By the ti we exit the training room, Vanessa and Marcus have to hold up to walk in a straight line.
It isn't the type of exhaustion where my muscles are sore and stretched and tired after running or doing a thousand squats. It's more like the energy in my body has bled away, leaving so weak that my muscles can no longer function properly.
When exercising, you can kind of feel good about your exertion. The pain and exhaustion cos with a sense of accomplishnt.
This?
It just feels like I'm a wet dish rag wrung out one too many tis.
The water's gone, and now I'm going to float away on the next strong breeze.
Ava! Where did you go?
Selene's panic is so explosive in my head that my legs buckle, even with the support of two shifters.
Long story. Training room. Magic place. My body's dead. Training sucks.
Even in my head, I can only speak in short sentences. It feels fuzzy and also like sothing's slamming into it with a sledgehamr, fueled by the rage of a thousand flying monkeys.
Not sure where the flying monkeys ca from, but I'm just going to go with it.
Are you okay? she asks, and the warmth and care from her side of the bond also seems to infuse with a little bit of extra energy.
Her concern also makes feel a little better. Like having a parent who's panicked after they wake up in the middle of the night to see their child gone; soone who cares about . I need food. And sleep, I tell her. Maybe not in that order.
"I see you've re-established contact," Magister Orion says, peering at my face. "Does it hurt to speak with your wolf?"
My head jerks up. "What? No. Why do you ask?"
"Ah, I'm sorry. You just looked so pained…"
"She always looks like that," Vanessa says, sounding amused.
Marcus nods, despite his silence.
"Sorry for not having years of experience," I mutter, wishing I had the strength to shove the both of them off .
Guards, my ass. They're way too comfortable making fun of for such a lowly title.
"Hm, yes. This bond you have with your wolves is unique, indeed. If I had the ti, I'd love to pick it apart. Especially you, Ava Grey, to have a wolf outside of your body, like the Lycans of old. And yet she's a re dog. How interesting."
I feel like he's going to slice open and look at under a microscope, Selene says, and I can feel her internal shudder from my end of the bond.
Vanessa must feel uncomfortable with his line of interest, because she interrupts him to ask, "Why do you call her by her full na? You almost always call her 'Ava Grey', not 'Ava.'"
"Oh?" Magister Orion ushers us to the dining room as we talk. "It is a bit of a custom among the Fae. We don't have a first and last na as you humans do, you see. We do have a family na, but it isn't a part of our identity."
"If it's a family na, wouldn't it be a part of your identity?" I ask with a frown, as Vanessa and Marcus help settle into a chair. With a wave of his hand, Magister Orion manifests into creation several plates of steaming hot food.
Soup, salad, and a lot of different cuts of at. I've learned since coming here that Fae food doesn't always have a particular corresponding animal to the ones we are used to in our world; for example, their steaks might be from a giant carnivorous beast that they hunt, or an herbivore similar to a cow. So of them are even from aquatic mammals.
They're all delicious and—most importantly—have no magic in them whatsoever.
Magister Orion seed horrified at the possibility when I brought it up, but I haven't told him the entire story of Sister Miriam and the Fae food. I'm still not certain on the allegiances of people in this city, and I'm hesitant to get Sister Miriam in trouble for possibly going outside of so sort of law against tampering with Fae food.
Vanessa fills my plate with food without being asked, and I give her a smile when she catches my eye. Everything on the table is food I've had before and enjoyed; I'm not blind to the kindness that Magister Orion is showing .
He realizes how exhausted I am.
As she slides several at slices and various vegetables onto my plate, Magister Orion finally responds to my question. "Your identity is not defined by your family. Even when one is disowned, they remain true to their own sense of self, do they not?"
A stab of pain shoots through my heart, interrupting its normal rhythm for a mont. There's no way he's talking about my family dynamics, but I still feel like I've been put on display for a mont, a spotlight aid right at all my pain and trauma.
But his question makes sense.
"Our sense of self is not tied to our family," I murmur, feeling my heart clench a little.
The mory of my mother as I last saw her flashes through my mind, reminding that there's a lot in my head and heart waiting to be processed. I shove it back, far back, and lock that door tightly closed.
I'm not ready for that. Not sure if I ever will be.
"Even serial killers have families," Vanessa points out, sitting next to with a lot less food on her plate than on mine. Probably about a quarter of what I'm eating. The healer isn't even a slim eater; she has a hearty appetite, just like anyone else. It's a testant to how much energy my body's begging to be replenished. "Imagine being their child.
Do their sins beco yours, or is your life separate from them?"
It isn't hard to imagine. My father's committed plenty of atrocities as Renard's beta.
But until recently, I never considered my life to be separate from that of my family. It's the opposite of what we learn growing as pack. The pack is us; we are the pack.
Our identities are forever entwined.
Or maybe that's only what Blackwood teaches their pups.
Westwood, and even Clayton's Aspen, are much more progressive packs.
The at has my stomach growling, savory aromas teasing with their existence. But I stab into the vegetables first, shoveling them into my mouth with little grace. Vitamins first, and then I'll fill my belly with what I really want.
But said belly protests, wanting a huge, juicy chunk of dium-rare steak.
"While we are always bound to family by blood, a Fae lives for a very long ti. We accomplish many things in our lifeti. Family raises us when we are young, but that is a re twenty years, when we can live for hundreds. Even thousands, in so cases."
Shaking his head, Magister Orion concludes, "While family is important, the authority of our parents fade quickly. There are so domains where Fae families are strongly bonded and remain together, but multigenerational hos tend to collapse under sheer numbers with our lifespans."
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