a kind soul..." The words died on his lips for only a moment as the doe stepped forward and closer to him, and carefully, he took his own, single step closer, to show that the action was welcomed, wanted, even if they did not yet touch. "I can't fathom that you could ever do wrong. Not on purpose. Not in this lifetime. Not to our girls."

She asked next of what had happened to him, and for a moment the brindle was ready to remind her what he had said only minutes ago, until it dawned on him. The curse of the Moon. Another sigh slithers down and through his nose, and for a moment he was apprehensive to tell her the truth, but lying would get him nowhere. Not when they needed to mend what had broken between them.

"It isn't an ailment that can be helped," the stag explained with brows furrowed, dark lips pursed together as he recalled that night the Lady Moon had lain her curse upon Talbot, before he took it on himself. "It's the Moon's doing, Arah. This isn't the first of the trials she's put upon me, but it will fade with time. By morning, I hope, until something else takes ahold of me."

Crowley grew quiet then, looking almost uncomfortable as he went silent before speaking back up a moment later. "Perhaps... You could stay with me until the dawn, Arah?"

"Talk talk talk"