[Oh. Oh . . . oh, he hadn't even thought— but of course she'd smell the pups, clever girl that she is. And it's silly to feel guilty for her jealousy, for it isn't as if he ever set out to replace her, but still, oh, he does feel his own ears lower in quiet contrition.]
I know, I know . . . I'm sorry, I know, you do not know them yet, but you will—
[Well, presumably she will. She has to. He cannot abandon the pups, but nor will he ever let Ataashi out of his sight again. But ah, perhaps now isn't the time to assure her of that; she's been left alone for Maker-only-knows how long and deserves all the pitying and coddling he can offer. His hands move in tandem with her signals: stilling when she growls and scrubbing briskly when she quiets, trying to assure her that he hasn't forgotten all the ways that she likes to be babied.]
They are small, and they were abandoned . . . I could not leave them where I found them, they would have died.
[It's stupid to say it. As if she can understand him (not yet, oh, he cannot wait to speak to her properly, he cannot wait to hear all her clever thoughts and learn her mannerisms). But maybe it helps his own guilt.]
But they did not replace you, my Ataashi, they could never. I missed so much, I thought of you each day—
[And he intends to go on and on for as long as she'll let him— but ah, people are returning. Cautiously, admittedly, for she's still an enormous wolf, but it's easy enough to see she isn't savaging him.
'Are you all right?' someone calls, and Leto waves a hand, trying (and perhaps failing, depending on Ataashi's mood) to sit up a little.]
I'm fine. She is a pet I had thought lost . . . but she will not hurt anyone, I promise you.
[She might fret from all the attention, though, and he keeps one hand pressed against her, rubbing soothingly.]
Come on. Come home with me, come greet Astarion— he has missed you as much as I have, and the pups could use someone to teach them how to behave. Come home, come on—
[Soothing and cajoling both, and he does not stop his quiet litany until they approach home. Not their home, nothing like the mansion in Thedas, and he hopes that does not set her off all over again. She's such a beast of routine, their Ataashi, and she has never enjoyed change of any kind. But ah, they'll learn. They'll adjust. It doesn't matter how long it takes; it doesn't matter if she sulks at him for weeks about the pups or pisses all over his belongings in pointed punishment, for she's back. She's here, and she isn't going anywhere— and that's so much more than he has ever thought he would ever get.]
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I know, I know . . . I'm sorry, I know, you do not know them yet, but you will—
[Well, presumably she will. She has to. He cannot abandon the pups, but nor will he ever let Ataashi out of his sight again. But ah, perhaps now isn't the time to assure her of that; she's been left alone for Maker-only-knows how long and deserves all the pitying and coddling he can offer. His hands move in tandem with her signals: stilling when she growls and scrubbing briskly when she quiets, trying to assure her that he hasn't forgotten all the ways that she likes to be babied.]
They are small, and they were abandoned . . . I could not leave them where I found them, they would have died.
[It's stupid to say it. As if she can understand him (not yet, oh, he cannot wait to speak to her properly, he cannot wait to hear all her clever thoughts and learn her mannerisms). But maybe it helps his own guilt.]
But they did not replace you, my Ataashi, they could never. I missed so much, I thought of you each day—
[And he intends to go on and on for as long as she'll let him— but ah, people are returning. Cautiously, admittedly, for she's still an enormous wolf, but it's easy enough to see she isn't savaging him.
'Are you all right?' someone calls, and Leto waves a hand, trying (and perhaps failing, depending on Ataashi's mood) to sit up a little.]
I'm fine. She is a pet I had thought lost . . . but she will not hurt anyone, I promise you.
[She might fret from all the attention, though, and he keeps one hand pressed against her, rubbing soothingly.]
Come on. Come home with me, come greet Astarion— he has missed you as much as I have, and the pups could use someone to teach them how to behave. Come home, come on—
[Soothing and cajoling both, and he does not stop his quiet litany until they approach home. Not their home, nothing like the mansion in Thedas, and he hopes that does not set her off all over again. She's such a beast of routine, their Ataashi, and she has never enjoyed change of any kind. But ah, they'll learn. They'll adjust. It doesn't matter how long it takes; it doesn't matter if she sulks at him for weeks about the pups or pisses all over his belongings in pointed punishment, for she's back. She's here, and she isn't going anywhere— and that's so much more than he has ever thought he would ever get.]