that was when i ruled the world
#1
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OOC: Takes place in Berwick 300+

The grey male had taken to spending more and more time bringing the library in Wolfville back to life. Now that he and Mew had finally settled their feelings for each other, he found he had new purpose in his life. He could concentrate on making the building a centre for Dahlia's culture. He had aired the main reading rooms, his coat covered in the dust of the place. From there he had torn down the decaying curtains and burned them. The work was hard and most nights he would collapse by Mew's side, slumbering deeply until the next morning. But to see the results of such intense labour brought a smile to his face and so Lubomir kept working with fever-pitch excitement, looking forward to the day he would be able to call the pack and show them.


The day was cloudy, but that would hardly deter him from his task. This time he was in Berwick, looking for more human tools. An axe and spade, to start. Then, perhaps, something to gather dust with. A stepladder he'd found already in the attic of the library and he used it to arrange the books. Lubomir wondered if he should seek anyone help in the matter. While it would certainly help him to do so, he wasn't sure if anyone but Mew cared about the place. Haku he did not want to face, especially after their brawl, and Cercelee might be busy with other things. He recalled the strangely marked female from the hunt, and for a moment, he thought of seeing her and asking if she would be interested in restoring the library. With a shake of his head and a bitter smile, Lubomir assured himself that he was probably alone in this one. Pushing against a door, he entered a garden shed and started looking for an axe.

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#2
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700+


Cwmfen was enjoying the sunless day. The world was dulled but its song sang for her as it never did when the sun shone. The woad warrior was lying in the grass and had taken on her luperci form to practice some martial techniques. But, just as every day, once she had finished, she had put her weapons away. And today, because the day was beautiful, she lay watching the grey heavens that drifted lazily overhead. The birds sang occasionally, and it was a bright day in her life of much darkness. She created that darkness herself very often, but it was not a darkness that one might suspect. This female did not wallow in self pity or drama, nor did she find such things desirable. It was a different darkness, one of solitude. And her tenebrous mind did not seek chaos or destruction, but a strange serenity instead. The warrior now closed her eyes and delved into that darkness once more.


Perhaps it was unhealthy for a pack wolf to remain so alone, but she loved it so. And yet she loved the company sometimes. Some would question, perhaps, why she had even joined the pack if she felt that way. Why not simply remain as a loner? But there was something about the pack that seemed right to her—perhaps it was her basic lupine instincts. She could not leave, and she could not deny that she loved Dahlia de Mai as she loved her solitude. It was a strange game that she played, but she was no ordinary creature. Her eyes had been closed, for she had been listening to the world’s song coincide with her own. But now, with a sigh, she rose upon on her elbows. Perhaps she should visit another today. She had not seen several of the newcomers before—Colibri, Kol, Alexey, and Elliot, and she had heard that Deuce had joined their ranks. She had met none of them, though she may have heard of them. But today, she did not think to meet them yet. Her mind went to the male who had smelled of Mew—Lubomir, she remembered. Perhaps she would meet him.


The luperci rose, and she walked in the direction of the library. She had scented him often as she passed the place, and she supposed that he would be there now. She wondered what the male would be doing there. (It never crossed her mind that he would be there to read or to fix the place up, for she herself could not read and so she never made such speculations.) While the black fae would have normally changed to the lupus form with which she was more comfortable, she decided to remain as a luperci. Her reasoning was that she might have to deal with the human edifice she so much disliked, and her current form was best suited for such tasks.



The woad warrior found the male’s scent in Berwick, however, and so she changed her course to follow this new trail. Behind her, she heard a call, and upon turning she found that the one-eyed Raven had found her once more. Without thinking, she reached up with her arm, and the pied bird landed upon it as if called. Cwmfen stepped back with the sudden weight, but once she had become accustom to it, she stroked it with a wry smile. She could not deny the bird—to do so would be to deny herself. Yet somehow she felt that one day it would come to such measures, and she wondered what would happen then. Perhaps she would go mad. With a sigh, she continued on, and the Raven clicked its satisfaction.


The woad-marked warrior found the shed ahead. At first, she thought that she might have strayed from her course, but then she heard someone moving inside. Her gait slowed, and she approached cautiously. She herself did not know why she was exercising such caution—she knew who was in there for the scent that drifted strongly to her olfactory senses. As she reached the door, she peered into the hazy darkness with curious white orbs. Her free hand reached to find the door frame. The Raven shifted, partially opening his wings to keep his balance as she peeked beyond the door. "Lubomir?" the silver toned melody called quietly, and she took a step into the small, human building.

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#3
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OOC: Sorry about the crazy long wait! D: 400+

It was so stuffy in here. And dusty. It amused him to think that here he was, living in a pack so very different from what he had been used to. He'd fought the second in command and even got away with it. He'd mated the same male's sister and slept with his mate and somehow his body was not being used for a rug in the main house. He'd found the Wolfville Library and had now decided to take up a temporary sort of residence there, while he figured out exactly what to do with all the books and the extensive amount of repairs that needed to be done. Which brought him full circle right where he was, in this dingy, stuffy, dusty shed, trying to find an axe. And maybe a ladder. The one currently in the library could fall apart at any time and he certainly did not wish to die crushed under a mountain of book, no matter how much he enjoyed reading.

The voice which called him was unfamiliar, although the scent was not. Lubomir straightened up too quickly, bashing his head against as shelf and knocking several dried up tins of paint, causing them to crash everywhere, on his back and the floor, stirring up even more dust. He coughed, sneezed, even shook himself a little. The impact had only hurt momentarily, although it did not mean he didn't curse his clumsy hands. Finally managing to disentangle himself and breathe more normally, he turned around and looked upon the strangely marked female from the hunt.

He noticed again, as he had then, that she seemed peculiar in more ways than one. For one thing, her pelt still managed to startle him. He never thought he would see anything like that in his life. Indeed, he never had, which only made it that much more peculiar. For another thing, her eyes were pure white. Lubomir felt slightly uneasy around her and he wasn't sure just how well he could hide it. The last thing he wanted was to somehow manage to offend her. That would certainly make him feel bad. Not just because she stood higher in the ranks, but because she had done nothing to incur such an attitude from him. Indeed, if he recalled correctly, during the hunt she had proven herself a quick hunter, with great skill and amazingly good self-restraint, offering him the kill when she'd been the one to catch up with the deer. My lady. I apologise for this mess. Should we go outside and speak? Coughing all the while, Lubomir went out of the shed and into the blinding sunlight.

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#4
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500+


The black warrior’s voice was greeted promptly by a bump and the sound of things falling all over the place. Cwmfen was alarmed by the sudden sound, and she couldn’t help but flinch with her surprise. Then dust was everywhere, obscuring anything in the human shed that she had been able to see before. She closed her eyes as she waved her hand in the air to try and clear at least the space before her face. But the dust had already tickled her senses, and she sneezed several times in a row and in effect shook the dust from her hair and body. With a final cough, the female looked up, peering through her half lidded eyes to keep the dust from them. But then the dust had cleared and she was allowed to open her eyes fully. The sounds of his cursing made her smile, and he finally appeared clearly. Her tail wagged once in greeting and she stepped aside to allow him to exit the dusty, old edifice.


The female smiled. "I don’t mind about the mess," the female responded. "I’m sorry if I caused you to do it." Briefly she looked back at the chaos and dust before the male stepped out into the sunlight. She blinked several times. Even though she had not set foot into the human building, she had been staring into the darkness for a long while. And so even when she had turned her back upon the edifice and turned her face to the light, the sudden change caused her white eyes to burn. For a moment, the female was motionless as she allowed her body to make the adjustment. "Perhaps we should stop by the stream for some water," the female suggested to the male’s coughing. The dust was drying her out as well, and so it would be suitable to sate their needs.


As the female lead them to a stream nearby, she turned to look at what the male was holding. She tilted her head with her curiosity as she lifted her gaze to meet his. "What were you doing in there?" The warrior had never really troubled herself with the trifles of human remains, and so she was unaware of what that edifice had been for. All the things within it were a mystery to her, for she was simply a wolf. It was not necessarily that she looked down upon those who did concern themselves with such things, but the female was wary of anything human—save for the weapons that she bore.


Upon reaching the stream, the female knelt to drink from it. Cupping one hand, she dipped it into the clear water before lifting it to her lips. The water was cold and felt good as it cleared the dryness from her body. With a smile she turned back to the male. "I hope I’m not bothering you today." It always seemed that she was bothering her more social packmates. She wondered what he was up to though, and so she hoped that he did not mind her company.

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#5
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OOC: Please forgive me for making you wait again! 400+

The more he looked at her, the less unease he felt. She seemed so natural in her shifted form, more so than anyone he had ever seen. Perhaps that was what he liked about her. In her wolf form, during the hunt, she had been quick and agile, a mass of quicksilver, lightning fast and deadly. That was what he had initially thought of her. Now, as they stood together in the glaring sunlight, Lubomir realised she was a very beautiful female. The pack seemed to have quite a few of them, which amused him somewhat. His tricky heart told him that only Mew was beautiful, but his brain showed him the female before him and he had to concede to his rational side. No, please don't trouble yourself. I am just clumsy, that's all. Lubomir didn't mention that he had been expecting to be alone. That would certainly be rude.

Walking down towards the stream, Lubomir could feel the dust caking on his fur. He was grateful for her showing him this place. Berwick was not a town he spent a lot of time in, but he could certainly use a bit of familiarisation with the lands. I was looking for a ladder and an axe. I've taken over the Wolfville Library, you see. With Cercelee's permission, of course. I'm planning to open it to the rest of the Dahlia wolves some time in the summer. He felt slightly embarrassed to say those words aloud, but he'd bitten the bullet so might as well ride with the whole thing. I was the only wolf in my old pack who knew how to read and write. I left the pack to learn that and saw quite a bit of Europe. I enjoy learning and I find comfort in written words. I'm not sure how many here in Dahlia share my passion, but I certainly want to find out.

The stream was cold on a first glance, but Lubomir knelt nonetheless and splashed himself to get the dust off. He left the axe by the riverside, shaking his fur until he was satisfied with the result. He turned to look at Cwmfen once more. No, it's never a bother, my lady. I am always happy to talk to my packmates. I was just wondering... how should I say this... your marks. They have intrigued me since the beginning. Since the hunt. How did you come by them? Lubomir hoped his question was not too offensive. If she did not feel comfortable talking about them, she could simply ignore him. He knew better than to press people for answers.

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#6
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Don’t worry about it, ^=^500+


The female knew what an axe was—a weapon, but a tool also used for the cutting of wood among other things. But the female was woad warrior was unfamiliar to the former term he used: ladder. The woad bound ears pricked forward at the sound of that unfamiliar word. But the unvoiced question was momentarily silenced as the grey male continued. “I had heard about the library, and I had wanted to look there, but I kept forgetting....” The female smiled, almost shyly as she spoke. “I’m glad that you have decided to take up this task; once your are completed, the library will be a good resource for the pack. Perhaps someone will write Dahlia’s history and store among the other books there.” The Caledonian-Korean wasn’t sure if it was the same in this culture, but in her culture, the musician was the keeper of the history. And so she wondered momentarily if the green eyed Mew would take up the task. Of course, it may be another’s task altogether, and so the female was silent, trusting that if there were someone charged with such a task, it would be done.


Then, the female asked, “What is a ‘ladder’?” And the warrior did not seem troubled by her lack of knowledge, well aware of her ignorance to different aspects of life. She had chosen to disregard many human things while managing to live among them. But as a simple wolf, the female did not need a name for ever entity she came upon.


The black fae nodded quietly. The ability to read books and text was like the ability to read those strange black dots of music. The warrior thought of Mew once again as she listened to the white female’s mate. “I admit that I cannot read—I can recognize symbols alone.” But symbols were not the same as a written language, and some would argue that such uses of symbols was a very crude thing. And perhaps the warrior, in her martial passion, was intelligent in other ways. “I always marveled at those who managed to understand such things. Mew reads music like that,” and the alto melody smiled in the warm day. “I do not think that I would learn,” the female said apologetically, “but I love to listen to the tales held within those strange pages.”


A light smile flickered across her maw, but she did not mind the male’s inquiry. “My mother gave them to me,” the alto melody said quietly as she gazed into the white eyes of her reflection. “They are the patterns of war and protection, strength and certainty.” The female regarded her own hand and arm for a moment before she lifted her bright, white eyes to the other’s face. “But they have been redrawn so many times over the years that they do not disappear....” Perhaps that was a strange thing, but the warrior did not question the workings of the world. She accepted that they happened, and she accepted her own place within that world.

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#7
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OOC: 600+ Dear god, do I ramble

Lubomir was pleased to see that his little endeavour was appreciated. He didn't necessarily need the approval, especially since Cercelee had said she had no problem with it, but it made him feel proud of himself for thinking it up whenever someone commented on it. So far quite a few people had visited the place, which only served to make him happier. Hopefully when the time came to announce the grand reopening there would be very few, if any, shocked faces among the crowd. From what I understand, Cercelee herself with undertake the historian position of the pack. She has been here from the beginning, so it makes a lot of sense to me that she would decide what should be remembered and what is best forgotten. The grey male smiled warmly. He enjoyed being the Ambassador for the pack and for all that he had been the historian of his Old Country pack, he knew little of Dahlia. Unless everyone wanted an account of his love for Mew, Cercelee was the better choice by far.

Her next question threw him slightly. He had imagined that since she chose her Optime form she would be intrigued by the ways of humans. It was refreshing that she wasn't, because it meant that he could explain the things that made him giddy. It's something humans used to reach high places. It has these two vertical legs and then five or six horizontal steps. You climb on it if you want to get somewhere you normally can't. I can show you one when I find it! He could feel himself bursting with childish enthusiasm, because for once he could enlighten another in Dahlia.

It didn't come as much of a surprise, following her ladder question, that she could not read. It was not a skill many chose to waste time on, especially warriors. Lubomir had never enjoyed fighting, for all his monster bathed in blood and gore, so books were his escape from the evils of the world. He could not judge Cwmfen, not really. Cercelee herself could not read, so who was he to say what each and every wolf could do? Her mention of Mew brought a shy smile to his face. He enjoyed listening to his mate play and indeed he found it so relaxing he could lull himself to sleep. Even now he could picture her body leaning against a wall, her hands deftly strumming the strings of the guitar. A beautiful, other-worldly, ethereal. A slice of heaven on earth. She is perhaps the best musician I have ever met. When I open the library, perhaps I will read stories to those in our pack who enjoy this but do not wish to learn. You will most definitely be invited and if you decide to learn, I will be there to teach you.

He listened carefully as she explained her marks and he gazed even more upon them. The Old Country did not have such a thing, so his fascination was understandable. He almost wished he and his mother had had such a personal relationship. After he and Frigg had left the pack, there had been no contact with his parents. Perhaps they were dead by now. It nearly pained Lubomir to think of them, even if their faces had faded into memory a long time ago. He could hardly remember the pack, let alone the members. They are very unique, I must say. I travelled a bit in Europe, before I came here and I don't think I have ever encountered anything of the sort. I trust you are not European, then? To Lubomir, talk of heritage was remarkably interesting. He could feel himself growing giddy with excitement at the prospect of learning something new about the warrior.

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#8
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Sorry for the wait!! >____<
500+



Cwmfen nodded in agreement. Cercelee would be the best suited to undertake the task of historian, and as the Rosea, the black fae thought it more so. She wondered briefly, however, at Mew. Musicians of Caledonia were the historians, who sang of the past and even, occasionally, of the future. She wondered if Mew were the same type of musician, of if she were simply a creator of music. She should have asked her the last time, but she hadn’t. Perhaps she would ask her later, if she happened upon her. (The warrior did not like to seek her packmates out without a reason, for she thought that she may be interrupting them.) But Cercelee would know the happenings of the pack, for all information eventually came to her knowledge. And when Cwmfen had first joined Dahlia de Mai, it had been Cercelee who had enlightened her upon the workings of the pack with such clarity that it had been difficult for the black fae to become misguided. “I’m sure that she appreciates all the help you are giving her,” the alto melody sang with a smile. The Rosea tended to be busy, and so she did not doubt that what she had said was true.


The woad marked warrior was glad that the male did not judge her for her ignorance of human things. And she smiled as he explained it, listening intently so as to picture the contraption in her mind. Perhaps she had seen something like it before but had simply not known the name, or even that there was a name. But she did not think that she had seen it; she thought of the steps of a staircase, but she did not think that a staircase and a ladder were the same thing. She nodded slowly as she tried to imagine it once more but could not. But then Lubomir offered to show it to her, and her tail waved once in agreement. “I would like that—to see it, I mean. I’m afraid that, aside from the weapons, I know very little of human existence.” The female smiled almost shyly then.


“Yes, she is,” The female agreed without question. Briefly, her mind went back to when she had first met the white Council Member. That night, Mew had shown her a piano, and she had played a piece... something about the moonlight, she remembered. It had been beautiful, the way Mew had immersed herself into the music itself. Then the warrior was silent for a moment. “Are there books concerning the making of weapons?” The warrior’s voice was curious as she asked so suddenly. “I was thinking of learning more of such a trade. I know a little bit already, but I know that my methods are crude, though not impossible. I made my current spear with such methods....” The warrior was thoughtful. Though she was unsure as to how well Lubomir knew the libraries, she thought that she would ask, just to make sure.


His next question made her head tilt ever so slightly. She thought that the label of ‘Europe’ may have referred to where she had hailed, but his doubt made her doubt as well. “I hail from Caledonia,” the alto melody said slowly. “My mother’s tribe practiced the ancient ways,” she explained, and it was obvious that this warrior had a passion for such things. It was possible that her love of war had come from such a thing. But then, she thought that perhaps he was speaking of her appearance. “The male who sired me is Korean,” she offered quietly.

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