Dated January 3. This thread is mandatory. Each pack member must post twice. Posting order will be determined by whoever gets here first until everyone in the pack has gotten a chance to post, and we will go through a round of repeats after I post once more. Quote at the end of this post by MA Radmatcher.
WC: 967
The New Year crept on silent wings, carried upon the frigid winds of winter. Geneva did not always measure time the way humans had, but she knew that today bore a special significance to her pack. With this in mind, she moved with thoughtful steps among the rows of headstones. Her slim body swayed with a strange rhythm, as though her thoughts echoed music that only she could hear that lent her a guileless and unplanned grace. Many thoughts filtered through her mind, lurking like the dark shadows of fish beneath a layer of ice in a frozen pond. She felt that she couldn’t access them all, but she was conscious of the fact that they were there. There was too much for her to consider at once, and right now she did not feel like picking and choosing different memories to focus on, so she just let them flow over her before they departed entirely.
Hill of Graves seemed to be such a naturally dark place. Row upon row of headstones studded the ground, numbering in a few dozen. She strained her eyes as she tried to read the writing on the headstones, ancient artifacts of a human era that was as long gone and dead as the occupants of some of these graves. The years had wished the writing away, and Geneva really had no wish to identify the owners of the remains below the ground. Their stories had played out, and although they were obscured by the veils of time, she still felt that those occupants below the earth played their part within the Valley pack. Their mystery was not hers to know, and she was content with that. She had her own ghosts to chase, and memories of her own dead to consider.
Today marked a special time within Phoenix Valley, although she was certain that not many of her brethren knew. Today was a day of remembrance. But she also viewed it as a day of reconciliation. It was time to shed the trappings of times before. It was time to give up burdens that had weighed them each down. It was time to let go of the dead weight and strive to reach the heights and pinnacles that life had to offer, all while remembering and learning from the things that had come from before. There were valuable lessons within each experience, from each new acquaintance that had been gained and lost. Death could be interpreted literally or symbolically in many instances.
Putting her back to the dense copse of trees that surrounded the dimly lit graveyard, Geneva raised her voice to the dying sunset. Her howl was a thin, strong melody, much like her speaking voice. It had a ghostly quality as it echoed amongst the trees and gravestones. She settled on the uneven ground, kneeling and allowing her hands to rest palms up on her thighs. She would wait for the pack to assemble.
Jefferson was the first to appear, but he already knew the significance of today. She had told him that she would call the inhabitants of Phoenix Valley together for this meeting. He stopped to stand beside her, and although she was not looking at him, she knew that his electric green eye was scanning the shadowy Hill of Graves for their collective pack. When she saw that the others had arrived, Geneva spoke to them, her voice hushed as always, but it rang through the graveyard like a ghostly echo.
”Today is important for our pack. It is La Saoire Na Mairbh; it is Day of the Dead.” Her lime colored eyes washed over the faces of those surrounding her, making a note of each of them, their names playing silently on her tongue before she continued to address them. ”It is a day of remembrance, but also renewal. It is important to recognize the significance of those who came before us, and experiences that have touched us and changed us. This day can pertain to the deaths of our old selves, the loss of friends even if they still live, or the deaths of old habits and ways of life. These things help us to move forward.”
Taking a breath, she glanced for a moment at Jefferson. Usually, her mate would take the role of a leader in terms of speaking and directing their pack. During the previous spring, Geneva had thought she had lost this part of her life. But now, she had regained it. She wanted to make sure that she did this right, and that her pack members would benefit from this celebration and day of significance, although it was rather somber in nature. Returning her eyes to her pack mates, she continued, ”There is strength in our unity, and strength in realizing the truth. I would ask that you share something that you have lost, and something you have realized or gained in return, something that has made you stronger.”
The flow of her words stilled for the span of several breaths. Then, with some tranquility in her expression, she began the process of sharing herself. ”In the spring, I became injured. I asked to be removed from the rank of Savant, second in this pack, and for many months I carried a wounded heart. But much of my suffering was the result of my own devising. I have let go of the part of me that would think that I am undeserving of happiness, the part that would injure me and whisper to my weaknesses. Sometimes, I still war with the voice that tells me that I am unfit and always wrong…But now I have realized…’Courage does not always roar, sometimes it is the small voice at the end of the day that says, "I will try again tomorrow’.”*
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Rendall heard the beautiful howl on the wind. Knowing already that it was Geneva’s she began to put every thing away and get ready to go out into the snow. As she opened the door the wind blew cold air inside her house. She shivered and shut the door quickly before the fire could be harmed. She made her way through the storm-like winds and through the Vally. She tracked the females scent over to the beautiful but silent Hill of Graves. The places was shrouded with darkness and she was happy to have brought her cloak and lantern. She looked around curiously before resting her gaze on the grey female. She nodded respectfully and took her spot next to the she wolf.
The late light faded and night settled in as more began to show. She counted all the faces she recognized and found that she was beginning to learn her pack well. Perhaps it would be good to represent them one day. She would have to talk to Jefferson. For now she looked around at all the gravestones and almost cried when she thought of those whose lives were lost in her life. She thought of her mother and her father. She thought of everyone before her whom had it not been for them, she would never exist today. She also thought of those who were alive and had helped her though out life. Vulcan her brother, Ty, Pendzez, Xeris, and even Anya, they were her family and she was happy to see their returns to the area after hers.
Ren finally quieted her thoughts as the grey one spoke. It felt like a respected hush fell over the crowd that had gathered and everyone’s emotions were as one. As if each individual feeling contributed to the strange thoughts that they all shared in this one quiet moment. She listened to what Geneva wanted them to do. She thought about all the hardships she went through and chose the one that had meant the most to her. The death of her parents by a hateful clan. She savored each word that Geneva shared and tied it with her thoughts and feelings. This is what this family was about. About connecting through their pain and learning to see each other through different eyes.
Ren was the first to speak up after the gentle wolfess. She looked over to Jefferson and his mate, telling them with her eyes that she was proud to have them as leaders. She then turned to the crowd around her. “My father was once a proud leader of our clan. But, he and my mother were killed when they pack learned of them being Luperci. Their most trusted captain, Avery, lead the attack. This past has haunted me for very long. I had always wanted revenge for what had happened. But…..When I left, I went and found peace within myself in a place I never thought I would. So when it came time to face this past. I decided not to pursue the path I had originally set out for. Instead I let it go…..I decided to leave the past where it was and try to move to my future, here, instead.” Revenge was a hard burden to carry, she thought about that as she relaxed again and sat back down in the palce she originally took.
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The call was familiar. It was the same voice that had called him home to bed so many nights. It was the voice that had been the only other voice he knew for the first few months of his life. It was his mother's voice and for as long as he lived he would never be able to forget it for as long as he lived. He heard it long after the howl had faded to nothing and his reaction to it was automatic. When Geneva called he came, no matter where he was coming from. Lately it was around the edges and borders of Phoenix Valley, if not right outside the pack land. Rarely did he spend his days lounging about the ranch as he did in his youth, but still he returned there every night. He had been returning there then when her call sounded and he turned tail and ran.
Arriving he found his mother in a somber mood, with his father alongside her. For a moment he considered the two of them, a pair, more of set than he had ever considered them before. They belonged next to each other. Had he been younger, or had the meeting seemed less formal, he might too have gone to their side but as it were he placed himself among the gathered members, trying to blend in as naturally as possible. It should have been natural, he was one of them, he liked all of them, but he felt strange and out of place and was relieved when his mother spoke and he could focus his gaze on her rather than anyone else. Ocean eyes stayed glued to her as her voice, so familiar and comfortable, washed over all of them.
As she spoke his heart hammered, she was being very open and honest with them all and he couldn't help but be swayed by her words. The slate colored kid wondered what his father thought just then, and he tried to catch the gaze of the one eyed gimp. Pripyat still understood little about the time before him, but he was learning more and more and finding that not all feelings from the past were pleasant. Yet they let them go. He wondered if Jefferson too had let go of whatever had kept Geneva and him apart in the time before his birth. Pripyat had little to let go of.
As Geneva finished speaking he focused on her final words. I will try again tomorrow. He was seven months now, and still unshifted. The Luperci blood ran in his veins but he had not had the urge to shift yet, and though he had focused on changing his body it did not come to him. He no longer knew if his four legged state was the result of his inability to shift or his unwillingness to try any longer, in case he did fail. Yet later, in private, he would try again. Tomorrow perhaps.
His focus shifted to Rendall as she spoke and he listened to her story, trying to soak in as much of it as he could. Yet as she drew near to finish speaking his heart began to hammer. He would be next to speak, it was only natural due to his proximity to the wolf. He thought of the last meeting, how Jefferson had asked them to speak and he had been unable to. Or unwilling, again he wasn't sure. Pripyat had been able to do that as a child, but now, now with an adult rank and his father looking at him from up front rather than beside him he couldn't keep silent. His mind raced for something to say, and when he opened his mouth he hardly knew what words were to come out, he had never really lost anything.
“A while ago I left Phoenix Valley for the first time. I went to Inferni. I lost my sense of comfort and security…”He did not look directly at anyone as he spoke, the young boy's mind wandering back over the meeting that could have turned out much worse than it had. He was still here after all. "But I gained a sense of adventure. I think I want to travel more."He swallowed and looked then at Mother and Jefferson, ocean eyes meeting their gaze. It had been something he was wanting to tell them for a while now, had been scared to say, and now the whole pack knew.
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The cold, crisp air of January drifted through Xeris' nostrils as she walked through the land. She had heard Geneva's call, and suspected that there was to be a pack meeting. Thus, with Carwyn, who she had set out on a walk with, following behind her, the white wolfess set off in the direction of the howl. As they got closer, Xeris began to realize that they were nearing the Hill Of Graves, a place that had always made her feel a little uneasy. This was the first time she had been to the area since returning to the Valley, and after the events she had witnessed in her homeland, the eerie graveyard was even more unsettling to the scarred female.
Carefully she stepped between the worn headstones, as if stepping too hard on the ground would desecrate the dead beneath. Her golden eyes finally fell upon Geneva and Jefferson, and she led her son to them, sitting delicately on the dirt with crossed legs and Carwyn kneeling beside her. She gave the leaders a polite nod of respect.
Geneva began to explain the situation. Upon hearing the word "dead," Xeris turned her face toward the ground, thinking not only of the human remains here but of her family, her birth pack, so recently taken from her. Despite the subleader's words that this was a day of reconciliation, the white wolfess was still rather jarred.
The pack members were asked to share something they had lost. Xeris listened in polite silence to the words of Rendall and Pripyat--who had indeed grown quite a bit since she'd seen him last--and considered the things they had to say. There was a pause then, and Xeris bit her lip realizing she was the next to speak. She continued staring at the dirt in silence for a moment, before lifting her head up once again and speaking. "I was away from the Valley for a while," she began. "I returned to my homeland, only to find it in the middle of war. My parents, my former packmates...they are no longer in this world." She paused, inhaling deeply. "And my daughter has yet to return." Golden orbs scanned around the area, looking at her packmates' faces. "But I must remain strong. Even in such times of hardship...we will be strong." Xeris glanced at her son, who nodded in agreement; he, too, desperately missed his sister Xion.
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Ookami had been walking around the Valley exploring when he heard the first sound of the howl. His ears perked up in the direction it came from. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. Geneva. He turned around and went into a brisk trot. His ears were perked straight up and his head was held high. His big oversized paws left large, delicate prints in the powdery snow. A cold wind blew and he shivered slightly. He broke into a gently lope, reaching the graveyard in no time. He slowed down to a walk as he passed the headstones. He glanced at them, stopping to stare at one. They were frightning, but amazing at the same time. He shook his head and continued walking. He spotted the wolves of his new home. He sensed the mood, a sadness around them. He took his place next to Xeris and looked around. So many wolves to befriend, so many kind faces. He looked at the leaders, dipping his head in respect.
Geneva spoke her first words and his ears flicked in her direction. He listened intently. Tonight was a time to confess and let go. He took in a breath. Could he do it? He listned next to Rendall. Then Pripyat. It would be his turn soon. Xeris spoke next and then it was time for him. He had never lost anything really. He had nothing to begin with. He couldn't think of anything that was ever lost from him that he cared about. He grew up without someone to love and talk with. He spent his days training himself to hunt and smell things. Most days were actually spent being chewed out by the alpha. He gritted his teeth, so many bad memories, yet he couldn't think of anything that had really upset him. He grew up numb and quiet, not connecting with anyone. I guess I'll just have to speak my mind. "I was born into a hateful pack. My unusual color frightened them, for everyone of them was a dark black color. They needed to be dark to survive, and having me as this bright color, they thought I would get them killed. No one liked me, loved me, or tried to be my friend. I spent most of my days getting attacked by the alpha, or just being alone. I really have never lost anything, for I had nothing to begin with." He took another breath. "It is hard growing up in a dangereous world, without anyone caring about you. I guess the thing I lost was the love of my mother. She did love me, but when she first saw my coat she was scared for her life. So she stopped loving me." He finished his speech and flung his eyes to the ground.
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She had searched everywhere for Grace and had been unable to find her. Her obsession with finding out where her sister had gone wasn't dying off yet, either, still burning strongly in her chest. Why would Grace have left her? The girl was as adventurous as Addison had been as a pup, perhaps that was part of the problem. The D'Angelo family in general was pretty crazy...who knew why her sister had run off. Maybe she hadn't had a reason.
Addison had been looking for an opportunity to tell the pack of her new name, and as she settled in next to Pripyat and listened to Geneva speak, she thought about what else she might like to share. Her sister's disappearance was constantly on her mind, and when it came to be her turn to speak she cleared her throat and began. "I have lost my sister, Grace D'Angelo. I brought her here to protect her, but one night last month she didn't come home...and I haven't seen her since."
Geneva and Jefferson had likely noticed that Grace was gone as well, though Addison had mostly kept to herself for the last month or so that she had been looking for the pup. She looked down for a moment, thinking, then back up at the silver-furred leader. "But I have gained a new sense of family and what it means to me...I appreciate my adopted parents, Geneva and Jefferson, and have decided to leave some things in the past, where they belong, and look toward the future. Dierdre and Cerulean aren't my real family, my real family is the family that loves me unconditionally and cares for me. My name is now Addison Soul."
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He had taken up the cabin that he had discovered with the sister like pack member Tala, it was warm and he kept the fire going in the cabin, and if he was luck he would nab up a crab or some other sea life that came on shore of the beach for a meal. He had learned quickly about watching the pinchers on the crabs. They really hurt and hurt back once they clamped onto your nose. With a sleepy yawn the silver Fuerre ranked male lifted his head, and shifted his ear as the song echoed through the windows and walls to the male’s ears. Standing up slowly he knew that getting to the meeting he would have to make up for taking his time here in the house of his.
Pushing the door open with his head the male took off walking as he starting to limp to where the sound was coming from. Stopping he stretched out his leg making the choice to ignore the pain from his bad shoulder, as the stabbing pain washed up his arm, into his joint it was deep set pain. The male pushed on to where the meeting was being held, coming to the meeting area he saw the gathering, he stopped taking a step back as gulped. The Sawtooth male hated being in a large crowd, Adonia knew that. With panic he looked around for the she-wolf cross breed. Unable to see her in the gathering of member the male had to find a place to sit. Finding a spot near the younger lady that he has been lucky enough to call a friend, she had gifted his with the stag charm that he now wore like a rare and priceless gemstone around his neck. He didn’t want to erupt any one’s story that they were telling. Giving the black lady a rather soft nip upon her shoulder, he’s own way of letting her know that he was at her side. The male had nothing all the new to share with the pack members that hadn’t already heard from the last time they had gathered, that and Noah was not really that willing to tell everyone his pity story he did not like to dwell in the past when tomorrow was always a new day.
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Geneva's call had settled amongst the packlands and Tala knew without a doubt what it had signified. A meeting of the pack, though this would be the first she was attending since her joining the Valley Pack's ranks, she knew it was just as important whether it would be her first, her eighth or her last. The female had been at home when she had heard the summoning, so the trek to where she recognized the graveyard was her destination. Why would the second call them to such a place? It seemed peculiar to her, but she would not question it. Geneva was not the type to do such things without much thought or reason to it. She was curious, and that emotion lead the speed she used. She moved in quick, straight lines, her pads moving quickly beneath her feet.
Once arriving to the mouth of the yard Tala could smell many wolves already here, she had not been the first to arrive, but she certainly wasn't the last either. Her movements slowed to a casual walk at that point. Tala was sure to walk on paths, even though these graves were human and worn from time and age, she still knew the respect they had once been given. Treading over a grave was rude to those who lay within and the people who had once mourned, loved and respected the deceased. It may have taken her big more time to wind across the yard than just cutting through, but Tala preferred it this way.
She met the small gathering with a nod of hello, she did not want to disturb any speaking. She quickly understood what they were called here for, to respect those they had lost. This seemed to hit Tala directly in the chest, her heart seemed to slow as she knew she would have to speak about the past events. She took a seat beside where Noah had situated himself, she gave a friendly smile to her brother like friend and sat in a calm, low manor. She waited until nobody was speaking before her tongue took off. "I've been around death since I was a pup. I was born amongst a civil war within my pack that killed many undeserving wolves. My father was one of them, he died fighting for me and my mother, trying to give us a better, free life that he felt we had deserved." Her words seemed to tense, emotion flooding from her chest into her mouth. Sorrow still lingered at the memory, but she had elarned to accept it. "My mother passed after we left the pack seeking a new home, disease had claimed her when she was still young. She had told me not to fret about being alone, that it would make me shape my own path. I truly believe her words were right, these events had lead me to know I am today, and I would not change a thing. My family's deaths were tragic, but I respect what they were fighting for, and therefore their deaths. Without losing them, I would be a different person, and I thank both my parents for what they did for me." It had been a long time since they had passed, but Tala would never forget them. Their faces and their voices. They were stuck there until she herself died.
The dappled fae let her head dip in respect for both her lost loved ones and the losses and renewals that the others spoke with. As much as she respected those she once knew and now could no longer grasp, she respected those she had never knew. It was a part of life, death. Tala embraced that. She did not fear it, instead she knew that her death was a start for something else. Someone else. How could she ever get upset about that?
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Davyn stood at the edge of the cemetery for a long while before joining the group, remaining at the edges of the group. He listened to each wolf tell its tale, taking in the details. He realized with a start that most of the wolves here hid sad stories behind the light and happiness that filled the packlands, and that thought gave him even more of a connection to them
When the storytelling came to him, he stood nervously, clearing his throat. "I am Davyn Nefae...I recently came to Phoenix Valley in a feverish daze. I came from Ireland, after my pack threw me out." Davyn grimaced, knowing that the phrase incriminated him unnecessarily. "One peaceful day, not too long ago, my family was slaughtered by a band of raiders. They were the only ones killed, and I was the only survivor of the attack, so the alpha of the pack concluded that I had had some part in the attack. He decreed that I be marked as a traitor and expelled from the pack."
"That day I lost my two younger sisters, mother, and father. I watched them slaughtered in front of me, and I still don't know why I was the only one to survive the attack. In some ways, I wish I were the one who had died, not them. But I recently encountered a female who has dramatically changed my outlook on life, and for that, I thank you, Miss Tala." He looked to the female, nodding slightly, before sitting down beside her, shaking lightly. Public speaking certainly wasn't his forte, and this was no exception.
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She was quite a distance away when the howl traveled quickly to her ears. She had never been called by Geneva before, and without hesitation she turned herself around and began to run. Her paws moving swiftly through the terrain, her breathing taking a more suited rhythm for her movements. The wolf/husky was swift and graceful. It wasn't too long before she got there, but the moment she noticed how many others were already here she felt like she had failed. Her ears rolled back when she slowed a few yards from them, hushing her panting she began to move with much more silence and stealth now that she began to approach the crowd. She had attempted to find a more secluded spot, slightly outside of being within the crowd. Once she found this spot her eyes danced to every face, familiar and unfamiliar...but the scents, those were always familiar. Now she was able to place all the new scents with faces.
After Geneva spoke, it was Rendall, then Pripyat who had grown like a weed since last she saw and spoke with him. Her tail wagged lightly, after he spoke. Adventure, something she loved and yet, she never ventured into anywhere she felt danger would lurk. Pripyat was brave to have ventured so far from home at his age. The story Xeris shared was dark, and seemed to be so sad. How would she have dealt with something like that? She didn't know, and as quickly as the question came to her mind, it left. Ookami had it even worst in his eyes. He had no one to love him. In a way, she related to it. Their stories different, but so alike. She missed her father so much, but knew there was no going back. It seemed Ookami had gain nothing..or at least he didn't say anything about gaining anything. Perhaps, he didn't feel they were friends? She had thought they were friends, but perhaps she was wrong. Her attention was then brought to Addison, a female that held Adonia's curiosity but she would never step up to greet the female. Her story seemed to have a little more chipper to it. Her tail wagged glad that despite it all she still had a 'family'.
Noah seemed to stay quiet, and looked as though he wished to be passed by. It was sad to her, but perhaps he was just tired of stuttering. Surely, it had to be frustrating to him. Tala had a very dark history just like Xeris' and she wondered if they were siblings, or perhaps from the packs that had a civil war. The thought was something worth playing with but she wouldn't ask outright, just wonder about it. Davyn perked her interest when he spoke of one of the countries within Europe. Again it made her think of her father, a male she missed terribly. However, as quickly as he said Ireland, her eyes widened about the fact he was kicked out after his parents were slaughtered. His last words made her ears perk and then she looked to Tala. She knew that Noah had been spending more time around her, and it made her wonder what made her different? Was it how she looked? Or how she talked? It bothered her that Noah was no longer interested in being around her, but that was fine. She could remain in the shadows of Phoenix Valley. It was where she dwelled best.
It was after her thoughts that she realized the silence and her ears perked then fell back as her eyes looked around to them. She had hoped she could be excused from it, however, she didn't want to feel like a flake. Lowering her gaze she refused to look up as she spoke fearing their reaction. "..I..I came to Novia Scotia from Europe..and was alone...I found Phoenix Valley by accident..and I gained a home.." She kept it vague not wanting to be so opened about her disasters as they most were. She had lost family just as they had, but in a different way. They were all alive..no one had died. Her trauma was mostly emotional and physical, however, despite her troubled past, she had indeed found a home, and it seemed that some of them would be willing to save her. Still she felt as though if she left, or if she died, it wouldn't make a difference in this world. Perhaps others would be more happier if she wasn't around...
Her gaze looked for the next canine to speak, so that all eyes and ears would be off of her.
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The eyes of Ty sprung open as he heard the all too familiar howl of a pack summons. His body slowly rose and with a groggy stumble made his way out of his cabin, his body meeting the cool breeze of winter. The trek to the sound of Geneva's howl gave Ty a feeling of nostalgia, it felt like only yesterday he had been walking this trail as a younger wolf, cheery and ready for anything, and although it had been less than a year, Ty could see how much older he had really become. He had truly become a full wolf in his travels, and now he was back in the Valley, once again a part of the pack.
The hill of graves was always a cold place, even in the winter it was unnaturally colder than the area around it. Ty's head hung low as he made his way past the ominous stones, each one sending a wave of regret as Ty passed them. However it was not the people specifically underneath the graves that gave Ty the chills, it was the fact they now served as a reminder of Ty's actions that haunted Ty, but he kept a straight face as he pushed on to the pack meeting.
Ty arrived at the pack meeting right when Geneva was describing the purpose of the meeting, and Ty's body shifted uncomfortably. A meeting to talk about what they had lost? Ty didn't even know where to begin with what he lost, nor did he really want to share. However, once he really began to hear the other wolves, Ty began to realize he was not the only one who lost something. Almost every wolf had something they had lost, and every one had changed because of it. People like Noah, Xeris, and even Rendall had lost families, packs, people close to them, but gained a family with Phoenix Valley. Then there were others, those who lost their self, like Geneva and some of the newer wolves, every wolf who spoke had lost some part of them, but gained something out of it, and Ty realized he had more in common with the wolves of Phoenix Valley than he originally intended.
When it finally came to Ty's turn, he let out a loud sigh before speaking. "What I've lost...heh...where do I begin?" He said with a sigh as his eyes scanned the ground, as if the memories would appear on the ground for him to list. "I lost my mother, my father disappeared from this pack, my sister has vanished to obscurity, and hell, I don't even deserve to be associated with them." His gaze moved from the floor to the est of the wolves. "When DaVinci, my father, left the pack, I felt I had some pretty big shoes to fill when I returned from my mercenary life in Europe." His paw began to swirl around in the dirt as he let out another sigh, he had been stubborn long enough, but in a time like this, it was bound to blurt out. "But I took on the responsibility too fast, I was too young for the things I was taking up, a family, a possible role of leadership, I wasn't ready, so I ran as far as i could from this place, to Mexico." His entire body drooped with his next words, which he chose very carefully. "And in that barren desert, I lost even more. I lost my dignity, my honor, my sense of right and wrong, quite a bit of blood, and a good portion of my tail."
Ty paused, he eyed every wolf in the pack before continuing. "But through all I've lost, through everything I've done, good and bad, I've gained one thing; experience." He gestured with his paw, his voice strengthening with each word. "I've learned what it takes to survive in this world, to protect those close to me, and for that kind of info, I think I can accept what I've lost."
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OOC sorry I'm late.
Pendzez had been follow a butterfly from his cabin on this day. It seemed to have been leading him somewhere. When ever he paused, the butterfly seemed to have done the same and waited for him. Whenever he turned away, the butterfly would get in front of him and lead him back on the path that it was leading him down. He had to wonder. What was so special that would get this spirit to get the white male involved.
The trail seemed to be going to the graveyard, where the bodies of the deceased humans were resting under the dirt. The butterfly stopped at the entrance, the white male saw a group of the pack mates gathering together. What was so important that this spirit would lead him to it? Not only that, but how is it that it can go past the entrance? He joined the group, seeing Ty and Rendall and Geneva and Adonis, and a few of the other members.
They spoke certain stories, seemed to be on how they lost someone dear to them. When it was his turn, he spoke, "I lost my parents when I was of a young age, somewhere in my half year of age. I was out to get some berries, coming back to see my parents dead. Taken from me and my sister by rogue wolves. Not just them, but a pack that seemed to where I was born, the one that called me 'The Spirit King'. They were taken by a neighboring pack, that did not believe their beliefs and grew jealous, then hateful of them, eventually killing them. Now, it's me and my sister that are left."
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He had arrived first, but stood among them with a stony presence; not once had he made a noise nor uttered a single word, the infamous green eye overcast on them all, patient, silent, waiting. Geneva spoke, shrouded in a mist of charisma and leadership he rarely saw in her outside the borderlines. Usually he was the one to speak, but today, the brute chose to take the back seat. Geneva did not assure herself as a capable leader often, and especially not since her more recent promotion back to her former rank of Savant. She had served in the role far better than DaVinci ever had, and for that he did not hesitate when allowing her to take charge.
She spoke of her fear of her own shortcomings, that she was unfit for the role she had once again deserved. Jefferson remained silent still, his eye distant and unfeeling; his underlings followed suit of the grey-furred femme, sharing stories unique in every way. He felt their gazes on him from time to time, often when their tales involved the brute somehow, but still he said nothing. Pripyat expected a gaze of disappointment, surely, but did not receive one. Addison expected pride, but did not find it.
The day of the dead. All he had known as Maluki was dead, including Maluki himself; all those who had made input in that former identity were dead: Iskata, Laruku, Haku... He had attended Skoll's funeral, alongside Jantus and his crew that idolized the dead man as a warrior and hero, and yet his pearly bones were buried beneath the earth. There was no immortality. Jefferson was getting older. He himself would know death soon enough, and with this in mind, not a hint of pleasure lighted his grim, stony scars and features.
When it came to be silence, the gimp raised his eye to meet them, finding the sound to speak with. "My birth name is Maluki Soul," he said openly, though his tone grumbled like gravel. "I went insane, whatever fight that took my eye also took my memory. The name 'Jefferson' was on a sign on a fence where I woke up." A pause. "Maluki is dead. Everything from his life is dead. My father is gone, my siblings are gone, my mother is gone, my grandmother is dead. My adopted brother Laruku is dead. My half-brother Haku Soul is dead. Iskata Sadira is dead." Those words, those terrible words, shook him just briefly. He paused, remembering them as if they were yesterday; he had been the one to deliver them, so many months past, to the mourning pack who had yet to accept him as their new leader. A deep breath in his chest. "The bones of a hero named Skoll rests in our pack, just outside this graveyard. Aurélie Vie d'Esprit is dead. Pripyat's siblings are dead."
He paused, then raised his single green eye to the sky. Still, his voice remained still, monotone, emotionless. "Death is the inevitable end to life, and life is the beginning of the road to death. They are a cycle; they work hand-in-hand. We were raised from the dust on this earth, and back into that dust we will eventually return at death. My body, even with all these scars, will be purified. It'll sustain life, sprouts in the ground, bugs in the soil. What is dead is dead. That is the cycle."
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Geneva’s eyes traced over the faces of her pack mates. Some of them remained in shadow, although perhaps not by choice. Hill of Graves was such a dark place. Shadows seemed to naturally thrive here, and sometime to rise into the air out of the corners of her eyes. But she was glad that she had chosen this place for a gathering. Although they dwelt within a naturally dark place, she felt that within the dark they could find each other. They were cocooned in the past, and it seemed appropriate to the Savant that they should move forward into the light after this day. Her lime green eyes turned slightly to Jefferson before Rendall started to speak. She longed for his approval, but knew that he would likely withhold any comments. It was not his nature to show things so readily. His mind was like a fortress, fortified against everyone, including himself sometimes. She had seen glimpses of his feelings when they were alone together. As she stayed by his side, she could see both sides of him now. Though his expression was guarded, or perhaps just unreadable, she saw him in his capacity of the Patriarch – cold, disciplined, and responsible. But she could also visualize his quiet passion and a seemingly endless devotion and patience as her friend and lover. Jefferson was a complicated individual certainly – she had never met a more complex or frustrating creature. Generally patient, Geneva’s blood boiled with frustration over Jefferson; he seemed to be the only creature capable of pushing her buttons and unwinding her careful layers of control. But that was probably why she loved him so maddeningly. There was no one quite like him, and she hoped that they would continue to find their way back to each other. Their relationship was not perfect, but he had trusted her with La Saoire Na Mairbh. Perhaps she was reading too far into it, but she felt that perhaps this would be a way for them to move forward. As parents, she felt that they were a functional and trusting unit, but as mates, she still felt that they had some ways to go to restore what they had prior to the previous spring. It was the Day of the Dead, and the denizens of Phoenix Valley seemed to be well acquainted with death. Geneva listened and her heart ached at some of the stories that were told. She could taste the pain and the truth of each statement and story on the back of her tongue. Her expression betrayed her sympathy for them, although it was not pity. They each had derived some sort of meaning from the experiences, and had coped in such a way that they had grown or learned something about themselves. That was the whole point; at least, that was the way that she wanted to view things. When it came time for Pripyat to speak, she turned her eyes upon her blue eyed boy and watched him, warmth enveloping her heart. He seemed to be afraid, and looked at his parents as though he was waiting for a negative reaction. But she merely smiled at him gently as he broke the news that Phoenix Valley was sometimes confining. He needed to grow. Although she was concerned that he might have felt unsafe, the reality was that the world could be a terribly dangerous place. She could not shield her son forever, and it was better for him to learn things while she was still able to give him some advice and protection. There would come a day when she would not be around, and so it was better for him to experience new things while he still had the safety net of his parents. Jefferson’s speech seemed the least reflective and the most future reaching. His words had a fatalistic quality, but she knew them to ring true. She spoke of his life before, the one that existed without memory to give him confidence in his time as a youth. It was rare that he would speak of such a thing, not because he was generally secretive, but because he was not one to speak unnecessarily either. She wondered how he wanted to move forward. Despite the fact that he often bemoaned the fools and dreamers in his pack, she knew him to be fiercely loyal. But he was getting older, they both were. And it was obvious to her that he was pondering his own mortality. He spoke of Iskata too, and she knew that he missed the ex-Matriarch. She had never met Iskata, but she knew the place that the older wolfess had once held in Jefferson’s life. She had been a source of guidance for him, and a friend to him. Iskata Sadira had been a significant figure in Jefferson’s life, because he rarely opened up enough to allow another passage into his heart. Iskata must have been one remarkable lady, and Geneva regretted never meeting her, although she was glad that Iskata had been in Jefferson’s life when he had needed her. The lime eyed Savant waited in the extended period of silence that followed Jefferson’s remarks, before finally speaking again herself. There was warmth in her voice as she regarded those gathered at the Hill of Graves. ”Thank you for sharing. I know that sometimes it can be hard, but it is important to acknowledge the darker things in our lives, so that we move forward.” She took a breath before continuing once more, her eyes sweeping the semi-circle of creatures who called Phoenix Valley home. ”What do you hope for? Death is about renewal, and I believe that we all make our own paths. Where do you want to be before next year?”
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Sorry for the wait everyone word count:420
Rendall smiled as her friend sat happily next to her. She nuzzled him in return to his playful nip before sitting quietly and listening to the others stories. Some were sad, some were not so much. Everybody in the pack knew of that each of them had trials and tributations that lay behind them. She shifted uncomfortably and thought to herself as each person told thier tale. She wanted to reach out and touch them all but something about her, a feeling of distant lonliness made her stay put. She had been feeling irritable lately, an uncomfortable need to run, search, and find something that was lost long ago. She turned her head away as Jefferson began to speak, she wasnt sure why, but she felt that she couldnt face the patriarch. It was something she needed to get over, She really needed to talk to him about all these issues she had been having lately. Later... she whispered in her mind. Right now your being rude. she turned back just as Geneva was talking again.
As the females question entered her mind she didnt know if she could really answer that. She didnt want anything from Pheonix Vally except peace of mind and a home she could call her own. Though that all seemed somewhat foolish to some part of her. Lately there was no peace of mind with the nightmares and the constant irritable feelings, and although she had a cabin, she never really had a home. Chased from the only place she knew was home she tried to grow on this palce but it seemed like even now there as still a distant and strange feeling that she didnt belong here.
She sighed and sat up speaking her mind. "I feel that I am here for answers. I'm not sure I have anything to hope for I guess you could say. All I know is that I live here with this pack that I'm am truely loyal to, thats all that really matters to me, that and the friends I have learned to call my own. You guys hold my hopes for the future. I donnot wish for anything else." Her words rang true, she felt a slight bitterness of it all on her tongue but what else could she say? She laid somewhat resigned next to the male and tried to smile as best as she could, but it seemed that the ghostly feeling of being alone somehow got to her alittle more than it should.
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His words had died away without comment from any of the assembled souls, each of their stories seemed to come one after the other without interruption. Ocean eyes found no disapproval from his mother and father, the two beings that his gaze seemed to keep falling back upon. Jefferson remained stoic as ever and Pripyat exhaled heavily in near frustration, almost disappointed that his father had given no reaction, but the smiled his mother offered soothed him. For all the times Jefferson fell short in dealing out the words or gestures of priase Pripyat longed for, his mother was there to provide enough for both parents. And yet it was Jefferson’s pride and approval the ashen boy strove for ardently. That he had his mother’s approval helped to ease the unsettled feeling because perhaps through his mother’s approval he had Jefferson’s. So long as the man did not out rightly chastised or criticized Pripyat the boy knew his father loved him, was proud… yet it would have been nice to see the expression of such pride more often. After smiling back to his mother, his young mind was somewhat at peace as he closed his eyes and listened to the words of the others, surprised at how many of their voices he recognized. Those who had been in the pack when he was born, he knew them all, if only through his parents, and he gave them all the respect they deserved.
Try as he might the Phoenix Valley youth could not focus so closely on their stories of loss. Xeris’s story registered with him, but stirred no emotion despite his closeness with the lady. Another time perhaps they would talk of it, but not now, not in front of everyone. Adonia did not have very much to say and Noah did not speak at all, yet no one seemed to notice or mind. Pendzez, Ty, Tala and the others all spoke in turn. The voices he had known since childhood and a few that were more unfamiliar to him rising and falling around the circle they had formed. Yet it was only Addison’s story that put any true grief into his heart. When she spoke his eyes slid open, gazing turning sharply upon his adoptive sister, wanting to speak out loud then. Shout actually. Scream maybe. Grace was gone? He had noticed that her scent had faded, but that Addison hadn’t sent her away or someone hadn’t come to take her never occurred to the boy. Where was Grace, that beautiful little girl? Pripyat had only met her once, when they were both young. Perhaps Grace wouldn’t remember the boy at all, she had been so disinterested then, but she would be older now. More beautiful even.
Yet Addison was finished speaking of her sister and turned to their parents. Addison Soul. Not Addison D’Angelo? His adoptive sister took their family name and Pripyat nodded, as if his approval mattered when he knew he had no say in the matter. Addison was a good addition to the family, had been one before he was even a thought in any of their minds, and he did not mind if she wanted to be known as one of them. Why not? Her presence in his life did not cause any unpleasantness, except for the moment just prior when she had broken his heart with the news of Grace’s disappearance. Yet that was life and Pripyat closed his eyes once more, waiting for the grief to pass so he, like the rest of them, could move past whatever wounds they were healing just then. He would grieve over Grace and then forget her, because he still had his life here, even if she wasn’t to be part of it.
His father was the last to speak, and for this speech Pripyat again opened the eyes he had inherited from neither his mother nor his father. Jefferson spoke of Maluki, his other half. Or more accurately his father’s past self. Whoever Maluki had been, he was dead, and though Pripyat knew vaguely the story of him, he often, and usually willfully, forgot it. Jefferson spoke of wolves that Pripyat could never know, except through stories he never asked to be told, and it was only when the man spoke his own name that a shiver ran up the spine of the boy. Pripyat’s siblings were dead, and though it really had nothing to do with him whenever his father called attention to him in a pack meeting his heart began to race. The anxious feeling that perhaps something was expect of him began to climb up in his stomach, his breath more labored though not visibly so and he shifted his weight uncomfortably, not daring to look about to see if any stares flickered over in his direction.
Thankfully the collective eyes of Phoenix Valley were still upon Jefferson and Pripyat forgot that his name had even been spoken. Focusing once more the boy couldn’t fully understand the last words the man spoke. Or he didn’t wish to. To think of Jefferson dead in the ground, or gods help them all, Geneva, terrified him. And even if the reality of such a situation was very possible Pripyat chose to ignore it. He was glad when his mother took control once more, her voice proof that she was still alive and well and he need not consider the unthinkable just then. What did they hope for? He bowed his head, waiting his turn once more, and then raised it. Again his eyes were more on his parents than anyone else, for assembled before the pack it was then rather than any other time that he felt an extension of his parents. "I hope to see many things. Meet many souls. And do the best that I may in this world." It was simple enough.
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ooc: sorry for the wait, it's been a crazy week for me.
The others shared their stories as Xeris had; some of them ranged from as dreadful as her recent losses to metaphorical deaths and losses, but clearly they had all been affected in some way by something. Xeris nodded at Geneva's acknowledgment of the difficulty of such sharing, but also at its importance. It was good to talk about these kinds of things rather to keep them bottled up, she supposed. And they were all packmates--they had the right to know about each other, didn't they?
Next came the question of their hopes. Xeris hesitated for a moment when it was her turn, thinking about the things she wanted. Of course what she really wanted was her family back; for everything to go back to the way it had been and for this to have never happened. But that, she knew, was not going to happen, no matter how much she wished and willed for it.
"I hope to recover and become stronger mentally and emotionally," Xeris finally replied. "Although I have been through hardships, I will not allow them to completely destroy my life." So far, she wasn't doing a particularly good job of that, but she was going to try.
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OOC- sorry for the wait! -word count-502-
Ookami listened to everyone, they had almost all suffered such grief. He used to think he was the only one who had it rough. Now he knew though, almost everyone had suffered in some way. Even if they didn't show it, everyone had a pain deep inside that they didn't like to talk about. He closed his eyes and took a breath. He opened them to look around at the crowd that had gathered. He sighed gently, a mixture of sadness, happieness, and wonder. He focused on each person as they spoke. Imagining what they had gone through. He thought he had it rough...
Jefferson was the last one to speak and when he did Ookami looked at him with great respect. This wolf to him seemed incredable. He spoke of the dead, something Ookami rarely had the guts to do. Death frightned him, but it also calmed him. Being dead is not what scared him, it is the way he will die. He used to think he would die hated and alone. But now, now that he had a true friend, he knew that someone would be sad when he died... Well he hoped she would be sad. Death had an unsual calming effect on Ookami. He knew that once you passed away, all troubles and pains were gone. He looked forward to the days ahead of him and didn't really like to think about death, but whenever he did, he would calm himself with the thought of peace in the end. Everything starts in peace. A peaceful moment as you are born. And a peaceful moment as you die. He let a small smile show as Jefferson finished his speach.
Geneva spoke once more, her calm voice overtaking Ookami. He focused all his attenion on her. She asked a question.. What did he hope for? He hoped for lots of things. To many to name. He thought as the next three wolves stated their hopes. They seemed to help. It was Ookami's turn now and he took a deep breath.. "My hopes are to fit in. To fit in like I have never been able to do. I would like to make many more friends. I have a very special friend to me already." He looked at Adonia. "Adonia has been a blessing to me, she has helped me find my way around and has been kind to me, even when she didn't know me. I hope to meet many more wolves like her, but she is definatly a one-in-a-life time friend to me." He smiled at her. He knew his words were right as soon as he said them. He meant what he said. He didn't know if he would ever meet another wolf like Adonia, and if he didn't, he didn't care. He had her as a friend, and even if he never made another friend, her friendship could take the place of many friends put together. He looked at the person beside him, waiting for them to speak.
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She heard the others speak about their experiences and looked to Geneva, Jefferson, and Pripyat as she spoke. Jefferson didn't react to what she had said and she felt her heart sink, a frown crossing her face, eyes moving down to the ground instead. She shouldn't have even tried..maybe he didn't think of her as a part of his family, not in the same way she did.
She felt close to Pripyat, as a sibling, and at least she would have him. She shrugged when it came to be her turn to speak, not looking up from the ground. "Who knows what I'll do in the next year." She didn't want to make a goal, to hope for something that might not happen or wish for something that might never come true.
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Every one shared something, Noah had made the choice not to. Noah believed that by coming here into these pack lands, he was starting new and starting fresh. The male did not want to bring up bad memories of what he had left be hide in the lands where his mother and father where still living in. The male was just glad that he was able to look to Tala and Rendall to support, not only physically but also emotional. He was thankful to have the two females on each one of his sides. The silver male lowered his head as he looked to the two females. Sighing, as he heard all the stories that everyone had to share. He shook his head as the pack told there stories. The male shot a sorry look to the pack member that helped him get into the pack she seemed to be fighting with her own issues about what to say, Noah knew that she had some issues in her past, but he couldn’t tell her that she needed to open up, after all he was the one that just sat there while every one else talked. The silver male knew that she would not want his pity, or anyone else. He sighed kicking a leg up to his side itching.
When the next question was brought up the male thought, what would be looking forward to? He did not know, what was there to look forward to? No one would want him as a mate; he was a cripple with a bad stutter. He had found one soul that did care for him and his stutter and all, well that was before he came down with the stutter. He sighed softly looking to the two females on either side of him. ”Living.” After all another year that was lived was another year that he could tell the tale to someone else about these lands.
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