|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Aug 26, 2017 10:37 pm
 Participants: Vervain, Seika
Location: The Northern Wood
Time: 01:47 pm
Weather Foggy, Drizzly, 61°The further south they went, it seemed, the more weather he experienced. For years, he had known nothing but snow; sleet, on occasion, but it rarely ever got warm enough for that, either. He was not quite sure how far they'd traveled. Days - weeks, even - had passed since he took his troop out on this mission, this last ditch effort to find a new territory where prey was plentiful and would not revert the cycle of life upon them. He hadn't eaten in long enough that he was starting to really consider the berries and bark, and part of it was an unspoken fear of what the beasts this far south would offer him. They had lived in a part of the realm where irradiation, to some degree, was normal; he often joked it attributed to his increased size. Even at a year of age, he had stood beyond Father's shoulders, and it had always been an odd feeling, to look down upon his mentor, his protector, and his benefactor. He had witnessed what radiated meat could do, though, and it worried him, to think he, or his troop, might encounter something here that could very well end them.
He did not fear death, no, but he feared consequences of carelessness.
Vervain shook himself, his fur wet with the rain. He had sent Strychnine, and her twin brother, Strychnos, out to hunt while leaving Bloodroot to guard and defend whatever makeshift den they'd holed themselves up in when the night came, as well as to ensure the oracle's safety, while he continued to press on ahead, seeking... something. "West within the spires, where the earth dragon sleeps forever more." He growled faintly to himself; since Cocklebur's death, she had become more cryptic. She hardly ever gave him direction in a clear and sensible way, though found casual conversation easy, when they found the time to engage in such. Talking had been scarce, this trip, simply due to the unknown. He did not need any interlopers holding them back. "West within the spires," he drawled, considering it for a brief moment, before shaking his head vigorously to clear it. "Pah! Give me north and south, Hyacinthe, not fairy tales and omens!"
He was not sure what he was looking for. He wasn't sure why he'd decided to venture off on his own, to be honest, aside from to get away from all of them and have a moment alone to think. It was rare, even within the city, that he could, ever making decisions and guiding search parties and directing hunts.Taking over had not been easy. It had come at too high a cost, he thought. He would have been happy to keep his position, the spearhead that was driven into enemy territory on a whim, a tool of war with no mercy and little thought. A machine, well oiled and maintained, until the day when he would be bested and struck down. There was glory in a death well fought and earned. Now... It seemed his only chance of death was subterfuge, sabotage, betrayal. Death dealt by cowards - the thought sickened him.
It did not take him long to grow irritable, the tepid rain doing little to cool his temper, and finally, he came to rest beside a pond. He bit back a roar of utter frustration, instead slamming one paw into the mud at the edge of the water, before sitting down in a huff and staring at his own reflection. He could not afford to doubt Hyacinthe. He could not afford to doubt the capabilities of those he had chosen to bring with him. Most of all, he could not afford to doubt himself. He turned his ears back and wrinkled his nose, though, at the eyes that stared back at him, hollow from lack of sleep. His shoulders sank, and he exhaled deeply. "West within the spires..." he murmured, thinking. He only hoped he understood what she meant when the time came to head back.668 :Word Count
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Aug 28, 2017 9:47 pm
 She hated the rain. She hated how the moisture settled into her fur, and she hated how there seemed to be no suitable refuge from it even more so. It had been several months since her father's passing, and even this abysmal weather could not make her decide to stay in their den which is where she lived all her life. It was the den of her childhood, and the only home she knew. Unfortunately, it was also where both her mother and father took their last breaths, and, even though she would say she made her peace with both of their deaths, it still brought a twinge of sadness to her heart. It was a bittersweet feeling, but it was enough to deter her from what had been her home. Her parents loved her more than life itself, and she knew they did not want her to dwell on them. Her mother gave her the last bits of her strength so she could live well, and her father raised her into the adult she was with the tools she needed to survive.
It was time for her to take these gifts, move on, and live her life for herself.
... After the rain subsided.
For now, she was content to linger in the shadows of the forest, tucked away in a tree hollow carved into the base of an evergreen, just large enough for her to fit. It was a shoddy shelter, only capable of protecting her from the rainfall. It did nothing to keep her dry from the water that had seeped into the dirt below. She huffed, unsatisfied with this cold and dank place. She needed to find a home of her own, a home away from this forest of her youth. Her father warned her of traveling north, telling her only ice and death would be found there. She took his words to heart, after all, he and her mother had come from the north to this, better place. It was because of the bitter starvation that her mother, weak from the journey south, perished soon after giving birth. They came here seeking a better life for themselves and their offspring, and she need not explore the place they had fled.
So she turned to south, where it was rumored that this sanctuary of Elys'raena extended to a flowing sea. If it warm enough to for water to fall from the sky instead of ice, it was not too far fetched to believe that the sea was not a sea of stagnant water entombed in ice like the ones found in the north. She wanted to see the ocean – any ocean, frozen or not. 'How far south could it be?' she wondered, trying to imagine what an endless expanse of water that extended beyond the horizon looked like. She closed her eyes, and but no picture came to mind. She would have to see it for herself.
When she opened them not a moment later, a flash of gold caught her attention. Her ears perked up, gaze following the color through the vegetation as it moved to a nearby pool. A wolf emerged, an unusually large male, evidently exasperated. His metal adornments glinted in the faint light, enough to catch Seika's observant eyes even from this distance. They were modest decorations, and Seika knew better than to purloin anything from a wolf that menacing and choleric, especially when he was already in such ill spirits. Piercings, bracelets, and rings were not easy to pilfer, either. She would have had to catch him off-guard, either while he was asleep or preoccupied with some other matter. His paw would have had to be raised off the ground as well in order to slide off the jewelry. She blinked, dismissing the thought. This theft was too intricate, and far too dangerous. Worst of all, she had no place to keep all these stolen items she would love to have for herself. Now even she could feel her brow wrinkling with frustration, reminded again of how desperately she needed a home.
She sighed, releasing the tension from her body and returning her attention to the male dire ahead. She was curious as to what had him so bothered. He did not seem like the friendliest of wolves, but she was both quick and crafty enough to get out of any trouble that may ensue, especially if she expected it. The conversation would be enough to keep her mind off her dismay with the weather, at the very least. She rose to her paws, ducking her head as she exited the hollow. He would have seen her immediately upon her exit; her shelter was directly in his line of vision, though she had been well hidden in the dense undergrowth – he would not have seen her unless he had been looking for her. She was not looking for confrontation and approached with caution, her pace slower than she would have in other circumstance. She normally never moved slowly, but she did not want him to consider her usual, brisk trot a challenge of any sort; however, her efforts were almost in vain, given that this relaxed pace was about the speed normal wolves traveled naturally.
She reached him within a minute, gaze intent and ears alert. With a small, sweet smile, she bowed her head to the male before she spoke. "Dreadful weather, don't you think?" she greeted, glancing up at the sky as the rain continued falling. It was a tiresome way to start a conversation, but an easy one. "Don't you have some place to shelter you from the storm?"
► Word Count | 940 ◄
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Sep 05, 2017 11:57 pm
Try as he might, the doubt came. It came in waves, like an angry sea throwing itself mercilessly against stone, carefully and methodically eroding strength and stability over time. Shadows plagued at the corners of his mind, calling everything into question time and time again. Cocklebur had been so many things. He had been teacher, brother, leader, and companion. He had been both the sun and the moon, the driving force behind everything the pack did with no question and no hesitation in himself or his actions. Everything he did, he did with purpose, and with conviction. Were it not clear that he was mortal in his wounds, and ultimately his death, Vervain might have thought him a god, the reason for the tides and tremors of the earth. No, he was too logical, too aware of the material world around him, to be lured into such fantasies; he knew better. Nevertheless, the hole that Cocklebur had left was great, and he would be a fool to ever think himself able to fill it. Oh, Vervain could be many things - he could be a teacher, a leader, a brother and a friend, of that, he was certain.
He would never be Father.
Truth be told, it seemed that the rest of the pack agreed, or at least found using Cocklebur's title distasteful. No one, not even Hyacinthe, addressed him as such, and for that, he was thankful. His ascendance had been an unconventional one, and he still was not sure why he had been chosen. There had been other, more powerful males, at least in his opinion, who would have had just as easy a time. Nightshade would have been a shoe in, had he not choked on his own blood six or seven months ago. His lips curled slightly at the memory, and he was once again glad they'd fashioned the traitor into various forms of jewelry and trinket, though he could not remember who wore his pelt and who wore his tail. Vervain shook his head, clearing the rain from his fur and eyes, and lifted his gaze to stare across the water, trying ever harder to force his mind to focus on the task at hand and not to be taken away in silly flights of fancy. He would never know why Hyacinthe chose him over the others; only Cocklebur could tell him, and he flew with the crows, now.
His melancholy must have shown on his face. With each passing moment, his frown grew deeper, and his brows knit tighter together. Between wondering on things that hardly mattered, and trying to decipher the oracle's ridiculous hints and riddles ("Careful, child, lest we wake the dragon,"), he was not nearly as observant as he should have been. He missed the slightest hint of movement directly ahead of him, across the pond, within the leaves and ferns and brambles, and the sound of rain masked the softer sound of something carefully traipsing through the wood. He flexed his toes in the silty bank, grumbling to himself and pondering more. "So we head west," he mumbled, "And hope that she tells me what the damn spires are." He didn't even want to think about all of the dragon teasers, at the very moment; he was having a hard enough time with the pieces she gave him that were sound enough to make sense.
Finally, over the drizzle of rain and slight wind, he caught footprints. Immediately, he stiffened, the fur across his shoulders lifting off the skin beneath as he shifted his eyes to the right of him, looking very much like a mountain lion ready to pounce. A stupid mistake, allowing himself to ignore the world around him, but it would seem that this time, he was not going to suffer any major consequences for it. It was a b***h, a small one with a bizarre mop of black fur atop her head, and curious adornments, who approached. She stood at length (wisely so), and seemed... pleasant. He wondered how her reaction to him might change in the coming months, assuming all went well and they could move Aeternum and its operations south.
It mattered little.
"It's better than sleet and hail." His tone was low, vaguely menacing, but he allowed himself to straighten slightly, lifting his head to peer at her more carefully. She really was quite tiny. He easily dwarfed her and would have no trouble overpowering her if it came down to it. "No," he stated bluntly, glancing past her briefly to check for any sign of the others before returning his attention to her. "That's part of the problem, actually." He wondered if she was familiar with the lands around them, briefly, and considered how useful she might be. She was too old to be integrated, to be reformed, but she could prove valuable in directing him. "Where is this place?" She would know him to be an outsider, a vagabond, a wandered - at least, for now.
834 :Word Count
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 06, 2017 1:48 am
Even as she approached, the already disgruntled male grew more agitated. She squinted, studying the fine movements in his face from this distance which indicated his troubled mind. It was only a few moments later that his mind returned to reality, eyes snapping open and weight shifting to his hind legs as he took on a more defensive position. He finally heard her approach, it seemed – granted, she was not being very careful. Once his eyes met hers, however, his demeanor calmed, and he seemed to lower his guard ever so slightly, just enough to welcome conversation without opening himself to attack. It would be rather foolish for Seika to attack, for he towered over her, his eyes nearly level with hers as she stood in front of him while his belly remained pressed against the forest floor. This immense size difference did not faze her; she was used to this now, as she was the smallest wolf she knew. Others were always quick to trust her, leastways quicker than they would trust other wolves at average size. She was not threatening in any way given her small stature, and most seemed to come to the conclusion that they could defeat her with ease if necessary. They were not wrong, but Seika knew better than to engage in any kind of battle of strength, especially not against a wolf of this dire's size and build. She had taken note of the male's rippling muscles long ago, and the strength that they suggested. This was not your average wolf; but, then again, neither was she.
A light laugh escaped her. "Certainly. Anything is better than the ice." Every wolf in his right mind detested winter. The severity of the scarcity of food was only trumped by the bitter cold, a chill that never left one's bones. The thought made her fur stand on end. Her eyes followed his gaze as it flicked to and fro, as though he was either trying to be wary of his surroundings or searching for something – or someone.
"I see," she mused after he told her about how he did not have any kind of refuge. "That's truly a shame. You obviously don't need me to tell you that you should find a place soon. Though this isn't the icy wasteland of the north, winters here are still not forgiving." She observed him intently, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're not from around here, are you? I've lived in this forest all my life and I've never seen you before. I would have noticed, too." Given the nature of her craft, she had to travel a lot in order to avoid gaining too much notoriety amongst other wolves, and she made a point to make sure anyone from whom she stole never found her again. All the faces in this forest were familiar to her, and she could spot a newcomer from a resident. This was nothing new, though, for wolves traveled down from the north often – just as her parents had done – seeking sanctuary from the forbidding northern lands which had yet to be thawed. This forest was the beginning of Elys'raena, and, for many who made the journey from the north, the first sight of green which extended farther than they could see. This male spoke of sleet and hail, so he was familiar with the cold, and Seika deduced that he must be one of the weary travelers searching for a better life.
This male had also given her no reason to lie to him. Seika was often one to give poor directions; however, surely, he had suffered enough on his journey south, and she was not one to cause more needless suffering. She thought about her parents, then, and how much they must have endured during their journey. Given that her mother was so malnourished that she perished soon after Seika's birth and her father was too weak to hunt enough prey to feed his enfeebled mate, the journey south must have been an arduous one. She wondered then if perhaps this male's frustration was partly intensified by hunger, and perhaps she would ask him later. She could point him in the direction of prey should he desire a meal, but, for now, she deemed it more appropriate to answer the questions he asked. "Congratulations," she began with a smile, "you made it to Elys'raena. This is the Northern Wood, a forest that separates the snowy north from the rest of the realm." She tilted her head then, continuing to note any and all changes in his body language. She was not looking for trouble, after all. "You really should find a place to call your own," she reiterated. "Is there a certain place you seek?"
► Word Count | 800 ◄
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
