When you're crying, I try to make you laugh.
#1
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      Cercelee’s life was returning to it’s former patterns of sleep, wake, wander, and pack duties. The life of Twilight Vale had burned away to a mere memory, the war was distant past and her leaving Dahlia de Mai was as if it had never been, at least Cercelee felt no guilt and spent no time thinking on that. The only activities Cercelee had not picked up was socialization. Most her meetings and run-ins with any other canines had been accidental passing or appointed business Although Slay, Mew and others had welcomed her home she hadn’t really seen them since, although most their scents were strong enough and so long as they weren’t neglecting the pack, Cercelee could live with their neglect of her social life. Dahlia was the priority, and Cercelee was content with it’s well being for the time, even if the numbers seemed lower than she would have liked.


      The sun was beating down on the concrete of the town square the afternoon that Cercelee debated calling a pack meeting. In the end, deciding she really didn’t have much to tell anyone and the pack mates would probably resent being pulled away from whatever it was that occupied them during the day, Cercelee opted to instead just stretch our on one of the long, stone benches that held to create the circle where pack meetings were normally held. Unshifted, as she normally went, Cercelee let her front feet dangle off the edge of the bench, her head resting on her legs and her snout just peeking over the edge of the bench, her eyes fixated on the layer of fallen, colored leaves that decorated the town square park.


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#2
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500+



Autumn had come. The lands were changing from their lush greenery to the vibrant fires of a dying life, and the lives had fallen, fell, and would fall. She had seen such fires before. In the heat of battle, each life was dead, dying, or ready to die. And such finality was beautiful. It was perhaps because of such things that she loved sparring, and not simply for the rush.


The intensity of the world brightened as the sun mounted the heavens. Cwmfen blinked at the brilliance, the white orbs just as vivid, and enjoyed the simplicity of the autumn day. As was usual, the black female was alone. Solitude was becoming, and she preferred it to extended company. Perhaps this made her unfit for pack life, as she created for herself a bubble in which she existed solitarily. Yet, while life was apparently the same as it had been before, the protective boundaries of the pack eased her mind. It had been many weeks since her joining, and for many weeks her mind was at ease. Of course, in the pack life was a lot more leisurely than it had been with out, but adjustments could be made.


The woad-marked female yawned, stretched, and rose in a strange cyclic motion. With a good shake of her coat, the female relieved herself of any influences that resembled sleep, laziness, and idleness. Then she was moving. The female’s gait was lighthearted and swift, but not forced or hurried. The warm, golden light and the cool, silver air set a good tone in the female’s heart. Currently content with herself, Cwmfen traveled north, to the heart of Dahlia de Mai.


Where the black she-wolf had been lost in her own thoughts, now she had resurfaced, and she found herself trotting towards the town square. She stopped abruptly, alarmed at her location. With erect ears and posture, her surprise was made apparent. Until now, the wolf had made it a point to avoid this place. It was a place that she did not fully understand; though she knew it held importance in this pack, she felt she had no place here, especially as a newcomer. Her strangely shy nature did not wish to impose upon others, and so she had decided to come only if it was required of her.


Yet here she was.


The once-warrior took a swift scan of the town square, a sweeping gaze made discretely. Ahead, laying upon a bench, was a white she-wolf. Woad-banded ears pricked forward at this find. From this entrance, the scent of the other was left unknown, and thus Cwmfen hesitated on the threshold. The white female was not a wolf she had met before, and the timid creature was unsure as to whether or not she should approach. But she had made her presence clear, and it was too late to turn back now. Resolutely, Cwmfen proceeded, her stride slow and measured. She adjusted her posture to offer respect, as she knew that all other wolves in Dahlia de Mai were of a higher rank than herself. Once a proper distance was met, the black female stopped, and the light caught her form as she did so.


“I am Cwmfen nic Graine,” the female began. The melodic alto was quiet, as she did not wish to disturb the other female’s thoughts. “I hadn’t meant to disturb you but...” And she trailed off, forgetting why it was that she had decided to approach. Courtesy, perhaps... A small frown crossed the slender, woad-bound maw, discontent with her current inability to properly present herself. She offered a small whine of apology as she stood uncomfortably and awkwardly before the white, blue-eyed wolf.



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#3
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     The sound of stepping paws, the musk of an unfamiliar wolf, and the pleasant and soft voice bombarded Cer’s senses all at once. Slowly Cercelee raised her head and dragged her eyes, still fixated on the colorful array of fallen leaves, up to meet those of the newcomer’s. Although the appearance of female was something Cercelee had not quite ever seen no surprised registered on her face, only a pleasant half smile. While this wolf was unfamiliar, Cercelee had caught traces of her scent one or twice while scouting the pack lands. The scent of Dahlia de Mai clung heavily to her pelt and Cercelee knew that this was one of the two wolves who had been admitted into the pack during her absence. The other seemed to have disappeared already, Cercelee wasn’t sure if she could mourn the loss of a wolf she had never met.


      "You’re not disturbing anything, don’t worry about that." Cercelee grinned at the girl, her voice light and flitting, a flute. In truth Cercelee welcomed the distraction, her thoughts were apt to wander somewhere she did not wish them sooner or later, and to be distracted was less effort them to will her mind into submission. Besides, this meeting with the mystery member was bound to happen sooner or later, although it did not show Cercelee was slightly unnerved. Would she have to explain to this wolf that she was actually her leader? "I’m Cercelee." Would her name be recognized, or had no one informed the female about their missing Rosea? Squinting her eyes at the stranger’s face in a playful manner, Cercelee continued. Whether her identity was already known or not would be reveal, Cercelee opted to be cheery rather than on edge. "You have quite the interesting face my friend, I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes quite like that, not to mention those markings."


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#4
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500+




Cwmfen blinked in the bright light. The white female had responded to her, and she stood shyly by. The expression was not unkind, and, though there seemed nothing unusual about this wolf, there was something about what was in the clarity of those blue eyes that struck her. The intensity of the cerulean gaze suggested a high rank, but who exactly was this white female? Though she was unsure, it was clear that the other was of a significantly higher rank than she herself was; the feel that she had had while with Grayson, who she had not seen for some time now, was quite different. The black female decided that it was similar to what she had felt while she was with Haku, but it had been long enough that she wasn’t sure to what extent these auras were alike. And, without such comparisons with which to make the white female relative, Cwmfen was at a loss for who and what this female was.


The woad-marked female shifted slightly, making humble her posture. The banded ears swiveled back, though most likely out of shyness than for pure submission. A lowered tail, though not tucked, and scarcely bent limbs made complete the modest posture.


A small sigh of relief was permitted to escape her jaws as the white one spoke. Her voice was pleasant to hear, and the given smile was welcomed. The words, though seemingly insignificant, lifted a large weight of discomfort and foreboding on the timid wolf’s soul. While the load was being lifted, the wolf spoke again. Cercelee, she said her name was, inciting a response from the flattened auricles. Yet, the name held no connotation, and thus connoted an emotion of marginal confusion. Nic Graine merely responded with a slight dip of her maw, a shy greeting, and she looked away bashfully, a timid smile crossing her lips. “Nice to meet you...” came the quiet reply, a soft whisper of a thought.


The comment that followed made the situation more awkward. Why can this not be a mêlée, echoed the thought. At least I would know how to handle such a situation. And the thought was followed by a nervous wave of the marked tail. “My mother gave me these markings,” came the reply, “and I suppose that my father gave me these eyes...” Of course, the eyes were the complete opposite of her father’s, which were an unnerving black, but she had decided that she was not like her father at all, and had striven to never be what he was, and that pre-determined choice had chosen the colour of her eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul...


Her mind wandered as much as her body did, and the black female returned to the thought that had been caught in her mind. “I really didn’t mean to come here. I stumbled upon this place by chance...” There was a slight pause before the slightly accented voice continued. “I’ve never been to this place before. What is it called?” And then she distracted herself by taking a pointed sweep of the town square. “Is it of importance to the pack?” The white eyes had returned to the white female. There was a smile upon her maw that was light and warm; some of the awkwardness had fallen out of the subordinate female, as it always did with the passing of time.




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      Cercelee watched the female, intrigued and charmed by her timid nature and soft spoken words. Nice to meet you... The words slipped out, but it was not they but the look on Cwmfen’s that told Cercelee a little longer of an explanation was needed. Although Cercelee had thought this moment would be awkward, her nervousness fleed in the presence of this female, whom seemed on edge herself. Instead, Cercelee was only slightly amused by the situation and her eyes shone merrily at the other, as if just the two of them were in on a joke. "I’m the Rosea, leader of this pack." Cercelee wondered if when others heard that bit of information, did they think her worthy of the title? The playful, placid creature she was? Well that was her lot in life, and members of her pack seemed to accept it well enough, she hoped Cwmfen accepted it as well.


      Cercelee nodded as the female explained her appearance, readily forgetting the issue of ranks and roles. Cercelee had supposed that her coat and eyes came from her mother, she had always though so until she had met her relatives Colibri, Laruku, Iskata and her plethora of cousins. Then she had heard otherwise, a new name responsible for her snowy coat and icy eyes, though she didn’t quite believe them, how could she confirm that she was a copy of someone she had never met? "They tell me a ghost gave me my coloring, but so many others share them. The ghost was very vain, I suppose." From what she heard about Ceres Sadira, Cercelee imagined the female to be vain, she didn’t quite care if it were true or not. The words of others rob her of her inheritance from her mother, attributing it to a dead relative. Cwmfen could not deny her mother had created the blue marks for her, and Cercelee envied her for that, even if it had been manual manipulation of colors rather than inherited.


      Questions came from the female’s mouth and Cercelee looked about the area, as if seeing it for the first time, but rather wondering why Cwmfen nic Graine had come to that conclusion. Turning back, she nodded. Cwmfen had guessed right, and Cercelee took note that the female had good intuition– it was a good skill to have. "Yes, I like to hold the pack meetings here, although we haven’t had many. And I suppose if we were to have festivities this would be a good choice for those as well, if we had anything to celebrate. It does not have an official name though." It would be many months before they could celebrate their founding day, Cer was waiting for a reason to celebrate before then, to lift the pack’s spirits and bring them closer together, but the reason hadn’t presented it’s self just yet. Tilting her head at Cwmfen, Cer smiled slyly, it gave her delight to put strangers on the spot, though she wasn’t sure why. "What would you name this place?"


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#6
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500+




Rosea... leader of the pack.


The black ears swiveled back shyly and with more than marginal shock. Her posture shifted slightly, as if she were attempting to make up for the lack of her knowledge, but she hesitated too, awkward and unsure. But the wolf’s air was noticeably submissive, but it was not as if she had been domineering prior. The shy female simply did not have the disposition. Of course, this was mostly due to the novelty of meeting with new creatures; familiarity was a different picture—no disrespect, but the warrior wolf had a savage bite.


“I’m sorry; I did not know.” The voice was quiet, but not fearful, nor did it tremble. There simply had been none to tell you who lead the pack. She had assumed—and wrongly so, it seemed—that Haku had been leader of Dahlia de Mai, as he had been the only authority figure she had met thus far, and, since he had met her at the boarders, she knew that he held some authority within this pack. But it was this white female who lead Dahlia. There was much that she did not know within the pack, but she did not expect her knowledge to be such a disappointment. She was a bit ashamed of herself for not having asked more about the pack initially, but it was still not too late. The woad-marked female shuffled bashfully, but held her silence as Cercelee continued.


A small but warm smile graced the black maw. A ghost? Such a story was something she could relate with. The golden afternoon brightened her mood, as she found the colours of the day fitting for the Rosea’s story. A small, melodic chuckle escaped the throat of the black female. Vain indeed. But the white colouring seemed unique on this particular female, and her cerulean eyes were striking.


Pack meetings. The banded ears twitched, as if itching to prick forward. She was glad that her conclusion had been the right one. But what would she call this place? “I usually don’t call things by name...” The bird’s voice trailed off as she fell to thought. The white orbs turned towards the midday sky, observing not the cloudless sky but something far beyond. “This place...” the eyes took a quick sweep of the stone ground beneath her feet. “... it is a place of cool stone, and a place of congregation...” She trailed off once more, her brow furrowing slightly with thought. She had never seen a place quite like this one. What was it called? In her homeland, she knew of an ancient language. She was far from being fluent in it, but she spoke a little. Usually, if she did not know what something was, she’d fall back upon that ancient tongue. It had a nice sound as well. “I might call this place Locus Gelamenis or perhaps Occursus Silicis...” Place of Gathering. Meeting of Stone. Such names were simple and archaic, but complexity was not necessarily better, she had learned.


“Perhaps, if nothing was occupying your self, you could help get to know this place better...?” ‘This place’ referred to the entirety of the pack, but Cwmfen deliberately did not specify. She simply did not want to impose.




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     Cercelee smiled at the girl, noting how her posture changed with the new knowledge. Cercelee always appreciated the respect the pack members showed for her, but part of her was amused by it as well. Cercelee had not never meant for herself to be the sole leader of Dahlia, Colibri was suppose to have been the leader, Cercelee only her right hand man. Although the snow white wolf had been leading on her own for months now, it was still strange at times. The easiest method was to only address the issue of respect when any one member blatantly lacked it, which this female clearly did not. Cwmfen was more than respectful, and Cercelee took note of it, always filing her pack members attributes and flaws.


      "Occursus Silicis? I like that." The name slipped off the tongue like poetry, although Cercelee didn’t understand foreign languages when she heard them spoken she always found herself repeating the words. Some seemed awkward to her ears, others seemed to flow so smoothly. They could call this place that, it needed an official name at any rate. Cercelee would announce it at the next pack meeting, whenever that was. Slowly, one by one, Cercelee intended to name every area of her lands, even if others rarely used the names or never even knew them, every beloved area (which Cer loved every inch of her lands) deserved a name.


      Brilliant blue eyes opened and stared hard at the female, her request was not unusual, and if anyone was to know about Dahlia de Mai Cercelee was the a logical choice. The female had been here, and a leader, since the beginning, had seen the pack blossom and grow, had seen wolves come and go and for the most part could remember their names. Yet it was unusual in that few wolves, new comers or not, asked her for such help. Most seemed to throw themselves in and learn as they go, trial and error, sometimes to Cercelee’s annoyance. Smiling warmly, Cercelee nodded. "I’d love you. Ask me anything you’d like, I’ll take you any place you’d like to see. "

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#8
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500+




Cwmfen smiled at the white Cercelee. The black female was both delighted and relieved that one naming of the square had pleased the Rosea. But the female was silent, responding with nothing and silence. The woad-marked female supposed that she could and should have offered an “I’m glad” or a “Thank you” at least, yet, she was unsure as to whether or not those were the proper responses. And, by the time she had decided that something should be said, enough time had passed that a comment would seem relevant, and so the she-wolf remained in awkward silence. She thought it strange of herself, that she, one who had spent life in spiteful aggression (and fear also), had become so docile once a place of shelter had been found. Occasionally, she would feel the bellicose creature stirring in her heart, but he slept in fitful dormancy, awaiting the perfect moment in which he should be released.... But not yet.


The woad-marked female was relieved that her request had been accepted; the warmth of the smile given was like the warming rays of that day’s sun, and the timid female felt the level of her comfort with the white wolf rise marginally. Safety. She always believed that it was optimal to learn from the best, and who better than the leader of the pack? The Rosea no doubt knew the most of these lands, as well as the rituals of the pack life—all of which were alien to the black fae. And now that the question had been proposed and accepted, she was unsure as to which of the many questions to present first.


Cwmfen considered her options for several moments, her nose twitching with the news brought on the cooling air. “I think that before all else, I would like to know more about the formalities of the pack.” The alto tones fluttered on the breeze like a breathless sigh. Then, as if realizing that this request may be vaugue, she added, “From the day I was born, I have never experienced the life of a pack, and I am unfamiliar with the subtle rituals… Hunting with partners, or perhaps with the pack. Relationships, even…” There was an odd and sudden lonely solitude about the female. Her curiosity of relationships was perhaps understandable. Her inexperience gave her a certain amount of paranoia that she would be imposing somehow, that she would somehow commit some insubordination, that boundaries of the expectations of relationships would be breached unintentionally. If the blush could be seen through the blackness of her fur, she might have been the colour of a ripe strawberry, but luckily, despite the emotion that emanated in heat waves from her, it was not physically portrayed.


A sheepish smile came across her lips. “—Or perhaps there is a way I could get to know the rest of the members of the pack…? I have scented them, but I have met only Haku and yourself—and DaVinci as well—” The female wondered suddenly if she should have mentioned the coyote hybrid at all. She hoped that the leaders had known of his presence within the pack ground those months ago, for she did not wish to cause trouble for him. She continued, hoping that she had not crossed over one of those boarders. “I wish to no longer be a stranger here…”

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      Cercelee waited patiently for a question to follow, unsure if the female expected her to direct the conversation. What was there to say about Dahlia de Mai off the top of her head? The pack was still new, not even a year old, so not many traditions or customs had been formed. Cercelee could simply tell Cwmfen how the pack had been formed, she could even list the names of all their previous members, but what use would that be? Nice to know perhaps, but the past did not provide knowledge that could be used to one’s advantage. Cercelee knew that though it was important to her, not every new member would take the time to learn the ever growing history of their pack. Smiling when the girl asked about the formalities, Cercelee nodded. "Well, you seem to know well enough the respect due to anyone in a higher rank than you. Although, truth be told, after you’ve been here a bit you can relax. This pack is more family and friends than anything else, and although we show respect when it is needed and my or Haku’s word is law, we don’t expect you to submit constantly. There really is no need, we know you mean no disrespect."


      That had been the ideal that Colibri and herself had had in mind when Dahlia de Mai was born, and Cercelee hoped that it still held true. Clearing her throat, the Rosea continued, now would be as good a time as any to explain the ranks, which often confused those not use to Dahlia’s specific labels. "Higher ranks allow you greater responsibility and privileges, once you hit the rank Circèe you may choose a co-rank, whatever best fits your skills and abilities, and if one of our co-ranks does not suit you, you may suggest a new one. At the rank of Mai, one may accept newcomers into the pack, by that time you will have my trust and I know that you would not bring in anyone who does not deserve a place here." Cercelee paused, mentally counting the ranks above Bluet. Cwmfen would soon be eligible for a co-rank, hopefully that was something for the raven black wolf to look forward to. "Circèe is the next rank up for you, and Mai is two more after that."

      Pausing to let the sable female digest the information, Cercelee considered the female’s other questions. Hunting, relationships, and other such rituals were hard to explain, it was easier to learn about them as one went. It had been an adjustment for Cercelee, living in Dahlia de Mai, as she had never truly felt any one pack to be her home before, but Cercelee had never truly been alone either. To go for complete isolation into a complex social community was sure to be overwhelming to some. "Hunting with a partner isn’t much different than hunting on your own, once you adapt to it. You just need to communicate before hand, and learn to read their body languages. I suppose it’s easier if you and your partner have a understanding of one another, makes it easier to communicate with out speaking. Hunting with the pack, well that’s most about carrying out a plan or following the cues of the lead hunter. Slay is out lead hunter, so I would guess if you have more questions on hunts, you could speak with him." Cercelee smiled encouragingly, perhaps if she gave the female a reason to seek out another, it would prompt her to do so. "Well, a pack meeting is in the works, you’ll meet everyone then if you don’t before, but the relationships, well I suppose those will just have to develop over time... However, you and I aren’t strangers any longer, so you have a nice head start." The cream colored canine smiled at the other, hoping that her answers had been somewhat helpful, and waiting for another inquiry. Facing the female, black as night, Cercelee felt a sense of purpose. This was why she enjoyed being alpha, leading, directing, helping and protecting. It had been purely by accident that she discovered how much she enjoyed the tasks, but she embraced it fully.


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#10
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500+


Cwmfen was eager to learn from the white Rosea. Ever since she had been a pup, her mother had told her tales of life in the pack. Even in Caledonia there were many packs thriving, and her mother had originated from one of the older entities of the isle. Yet, when Graine had been killed, the knowledge of that surreal world had fallen dead, and she was left in the dark. Even when there was no mother to raise a maturing female, he had not permitted her freedom to roam. But she had escaped, had found herself running for the next year. And now, after the fleeing and the fear, the black female had finally found a sanctuary, a real pack. Before, she had not had the heart to find another group, for she knew that her father was on her heels. But ‘Souls was a place that was different from those with out its boarders. Graine, too, had told of the ancestor Turuambar Wolfbane, a brief member of the pack Clouded Tears before he had set out, restless once more. Cwmfen was done running. She was ready to learn the ways of this alien system.


The woad-marked fae was relieved to hear that she knew her place. What followed, however, she had not known. "It seems as if respect has a similar meaning within the packs as it does with out. I was unsure as to how far physical display was necessary to carry out, but I suppose that I still forget that within a pack, regardless of bloodline, we are all part of a family." Cwmfen smiled, her posture relaxing and becoming more natural. This sense of security was new to her. While she was accustomed to and had come to love the wild nature of lone travels, it was time for a change of scenery. Yet, it was not as if she were trapped and tied down—to the contrary, life seemed to change in only that danger within the boarders was minimal and that there was a sense of being protected and needing to protect. It was a pleasant discrepancy.


Silently, but with much more than marginal interest, Cwmfen took note of Cercelee’s oration of ranks, co-ranks, and hunting. The black fae knew that she was a Bluet now, and the prospect excited her. Soon, with hard work and attention, she would be able to progress to Circèe and obtain a co-rank. Having nearly asked what co-ranks there were, she was glad that she had waited to hear of the hunting. Slay. He was the lead hunter. That was something that interested her greatly. Indeed, the black she-wolf had lived for the battle, but she doubted that Dahlia de Mai had need of a wolf to run about demanding satisfaction. A hunt was a similar way of refining skills. "I think that I will find time to meet him soon," the young female thought aloud, her melodic voice like fluttering gold. Then, she wondered to Cercelee: "When I am able to choose a co-rank, I’d like to be a hunter. Would I discuss this with Slay as well?" Cwmfen figured that this must also be discussed with the Rosea, but, since Slay was the lead hunter, she wondered whether he also had a say in whether she may earn such a rank.

Cercelee’s final words made Cwmfen blush, but that comment made her glad inside. The black, woad-bound maw was graced with a genuine smile. She was glad that the Rosea considered her a stranger no longer. Perhaps at this coming meeting, she wouldn’t be so shy around her. There was no way in which she could think of to respond to the white wolf, so she let a few moments of appreciative silence slip by, the black tail wagging several times, emphasizing her emotion. Then, in the thoughtful silence, another subject came to her mind. "This place is where the pack may meet. Are there other places in Dahlia de Mai that serve similar or similarly specific purposes?"


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      Cercelee smiled at Cwmfen’s words, as the woad marked female seemed to accept Dahlia de Mai as her home and the members as her family. Yes, it was a strange concept for many loners to get use to, having a company of strangers now be such important figures in one’s life, but Cercelee would have it no other way. With perfect honesty and sincerity, Cercelee could declare that she loved those in her pack most of all, more than any family living or dead, more than the friends of her past. They had not stuck with her, and while it was idealistic to think that those in her pack would be with her forever, they had her complete loyalty now. She mourned each member that left or disappeared, but only very briefly, because it was those who remained whom she adored most. It was them that deserved her attention and efforts and emotions.


      Cercelee nodded at Cwmfen’s declaration to meet Slay, and smiled as she spoke of wanting a hunter rank. They need scouts and hunters, she was pleased that the lady picked one of their ranks that was lacking. "Slay will need to be informed of your rank, and while you two will work closely together at times, he has no say over whether you keep your rank or not. It’s up to you to decide which rank fits you best, which one makes the best use of your talents. If you decide hunter is not the rank for you, it can easily be changed, but I think you will enjoy it. You seem like a huntress." Indeed, the female did. Cercelee thought the raven female to be precise and calculating, and her appearance too lent to the rank. Dark as night, with the woad markings playing the part of shadows, in the shadows of a forest, or in the dark of night, Cwmfen would have perfect camouflage.



      The next question made Cercelee pause, her brow furrowed and she shook her head almost sadly. "Many wolves claim a building as their own personal den, though I do not, you may too. Pick a house or building and live in it, if that’s your wish. No other area has so formal a purpose however. The pack is still young though, that may change, we have so many interesting areas, so many uses could be made of them. The harbor, the vineyards, the library and other buildings... so much potential in all our land. I hope to bring more customs and traditions to this pack. Did you have any special customs from where you came? "


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#12
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Cwmfen nodded occasionally as the blue-eyed Rosea spoke. She was surprised to find that, even with Slay holding the leading rank of the hunters, he did not preside over who came under his command. Perhaps her surprise was due to her preconception of pack structures, but she let it fall easily. She trusted that such a system worked within a pack. Indeed, as she thought it through, the concept made more sense. To allow wolves to choose avoided the biases of nepotism; yet, she wondered what would occur if one should fail at efficiently carrying out required tasks. But as the white woman continued, such a question was answered. And the black female concluded that should a wolf be deficient in one area, the wolf would be able to decide to move to another profession—if not, she supposed that that was what the leaders were for. The woad-marked female knew, however, that she mustn’t assume too much, but quiet observation and experience would make her wiser.


"Thank you," came the reply of the silver toned alto. The young fae wagged her tail cheerfully and a lighthearted smile widened upon her woad-bound maw. She was glad that Cercelee thought her fit for such a task. Indeed, while Cwmfen herself had never hunted with another (even her father or mother), the prospect of a coordinated hunt excited her. Perhaps it was over romanticized, but she felt that should she be hunt with even one other, the relationship between them would grow in a away that only combat could allow, and hunting she considered to be a type of combat. There was a new urgency in the back of her mind that desired to meet this Slay, and to meet also the characters of his trade.


Cercelee’s next explanation did not disappoint the fae, nor did she judge. She did not necessarily expect another place—this pack had a territory, dens, and a meeting place. The she-wolf could think of nothing that could be added, but perhaps that would come later; she did not voice her thoughts because she knew of her ignorance. She considered the topic of a house or den for several moments. In the end, she decided that she had no use of one. The wild fae was accustom to sleeping in the open, and she found that when confined to the wall of a house, she felt trapped or somehow bound down. Should she need shelter from the weather, a house would be nice, but there were vacant buildings; she had shared a similar building with the hybrid DaVinci during a rain storm, and that was all she could handle from an edifice.


"Traditions?" she found herself repeating. "Unfortunately when I was a pup—my mother—" She struggled for a moment as she fought for the right words. The resurfacing of the past caused her great disturbance in the soul. But taking a deep breath, she tried to sort the chaos threatening to break forth. "My father kept my mother and me from associating with the other packs—or other wolves, for that matter. Much of the traditions of my culture are lost on me...for lack of exposure...." The soft alto trailed off, and the white orbs seemed to watch a distant memory. She shook her head, returning to the present. "As you say, there is much potential—the harbor and vineyard, and the library too. They all seem to be places rich in knowledge." Knowledge of working things in ones hand or mind. She herself was curious of such things, and she thought that perhaps the place to start would be the library, as it would hold things of the past. But she could not decipher any sort of cipher. In the harbor, she could see a military advantage, but it was peace that was stressed in these days, and she tried not to force hostility. "Perhaps there should be a common den...? If there was extreme weather, perhaps a place for the entire pack to den would be ideal.... It would definitely allow for getting acquainted with each other." The woad-marked fae smiled lightly. She wanted to get to know all the pack members some day.


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      Cercelee titled her head sympathetically at the girl, the words that she spoke bothered her. Her father had kept her and her mother isolated? Although Cer knew that such acts of evil did go on, Inferni’s many crimes were a testimony to that, she still felt a surreal feeling when confronted with them. The physical world that she and the others lived in was far from perfect, Cercelee knew this and did not try to delude herself, but the mental world she wished she lived in, it was a utopia. In many ways it reminded her of her first few months, of what she could remember from those times, when sorrow or anger or any other ill feeling had yet to work it’s way into her heart. Perhaps if others had been raised as she had, before the accident with her mother and brothers, before Adrastos had lost his head and left her, than there might be less canines whose sole purpose seemed to be to cause suffering. Yet Cwmfen did not exist to cause suffering, and Cercelee smiled at the girl, she would not pry into her past life and the Rosea had no words to express her unhappiness at what Cwmfen had been through, but she hope that the smile counted for something.


      Cercelee was glad when the female continued thinking of more suggesting on what to do with the vast amount of land they claimed. A common den, it had crossed Cer’s mind briefly in the past, more so when she had lived among Twilight Vale and seen their way of life, but she was not sure how the Dahlians would take to it. Cercelee did not doubt their loyalty to one another, and she felt a great love for all of them, but she knew of the stress and discomfort that lurked beneath the surface of their lives. Cercelee could sense the uneasiness that Haku and Firefly could sometimes inspire in the others, and she knew that none of them knew one another as intimately as she could hope for. Perhaps a common den would help to rectify the situation, and she was glad that Cwmfen found it a good idea. "Yes, I think a common den would be good. However, I don’t know if we could have a natural den, I don’t know of any in our lands that are large enough. We could have a common building, one of the stronger built ones and one large enough to accommodate our whole pack, but I fear with everyone having their own building to call home, what use would they find for a common one? I think we’d need more to lure them there, and I don’t know what would do that."


Table by Tammi!

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There’s still a lot she can learn, but Cwmfen is running out of questions at the moment, hahahah. I know that this is a relatively short thread, but is it okay if we close this one? ^=^;; And this post is kind of crap OnO
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Cwmfen was glad that the white, blue-eyed Rosea did not pry or even ask about her struggling mind. She knew that she had made it apparent—and not intentionally so—that her past had been filled with something of a sinister nature; Cercelee’s slight gesture of the crania had hinted at that. But Cwmfen was not prepared to speak of it yet to any soul. Indeed, the thought of it no longer brought tears of fear and anger and frustration to her milky white eyes for time had dulled the edge of that knife. But the tale and the words were the whetstone, and her soul was not prepared to face that weapon just yet. The Cwmfen constantly lamented for the loss of her purity, for she had intended to share it with someone of worth. The black fae smiled meekly, scarcely even a smile, and hoped that that was enough for now. But she hoped also that one day she would be able to share this secret with some other creature and lighten the burden that bore down upon her soul.


The white-eyed female laughed softly at herself. "I had forgotten to consider that," she said quietly. The fae shook her head at herself. It seemed that her own observant nature was ill keened with disuse, for the white Rosea had only just mentioned that the members keep their own homes. If they claimed their own personal den, what use did they have of a common den? Truly? She smiled sheepishly. But as the white Rosea continued, she nodded in agreement. There would have to be a quality that drew the others in.... Unfortunately, such suggestions were not well produced by the female, but she tried to think of something regardless. "Perhaps," she said at length, "if there were some sort of holiday where some sort of festive activity required a gathering, the members would be more inclined to conglomerate." The silver tones paused thoughtfully. "Or, perhaps it would be a place to welcome pups—" The female caught herself. She did not know why, but the topic made her uneasy. She laughed uneasily, as if illustrating this point.


Breifly, the milky orbs glanced upon the cerulean heavens. "Forgive me! I hope that I have not taken up too much of your time." The black fae rose slowly and fluidly. "Thank you for all your help." The voice of the she-wolf was quiet when she addressed the Rosea, and it seemed that the quieter her voice became, the more grateful she was. "I will definitely set out to meet Slay and discover some of the tendencies of the hunting." To the white, blue-eyed Rosea, she dipped her woad-bound maw. "I hope I will see you once more... Perhaps at a meeting?" She smiled and hoped that it would be so.


"Farewell." And the silver tones were like the sweet melody of the springtime birds. But she was unsure now as to whether she must wait for permission to be dismissed and so hesitated where she stood.


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