[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
 To some, it made little sense to think of the passage of time quantitatively. But a day, a week, and a year were all relative--something subtle may remain constant for years, whereas something dramatic might happen in the blink of an eye. Almost everybody knew the breathtaking length of a second when they laid eyes upon their crush and received a playful look in return, or how hours of monotony could seem like an eternity. Alternatively, aeons could pass in a week, so long as enough was happening--a pack could have a leadership overhaul in less than a day, if there was a violent revolution. Someone's entire way of life could be altered drastically. Indeed, it seemed that the chronological order of major events was a more personal means of considering time's passage.
Thus, although only a month had passed since she had seen Skoll, it seemed much longer. Matrix had accomplished a lot in that cosmically short period of time: she had been promoted in Inferni; she had repaired the door on her greenhouse; she had constructed a wood shed (a sub-room to the greenhouse for other kinds of work, complete with a workbench); she had found a furnace that would solve her heating and glass-blowing or metal-working needs; she had cleaned out all of the scraps, collected fresh soil, tilled it, and dug an irrigation system with her own two paws. She had even found a dolly for the transport of the furnace, but alas--she was still unable to lift it the few meagre inches by herself. If only Skoll could be found.
|
|
[/html]
[html]  
Skoll had been moving a little slower the last few days, he had been more pensive, thinking less on the past, and more on the future. Phoenix had inadvertently stumbled into his thoughts, and that had opened the door to a conversation he had not planned on ever having. He had never had to discuss his history in depth with anyone before, and hadn't divulged everything to Phoenix. Even so, what ground they did cover had been translated directly from Skoll's mind into Phoenix's. He understood fully, which was something that no one else he would ever talk to could claim, at least not to the same degree.
The subject of their discussion rushing around in his head, he had decided to take a stroll through the Concrete Jungle. The place wasn't necessarily conducive to heavy thinking, but it was quiet, and sometimes that mattered more than anything. You were also usually guaranteed that you wouldn't be running into another wolf if you went there. When at first he smelled another canine, he was at first put off. He was deep in thought, and wondered if it wouldn't be better to ignore the scent altogether. When he smelled Inferni, he bristled, wondering if his jaunt was destined to become a fight. When a yet more familiar scent emerged from the first two, his reaction was reversed entirely.
Approaching the source of the smell, he loosened up, now certain who it was he was walking in on. Now with his new human-made pack at his hip, his old--now empty--deerskin satchel having been moved to his left side until he knew what to do with it, he rounded a corner, bringing Matrix into full view. She reminded him of her mother, though she had elements of Apache in her as well, especially when it came to her mind, that seemed to take joy in crafting, rather than killing, where her mother and Skoll himself thrived.
"Well, I take a harmless jaunt through the ruins and who do I stumble upon but the war-child. How have you been, Matrix?"
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
|
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
Matrix had killed before and understood that occasionally, it was necessary. Niyol didn't quite possess the cool sort of calm that she and her mother held in battle, and she could still picture him frozen in fear as a nameless stranger with a dark face and vacant eyes lunged for his throat. She knew that she was the only reason her brother survived the attack, and she didn't regret it. Later, two more lives were claimed by her teeth and claws. It didn't mean that she particularly enjoyed it, however. No; all of these killings were arguably justifiable and done in the name of defence. The girl with strange eyes was much more content to be a hippie of sorts, one that promoted careful care of the earth and would much rather kick back and smoke a bowl than kick some ignorant bastard in the face. Really, it was unfortunate to her that the greenhouse wasn't located somewhere more scenic--but building one from the ground up elsewhere would take aeons. Simply repairing one was taking long enough.
As she had been on the lookout for Skoll for some time now, it did not take her long to notice his scent nearby. Immediately she set off to investigate, and the two were drawn together at the intersection of two dead streets with dead, meaningless names. Her ear flicked at the way he addressed her--she could remember him calling her that before, long ago. She supposed it was appropriate, even though the ways were more subtle than they might be for other children raised at that time and place. She certainly wasn't shell-shocked, and she had certainly managed to find her own (meandering) direction in life. To her, it didn't suggest violence and hatred; instead, it implied a tragic sort of resigned cynicism and down-to-earth perspective.
She made an effort now to cast aside thoughts of her glum past and focus on the present. Sometimes, that was the best that she could do. "Busy," she told him, although her tone hinted that this was a good thing. "I've cleaned up the greenhouse a lot," she elaborated. "Now all that's left to do is fix the broken glass, and I've already found the means to do so... I just haven't managed to get the furnace I found to the proper location." This was where he would come in, but she waited to hear his thoughts before asking for help. "How about you, Skoll? Staying out of trouble?" She couldn't decide whether her asking him such a question was ironic or not.
|
|
[/html]
[html]
There we go!
"Of course," he said, laughing. "Me, getting myself into trouble? Come on, let's be serious." Of course he was being sarcastic. It took no imagination at all to understand what she had meant. No one had asked him to wage war on the lunatic Shadow cultists, no one had asked him to step in and save the child on the Inferni border. It hadn't been his responsibility to chase the fleeing missionaries to save the children of a women he didn't know. He could have stayed out of it when those two wolves accosted the coyote Luka, or let the belligerent wolf Bron lurk outside the Storm border rather than going out to meet him. He did have a serious penchant for getting himself into situations that could be easily avoided. It was a mix of things that had created the wolf he was today, a cocktail of experiences and morals--taught both by his parents and by life--that meant he always felt inclined to interpose himself into a situation where he felt wrong was occurring.
Those days were likely at an end, though, he had decided. A string of ingrates and traitors had made him see that setting an example didn't mean that people were going to flock to his banner. Storm's alpha had been quick enough to stab him in the back to stay in good graces with the puppy-killers, and though the faceless Jaded Shadows wolf had also aligned herself with the murderers, it hadn't stung as much because she had owed him no loyalty beyond having the common sense to discriminate between true murderers and people like himself. The peace-loving fools he had encountered in his latest excursion outside of Bleeding Souls had sealed the deal, he felt. If people wanted to be sheep in the places south of his ancestral home, it was no business of his. If people wanted to be slaughtered by the ambitions of little coyotes, or for the gods of insane cultists, then that was their decision to make. He couldn't understand how they could be okay with that, but he couldn't defend them from themselves.
"So, you found a heat-source, did you? Maybe I could help you get it in place. What's the problem?" He had no idea what he was getting himself into, though he wouldn't let the realization of the full degree of the labor prevent him from helping her.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
|
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
She knew little of the details, and she liked it that way. Like Skoll, she would always have the desire to stand up for what she believed was right. Unlike her elder, however, she chose to stay in the background only until it was absolutely necessary to step forward. It was better to fully assess a situation and get both sides of the story, and she didn't like to get involved in other people's business. (Obviously if she were directly and personally wronged, she would be much faster to retaliate.) Certain exceptions applied--anybody hurting a child would receive little sympathy from her, for instance. In general, though, she figured two adults could duke it out as they pleased--who was to say they didn't have a good reason for it? She personally believed that most conflicts could be resolved with either apathy or words, but she knew not everybody else was so rational or uncaring. Senseless violence had to be countered with calculated violence for both the sake of the individual and the sake of the species. She also knew firsthand that calculated senseless violence was the worst of all.
As such, a meek smile flavoured with a slight grimace was her response to his words--she knew he would do what he had to, and more importantly, that he would be fine. It was strange how things could just work out--she always appreciated that she had to do nothing to make the sun rise every day. Unfortunately, life sometimes required some amount of effort. Her furnace would not magically teleport itself into the right position. She visibly perked forward at his offer of assistance--she knew she would need help, but she still felt uncertain that she ought to be hassling him with such trivial things. "The only real issue is that it is very heavy, and far enough from where it needs to be," she explained. "I already have a dolly--er, that is something with wheels to make the transport easier--but I can't get it onto the dolly by myself." She peered at him hopefully--this was where he would come in. One more detail, just to be fair: "It's in that old human park. Even once it's on the dolly, I suspect it will take me a week to get it back to the greenhouse."
|
|
[/html]
[html]
Skoll's brows rose as she explained to him what had yet to be done. So, she was going to haul this thing a considerable distance. Taking in her small form, he understood why she had waited for assistance. Like her parents, she was a very determined individual, which somehow seemed charming in such a young person, though he would never let her know he thought so. Somehow he knew that Twilight's daughter wouldn't appreciate being considered in such terms. Competent, yes, and rightly so, but he suspected that Twilight had not raised her daughter to appreciate such ideas. Since the furnace was no where in sight, he was free to imagine the size of this thing that would take wheels to transport. Obviously too heavy for him just to wrap his arms around and carry.
"Well, I guess all that's left for us to do is go find this furnace of yours and see if we can manage to lift it, and then carry it for a week." Uncharacteristically understated, he looked off in the direction of the park. He had killed two wolves there, over a year ago, if he remembered correctly. Surely they would just be bones by now. He wondered if she would see them, or if their path would take a different route.
"We had best get started, then. Sounds like I'm enlisting for quite an arduous journey. No point in putting it off, eh?" he smiled, wondering how her life had gone after her parents had split off from his company. They had stayed a good while, but everyone had to leave eventually. Except those ragged few, he found himself frowning inwardly, though he did not show it to the youth before him. They followed me right back to Bleeding Souls, seeking further instruction. I'd do anything to give them their lives back. Sometimes the dead had it easiest.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
|
[/html]
[html]
Feel free to powerplay them getting there and finding it, or something. :x
IC/OOC text separator
If there was one thing that she was good for, it was her intuitive sense of physics. Really, this was what enabled the young hybrid to excel in nearly everything--she understood the physical properties of the glass she blew, she knew to strike wood at the proper angle for a better split, she knew how to maintain balance by focusing on her centre of gravity in combat, and she similarly understood exactly what would make somebody else lose their footing. In this case, it was second-nature for her to find ways to make the transport more efficient. She couldn't even imagine somebody else trying to shove the thing along or carry it--although if she thought back enough, she could probably remember seeing similar "feats" in the past. Pah.
For now, she was happy to set off in good company. Although she didn't know Skoll terribly well, he was the closest to a true friend that she had here. A familiar face could be quite invaluable, apparently. He was the only one that would be able to relate to her about the war--and she was confident he'd be willing to talk about it, if she ever needed to. It also occurred to her that she most certainly should be talking about it with someone, but a mixture of forced apathy, stubborn independence, and a sort of hesitance to discuss deeply personal thoughts kept her from doing so. Still, it was not always healthy to dwell upon the aftermath of things as outrageous as wars alone. It was far too easy for her to become lost in her own mind. Little was shown on the outside, of course, but inside--she thought about how fucked up things were almost constantly. It could become exhausting.
"I appreciate it," she said, her tone warm and genuine. "Between the two of us," she offered, "it ought to go even faster." The only part of this she absolutely could not do by herself was lift it onto the dolly. After that, she would be able to wheel it around by herself and shove it off the dolly and into place if she really had to. She wasn't about to ask him directly to dedicate so much time to her project, but if he was volunteering, she was thankful to accept. This way, one could pull while the other scouted ahead for obstacles and took a break. Besides, if he was anything like her... he would enjoy the workout, anyway.
|
|
[/html]
[html]
Sorry for the wait!
The bronze wolf nodded with a slight smile as the two of them set off. He had not spoken of the war all too much himself since leaving it. Too many had died, too many innocent people lost their lives trying to bring right into the world. If there really was fate, or if there really were gods, they were cruel indeed. Perhaps just as bad as those that died were those that had lost themselves. Those that--now that they were soldiers--could not go back to the way things were, didn't know what to do with themselves now that the war was over. They had endured great horrors, had learned to defend themselves and do it well(most of them); but now, faced with ordinary life again, nothing they'd learned would be of any use. This dilemma had never faced the large yellow were, he had made battle his life, but most people didn't want to, and some that may have been willing might not be capable. It was a bad situation, that left more casualties than the dead.
The two of them walked for a long time, until they finally came upon the site where Matrix had found the furnace. It was still there, surprise surprise, no one had stolen the exceedingly heavy metal monster while she was away. He smiled slightly at the thought. He saw the dolly she had talked about, a small wheeled construct with a flat platform, clearly meant to be a hauling device. He supposed he would take first shift...as soon as they got the big thing onto the platform, that was.
"Alright," he said, pushing the dolley as close to the furnace as it would go before letting it go and approaching one side of the human artifact. "You get over onto that side and lift from back there. Just enough to get this contraption of yours underneath, and then we'll put it down. On three." The big were set his legs apart and got his fingers under the big thing, waiting for her to comply as well. "One! Two!..."
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
|
[/html]
[html]
Short, sorry, you know why. :/
IC/OOC text separator
Matrix positioned herself appropriately as they prepared to lift the furnace. Knees were bent and she maintained a firm grip--on three she strained, fighting the force of gravity by extending her legs. She knew that the spine was not made to withstand such stress, and she assumed that Skoll would know to do the same. Some great amount of heaving and panting managed to get them modest success--the thing lifted up a few inches. Fortunately, that was all that they would need. The end closest to the dolly was up. Rather impressed that they managed such a feat, she smiled and shook her head. "Alright, I guess I'll brace against the dolly now and you can push it the rest of the way up?" Now that it was at an angle, this task would be easier. Ah, the wonders of leverage.
She made her way over to the other side of the dolly (which had already been fitted with ropes for pulling it later) and half-braced it/half-leaned against it as dead weight. Her eyes drifted to several extra ropes that were laying on the ground--once he had it all the way on, she would use some of the knot-tying skills her father had taught her to secure the damned thing. There'd be nothing quite like hitting a bump in the road and having to reload it. It had a lot of weight, and therefore a decent amount of friction, but she didn't want to take any chances. She was still rather tired from lifting it once, and barely. Oh well--at the end of it all, she'd have a nice furnace to show for it, and then a nice greenhouse. Hopefully Skoll found the hassle worthwhile enough--at least it was exercise, right?
|
|
[/html]
[html]
Skoll pushed the furnace the rest of the way up the dolly. It was heavy, but after they had gotten it positioned together it was much easier to handle. Once he had finished pushing it up, he would let her secure it with the ropes on hand. Skoll himself knew a few knots, but he didn't hold a candle to Matrix's father, the artisan Apache, who had passed some of his know how onto his daughter. Skoll distantly wondered how his life might have been different if his parents had been as skilled as those of the girl before him. So far from the civilized parts of the world, so far even from the population densities necessary to wage the war that he had grown up on, every wolf was a survival generalist, and that was all. When everyone had to do everything, no one specialized, and so wolves were limited in what they could achieve during a lifetime. Had he stayed in StoneTree, he would have been the same; he would have known how to survive a winter, he would have known how to be a good leader after another few years of studying his father, he would have known how to tap into HawkWind's gift in the event of a challenge to his leadership. He would have survived in the frigid and unforgiving land of his forefathers, would have had a family most likely, and would have been happy with that. What paths would he have taken if he'd had such different roads available to him,, like she had? He didn't regret what good he'd brought into the world, he didn't regret having the skills he did when it came to rescuing Luka and Naniko, when it came to winning the day against the cultists, but sometimes he wondered how life would be without enemies and without some of these experiences weighing him down.
"So," he said as he finished, "How're your parents? I haven't seen them in a long while." He knew that Matrix hadn't seen them recently, either, but her knowledge of them would still be more up-to-date than his. Twilight and Apache had split off from him to handle the situation when the remaining cultists had broken off into small groups of resistance. He was lucky to have done so well for the first leg of the war, he had picked up a few things about war from Sirius, though he wasn't proud of that. Still, guerilla warfare required more dispersed leadership, and he had been fortunate to have those two around providing that in places where he couldn't be. He had heard that the family had survived the conflict, and he was glad of that. The last group to report back had been Graelthrim and Tamara's, but they had never reported back at all, just followed their foes all the way back to Bleeding Souls, following a faint to draw Skoll away from the conflict which failed. They'd died in the effort, a battle he had not seen, but had followed by scent some time later. They had killed most of the cultist unit, before one massive were--the last survivor--slaughtered most of their own, leaving only the field-medic, Grael, alive.
To hear Phoenix tell it, Grael--a wolf who saw spirits, the same as Skoll, but with much more sensitiviy--had gone insane after encountering the clearing where VoidFane had battled BloodBane and Fly, the echoes of that battle enough to drive him over the edge. Skoll could not fathom whatever sense Graelthrim possessed that could detect that evil so acutely. The wolf had run gibbering into the Haunted Forest, to be waylaid by practically every dispossessed spirit in the wood, before returning to Storm to kill the 'demon', who he mistook one of Phoenix's children for. The massive were--then Gamma of Storm--had been forced to take his life. This life had far too many cruelties. Phoenix and Skoll had buried him in Storm, the last life to be consumed by the War of Shadows. He couldn't even say that with confidence...Grael had done his duty by that time...he wasn't fighting any more when he was swallowed by a history too dark for him to fathom.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
|
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
Matrix couldn't imagine being content with the mediocre, bare-minimum skill set necessary for survival. There wasn't enough mental stimulation in that--hunting, raising kids... all of that was instinct. She understood a thing or two about their species' history, including how the ability to shift had changed them all. It had opened up new doors. They could become bigger, stronger... they could walk on two legs instead of four, freeing up their hands to use the more complicated weapons developed by man. Hunting and basic survival, in a sense, became much easier. That left more time for other things.
At the mention of her parents, she gave a girlish shrug and a quick "I dunno." She thought back to the last time that she had seen them--they had parted on good terms. "They've had another litter, although I don't know any of the puppies," she said, figuring Skoll hadn't heard that one. After the war was over, they had decided that a bigger family couldn't hurt. "Last that I knew, Niyol was still with them," she said. Her and her brother had always had a decent (yet distant) relationship. It hadn't taken long for it to become clear that they would seek out different paths in life. Maybe one day Niyol would disperse, although she doubted it wouldn't be for at least another year or two. He was more unsure of himself.
"Hn. By now, I suspect the puppies are old enough for them all to be on the move again," she pondered aloud. Presumably Skoll would know what she was talking about. Matrix and Apache were restless spirits--Apache because he wanted to see and experience everything, Matrix because she was wary of growing comfortable with routine. Although her parents were not exactly alike, they seemed to fit together nicely, as pieces of a puzzle. She couldn't tell where she was on that spectrum. For now she was content in the lands of Bleeding Souls, but who knew if time would change things?
For now, one particular thing would serve as an anchor of sorts--her project. Assuming that things continued to work out, she would be interested in continuing and spending some time enjoying the eventual outcome of her handiwork. "Have you heard from anyone else I'd know?" she asked as she finished tying up her knots. Her tone was almost hesitant--did she want to know? |
|
[/html]
[html]
Pulling has begun!
"Ah." He saw why she had left. She had adventure in her blood, if her parents were any indication, and puppy-sitting was something he could not see her taking interest in. Niyol, on the other hand, had always seemed a little more hesitant than his sister, it might be that the insulation of a family would do him some good. Having younger siblings looking up to him would help him grow, Skoll imagined, he would have to be the big brother, rather than the little one that he had been around Matrix, despite their being the same age. Twilight had raised her daughter to be able to take care of herself, which was good, because he couldn't see the mother pulling her hair out in worry. Just didn't fit Twilight's personality.
"That's good, about being on the move. I know your parents don't like to be anchored in any one place. I might have traveled with them in a different chapter in my life, but my days as a vagabond ended some time ago." He was happy that the two of them were happy together, exploring the world as one, and passing themselves into the next generation, in heart and mind and blood. He would hate to see a world without them in it, and through their children like Matrix and Niyol, they would survive well after their mortal days had ended.
HawkWind had carried on the same way, bearing new and varying monsters into the world over the generations from the one child he had sired...almost all of his kin still had the rage lurking in their minds, HawkWind's 'gift', and the potential for the re-emergence of the great monster who had slaughtered hundreds of wolves--maybe more--through solitary murder and illiciting war. None since had been near so terrible, all of his descendants had kept their inner-demon in check since his fall into madness, most of the time. Skoll himself had struggled with it, even recently. Still, despite the continuance of Twilight and Apache's rogue spirits, of the hint of madness that was HawkWind's legacy, of the various lines that endured through the history of Bleeding Souls in the forms of Sadiras and de le Poers, Skoll himself would not live past his own days. Nearing seven, having never taken a mate, his visage ruined and his name soiled by the slander of his foes, there was no reason to deny that his blood, his spirit, would end with him. His siblings Skirnir and SnowOwl would doubtless continue the line of HawkWind, but the line of Skoll would die with him. It was...a melancholic thought.
"Yes," he said, his voice trailing as he began to pull the dolley. She had been young, most of the wolves in their force were better known to her mother, but Matrix had known a few. "Graelthrim took Tymara and the twins and went after a fleeing detachment of cultists. They were headed here, trying to draw some forces away from the cultist lands and toward Bleeding Souls, where our resistance had gotten its start. The ploy didn't work, most of us stayed where we were to finish the job, but they got as far as the Concrete Jungle before Grael and others caught up to them. Our friends did well," he offered her a weak smile. "The scent of the battle was old, but undisturbed. I think Tymara put her axe-training to good use, put away one or two of them, Grael handled himself just fine. The twins met with a male whose smell...well, I remember seeing him before they fled, he was bigger than the alpha of Storm, if you've ever met him. The two of them died there. He killed Tymara too." Skoll's words slowed down there. The memories of smelling all this were painful. "I...have no idea how he did it, but Grael killed the bastard. He really did love Tymara...I don't know if you knew that, you were pretty young to have understood such things. There was old blood on the concrete, and I could follow hairs and scents to where he had piled all the bodies of the cultists, into an old human house. They're just bones by now. Our friends were buried under a cairn deep in the Concrete Jungle, in an alley where they'd be hard to find by anyone who didn't know where to look." Even though he wasn't the best hunter in the world, Skoll had been gifted with fantastic tracking abilities. Fighting had been learned, but he had a natural gift to thank for being able to piece together all that had happened that day.
"Grael died on the Storm border, driven mad by something he'd seen with that crazy sixth sense of his. I arrived just a few hours too late. I buried him under the supervision of the Storm Gamma, who had been forced to kill him in his delirium." Of all the tales that he collected about the various people he'd fought alongside, against, or even just heard about, this one--short as it was--was probably his least favorite. He had passed the information along to Aivyr long ago, and most of the old war party knew, though he had never had the chance to tell Twilight or her family.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
|
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
For the longest time, Twilight had never really considered children as an option. She hadn't really considered a long term partner or mate an option, either. She was an independent fighter, trained from birth to be wary of all and to never fully trust anybody. Apache, though, had proven to be exactly what she needed--somebody balanced, somebody calm, somebody understanding. What had started as a mere fling had developed into something much more--and the children that resulted had certainly turned out alright. At the end of it all, some good friends (like Skoll) and a good partner were all that she had ever really wanted. Matrix was happy for her parents, and she assumed that their latest spawn would be well-behaved and disciplined enough to be tolerable (as it was, most children could become a little "too much" for her).
"I'm not entirely sure what will happen for me. I don't really mind it here," she mused. "Plus, I certainly won't be able to take my greenhouse with me... that ought to be reason enough to stick around," she added with a grin. She didn't have many friends yet, but she supposed that she'd develop more complex relationships over time. She had a hunch that those kinds of things worked better when they weren't rushed, anyway. "What makes you want to stay here?" she asked, suddenly unaware of what his reasons could be. It didn't seem like he had had the best of luck when it came to finding good company.. he had already warned her about his issues with Inferni.
The news was a mixed bag for her--she had never been horribly close to any of the wolves mentioned, but she was happy for their victories and saddened by their great loss. Even if she didn't know them personally, she assumed they had their heads in the right places. They certainly did more than those fucked up cultists. The whole experience was enough to turn her away from religion permanently--it didn't make sense, and what they did was hypocritical and demented. She wanted no part of it. If she ever learned of Thavardo's cult in Bleeding Souls, she'd only have her beliefs confirmed.
"I'm sorry to hear all of that," she finally muttered, really unsure of how to react or what to say. "At least those whack jobs are gone, right? It's just a shame they had to take so many down with their idiocy." If nothing else, they had that. They had won--although the cost had been great. Hearing these tales made her appreciate how lucky her family was to get out of the entire mess alive... although she supposed that her mother would always be able to take care of herself, and she would certainly defend her family ferociously. This again got her thinking about Skoll and his motives--he had no family that she knew of, only a very developed sense of right and wrong, and the skill and bravery to stand up for it. Was that all that he needed to be happy? She supposed it was better than her situation--material things, like greenhouses, could so easily be taken away. Pride, honour, and spirit, however, could not.
|
|
[/html]
[html]
He nodded his head somberly as he pulled the human contraption along, listening to her words. It was good that she hadn't known any of those wolves well, Tymara especially. Grael has always been a somewhat morose individual, the twins always a little too energetic, but Tymara was liked by everyone. He was sure that she had been the greatest loss to most of those that heard of the tragedy at Bleeding Souls. Aivyr had befriended the twins, but he knew that he'd been attached to Tymara, perhaps even more deeply. Grael, who had been afflicted by the greatest suffering, had been the most alone of them all, and Skoll pitied him. As much as it hurt him to tell the tale, he would keep it with him always, and tell it until his dying day.
"What makes me want to stay here?" he repeated, mulling over her question as he looked ahead and saw a road rendered impassable with debris. A human vehicle, which Skoll was unable to recognize as a pickup truck, lay upside-down thirty feet down the road, and had left a fender as well as a side-mirror and three planks of wood it had been carrying in the street. The curbs would make it difficult to get around, but now he knew that Matrix would run ahead to clear a path before he reached it. He wouldn't have minded a rest, they had been going for a long time already, and the warrior could feel the slight burn of his muscles beginning to complain about the continued load. He fully expected that he'd be doing most of the heavy-work, since he could probably keep up the pull longer than the much smaller Matrix, but he could tell by the design of the harness that she intended to shift down to pull at some point.
"That's a difficult question," he said softly. "I suppose one would need to know the tale of HawkWind to fully understand. That's rather long, though, and I'm not sure you'd fancy it." He pondered a bit, before going on. The short of it is that eighteen years ago, a wolf was born, who resided within a pack in the far north. An accident in his life turned him to madness. He killed someone he loved, and fled his pack with what was left of his dwindling sanity. He was just a tale to me as a child...you may have snuck a peak at the battlefield once or twice, might have seen me in battle, but there is one thing that I've never done in front of anyone from the resistance. In my family, we possess a thing called "HawkWind's Gift"; the ability to descend into a rage of blood lust and fever, of hot and feral viciousness. When I was banished from my birthpack shortly after I turned a year old, I was afraid of the brutal northern winter, I didn't know how I would survive it alone. I recalled the story, and thought that HawkWind must have fled south to survive alone. I did the same, thinking that he was supposedly three generations before me, he might yet be alive, though it was unlikely." He paused for a few moments after that.
"Once I escaped the northern reaches of this land, I decided I would try to track down my lost ancestor, my great great grandfather. His trail wasn't a hard one to follow. Everywhere he had been, terrifying tales of murder and a monster in the dark followed him. Each tale was years and years old, though...I rarely found anyone who had seen him themselves. He had fled our packlands and become a scourge to wolves everywhere, a wraith in the shadows. Following the stories, I eventually tracked him down to this place, where I finally met him in person. Ancient, ghastly in appearance, I could see that many of the stories had been accurate. He was dying, and when I told him who I was, he told me the truths that would connect every disjointed story I'd heard, the explanation for every terrifying action he had taken before and since he had left. Explanation, but not justification." He looked at her, his expression pensive.
"I think I stayed here because I had attached my story onto his, and when his ended here, I didn't know where else to go, or even if I wanted to go anywhere else. I had followed him because my life needed direction, and I had followed his tale unto its ending, and that tale had landed me in Bleeding Souls. Maybe it was a belief in fate, I'm not sure. He asked me to stay in Storm and protect them in repayment for the solace they had provided, and I agreed. The debt is long repaid, and most of my friends are gone from that place or dead. I suppose I'm free, but I can't think of anywhere else I'd go. I can't see myself wandering without a goal or destination in mind."
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
|
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
In some ways, Matrix had been required to keep an emotional distance from the others involved in the war. Puppies especially seemed to disappear left and right... Niyol had nearly been a casualty, and probably would be dust and bones if she hadn't been there to intervene. It was unfortunate, but the entire situation demanded that she sort her priorities out and put her all into defending them and making sure to take care of herself. Inevitably, her family had become her focus--which made sense. The others came and went, and sometimes went for good. She never really told anybody about it, but she had stumbled upon many more bodies than her parents knew about. Why stress them out, eh?
She listened carefully to his tale, frowning slightly as he told it. It didn't seem like a beautiful gift, and she wondered how far of a cry it might be from a curse. Surely, the ability to have intense focus and energy in battle was beneficial... but what was the cost? Accidentally taking the lives of loved ones? No thanks. Inwardly she was relieved that Skoll managed to keep the drama to himself. She didn't want to see it. Part of her was curious, and none of her was particularly worried (for her safety or his, since he obviously could control it), but still... no thanks.
"Perhaps it's a good thing that his tale was laid to rest," she offered. Normally, news of a relative dying was bad--in this case, she wasn't so sure. The lines were blurry and the boundaries were uncertain. "At least you found a direction, though," she said. "I'm sorry that there isn't a happier reason for it, but at least you're here." Sighing a little, she spotted the truck up ahead and decided to clear the road. She gave a brief nod to the golden wolf and trotted ahead, and tossed the loose debris aside. Damn. If it was right side up, she could put it in neutral and just push it... as it was, she'd have to just rotate it on the top of its cab. The squeeze would be tight, but it wouldn't be impossible. Once it was out of the way, she made her way back over to him. Already she was transforming into her half-ling form... by the time she reached his side, she could no longer walk on two legs. "Hitch me up, I'll take over for awhile," she offered. "Gotta get my exercise in and watch my figure, eh?" she jested, with a wink and a laugh. She wanted to take both of their minds off of the unfortunate.
|
|
[/html]
[html]
Maybe we can wrap it up here, and start our next one soon?
Skoll nodded and released his hold on the dolley. Moving forward, he went about fiddling with the harness until he got it fastened. It was awkward work for a few moments, and he fumbled a few times, but ultimately succeeded, before straightening up. Walking a little ahead, they got going again through the cleared path. Their traveling was quiet for a while.
It's strange, he thought idly, clearing various debris from her path that might give the contraption's wheels trouble. Matrix left her family just like I did. Was Twilight the same way? Did she become a warrior the same way I did? A dispossessed wolf from a pack that didn't want or couldn't keep her. I will need to ask her at some point. Or maybe Matrix... It would be harder for the young girl to pull the massive thing than it had been for him, but her form was better suited to it, he suspected. If she tired faster than he did, then they could switch out early. Still, he didn't want to distract her through her work.
Looking up into the sky, he noted that the sun was beginning to fall. He would wait to ask her, perhaps when they rested, or perhaps even for another day if the question didn't stick in mind enough for him to remember. After so much aimless wandering, he was glad to have something to do, to be useful. There wasn't much in the way of war in Bleeding Souls, thank Fenrir, so it was good that a strong back was enough to give him purpose in the here and now.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
|
[/html]
|
