Firefly Ravine rusted

Buchanan did not stray too far from the Keep's borders. Though he ventured into the ravine bordering the Keep he kept a distance short enough that he was within howling distance. He did not expect that Stark nor Banner as she, too, was now his leader, would have the need to call for him; regardless he did not venture too far. His days since his acceptance were filled with hunting for the caches, hunting so he could add to Banner's feather collection, and though he was more adept at fighting then he was the diplomatic part of being a guardian he took his share of running patrols. Though the whole “being apart of a pack” without a purpose other than his own was indeed a strange one he liked it. Feather hunting for Banner, hunting for the pack, and knowing that he was doing his part in protecting and fortifying their borders — it gave him purpose all it's own. Not any kind he was used to but it was ...nice. Settling with the little picket fence and the whole nine yards ...well minus the family part of the saying, at any rate.

Still, it was not a place that Buchanan thought he would have ever reached. Though, he owed a lot (if not most) of the credit to Banner. His acceptance into Marauder's Keep was largely her doing. Gaze of liquid mercury assessed the territory around him as his salmon pink tongue swept across his jowls once. The ravine itself was a deep gorge, and somewhere he could hear a large body of water moving rapidly through it's bed and earthen walls. Yet, it was not anything that gave cause for Buchanan to investigate. He was not thirsty nor did he particularly fancy a swim that would no doubt be treacherous if the water was moving as fast as it sounded like it was. Instead, he was preoccupied with the flora and fauna that the ravine appeared to be teeming with, the sing-song chirps of numerous insects and the croak of amphibians — frog or toad he couldn't truly tell the difference — like some kind of strange but not unpleasant symphony, almost (but not quite) as if it were orchestrated.

Though his gaze lowered periodically to scan his surroundings, his ears attentive atop his skull, his shoulders tense and movements controlled and militaristic, he was looking for some kind of pretty songbird he might be able to present to Banner for her feather collection.

it was a bedraggled woman who set off from the grotto, saying nothing to @Terich-mir. larksong needed him to stay where he was, in case seff returned; vuk did not mind the miles she must travel in order to locate their son. into the blinding light of dawn did her pale form disappear, and the woman soon slid into the quick wolf-trot that would carry her at a steady pace through her journey. jhala was wrong to deny raas, but perhaps her mateship to hiram would change that. she had ceased to think of the man as reek; he was that no longer, and found that this gave her a measure of healing distance.

quenching her thirst at the lowered edge of a gorge, the woman continued along a path that wended alongside the earthen feature, pausing every so often to search for seff. a howl unfurled in her throat but she did not sound it; not yet. not until she had caught his scent.

but it was not the fragrance of her son that rose to vuk; rather she came upon a stranger who moved with precise movements. vuk did not want to approach, but maternal instinct prevailed upon her to make a slow stride toward the darkfurred wolf all the same, her bearing deferential. perhaps he had seen seff. and it was then she saw his eyes, twin rivers of a peculiar colour that gave her a brief pause.

thank you for joining, ebony! <3

 

The dark wraith's posture shifted, his gaze snapping from the terrain to rest upon the she-wolf that approached him. Or, at least, had begun to approach him for she had paused. Threat, threat, threat, his mind blared at him like an annoying and cringe-worthy siren, his shoulders stiff with the tension of taunt muscles that had not lessened as his silvern gaze studied her. She didn't look like a threat, admittedly. She was smaller than him, though at glance appeared to be of a medium height, white with dark grey or black — he couldn't specifically tell from the distance that lingered between them still — markings with what he thought might have been scars marring her flesh. She did not make any attempts at verbal communication and this was most curious to Buchanan, especially since it appeared to him that she'd had a reason for approaching him. His docked tail gave a slight twitch of contemplation, hardly an impressive gesture. Nevertheless, Buchanan used what very little was left of his tail for gestures that had long since lost their true effect the day The Officer had removed it for him.

“Hello,” In a rare twist of events Buchanan was the first to break the barrier of silence, offering her the greeting in a soft, deep voice; placing his hunt for the perfect songbird for Banner momentarily put on hold.

of course! <3

his body sang the tones of alarm, and vuk hid the sudden mad smile that leapt to her lips. how could he fear her, this scarred, small wolfess? perhaps she was more fearsome than she had suspected. vuk watched the guard hairs along his spine first leap, then settle, and it was then she noticed his shortened tail. sensing her advantage here, the girl nevertheless kept her own plume lowered, swaying it in a placating way behind her thinned hips. 

the man spoke, his voice a roll of thunder, and vuk blinked. it seemed she would have to speak after all. "hello," came her own tones, thick with an unplaceable accent and cracked from disuse. her eyes lowered in a brief shame, ears folding back against her small skull, but in the next moment she had lifted her gaze to ponder the brute.

it was upon the tip of her tongue to ask if he had seen seff, but vuk did not speak -- not yet.

Buchanan was not comfortable in the presence of many. He was prickly, standoffish, and in some cases hostile towards strangers: a deep seeded influence of The Officer that he would never be able to reprogram out of himself. He was working on it with the help of the Marauder wolves ...even if they didn't even know they were helping him out. Like everything else, it was a slow process for him. He wouldn't change over night, magically, just because he'd kind of settled down. He might never change (which definitely a possibility). For now, all strangers not apart of Marauder's Keep were met with the same caution: standoffish, tense, because despite himself Buchanan was always ready for a fight. He didn't want one but he was prepared for one nevertheless.

She responded to his greeting, her voice accented and cracked. He studied her more closely as she looked down and away from his briefly, only to cant his head ever so slightly to the side when her gaze rested back upon him again. She offered him nothing else, though. Just a return of his greeting. Perhaps he had misinterpreted her intention when he'd noticed her approach? It was possible. After all, the assassin wasn't the most adept at social conventions. Despite his curiosity, he too, did not speak, sticking to the assumption that if she wanted something from him she would tell him as such.

the two wolves did not speak to one another, one questioning and the other silent with shame. vuk did not know why she could not form words, only that they did not come easily to her tongue; she met the eyes of the other again and fought for the steel within her spine that had carried her not only from larksong, but from the ridge and back again. "seff." the name of her son was said thoughtlessly, without context, and vuk's ears folded again as her lips parted.

only silence sounded first, deafening against the backdrop of her shame, and anger rose in her veins, frustration with her inabilities. "he is m-my s-son," came the thick roll of her voice, marked as always by the indignity of her impediment. "h-he is y-young--" here vuk lifted a forepaw to approximate seff's height -- "a-and he disa ... i c-cannot f-find h-him. f-for m-many days," vuk laboured on, coming swiftly to the end of her energies. "h-he is ... tan...w-with b-blue eyes."

vuk's own eyes watered, not only at the sudden crack of her voice but the memory of seff's face that danced cruelly before her mind's gaze, and she looked hurriedly away from the stranger so that he would not see.

The woman spoke what Buchanan assumed was a name, yet it was not one that the dark wraith knew of. It was unfamiliar to him. For a few seconds there was nothing, only the name that hung in the air between them before she began to explain, her tongue catching on the formation of her words in a stutter. The assassin's ears slicked back to half mast when she offered the tidbit that this Seff was her son, and that he was young. It felt as if a thick knot had formed itself in Buchanan's throat, making it hard for him to draw breath; because as she explained that she hadn't seen him in many days he was reminded of what had happened to him, of the parents that he must have had but could not remember, and of the little girl that The Officer had ordered him to kidnap. The boundary line that Buchanan had refused to cross.

The distraught mother gave him a description: tan with blue eyes. How could he tell her that he hadn't seen her son? It was the truth: he had not seen any wolf like that. As it was, the Marauder's were looking for their own missing wolves. She looked away from his quickly shortly after her voice had cracked and his tongue felt thick and heavy with the weight that he had to disappoint her. “I haven't met a child by that name. Neither have I seen one that fits your description,” He admitted softly, apologetically. The only child he'd met was Silas and in passing he glimpsed Tambourine though they had not officially met yet. “I'm sorry.” He added, swallowing thickly. Because he was. He was sorry for her and sorry that he couldn't offer her any word on her son.

“I may be able to help you look for him, though,” In a rare turn of events the assassin offered his skills to her. It was true that the Marauder's had sent their own search parties out for the missing Ostrega's but if she accepted it Buchanan did not think that it would hurt anything to assist her. He couldn't stand the thought of walking away from her without, at least, offering to help her. Tracking wolves was his specialty and though it thankfully transitioned well enough into herds and other small prey, he did not deny that he'd been trained to hunt down wolves. He had a description, name and something of a rough age to work with, and that was a good start. “No child should be without their mother and vice versa,” He spoke quietly, in a rough murmur in his deep voice. It was a touchy subject for him, admittedly. He had the questions ready to ask her, though held back upon them, waiting to see if he had her permission to assist her or not. It was easy to settle into “philanthropist assassin” mode wanting to help her even without knowing her. If he could help another child and another mother from suffering from what he and his unknown mother had faced than he was willing.

i hope u dont mind i stole your indent! <3

the words had rolled rustily from her tongue, and in their place a wine of grief and shame was poured, mingled with a cool relief. it was comforting to speak of her son aloud, even if in doing so she admitted her failings as a mother and her inability to locate the boy who had come from her body. the son who had survived the early birth upon the bare rocks of the ridge when his siblings had not. the man spoke and his words confirmed the fear that she would not find him. it was an early despair, perhaps irrational, but vuk saw the land stretch out before her and knew it was impossible to scour every reach for her little boy.

her lips parted, closed, parted again, and once more her jaws clicked shut with an ashamed finality. she wished to thank the man; she wished to speak of seff again, to buoy her own spirits, but when vuk looked within herself, all she found were the shards of her former self. taggarik had broken her, the death of her children had broken her. hiram had broken her, jhala  -- and now seff. was she a woman of raas, to be so easily discouraged?

vuk realized she had been staring mutely at the man all this time, and nodded quickly, belatedly at his offer. she swallowed, meaning once more to speak, but her face contorted into a sob, her countenance watering with salt. this man -- he had been the first one outside of larksong to show such kindness, and she realized she was starved for it. hiram had turned his back upon her, jhala was selfishly turned inward, and terich -- she loved him, but she did not know if his love for her was met in her own heart. vuk bowed her head and wept, and felt the weakness of herself grow. with any luck, the man would turn away and leave her with her sorrow and her guilt, alone, as she deserved.

Not at all! <3 *snugs vuk* she's so precious.

The woman had been staring at him, not offering the dark wraith any words and that was okay. Buchanan wasn't offended by her silence, nor was he uncomfortable in it. Though he was becoming more social — better than he was at first, at least — it was still a slow process even with wolves within the Keep. He caught her quick nod to his offer, and for a moment Buchanan was mentally distracted trying to arrange the questions he had for her in some sort of chronological order when he realized she'd begun to weep and as it sunk in that she was crying Buchanan sort of ...wilted in on himself unsure how to handle her tears or what he was supposed to do or say. If he'd ever cried as a child when The Officer had stolen him Buchanan knew he'd never been comforted. A part of him wanted to encourage her that it was ok — but was it? Those words would sound hollow, like someone who was trying to sympathize but really couldn't. She lost her son — she wasn't ok and she was allowed to weep for him.

But he needed her to focus. He wasn't sure when, exactly, he'd developed a bleeding heart — and perhaps he didn't have one. She had touched a raw nerve, alive like an exposed wire sparking with current within him. Her cause was a just one and he had a skill set that might be able to help her; thus he felt the strong compulsion to do so. Buchanan realized that he couldn't reunite every mother and missing child out there; and there wasn't any guarantee he would have success at finding her Seff but he had to try. “I know it's hard,” He understood it from the son's perspective, at least. It was unfortunate that his own mother had never found him and that gradually he remembered less and less until he got to the point that he was now: he did not remember her at all. It was as if he'd sprung to existence within The Officer's care.

“I'm going to need information and as much details as you can remember,” Buchanan told her gently. “Where did you last see your Seff? How was he acting? Strange or normal?” It was important to try to try to nail down her last point of contact with her boy, and his behavior on whether he'd been taken from her or had maybe wandered too far and been unable to find his way back. Children were known for that, naive as they were of the world and it's dangers, and too young to have any sort of experience. There were more questions, of course, but as Buchanan did not wish to overwhelm her with too many at once he settled for a few at a time, patient, letting her know with the softness of his mercury hued gaze that he would wait until she was ready to tell him.

<3!

vuk hated herself for her weakness, for the stubborn tears, for the endless pain she harboured. and yet resentment for her fate coloured the girl's tears -- her life had been one of few happinesses and innummerable agonies. was this her lot, then? was this for what she was destined? the patchwork wolfess felt bitterness fill her mouth along with the metallic salt of blood as she bit the inside of her jaw; the pain jolted her, ending her tears. vuk sniffed and ran a fore-ankle along her cheeks to dry them, before squaring her shoulders and facing the dark wolf.
he had offered both sympathy and logic -- vuk gave a gentle nod to the former and to the latter she gave a breath of steel. haltingly, painfully, pausing for long moments at a time, she gave the account of how a handful of days and nights ago, she had lain down with her young son in a glade beneath the springtime stars and woken to find herself alone, how her joyous and healthy boy had disappeared inexplicably from larksong grotto.
and when she had finished, vuk felt thirst thrumming heavily upon her tongue, and turned to trudge slowly up the path, glancing at the man to see if he would walk beside her while she searched for water with which to wash the dust from her mouth.

She was silent while she collected herself and Buchanan was patient, understanding, wondering if his own mysterious mother suffered the very same. Perhaps she, like this woman, had searched for him. Cried for him. He turned away from those thoughts. They brought him no comfort. No solace. He did not remember her and it was not his fault. There was little sense in torturing himself for things that had been out of his control. What was in his control at the moment was that he could extend his help to this grieving mother.

Buchanan was silent as she recounted the tale to him, his expression contemplative as he took in her words and began to analyze them. There was no evidence in her tale that the boy had been taken from her. Surely she would have heard the approach, and unless it was someone the child trusted he would have tried to alert her. It sounded to Buchanan like the boy had simply wandered off like children were wont to do, struck by their insatiable curiosity of the world around them. She had begun to walk towards the water after she had finished, glimpsing back at him. Buchanan followed, close but not too close. He was not a fan of invading personal space. With the exception of Banner, the assassin had a habit of keeping everyone an arm's length away.

“Perhaps it is no comfort to you,” Buchanan drew softly, inhaling and letting it out in a deep exhale. “but it sounds like he wandered off. Perhaps something had intrigued him, or he thought he could find his way back to you,” He drew the dots together from the information she had given him. “Have you checked with the packs near your own? Perhaps they have given him shelter until you come for him.” Buchanan wasn't sure how friendly the wolves of the Wilds were, especially towards strange pups. If a pack had found him and temporarily taken him in ...well there was hope for her. If not, the alternative was gruesome and bitter and not something the dark wraith felt comfortable pointing out to her. A young child on his own for too long would not feasibly survive. There were plenty of adults that didn't survive being lone and they could hunt for themselves, at least.

“Checking with the neighboring packs is a good place to start, if you haven't.” If her Seff was with a neighboring pack — following the optimistic path — Buchanan wasn't sure how easy it would be for her to get him back, but he didn't voice that, either. Why dampen the hope there was to be found in this awful situation? He had a tendency to examine both sides of the coin, to consider them both as possibilities but Buchanan had no desire to shatter what slim hope the mother might have held onto. He was a lot of things but he liked to believe that heartless wasn't one of them.

vuk wondered if seff, should he still live, did he weep for her as she did for him? did her little one cry out in the night for his mother; did he hold back his sobs beneath the same night that touched them both? vuk knew she must not dwell upon this, for fear of losing herself again. the man listened to her halting words and his ponderance of them was tangible, so much that the girl's spirit began to lift. this wolf -- who was he? and might he truly be of help. 

the wolf spoke, and it was vuk's turn to cup her ears forward, to encircle all her senses around the cadence of his voice and glean whatever hope she could. she was indeed comforted by his assumption that seff had not been stolen; merely that he had wandered away. it impressed vuk that her fear was so readily apparent to the man that he found the words with which to comfort her.

"no," vuk murmured in answer to his query: she had searched out no other packs, for she did not know where she would start. to the wolf she looked again, with pleading shining in the turquoise of her gaze. perhaps he could be of help -- if he so wished.