Larksong Grotto defuse your private bomb

[size=small]Snuggled deep between the taiga's icy peaks lies Larksong Grotto.  The icy cold that mars the rest of the land seems unable to reach this little forest, for it thrives with green in the warmer months.  In the very center of the land sits a pool of fresh water, ever filled by the rain and melting snow that drips down from the glaciers above.  The grotto is accessible only by a treacherous staircase of steep ledges and outcroppings, traversed only by the bold or foolhardy.  This being the case, the grotto is inhabited mainly by the only only creatures able to safely visit this gem beneath the crags - the songbirds for which the grotto is named.[/size]

For @Týrr and maybe @Citali if you want to do a combo thread!

The rain had not lessened in the hours it took for him to reach this place. He sought it out blindly - his head still pounding, his pulse racing. Tryphon did not know why he abandoned the peak in a time of such great need; he should have been seeking out allies, finding someone to talk to through this ordeal, but instead he ran. He ran and he hid like a scared little boy - but he was scared. The rain seemed to follow him as he roamed eastward.

The sky was dark with the heavy clouds, and the further he roamed the colder it got. It wasn't until Tryphon had sequestered himself in a foreign forest - a tiny cluster of trees really, not much of a forest at all - when he felt himself gain a little more control. Except, just as he felt like he had returned to some form of normalcy, the boy tripped on a hidden ledge and began to stumble his way down. He didn't know where he was going until the flurry of activity ceased, and he crashed his shoulder against the stone wall of a thriving little grotto.

It was sheer luck that kept him on his feet through it all; one of those fluke accidents that could've spelled disaster. The wind howled across the opening to the stone stairway, while the rain dripped and drummed across the surface of a large, overflowing pool. Aside from the constant din on the rain, it was rather.. Pleasant. The throbbing in Tryphon's head was now accompanied by his bruised shoulder and hip from hitting the wall, but without the wind pushing at him from every side, he felt a new calm.

The boy adventured a few more feet in to the grotto, towards the pool of water which was, surprisingly enough, surrounded by the green of summer's bounty. He dipped his head as if to drink from it, but only stared at the reflection - perplexed, and still mightily disoriented.

@Citali I'm cool with a group thread, if you are! c:

How Týrr had managed to find Larksong Grotto was in all honesty beyond the Amazon Rekkr. He had heard of it in passing, though none of the wolves whom carried it's name upon their lips seemed to have ever been to it. They had heard about it just as he had: through word of mouth, which had begged the question of it's existence to Týrr. Yet, despite his skepticism he couldn't help but think that it was a very real place within the Teekon Wilds, as real as Frostfire Ridge was. After all, he hardly saw the point in making up a myth of a territory. He had never been a big believer in myths. He enjoyed them, of course, but as bed time stories for children, so the idea of someone making up a territory was nothing less than ludicrous to him. So he searched for it. It was true that he could have been doing some more productive, like hunting for the Ridge's caches, or looking for potential recruits. Either would have been measurably more productive than searching for an enigmatic territory, but he had chosen, in the end, to do neither. 

It had been raining the entire trip, the rich chocolate brown fur of his coat damp and curling against his nape where it lay slightly thicker. Crystalline blue eyes squinted against the droplets of water upon his lashes, blinking them away as he reached the descent. It was steep, and studiously he assessed the danger that the rocks would present on a dry day let alone a day where they would be slippery with precipitation. Yet, he did not fear the treacherous terrain, nor the drop to the forest he could see below, a stretch of green against the earthen stone. He had climbed and descended rocky crags before, mountains even. He was not yet sure how his body knew how to shift and move, to navigate the paths naturally but it was not something that he readily questioned.

Týrr's progress was slow, utilizing caution as he braved the climb down. When his front paws finally reached the soft earth made pliable by the rainfall he moved once more at a natural pace for him, no longer concerned with his safety. At least, where it came to footing. The scent of another caught his attention, fresh as it was. It was a scent he vaguely recognized though he could not place any sort of name to it. Brazenly, the soon-to-be King followed it, eventually coming upon the youth when as he approached the water source that the gray-scale yearling seemed to be intently staring into. 

"Careful; if you stare hard enough you might fall in,” Týrr warned the boy with a soft tease to his voice, a chuckle — soft and amiable — rumbling in his chest to show that he wasn't hostile and that he meant no harm upon this neutral territory.

Sounds great! Group thread it is!

It was her turn to stalk, erm, follow the prince. She padded along behind him quietly, keeping to herself as she kept him distantly within eyesight. If anything befell him she could be there to quickly asses the situation and do whatever it so happened to require. Unfortunately, it was also raining, which was quite a downer on the entire scenario. Her fur clung to her form, making her appear all the more garish despite her big-boned structure, but she followed along all the same. 

She wouldn't have overly minded the rain had it not been so cold. She was used to a damper climate and found it familiar but the rains she had in mind were warm in the summer. These? It chilled her and if the chill wasn't physical there was definitely a mental block around her mind that made her disinclined to like this particular set of terrain. All the same, her prince had chosen and so she would follow. 

Wind ripped, cutting through the rain. She shielded her eyes for a moment and nearly lost sight of the dreary form in front of her. Quickening her pace as she watched him disappear, she soon caught up with Tezcacoatl and followed him inside the homey little grotto. The wind still howled behind him, but this place offered some form of release. She shook out her pelt and said nothing though she mentally thanked him for the reprieve. 

Still following, she lingered as he approached a yearling idling by a pool of water. Her prince spoke. The words were gentle and soft. A side of him that seemed rather peculiar to her, but matched the somewhat submissive nature he'd taken when she and her dark sister first happened upon him. "Mmm," she murmured behind him. "Stare too long and your face will stay frozen like that."

The water in the pool was dark but there was enough light drifting in to the cave for Tryphon to see his outline; the rain made everything moodier, from the staccato beat across the surface, to the gloomy grayness that crept in from outside of the grotto. Tryphon's masked face was the easiest thing to make out. As the fur there caught the light, he could see the taper of his muzzle and the roundness of his cheeks. While looming over the pool, drips from his chin added to the collected rainwater, but he did not shake the rest of the fluid free from his pelt. 

The boy was standing there when two strangers arrived - but he was too tired, too confused, and too absorbed in his studying to notice them. The first stranger spoke and initially Tryphon did nothing. He was transfixed, as if not hearing the softly spoken words. Then the second stranger spoke, and the continued attention seemed to rouse him - but the boy only reacted to the first statement. Because the voice, as light as it had sounded, was somehow familiar.

Tryphon raised his head, and then turned it - followed by the rest of him - to face the two wanderers. He wasn't afraid of them although perhaps he should have been. And a furrow creased his brow. 

"What did you say?" He questioned, his voice quiet, and after he spoke, he licked his lips thoughtfully. Before either of the wolves could answer, Tryphon turned back to the water - mumbling something about, "Water doesn't scare me." 

However, as he looked at his reflection again, he thought he saw fire, or a flash of something spanning the pool - wolf shaped but red, and very brief -  and a voice rang in his ears like the howling wind - Larus, you can't swim, - and he seemed to flinch back a step, casting his eyes away. 

To claim that Týrr wasn't aware that he was being watched would be a lie because the women of his garrison had made it abundantly clear that they would never be far, but whom was tasked with keeping an eye with him and how close they were flew under his radar, mostly because it was inevitable and he accepted it, albeit with some exasperation. After all, a bunch of woman keeping tabs on him as if he were nothing more than a small child that needed the supervision was off putting; and Týrr was no child. He was a man grown, though he had nothing to show for it. No mate. No children, nothing more than a lusting heart which did him literally no good. It wasn't as if he was particularly short on the opposite sex, considering at his point he was the only male to be apart of Frostfire Ridge ...or rather the pre-pack because they did not officially exist yet. Even so it was not a subject he could bring himself to breach with the Amazon's if only because it would make him feel lecherous and he wasn't so sure he wouldn't lose the very thing that made him a man by hinting about it; and they were still strangers to him. Or, rather, his missing memory made them strangers even if they weren't truly strangers.

Týrr recognized the yearling, and it took some searching for a few quiet moments, broken by Citali when she made her presence known, adding to Týrr's light jest by adding her own. The boy inquired as to what they'd said, and the Amazon Rekkr spared his medic a brief look as if to ask to whom the boy was asking. When Týrr 's attention returned to Tryphon, however, he found that the boy had returned to look at the water, mumbling something about afraid and water. “We've met once,” Týrr spoke to the boy, having remembered the name the boy had given to him during their brief first encounter. “Tryphon, right?” He inquired hoping he was right.

The boy appeared transfixed upon the water. He continued to stare even as her prince spoke. It wasn't until she said something that he turned, staring back at both of them as he asked what it was they had said. Citali looked towards Tezca, catching his gaze and sharing that unspoken question that passed between them. She slowly turned back towards the boy. "Stare too long and your face will stay frozen like that?" she repeated, uncertain this time as she was not quite so sure as to who it was this one was referring to.

Whichever phrase this adolescent was referencing, he didn't quite appear to understand. Not scared of the water? Well and good. Every wolf should share some sort of special kinship with water. It was life sustaining after all, and a valuable tool for any healer.

She watched as the boy glanced back into a pool, this time near flinching as he stepped back and almost seemed to remove himself from the immediate area. Just a step, but it was enough. It'd triggered something and he seemed lost in some kind of haze. 

Recognizing the symptoms, Citali remained cautious. She kept her distance and stayed quiet as the exchange passed between Tezca and the one he referred to as Tryphon.

He stared at the dark of his surroundings, not really seeing anything - not that there was anything to look at - and seemed to drift, to sway. 'Stare too long and your face will stay frozen -' The boy did not respond to the man's voice, and didn't seem to hear that of the lady's. If he did, he did not immediately respond. ('Your name is Tryphon - ?') Only sort of... Took a few steps, like he was wading through deep water.

The poor boy looked very tired. And, well, he was. His head was throbbing; if anyone got close enough, they'd have felt the heat radiating from his skin. Hot to the touch, despite the chill and the dampness in the grotto. He blinked a few times, and suddenly mumbled, "Tryphon..." As if the name was truly foreign to him. His expression went from blank to agitated, to confused, and back to blank.

No, Larus.

The ocean had given him that name - but what was he before? "My mother called me that." He slurred softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself, or.. He had forgotten he had any company at all. A dampness sprang to his vision, and the crescents of his eyes became misted. He blinked a few more times to clear his vision. He was suddenly looking at Tyrr then, watching him but also not. "Are you from the sea? Has mother.. Has she returned for me?"

The sea does not want you.

Before an answer could be given (although there'd likely be no answer for such mindlessness from the boy) he sank to his haunches with a sigh. "No, I was lost..."

There was deep confusion in the boy, and though it had not been initially familiar to Týrr, who did not remember the time as Ragnar's captive — when he couldn't remember anything; the time before Ragnar had crafted his elaborate lie and given him the false memories and name — but he wondered if it was something similar to Tryphon's puzzlement.  Týrr couldn't assume that the boy was an amnesiac like himself, but he was confused. Delirious, even, maybe; though  Týrr couldn't be sure of that either. After all, he was not the medic of them. When the boy looked at him, his eyes were distant. Focused upon him, yes, but  Týrr got the distinct feeling that Tryphon wasn't really seeing him. Crystalline eyes sought Citali, an unspoken question in them, hoping that she would understand what he was trying to convey without speaking the words. The look he gave his medic was brief, for his gaze went back to Tryphon, concerned. It was not a feeling that the Rekkr could readily place: after all he had threatened to kill Gunnar and Adlartok though both situations were vastly different than his run-ins with Tryphon. He hated anything to do with Ragnar, even after killing him, and any mention of Scarlett and her useless brat ward made his blood boil. 

“No, I am not from the Sea,”  Týrr spoke gently, trying to reach out to the boy though unsure if he was even getting through. The boy muttered something else about being lost and Týrr fell silent, not knowing what else to say. Unsure if asking 'where were you lost' would be a good choice or a bad one. “Citali,” He called to the Amazon near him. “Do you think he is feverish?” Because Týrr did not know, but he knew what it was like to be confused. To be lost, and how frightening it was, and if they could do something for Tryphon, the King-to-be would see it done.

The boy repeated his own name. Or what she assumed was his name. She was watching, carefully, observing from a distance if only because this wolf seemed to be experiencing some form of mental illness. Curious. She glanced towards Tezcacoatl and regarded him for a moment before turning her eyes back towards the boy. It seemed as if a number of wolves in these parts suffered from some form of amnesia. Perhaps there was something in the water.

The words the young wolf spoke made little sense upon her ears. She recognized that she was missing most of his context. She had no clues with which to connect the dots as he inquired about his mother and the sea. All she had to rely upon was strictly medical, in which case she wondered if this might be better off with a specialist of some kind. Alas, she was the only one present with knowledge that might help.

As Tezca and this wolf went back and forth, Citali continued to observe. She seemed almost to fade within the background as she watched this one mumble and flit through a number of expressions before glancing towards her prince. The wolf was looking, but not seeing. She recognized that empty stare and realized he was somewhat withdrawn from the physical situation at hand. They'd best be careful with this one.

"Keep speaking with him," she murmured softly to her prince. "He appears to be suffering from psychosis of some kind. A fugue state, perhaps." It explained the disorientation and the confusion with his identity. "If he's warm to the touch, perhaps these symptoms are as a result of a fever. We could cool him in the water, but his speech suggests water may trigger an outburst. Snow perhaps?" Though summer, they were north enough that they may find something. "We might be able to stabilize his core temperature until I can find something for the fever."

He didn't know who these wolves were. He didn't see them, and when they spoke, he heard only the sea. The quiet flow of a river fell from Tyrr's mouth, while the more agitated crashing and crawling of the ocean burst from Citali; both were familiar, but not. Both were alien things.

Tryphon was staring at the dark while they spoke - but as soon as Citali began to speak - to crash - the boy shivered, as if a gale had pulsed through the grotto. His legs felt weak, they shook the most. "Suffering psychosis of some kind-" And with a step, he faltered and sank to his belly.

Tryphon looked to the two wolves, but he saw only shadow. Their eyes glowed out from the dark - their mouthes were open in conversation, dripping blackness. "-his speech suggests water may trigger-" The words became less recognizable, and the boy curled up upon the ground, afraid of the sounds. He felt overwhelmed by the sea as it pressed in on all sides of him. Like he was drowning all over again. 

"No, please, I can't swim!" Tryphon suddenly shouted, his voice bouncing through the grotto and overwhelming all other noise; but he only heard his voice get swallowed by the imaginary waves. "I can't -- no, I can.." He blinked and shook his head a bit, but seemed more and more confused as he spoke.

"The sea took me, and She gave me back." That made no sense, but nothing did at this point. He turned his attention back to the shadows - the wolves beside him - and squinted, as if just making out their silhouettes. But before he could make any sort of connection, all emotion bled away. "Didn't want me." 'Nobody wants you, Larus.'

Sorry for the wait and the crappy qualityty of this post! :o

This was not Tezcacoatl's area of expertise. He understood the gist of what Citali was telling him but her technical terms went over the rekkr's head. Brow furrowed as Tryphon began to babble more things, nonsensical. About not being able to swim, but then that he could. Tezcacoatl's ears roved back to rest at half mast atop his skull as he ghosted forward a step, when his crystalline eyes had caught Tryphon's falter. The boy had sunk to his belly and Tezcacoatl glimpsed over his shoulder back at Citali. Did she want to go up to him and investigate if he had a fever, or did she want him to do it? Surely touching him and feeling if he felt warmer than what was natural couldn't be that hard (lest Tryphon lashed out, of course). “There are people out there that want you. Your mother, for instance,” At least, this was what Tezcacoatl assumed for he didn't know the young boy's mother. Most mothers wanted their children — though there were those odd cases in which they didn't. “Where is your family?” Tezcacoatl's voice was hushed, soft as he tried to break Tryphon out of his delirious state, even though he'd recognized that it might have been totally useless. He didn't know what to do, only that he wanted to do something to help Tryphon who struck Tezcacoatl as extremely vulnerable in his current state.

-edits in a quick ending-

In this Tezca seemed utterly useless. At least he kept talking, sputtering nonsense she wouldn't believe if anyone had told her the same. Whether it helped on not, she had no idea as the boy sank to the ground and curled inwards upon himself. She sighed inwardly. If this boy, this male, was out of it? Why should she care what became of him?

Tezca seemed to care and for whatever reason she and her sisters were currently trying to stay in his good favor. She didn't understand it, and likely never wolf, but she could follow orders for a time and humor the situation.

Words seemed lost on this one. What was left were action in the form of comfort and reassurance. Both were things she was terrible at and did not wish to do. "Lay with him," she prompted. Tezca could do the work here since he appeared to be at an impasse. "Like a mother would cuddle their pup."

"I'll be back." She turned then, moving towards the entrance of this hole to see if there was anything close that might be of some assistance to them.

Upon her return, she found both of them to be missing. Perhaps they'd moved this conversation elsewhere. She had no idea. What she did know, was that she was not going to stick around to wait for their return. With a huff, Citali left the area to tend to other things.