1. Character Name: Davyn Nefae
2. Character Birthdate (including year): September 2008
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci
4. Gender: Male
5. Your e-mail: csheamartin@yahoo.com
6. A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M): aeval.ankou@gmail.com
7. How did you learn/hear about 'Hogwarts?: browsing for rps
Tracks were left in the light scattering of snow as the male trekked. It seemed like he had be traveling for years and years, when in fact he had lost track of how long it had been since he left the family...his heart flinched at the thought of the children screaming for mercy.
Davyn looked up in time to avoid stepping into the ice cold water, but only just. His eyes drifted open and shut in intervals, and he worried that if someone did not find him soon, the night would claim the rest of the Nefae family. He tipped his head back to howl, doing so quietly, hoping someone was nearby, and coughed. The cold drifted into his lungs, making them burn and his eyes water with the pain. It felt like he was breathing in blades.
Grudgingly, the male took one step, then another, encountering the pack borders, then sat back on his haunches. Now, to wait.
It was not often that the small-boned Whilom ventured out into the night, especially in the cold, but she was conscious of the effect that the chilled wind had on her mate, the Patriarch. As such, she sometimes slipped out like a smoke colored ghost. Her pelt melted into the wintry hues, a light gray that complemented the monochrome hues of the dark sky and the frost bitten ground.
A melancholy howl split the air, seeming gentle despite the gasping desperation in its tone. Geneva did not hesitate to run in that direction, her body streamlined, her bones light, predatory grace emerging in the swiftness of her motions and the lengthening of her gait. Her blood turned to ice in her veins as she imagined what it would mean if her son, Pripyat, had sent out a similiar, desolate call.
Before long, Geneva spotted a huddled form at the borderlands. However had sent out that call, he was being conscious of the border lines of the Valley pack. Concerned and curious, the Whilom approached, her gentle voice a whisper carried upon the wind, ghostly and ethereal. "What has befallen you that led you here, stranger?" her words were gentle, but also demanded answer. Lime green eyes studied his form, the light pearlescent scrollwork of scars gleaming upon one side of her face.
Davyn caught motion across the distance in his dim eyes, and breathed a painful sigh of relief. At this rate, he had a feeling his lungs were permanently damaged from breathing in the cold air.
"I'm not sure, my lady." He spoke with a lilting accent, the only preferred relic he had brought from his homelands. All others were memories that he cared to not recall. He bowed his head towards the she-wolf, barely noticing the scars that wrapped around her face. "I seek refuge from another life, one that destroyed all I had and left me to die."
He collapsed, then, and he finally felt that blood matted his fur. He had no notion of how he had been injured. So much adrenaline had been running through his veins the past few weeks that he was dimly surprised he could even walk straight. A coughing fit set into his lungs, and Davyn grimaced in pain, tasting blood.
In this form, and even in her Optime form, Geneva did not think that she would be strong enough to carry this stranger to safety. It was clear to her that the cold was not good for his condition. And in the dim light, she could not assess the extent of the damage to his body. There was very little she could do for him, which was frustrating. He seemed peaceable, and thus Geneva desired to aid him. She realized with a chill that if he had been an enemy to her pack, her family, she could have left him out in the cold without much concern - that was something that she would not have been able to do before; she would not have been able to endure the guilt.
"There is a place nearby where I can take you," Geneva said. There was a small, abandoned cabin close to this part of the border lands. She would not be able to take him to the ranch, where she lived with her small family, due to her physical limitations. However, she hoped that this stranger was well enough to make the journey to the cabin. It was only a few hundred yards into the territory, and somewhat visible through the gloom of the trees.
"I know you must be in pain," Geneva said with the edge of an apology in her voice, "however, there is shelter nearby. I can guide you, but I am afraid I will not be able to help you; I am not strong enough." That was not something that she would usually mention at the borders. Geneva was a small boned wolfess, and not an ideal first line of defense when it came to brute strength. Her strength dwelt within the depths of her analytical mind and measured reactions. "Come, it will be quick." She curved her silvery gray body around his to aid in shepherding him into the territory.
He growled under his breath at himself, hating to feel so weak in front of another wolf, and a female at that. In the lands he had come from, if one showed weakness to another, even for a brief moment, one was put to death for not being able to contribute to the pack.
"Many thanks, my lady." Davyn stood slowly, painstakingly, grimacing as he leaned very little of his weight against the wolfess, knowing she would not be able to hold his weight very easily.
He paused for a brief moment as they crossed the borders, cringing, expecting to be attacked. In his old home, any intruders, even if they had been greeted at the edge, were slaughtered. Viciously. Violently. Davyn could only hope that this pack would spare his life long enough for him to prove to them that he was worthy of them.
"You are strong, my lady. Even when you think that you are not. You feel that you are helping minimally, and yet I feel my spirit lighten by your presence." He spoke from his heart, grateful for the chance to recover.
Geneva made the short trek mutely as the newcomer spoke. He seemed grateful, but she would not want him to be in pain any longer than necessary. His gratefulness only further reinforced her desire to help him to rekindle his health, even if she was only able to provide him shelter before he headed back out into the wilderness. She noticed that he took care not to burden her with much of his weight, and she silently made of note of this fact. Perhaps that spoke of the content of his character, although Geneva could not be sure quite yet.
The gentle lady left him for a moment and crested the two shallow steps that led to the partially open door of the rustic cabin. It was a small structure, and it had weathered some of the harsher cold elements recently, but it would serve as adequate shelter for now. She pushed the door open with her muzzle, and it swung open with a loud creak. Then, she descended the steps quickly and ushered the stranger into the darkened cabin. She entered behind him and coaxed the door shut.
The interior of the cabin was dark and dusty. There was a small puddle in one corner of the large, two room structure, seeping into the floorboards. The room the duo had entered was the largest; the floorboards creaked beneath their feet and some scant light came in through the frosted, dusty windows. Vestiges from a time gone by were also present, two chairs, one over turned long ago, and the other still erect against the farthest wall beside an empty fireplace.
Geneva nosed her way to the second room, which was really only a closet, and dragged rough spun, patch worn blankets that were stacked messily out to the central room. She figured that the fireplace, in the middle of the longest wall, would be the best place to put the stranger. She motioned to him to come forward and backed away from the tangled pile of dusty blankets. It had been a long while since someone had last taken refuge in this new-forgotten cabin, but it would serve its purpose for now.
Settling upon her haunches and curling her silver tail around her legs, she peered at him with olive colored eyes through the gloom. After making certain he had had the chance to settle, her whisper soft voice filled the dark cabin. "What can you tell me of yourself, stranger?"
Her quiet voice eased his weary nerves. The cabin smelled dank, not used very often. That was alright by him. Davyn, though accustomed to pack life, preferred to be alone most of the time, finding the solitude the perfect atmosphere to think. He sank gratefully to the ground, wincing as he brushed up against countless wounds.
"I am afraid I can only tell you as much as I remember, my lady. I am called Davyn Nefae, from across the water." He motioned with his heavy head toward the ocean that he had crossed as a young pup. His body shook slightly as he remembered the voyage that had nearly claimed his clan.
"Raiders fell upon my pack, killing my family. The rest of the pack blamed me for the intrusion, though I had no notion of their coming, and..." The memories flooded back. "They beat me and cast me out to die in the rain.
Before doing so, they held me down against my will and ripped into my back, tattooing a wing on my left side. Seems like it hasn't quite healed yet."
Davyn flinched. "Please, my lady, I beg of you, let me stay here?"
Davyn's plea was heartfelt; that much was evident. Geneva considered him carefully. She was silent for several moments before she finally answered him. "You may convalesce here tonight, and we may discuss this further in the morning." It was the best that she could offer him at the moment. She did not want to offer a virtual stranger admission into their midst, especially because she did not have adequate time to evaluate him overall. "I will be close by and shall return periodically. If you call for me, I will hear you and come."
Geneva nodded and then turned to leave him to rest. She was not the best or most skilled healer. She had nursed Bindu back to health in September, but her need had been more immediate. Davyn, although injured, seemed stable. She could not think of any way to help him, except to keep him warm, safe, and comfortable right now. She lingered for a moment before returning to her home.
The hours passed and trickled down to daybreak. Geneva returned and nosed her way into the door, her lime green eyes peering through the dawning light within the dark cabin. "Davyn?" she called quietly. She pushed the door open wider and carried something in her jaws. "I brought you something to eat," she said, bringing her offering and dropping it in front of him. It was a plump field mouse, a meager offering but she was not an accomplished huntress.
Just thought I'd throw this in here. Feel free to continue this one/make new threads in addition. Welcome! 8D
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OOC: Thanks!
The wolf slept, soundly, without nightmares, the first sound sleep he had had in an age and a half. And he barely heard when Geneva nosed her way in and dropped the mouse in front of him. He raised his head halfway, dreary eyed still, and grinned slightly.
"Many thanks again, my lady....for everything. I hope I do not let you down." he made to lick her paw gently, then had a thought. Different land, different customs. He would probably offend her if he did so. Davyn then realized that his tongue felt a bit dry...and he probably looked like a fool with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Odd feeling, that, having your tongue dry.
Geneva considered the male before her intensely. Twice, he had spoken to her in earnest, asking to stay. Geneva hesitated and had the right to do so. She owed it to her pack to be vigilant, as she served as a safeguard. It would not do to have an unknown and untried male in their midst. She withheld immediate judgment, instead favoring her right to ask him about himself in an attempt to learn more about him. "I am not unwilling to let you stay, Davyn, but first I need to know more about you." Although her voice was gentle, there was no apology there in her words.
"Please tell me why you seek to stay in a pack, and this pack specifically. What do you hope to gain from us, and what can you offer in return?" These questions were designed to pull the truth from him. Her aim was to get right to the core of the matter, so that she could provide him with her informed decision as soon as possible. She knew that he probably felt that he was in a precarious position, and she hated to put pressure on someone in pain, but she would not relent. If he wished to join, then he would be subjected to the same questions she expected to be answered by any individual.
The grey wolf flinched as the female asked what his history was. In all honesty,he did not remember much. What he did remember was fuzzy, broken, like something had happened to cause his brain to malfunction. Davyn felt alarmed for a second, frightened to look into the depths of his mind.
"I come to this pack because someone close to me told me at one point that your pack had some of the nicest and most accepting wolves she had ever met. Unfortunately, all I can remember of her is that she had storm grey eyes and had an odd talent for not being luperci."
What did he hope to gain? Only one thing came to mind at the moment. "Sanctuary is all I ask for, my lady. To my knowledge, there are no wolves after me; they all think I am dead with the rest of my family." Davyn closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the scattered images. "I am a bard at heart, my lady. If you were to tell me the history of this land, I would gladly have songs and poems written up to teach the young ones and other travelers about this place, and the histories of the wolves who are most fortunate to live here. Also, I know a bit about using herbs to heal and soothe."
It became abundantly clear to the gray female that this explanation was all that Davyn had to offer her. Although she craved more answers, she accepted what he had to offer her. It was adequate, and she felt instinctively that he would be a good addition to Phoenix Valley. She knew that as he grew stronger he would branch out and try to make himself useful. In return, Phoenix Valley would be a home to him, and their pack would be part of his support group.
Geneva nodded, and then she spoke. "I welcome you into our ranks as Loas. As you show more skill and dedication, you may move up in the ranks, if that is your wish." She smiled at him quietly, glad that he would at least have shelter and time to recuperate. Perhaps then he would be able to regain his sense of direction. She sensed that he had been lost for some time. "If you ever have need of me, I am usually around the Ranch House, with my son. I would recommend that you acquaint yourself with Jefferson, the Patriarch and leader of this pack."
Geneva considered Davyn for a few minutes more. "Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help you." Her words were sincere. She did not want to see Davyn suffer, but she knew that her skills were limited. Still, she could guide him through the territory, provide him some measure of comfort as a companion and pack mate, and perhaps get to know him.
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