𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

v. ronyn.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

▬▬▬▬▬

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑬, both who refuse to let her through the palace gates. Apparently, every single wolf here is highly aware that Elowen can't leave, and it's beginning to piss her right off. Everyday, they throw a new brick of information at her, and yet, she still longs for her familiar woodlands instead of the luxuries surrounding her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen crosses her arms against her chest. "When will he be back?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He being Ronyn. With Morrow gone, the beta fills the alpha's position until his return. Despite her hatred for the were due to her captivity, she's grown fond of Ronyn. There seems to be an element of understanding beneath every word he speaks, as if he knows what it feels like to be an outcast wandering alone. With Ronyn's temporary newfound duties, he's been more rogue than present.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You're a relentless little thing," the first boulderish guard mutters under his breath, growling with distaste.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The second grunts in response. "We are unsure of Ronyn's schedule, so if you could, please stop asking?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's wings bristle in vexation. She knows in the hierarchy of wolves, she'd be considered an omega. In fact, she feels she's ten feet below that. She only has one saving grace—her wings and her matebond. Without Morrow, she'd mean nothing to them, nothing to the rest of Tabrien. If she gave the were a choice, they'd never have bought her from the underground auctions and would let her rot on Alistair's mantle.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You both know who I am," Elowen spits. She despises the fact she's about to pull the whole my-mate-is-your-alpha card. Her inner creature seems to adore it. "And I know you're keeping answers."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Yes, we know who you are," the first guard squints his eyes, "and we don't know where Ronyn is."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her frustration rises to the moon. Instead of berating the guards with more questions about Ronyn, she leaves the two sentinel wolves at the palace gates to go back inside. Curse the iron for burning her at the base of her wings, else she'd be miles across the kingdom by now. Night after night, she works her wings to regain strength, but brittle endurance causes her to never leave the ground. The sting remains permanent, and scorchingly so.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The Tabrien palace has always been different from what Elowen expected. Although it is home to the alpha, the hub acts like a revolving door. Were enter in, then out. New faces. New wolves. All that remains constant in the palace is Elowen's salient presence.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎One place she's found sanctuary in is the Tabrien library. Leatherbound books stack high into the rafters, shelves upon shelves of ancient tales that have been stashed away. As a child, Elowen recalls the times her mother brought her to the libraries in Reovell. She loved to read about heroes on valiant adventures, swords drawn as the hero defeats the reign of evil. Now, that's all that remains of them—pure nonsensical folklore.