Wolf RPG

Full Version: we were hoping for some romance, all we found was more despair
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all welcome, maybe a newbie? :p

the forest is filling up with smells and voices once more - four have come to their borders in the past month, and he's grateful for it, even if their numbers are still slim. he still worries - burke is spry of mind but old enough to be an uncertainty and malice seems tied to him (and he wouldn't blame her for wanting to go off if - when - burke passes, perish the thought.) but jomyo, matteo, anatha and sunflower combined cannot take away the sting of brienne's continued absence. trajan and uka - their abandonment hurt, but not the way bri's does. even if delight doesn't want to say that she's abandoned them yet. 

their last conversation had been tense. maybe it's his fault? maybe she could tell he has feelings for mato (all right, he'll admit it now) and she left in some misplaced noble gesture. it sounds like something she'd do but he feels a little bit arrogant thinking that he'd have that much of an impact on the gentle girl. 

he hopes it isn't getting to mato too badly, but the morwinyon has seemed okay every time delight's spotted him at the borders. a smoother wolf would take this as an opening to steal a place in the silvery prince's heart, but delight's not cunning nor really...interested in pursuing mato. he just has all these feelings and he is gonna stew in them forever and that's that. snow filters through the trees overhead, landing on his nose, and he shakes his head, resigning himself to a life of twitterpated observation.
hello! hope you don't mind me slipping in here even if Anatha isn't quite official.
The girl's hard edges have been softened by a few good meals and a place to bed without worry, and she finds she isn't tired all the time, anymore. It leaves more time for trivial things; such as exploring the territory she roams now, and finding the mint plant. It is old, withered and frost-burned, but it is mint all the same. 

She rips away a strand, working on covering the little treasure with boughs to keep it sheltered from the cold, something she hopes will keep it alive a little longer. It's been lucky thus far, hasn't it? Snatching up her strand, she searches for a place to gnaw on the leaves she loves so, but instead runs into the boy she met at the borders; Delight. She stops still, clutching her strand and blinking at the male who is quite suddenly before her.
not at all ❤❤❤


his daily bemoaning his existence is interrupted by the sudden appearance of their newest núro. he blinks, noting her expression mirroring his and then the tiny .. something she clutches in her mouth. some kind of plant? it's not his forté. 

"uh," the nénar says, then collects himself and clears his throat. "hey anatha." he's glad to see she's looking better - wouldn't do to have a sickly bunch with winter, not when they'll need to pool their resources more effectively. delight does not quite smile at her but his expression softens around the edges, looking back at what she's carrying. "settling in..?" he asks, "what is that?"
She blinks at the male, echoing, "hey Delight,"  The words sound clunky and foreign on her tongue, however, and she nibbles her lip furtively. His expression seems to soften - or does it? She isn't sure if Delight likes her very much, and she'd like to say she doesn't care but she does. "yes"

 "It's mint" she adds after a moment,  "helps rashes, and sore throats." She knows it has a use other than being tasty, and feels that this information is better supplied than the fact that she enjoys chewing the leaves for no particular purpose


he's pleased to hear her affirm that she's settling in - good, not only because he does genuinely want everyone to be comfortable, but because, well, it means she's less likely to vanish on them. or at least that's what he tells himself (funny to have a pack run by a couple of boys with abandonment issues, but that's what happens when you keep bleeding members despite your best efforts, he guesses). 

anatha explains what she's carrying. he knows what mint is but he didn't know its uses. "oh," the nénar says, feeling a bit silly for - judging is too strong a word, but, you know, the usual. "do you have a sore throat?" he asks, recalling his first fear that she'd been physically ill - she still smells fine but now he's curious, dang it.
 "no" she admits, adding after a pause, "someone might, so it could be useful." That, however, didn't quite explain why she carried a single stem of the leafy herb, so she added in a more subdued voice, "it tastes good, too." Anatha was silent again, shifting her weight as she regarded the male, finally sitting and pausing her nervous swaying. "do you want some?"  she finally offers, gaze a little hopeful. Perhaps her nervousness is due merely to the fact that interaction with others is something, up to this point, that she rarely encountered.


she says no and delight is admittedly a little relieved, though now all the more curious. but then she clarifies it's about the taste and his ears perk up, intrigued. "yeah, i'll try a bit," the nénar says, inching forward slightly to take whatever she offers him.

he's beginning to connect her reticence to shyness. he doesn't actually know very much about her - about any of the núros, honestly, except from what he gleaned in moments (and for jomyo, but she's a different case). "where are you from, anatha?" the androgyne asks, his habit of collecting stories unfailing. he doesn't know exactly where matteo or sunflower are from either, but the former's scars tell a story and the latter .. is sort of a goof. anatha is just small and talks like she hasn't in a while, and, well, he's not a historian for nothing.
To her surprise, he says yes; she thought that he would refuse, surely, the herbs offered to him by a stranger. A ghost of a smile tugs at her lips, and carefully she plucks a few leaves from the stem and offers them to him, a little eager to see if he likes them as she does. 

His next question catches her off guard, but does not completely shock her. "I don't know,"  She admits, flicking her tongue around her fangs and catching a fragment of mint. Surely this must sound a little odd, and she has never truly dwelt long on her fractured memories, uncertain and murky as they are she wants little to do with them. "lots of places."  she amends, for while she can't quite remember her first place, her family's pack, she remembers many places besides. She cants her muzzle, thinking, a moment.  "the first place was called Drageda, I think."  Sometimes there are memories of a journey, of somebody called Molech, but she discounts these on account of being vague and even more confusing. Truly, everything before Undersea is confusing. 

he blinks, and frowns slightly as he chews - not at the taste of the little leaves, which is oddly pleasant (and makes his mouth feel cold, somehow), but at the idea that anatha doesn't know. how could she not know? 

her clarifications don't actually clear up much but delight grasps the idea that she doesn't remember. he's never met someone who can't remember where they're from.  it unsettles him - he's dedicated his being to preserving history and here is someone who, more or less, doesn't have one. he's never heard of drageda (unsurprisingly) so there's nothing he can do to help out, either. "i see," he says, still frowning, then pauses. "you were right, these do taste good."

he wonders how far back she's lost. "where did you come to us from?" he tries - wondering if something happened to leave her in this state or if it's just... well, he's not a medic, he doesn't know.
A smile does grow on her muzzle when he affirms that the plan is good, his liking of the plant somehow making her feel a bit more open towards the male. She sits then, angular haunches sticking out a little awkwardly as she considers his next question. "Undersea. a few months ago I left, then I was alone, now I'm here." She stated simply, picking a clump of dirt from her shoulder briefly.  "before then, there was Drageda, I think. and molech." The last name felt important, and had surfaced in her mind a few days before. She liked the way it rolled on her tongue, and while she had an inkling that the name might refer to her father, she too felt like it was more than that, sometimes.


he mirrors her, sitting, chewing the leaves slowly though they've lost their flavor. he doesn't know if he's supposed to swallow them or spit them out but he doesn't want to risk offending her so with a bit of effort the androgyne swallows the bitter leaf remnants, making a tiny bit of a face. he gathers from her timeline that she remembers recent history but not much more than that. how strange. he doesn't know undersea either but it goes into his mental rolodex alongside arthendal and northstar vale. and molech, which doesn't sound like a pack name. "molech?" delight echoes, curious, his tail curled around his white-tipped toes. "sorry," he adds, sheepish, "i... like collecting stories, i guess. wolves' histories. but you don't gotta - if you can't remember.." the nénar trails off awkwardly, hoping she understands. he isn't trying to press her or anything, he's just - very, very curious.
He was interested in molech, the name she'd held closely guarded over the past few months. Of her life before Undersea, it seemed the most important, and brought back warm memories of a mother's face and a tiny bundle that may have been a plaything of a sibling. She smiles softly at his curiosity, shifting as she pauses, never having explained the vagueness of her childhood.  "molech was my father, I think. but he was also...bigger." It didn't quite make sense, and she herself didn't understand the vague idea of molech she held in her mind. "I forgot. there was Undersea and before there was nothing, until - I started to remember."  She bit her tongue as she finsihed speaking, the latter not quite something that she shared, but perhaps one ought to with a leader such as Delight? Besides, he had liked her mint, and thus couldn't be that bad.


what she tells him doesn't quite make sense -- but memory is a fraught, shifting thing, incomplete and imperfect. that's why we have historians. that's why we catalogue at all. he files molech and undersea away, fragments of something that might come up again - and blinks slow at her admission. anatha is vague enough but delight thinks she means amnesia of some sort. his mouth still tastes minty. "so you really don't remember a lot, huh?" the androgyne asks, blunt but not unkindly. "is undersea a .. pack?"
her brow furrows as for a moment, she struggles to remember. "it was an island, but too a pack." she dips her head slightly at his question, admitting after a beat, "my memories are - blurry, sometimes."  she doesn't much like admitting this to the male, as it seemed some weakness, something wrong with her that she has not quite figured out how to deal with, either. 

for a while longer they talk, and she offers what details she can of her life before the pack. but soon enough she tires of screening through the memories, some of which are dustier than others, and excuses herself carefully. a small smile curves her muzzle before she makes her exit, for there is some gladness in sharing what she knows, and patching together the memories it seems only she knows, now.