His dream away from reality

[Catalyst de Sadira]

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600+

Catalyst had easily allowed Cwmfen to reach out to her and grasp her small frame, as she was lifted up into the warrior's embrace. There was no doubt that the pup let the contact happen, as she instantly buried her wet muzzle and facade into the woman's black and blue pelt; hoping that all this could disappear right then and there, and perhaps finding a moment's content within that very spot. Surely her tears were absorbed into the Adonis's inky fur, and for that Catalyst even felt terrible for it. The empty shell that was the previous Dahlia was right below her now, and knowing that fact made the flesh beneath her fur instantly crawl; he had been a nice male, but now with him in this lifeless state, she wanted to be as far away as possible from him. That was probably a bad and wrong feeling to feel, but Catalyst couldn't help it. Knowing she had done gravely wrong, the de Sadira couldn't help to be a bit baffled as to why Cwmfen didn't chide or scold her. Mother usually scolded the pups when they were misbehaving, but this warrior didn't. Although, Catalyst had that telling feeling that something was going on inside Cwmfen, whether it be disappointment, anger, regret, sadness, and a whole list of other emotions. Catalyst couldn't tell what it was, but it was something, and thick invisible vibes of such were more than enough to tell.


Pulling her head away from her sable fur, the slender fingers titled her muzzle up to where her gaze was met with her pupil less eyes. Sniffling, her dual eyes tried to search the blank void of the warrior's gaze, hard to discern what emotion flashed in her sights, but her eyes blinked away a fog of tears as the pup finally spoke, her words hushed in a shaky and broken whisper. "W-why... w-why was i-it h-his t-t-time to... die?" Recollecting their conversation with life and death, death was something entirely in its own realm, unknown of when it was to come. Why had it come so soon for the male, seeing that he looked fairly young and not old like most elders? Did he do something in his life to bring it upon him? Did he commit a crime, break some rules? Would she die because she broke the promise made with Cwmfen? Such a thought struck fear in her heart, refusing to look down at the bloodied mess before them, not wanting to see that fate for herself. She wished that she would have just kept her word, would have just listened. This wasn't to say she would never commit such an action again, for that couldn't be told, but at least now her critical thinking process would start in the subconscious realm of her mind. She would certainly begin to think before she acted upon.


There was something that broke the eye contact, as Catalyst's eyes narrowed back into the depths of Dahlia. Something akin to drawn out sobs, faded and lonely among the wind. She had not seen the darkly russet female creep up and watch from a distance, only heard her disdained cries after her departure. There was someone else then, not the origin of the cries. Another male, who looked almost similar to the fallen wolf pelt wise, but held a darker and richer coat. Catalyst assumed maybe it was a family member, close relative. Her glance shifted to Cwmfen for a second, and then back to the male. She hadn't seen him before. As he approached, sullen by the scene, it was then the fallen wolf's name was revealed to her, spoken by a stranger's tongue. Ril'o. The name had a haunting connection to it, and it reminded her that Ril'o was still dead below by Cwmfen's very paws. It made her shudder, and press closer into the warrior's embrace.

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[Cwmfen nic Graine]

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The woman held the pup close, feeling the wet tears fall and dampen her fur. But while her heart mourned for her pack member, the woman did not weep. All her tears and all her irrational rage had been expelled after her father had raped her before she arrived at the Dahlian boarders. And since that time had passed, it was as if, with those diluted emotions of an enlightened warrior, she no longer had that ability to weep, not even in anger or in sadness. There was only a stirring in her soul that moved like the somber waters of the dark ocean after a great storm, shadowed by the dark clouds that moved away having expelled all that they had. But the pup in her arms was held close, the woman needing that contact as much as the pup did.


Catalyst’s question struck the woman, and her eyes watched the sad blue and white orbs of the pup. It was his time, the woman thought, because I did not save him, because I did not act, did not find my father. But the woman was silent for a moment longer. It was not her fault that Ril’o had been killed—she knew that. But she could have prevented it, she should have prevented it. Time was growing thin but with it her father’s threats had grown severe, extreme. "He died," the soft melody said at length, those tones a dulled silver melody that sang with minor tones, "to warn me." That was the truth, for that was what Corvus had been here to do. But she could not tell the pup of her failure to act because the pup needed to feel that sense of security. It was not false security if she continued to stay within the packlands, for Cwmfen would not allow her father to harm her or anyone else. Ril’o would be the last. Her white orbs turned to the heavens, seeking the absent moon of Nemain as she vowed it. Let it be written, she called to the goddess.


The warrior heard it too, the woad bound ears pricking forward. But when Sankor appeared, she knew that it had not been the male that she had initially heard. The white orbs watched as he beheld the fallen wolf, listening to his uttered words. As the white pup moved closer in her arms, the warrior held her close, her hand cradling her head gently against her as if to keep her from seeing Death that was lying so close with its throat torn out. "Sankor," she called quietly, as if wishing to say something, but she did not. The warrior, because of her social ineptitudes, did not know what to say, did not know what needed to be said. She knew how to kill and how to honor the bodies of the dead, but she did not know what should be said. The white orbs sought his, wondering if he would judge her for her failed duty as Warrior. She remembered what had passed between them upon their last meeting. But she knew also that Ril’o had been a close friend of the psychiatrist. She knew of the loss he would be feeling, but she didn’t know how to tell him that.

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[Catalyst de Sadira]

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I'm not sure if anyone else who made a post is going to make another round of replies, so with that being said, would you want to wrap this thread up in a couple more rounds? 300+

          The metallic smell that leaked in crimson rivers from the sliced pathways of the adult's throat, it was beginning to churn her stomach and make her nausea. Catalyst pressed her cold, small nose against the black and blue fur of the warrior to mask the smell. The crimson aroma was just as heavy in the air as it spilled from the life of the male, and it took all of Catalyst's courage to not revert her gaze to look down at the scene. She was so close, too close for her comfort. The warrior's embrace upon her was strong, unfaltering. It held confidence and a grasp that she wouldn't let go, and Catalyst cherished this embrace for as much as she could; pressing herself just as close, just as tight.

          The Adonis and her replies were short, to the point. Simple enough however to where it caused Catalyst to rethink her simple phrases, at first confused by such words. Warning, warning of what exactly? It was certainly obvious that the demon wolf at the borders came for a purpose, but Catalyst didn't see the relation in that eyeless trespasser and in Cwmfen. The relation was pretty evident, for her eyes were milky white with no pupils or irises, and his were depthless black, same composition. Catalyst missed that fact entirely, whether it was she couldn't reach such a connotation yet in her life cycle, or that she literally just had her fur scared halfway off her flesh.

          All she could do was pose a silent inquiry up to the warrior, bloodshot eyes telling words that couldn't be spoken at this time, mainly in point of what the warrior told her about the warning. It was then she called quietly to the male that was in similar hue as that of the deceased below them. Settling her ivory skull and cheek against the warrior's embrace of holding her head snug and close, Catalyst was simply held there in her grasp, her eyes looking onto the one called Sankor. Her breathing was finally ebbing down, her sobs drying up and away, but her mind? In utter turmoil, running at hundreds of miles per hour. There was a new fear coming arise within her, one that spoke of this warning that Cwmfen indicated. It made each and every fine hair follicle stand on end.

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[Sankor Koios]

Sankor swallowed the lump in his throat as he listened to the talk between the child and the leader as his eyes stared down at the still form of his friend. He didn't know what to do or what to say, he just wanted to know what was going on. His golden orbs rose up to meet the misty ones of Cwmfen's as he choked out the words. "What.. how.." He couldn't even figure out how to put two words together to form a sentence. He shook his head as a soft whine escaped his throat, the harsh reality of everything finally crashing down.

His heart began to race as he tried to step away from the scene, not wanting to believe, if he didn't see it, it didn't happen. If he could forget it it was nothing. He was like the helpless child as he felt his stomach trying to empty itself, swallowing hard against the nausea as he stamped a paw in the dust. "Damn it Ril'o! Why.." he cried out, knowing that there would be no answer from his lost companion.

[Cwmfen nic Graine]

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I’m just going to wrap this one up, if that’s okay with everyone. I’ll close this and archive it on Monday. PM me if you would like to add in one reply before I do. This will segue directly into this thread, ^=^
500+


Holding the pup in silence, the white orbs sought the wolf. She did not answer the inquiry of those young eyes. It was not her place to know why, only that it was. There was a brief moment of silence in which she wondered. She wondered if he would remember what she had entrusted in him long ago upon the boarders of this pack when they had met as strangers. Her hesitation arose from a more recent memory in which the male had seemed to have forgotten. She was not hurt by that forgetfulness, for surely she had not allowed that past to rule the present. But she wondered if her answer would be lost upon him. "He...came for me," the quiet melody replied, that alto almost a whisper. Her words were slow, not filled with fear but with that simple quiet mixture of all emotions that seemed to always riddle her voice. Cruel, he had thought of her, cold and unemotional, like her father. Perhaps he would accuse her again, but the warrior’s mind was elsewhere.


She could feel a tenseness suddenly in her body, not everywhere, but somewhere. For a moment, her mind returned, and she realized that her jaws were clenched against each other. Her eyes watched the pain and disbelief that crossed her friend’s body and mind. She saw what her failure, what her inability to protect this wolf, had done. It brought not only the death of one body, but the pain of another. It brought horror to a child who should not see such things. The black female had allowed her fear to create an obstacle in her life. Since the moment she had fled from Caledonia, she had sought to avoid that obstacle, and now that obstacle, a mere rock, had grown into the shape of an insurmountable mountain. She stared upon its face now and steeled herself against it. She could be better than this. She could wipe away her selfish fears. She could have prevented this. But the black wolf was not one who dwelt long upon regrets. She knew only now what she must do, and was now moved to do it.


Rising, the woman walked slowly over to Sankor as if afraid that he would run from her. "Sankor," the melody called again, the white orbs demanding that he meet her gaze. "You must lead Catalyst to her home." It was a command now from a higher rank. I will take Ril’o, she said in silence. Kneeling slowly, she lowered the pup to the earth near the adult’s feet, careful to keep the girl’s eyes turned away from the scene of death that now lingered there like a bad dream. The woad bound fingers brushed through the girl’s fur for a final time before she rested her hand upon the male’s shoulders, in a comforting way, or in a way in which she sought to be comforting. Turning and rising, she returned to the body, lifting the golden wolf gently in her arms, the blood dripping from him but no longer flowing from the wound for the heart that had been stilled. In silence, without looking back to the two, she carried the body to the Church.

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