Hearthwood River rate yourself and rake yourself

RE: The sky is dark with storm clouds.
For @Kisla - role thread, as well as Kjors trying to reintegrate himself after his panic attack~

Thunder rumbled in the distance, buzzing through Kjors skull like the physical electric charge.  Ears folded back and the man pressed onwards, lazy trot becoming a hurried lope as though the very storm itself nipped at his tendons.  Each growl from the clouds was its own warning, urging the wolf onwards like a jockey might use a whip to urge his mount towards the finish line.  Anyone who knew the man was privy to the not-so-secret fact that he absolutely detested thunderstorms – though he’d yet to divulge the reasons said forced of nature made him so very uncomfortable – and to see him racing pack towards pack lands shouldn’t have been a surprise at all.

What was shocking, however, as that he was not headed towards his shared den near Zephyr Rill.  Instead, he veered towards the heart of Kingsfall, not to the pack cache, but towards a spot he knew Kisla favored.  The slender male had been uncertain if he’d catch the alpha before, but perhaps the odds had increased in his favor now that the sky was threatening to open above them.  Given, this was hardly Kjors’ course of thought – instead he was internally berating himself for his pentinent behavior.  Had he not wished to apologize to the woman and bring her a meal, he’d not been caught in this oncoming storm!

Finding the spot empty, the swarthy timber wolf wheeled around, the young turkey swinging from his jaw like a criminal from the hangman’s noose.  It was one of the years chicks, and now several months old, should be a prime meal for any wolf – he’d half a mind to eat it himself, if he couldn’t find the woman soon.  Grumbling around feathers, Kjors huffed loudly and whirled again blindly, ready to charge off towards his own densite if the alpha didn’t appear soon.

It was apparent the honeyed woman had once more shifted her attitude. After being pushed from their home in Cut Rock River, her empathy to others only extended to her close family and those of her pack – and as thus, Kisla Baranski had closed herself to the world. Her mind was constant these days, determining if they were strong enough to take action against those that had shunned them.

She wanted to bring Whisper Caverns and Grizzly Hollow to their knees.. but she could not fathom placing her children at risk. She withdrew from everyone – her company usually extending primarily to her youngest children, as her eldest seemed busy with other ordeals. She shared a den with @Maksim, but she could not remember the last time they truly talked.

Hearthwood River felt disconnected.

And part of that reason seemed to seek her out right now. The thunder rumbled overhead, sparking her mood even further – something to rival the lightning that would shoot across the sky. She had defended Kjors before in front of others – and yet the moment she made the request that he try to work upon his relationship with Naia, she had been met with the stubbornness of a sullen pup, and she had not seen the wolf’s hide since. Until now.

Her bright eyes fell upon the wolf as he seemed to be on a mission. A fowl fell from his jaws, and her ears splayed back to her skull, though she made no movement to greet him or intercept him otherwise.

sparking up my heart

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

Thunder cracked again, signaling the storm’s rapid approach. Unable to suppress his whole body shudder, the subordinate had quickly come to the conclusion that he was safer if he quickly sought out his den and rode out the foul weather there. He could deliver his apology when the weather was fairer. Snatching the turkey from where it slept, he clutched his prize between his teeth as he whirled again, about to bolt for Zephyr Rill and the safety waiting for him there when he all but collided the Queen of the River Wolves in his blind hurry. Where it not for the bird in his mouth, he might have even uttered a surprised yelp. As it were, his golden eye was ringed with white as he just managed to avoid crashing into the alpha, head rearing up as his haunches slid underneath, leaving the dragon in a ridiculous position with just a hair’s breath between the pair of wolves.

Quickly, he stepped backwards, respecting the woman’s space and the barrier she’d erected between herself and the world. The poult was dropped and nudged forward to @Kisla’s toes before the older wolf retreated once more, head swinging in a fashion as he cleared his throat. What was it he’d meant to say? The heavens threatening to upon above his head did a great deal to scramble his usual composure – but perhaps he was simply losing his edge these days. Had he not gone to Karina in a great panic, assuming the worst of everyone around him? And here he was, trying to make amends for the damaged bond between himself and the priestess’ mother, that he might remain with Hearthwood River and return to the post as a wolf in good standing.

“Kisla,” he exhaled softly, bobbing his head once more. “Ah brought y’ the turkey.” A habit, Kjors realized, that he would use a gift as an excuse, as his opening. Was it that he felt he could not approach the untouchable in any other way? They were not friends. Here, he had no friends, not outside the eldest princess, and this was a troubling thought. When had he changed so greatly that he could no longer recognize the wolf staring back at him?

“At th’ end a’ th’ day, yer jes’ another day older, an’ tha’s all y’can say fer th’ life a’ th’ poor. It’s a struggle, it’s a war, an’ there’s nothin’ tha’ ‘nyone’s givin’.” Even the Mother would not abide by standing around and failing to make an impact on the world surrounding him – perhaps this was his failure, the swarthy man thought, mind racing in several directions as he tried to collect what he’d come here to say. “One more day standin’ ‘bout, wha’s it for? One day less t’ be livin’.”

As if he’d come to his own epiphany, he inclined his head, tail held at a respectful level as he cleared his throat and honest words broke forth. “Thought t’ leave, y’know, after our las’ talk. Got a bit locked in me head.” As if Kjors was ever set free from his mind and the dragon curled tightly in his chest. He was half-mad, as his mother was the same, though these days brought more clarity than they did mania. “Karina…stress th’ importance a’ family. Which Ah do not have me own, bu’ – Ah’d be loath t’ break m’ promise t’ her. An’ with some thought ‘ve realized tha’ was unworthy a’ me, last we met. So Ah’ve brought y’ th’ bird. Fer las’ time.”

While she might have been avoiding drawing his attention to her, the one-eyed wolf was in such a rush to seemingly make his way out of the oncoming path of the storm that Kjors would nearly careen in to her before she could open her muzzle to speak. Pulling back, her own eyes had widened in surprise at how in depth his thoughts must have been to pull him from his presence, and where noses had practically grazed, her ears would flatten upon her skull, remembering how the wolf was not fond of physical contact.

He backpedaled swiftly, and Kisla rose up shakily then, giving her pelt a quick shake, though her eyes were not diverted from him for long. Thunder rumbled ahead and she waited for him to speak – he had determined at their last meeting that the words she had selected to keep him from harm were meant to scorn him, and she was reluctant to speak further, should they be twisted once more.

The feathered fowl that had been within his jaws only moments before was apparently for her – yet another offering of food from the man, and the honeyed Baranski wondered if the others in their pack were so fortunate to receive a free meal from the dragon each time he sought them out.

His words were exactly what she needed not to hear in the mood she was in – the swirling uncertainty of her relationship with Maksim, and whether or not the man would lose interest from her soon. The rising tensions the River pack held with others.. and now the rising tensions within her very own realm.

She withheld a snort at his comment about how he had thought of leaving – the very real threat that her daughter might follow him was something that suddenly sprung to her mind. Yet he apologized – and it was something Kisla realized he likely hadn’t done often in his life. “Thank you,” she returned, though she made no movement toward hi – Kjors seemingly liked his space, and she would respect that. There was a small pause then – and given her spiraling thoughts of darkness, something else that nagged at her. “Kjors.. what’s your story?”

sparking up my heart

She wasn’t eating the turkey, the male noticed unhappily. The very tip of his tail twitched as he glanced down at the fresh kill, sleeping peacefully at the Queen’s feet as if she’d stumbled upon it sleeping in its nest. (And, you know, it was able to twist its own neck beneath its breast, but wolves were very capable of curling up into tiny balls to keep themselves warm, it didn’t seem that odd, he thought.) This too, was becoming part of the habit – or perhaps this was a ritual, instead. An offering would be laid at the woman’s feet like a living goddess, and she would ignore it – @Kisla had an interesting way of making a wolf feel his own mortality, he noted grimly.

His piece said, the dragon was comfortable to remain in his silence until thunder cracked the sky open once again. The swarthy male startled with a visible flinch, tail ducking lower as his ears swept back. It was not the typical displayed on his face, but a moment of panic struck by the bolt of lightning that arced across the sky. It took a moment (or perhaps three or four, but Kjors wasn’t counting) to regain his scrambled thoughts, and only then he eyed the queen, golden coin narrowing in its socket at her request. “M’ story?” he parroted, trying to swallow down the suspicion rising up in his throat. “Y’wan’ th’ story of Kjors Sørenson?”

It was something that stunned him – had @Karina actually requested his entire history? The male was aware he’d shared some of his memories with her, particularly those regarding their shared deity, but such ugly events were not fit for a princess, and they certainly weren’t fit for a queen. Ah, but the harder he thought, he did realize he’d revealed his mother’s sins to Karina, and he’d even shared a taste of his past with Lekalta. The story he’d told about the loss of his eye and the witch that had stolen it had been true, after all.

After a moment, the wolf shifted his weight, and fixed Kisla with a much more intrigued stare than he had before. “Ah was born t’ th’ alphas a’ Ered Luin. Only pup. Had a brother a year later. Was meant t’ be m’da’s successor – but Ah was sick, an’ now Ah’m small. All th’ same, he trained me, ‘til he was killed by our rivals before Ah reached majority. Yearlin’s naw fit t’ lead a pack, bu’ Ah tried – ‘til m’brother an’ m’mother poisoned me.” The memory of @Avari was met with a sullen snort. “Almost succeeded. Pack dispersed, too – was too sick t’do ‘nythin’ ‘bout it. Make ‘em pay through th’ nose, Ah said, but Ah never did catch m’mum after tha’. So Ah lived as a loner, tried t’ barricade meself from th’ world, tried t’ be a pack wolf, tried t’ settle down with a mate – an’ here Ah am, leagues and years away from where Ah started. None a’ it worked, clearly.” Kjors rolled his shoulders in a shrug, wondering exactly how his honesty would be taken. It wasn’t a common life course, to be poisoned by the woman who gave birth to you – but he wouldn’t be Kjors Sørenson if those events had never taken place. “An’ here Ah am, Ah suppose, tryin’ again t’ be a pack wolf. Ah dun like it, Kisla, Ah think tha’s eviden’,” he sighed, raising an eyebrow. “Bu’ Ah’m good a’ things others ain’t, an’ Ah – trust you, Ah think. Yer good t’ yer kin.”

“Bu’ why’s it matter, where Ah’m from? Ain’t gonna change nothin’ now. Got nothin’ but ghosts behind me.”

Her gaze would regard him quietly – noticing how his eyes would drift to the turkey at her feet and being reminded to other times he had sought her out with the offer of a fresh kill.. and how antsy he had been when she did not indulge herself in front of him. She made no movement toward it – her interest lay with her question as she awaited an answer. There was a dragon in her ranks, and one she had insisted did not exist – and only a bit ago had she seen the side of him others had remarked upon.

Her eyebrows arched upward in silent confirmation that she did indeed want his story – so many members in her pack and she knew so very little of their history. It seemed foolish, really, to live with others and call them family.. but not know this certain depth to them. She had her own tale that she rarely wove for others – and no one ever asked.

He offered her some insight – there were details that were withheld, she held no doubt, such as the loss of his eye. But he was a survivor, and she was not looking for him to divulge the most guarded details of his life. All she wanted was a window.

One ear flickered in consideration to his last statement. Her brows would knit in light confusion at his honesty to not liking pack life – and even more so that he trust her. What had she ever done to earn such a thing from such a closed off wolf? “Why?” It was a soft question – her eyes flickering over him with uncertainty as she tried to determine what his answer would be before he offered it. Kisla could never claim there was a certain pull she felt to the swarthy male – despite her reservations and everyone around her, she trusted him as well.

“It doesn’t – not really. You’re here.. with us. Your family.” She paused then, her eyes drifting down to look at the turkey, feeling her mood darken to morose. “That’s what matters. But sometimes.. I feel as if we’re all nothing but strangers to one another – pushed together in hope to simply survive.”

sparking up my heart

How many times would he have to bare himself, only to be denied? He served, he served the queen, and the gifts were continually ignored. The dragon forced himself to swallow down the bitter disappointment as the offered fowl remained untouched, casting off such ugly emotion as another weakness to be shed. He was going soft, he sorely, though constructed a barrier between his face and such ugly thoughts.

“Why?” Kjors snorted, ears flexing back. Wasn’t it simply enough that he did? It was hard to explain, and he’d rather that what he said was justification enough for the faith he places in the River Queen. But he sighed, and found himself unable to deny the question, soft as falling snow, and tried to find other words. “‘cos. Y’ain’t like ‘em, Kisla. Others. Yer smart, y’wanna survive.” A long pause, and his tail thrashed behind him, displaying his unease. “Yer good t’ Karina. Y’love Karina, even though she ain’t perfect. Even though she’s different.”

And that was more than his mother ever did for him, he thought with a spark in his eye. Kisla was what an alpha ought to be – what he thought Urotho could have been, had she stuck by his side. For the briefest of moments, his heart gave a hollow pang in his chest, reminded of the wolf he ever loved, and the realization hit him much harder than he ever thought. A thick knot formed in his throat as he simply stared at the woman, and it occurred to him that she was the image of everything he had saw for his future.

Perhaps in a different life, the dragon thought bitterly, for he made no business out of taking hostages of those unwilling. Kjors was the dragon and Karina was his precious doe, but Kisla was the sky. Something so empyreal could never be claimed, and so he would not try.

Instead, he was brought back to reality by her insinuation that he was somehow part of this amalgamation of wolves pushed together by circumstance. “Y’ain’t wrong,” he grumbled, “‘bout that last part, at least. Dunno wha’ was like before, but movin’s hard. Change is hard, fer ‘ny pack. Ered Luin couldn’ survive it.” A shrug. The dragon had the strength to shoulder his own failures, rage worn away by the other variety of emotions playing havoc with his mind. “Bring ‘em t’gether again. Left t’ our own devices, things’ll stay. But yer th’ Queen, Kisla. Yer th’…th’…th’ sky. Th’ sun. Th’ thing yer wolves look for every day. It ain’t….it ain’t Maksim, Ah don’t think, it’s you. So call us t’gether. Shape us t’ be th’ pack y’want.”

@Kisla -- Goodbye, world. There go all my feels, omg.I finally understand why he sees.

It seemed such an odd statement – Kjors clarity that she loved her daughter. Of course she loved her daughter – she loved her entire family, and yet the words only made sense now that he had just shared with her that his own mother had tried to poison him.

Hearthwood River might have a dragon in their ranks, but he had been made to be so. To be distrusting. Unaffectionate. His discomfort at her previous touches made sense now, and giving an idle shake of her muzzle, she tipped her eyes downward. “I love all of my children. Family is all I have, Kjors,” she murmured. But the swarthy wolf did not stop there – he seemed to displace himself from being roped in to their family, and the honeyed woman noted this with a silent curiosity. Did he not feel he belonged? Perhaps he simply did not want to, given his past.

But it was then that the dragon had referred to her as the sky. That the River wolves did not look to their King – but to their Queen. She could not agree.. not yet. But Maksim was not as present as he once had been – not to his pack mates. Someone would need to step up, and it would need to be her.

“Hearthwood River will rise once more to the glory that Cut Rock River held,” she determined then, her eyes flashing as she finally glanced down to the meal. Nosing it gingerly, the she-wolf began to gnaw in to it, her tongue flicking the blood from her jaws as she took an ample piece, nosing it to her companion in invitation to share their dinner.

(This post was last modified: Dec 02, 2015, 04:38 PM by Kisla.)

sparking up my heart

“No. It’s not.”

Family was important, yes, clearly more to some than others, but what Kisla had was not tied simply to her bloodlines. The honeyed female was clever and she was also wise – she had a certain steel about her required for effective leadership. It was not her parents that gave her this, nor her children. This was something she’d learned through various adventures and experiences, not something gifted, and not something that would ever be stolen from the Queen. These were the things he and his packmates looked for. In a time when Maksim had grown more reclusive, it was his mate that took the helm and lead the pack forth.

Tipping his head as he listened to her declaration, a slow smile sprawled across his grizzled maw, humming his agreement. Patriotism. That was something he could get behind.

The dragon’s thick, bushy tail thumped against the ground. “Aye. As it outta,” he agreed, golden eye twinkling as something warm swelled up in Kjors’ chest. Without the word to name it, he simply let it rest as it was, content to watch until he was offered a bit of the fresh kill. This time, he did not refuse the invitation, leaning down to take a hearty bite. The blossom of copper across his tongue sang to him as he took another chunk. Then, he spoke. “Hearthwood River ain’t jes’ gonna survive the winter,” he rumbled, watching the Queen’s face so close to his own. “The River wolves ‘re gonna reign.”

Let it be known, Relic Lore, that they would not be pushed around by anyone.