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[Bris Stormbringer]

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.


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.

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[Saluce Tremblay]

Saluce had come across the scent just as easily as a pup would trail a rabbit. And it intrigued him, Bris was back but he didn’t detect any hint of her daughter and he had come to expect no hint of Conor’s scent. So much of his past few months had been devoted to tracking down the trio that her presence within dahlia almost angered him. From everything he could piece together she had abandoned her daughter and went off in search of the once bastion of light Conor Soul. It displeased him greatly, but he also had his own faults to juggle as well when it came to damning others for their sins. So his befuddled mind tried to remain calm as he left his home to go looking for the elusive white woman. Something told him he might not like what he found but it mattered little to him now. He had went off in search of Conor wanting the truth of his disappearance and had discovered more than he thought would have been possible for the man. Some of which he would keep silently between him and Nayru. Bris didn’t need to know about his illness and what it had done, nor did she need to know that his demise might have been given out by the fruit of such evil. But she did need to know that her once lover was dead and was never coming back.

It was no hard to find her, he padded along today without his sophisticated armor, weapon or horse, his paws struck the earth with the impressive frame of his secui form, weapon enough for trotting around within Dahlian borders. For those of them who remembered the white lady before all this went down it was almost heart breaking to think of her story. But no one was free from their choices, her choices had led her to abandon a great gift of life, abandon her pack in search of a lost cause and now she had returned. His eyes spied her form at the tree house, somehow he thought it appropriate, as much as he wanted to hate her for abandoning eclipse, he couldn’t shake the memory of her free’ing him from certain death.

A quick shift was all that was required to stand back upon his impressive optime form, his long legs carrying him the distance between them before his voice finally broke through the silence.

“And there was a white snowflake dancing along the wind, carried either violently across the snow dunes of time, or dancing lazily amid a gentle current of solace.” He offered no smile or warm greeting, the rosary danced across his chest with the rhythm of his breathes before his voice once again rose from his chest. This time no interesting semi poem exited it, only a phrase that drove home the one thing she was sure to hate him for.

“Where is eclipse?”