06-15-2011, 05:13 PM
OOC: No table for now, till I get my profile thread reinstated. Besides, I sort of like the simplicity of not having one. ^^
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Her return had been quiet. No one save Nayru knew yet that the white woman was back in Dahlia, as far as she knew. Of course, it wouldn't take too long for her unique scent to begin being noticed, but Bris wasn't ready for a full reunion just yet. The Stormbringer already knew that Ascher and Shiloh had left the lands, though she was unsure of their destination. Drey was still missing, his scent having vanished from the entirety of the Nova Scotian area almost completely. He hadn't been at home with the rest of Crow's pack either. Conor, the reason for Bris' own departure from Dahlia, was also still nowhere to be found. The ghostly woman hadn't wanted to believe the worst, but it was becoming more and more a reality every day. To make matters even worse, there was no sign in Dahlia of Bris' young daughter. She'd traced the old scent of Eclipse outside the packland, finding much fresher signs of the youngster around the outskirts of Crimson Dreams. She had warred within herself for hours at the implications of such a discovery. Bris had, for all intents and purposes, abandoned her daughter months ago. She was a failure and a sham, and Eclipse was more then likely far happier in Crimson Dreams than she'd ever be with Bris.[/html]
For what it was worth, Bris was alone. Utterly and completely alone. Of course there were still faces she'd recognize around Dahlia; Saluce's scent was still strong around the area, and there was Nayru as well. Her closest nephews, Saul and Gideon, were still around too. But though she longed to see them all, to reconnect with those she still loved with all of her heart, the grip of fear remained. Would they recognize her? In a purely visual sense, not much had changed. That wasn't what she was afraid of. It was what lay within. A hint of darkness had begun to twine itself around her soul, and little by little it was beginning to grow. It was feeding on the despair of utter solitude and failure, and Bris was too tired to fight it. Gone from her face was the usual sight of her gentle smile. Gone from her bi-colored eyes was the glitter of mirth and mischief. She'd begun to hate herself for what she'd done; more importantly, she hated herself for what she hadn't done. She'd been unable to save Conor from the nightmares. She'd been unwilling to be left behind to care for their beloved daughter. She'd let her loved ones fall, and in so doing had left herself dangling on the edge as well.
Yet even now, the tears wouldn't come. The white Stormbringer stood in the middle of the woods, staring up at the treehouse that had fallen into disrepair. The woman was still shocked that it had survived the long ago fire set by Inferni, but somehow it had. Even the catastrophic blizzard had failed to fully bring the structure crashing down. Impulsively, Bris squeezed her left shoulder as she remembered the snowstorm that had taken away her Victorian home. She didn't even have the heart to visit the house, to see whether her jewelry supplies had survived. She simply didn't care anymore. The night was still and warm as the Stormbringer made a move. No gentle breeze stirred the air to cool the heat of her sorrow. With a heavy sigh, Bris picked up the old toolbelt that had once belonged to her brother-in-law, the one she'd brought back from Solbjorg Valley when she'd returned only a few nights ago. With a heart heavy with the weight of her own little world, the white woman set to her task, beginning with fixing the ladder that would lead her up to the rest of the treehouse. She was restless, and at least this would keep her busy. For now.