Ravensblood Forest In the combat between wisdom and feeling, wisdom never wins.

for @Arturo or anyone else that might find him on the territory outskirts! An attempt to join, maybe. Still uncertain about it haha.

He had traveled up the coast, met numerous strangers each with their own virtues, but Pendragon had not encountered Rhona again. Nor did he encounter any beasts affiliated with a kingdom; no knights, no commoners even — but there had been the signs of a gathering at least a days march west from where he had stopped. So, encouraged by his own imaginings (that perhaps Rhona had also found this kingdom and sought shelter with them), he doubled back.

It did not take long for his surefooted strides to bring him to the patch of columbine that had caught his attention prior; perhaps it wasn't the exact series of flowers, but they held the same scents. The blooms had spread throughout the forest's edge and dotted the grass with bright pinpoints of color. While Pendragon was enamored by this sight, he knew not to be distracted this close to an established kingdom. No, rather, he investigated the layered scents he found alongside the floral scents, making his presence known easily enough as he was doing nothing to hide himself or sneak about.

Being from a land which was secluded and well protected (by the weather, the terrain, and the knights of the court), Pendragon had never been made to deal with strangers on the outskirts of his home territory; thus he was not sure of the proper ettiquette, and did not howl or alert anyone in any garish manner. Instead he loitered like a fool, but this would be a learning experience — if anyone were to find him, he would have an explanation ready.

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As Lotte’s due date looms ever closer, as she grows rounder and her ability to move about the freedom becomes more and more apparent to him, it puts Arturo on edge. Blackfeather Woods would always be a threat, of this the gangster believes. He is freshly returned from his scouting trip to Hideaway Strath, leaving the disgraced and his heir to go about their business …to prepare. The pack would move soon; but for now, regardless of how temporary, Ravensblood Forest remains their home and he protects it with a ferocity and territoriality that he has not felt in a long time. He has always been territorial but his ascension into fatherhood again, the knowledge that his children would soon come into the world has done nothing to soothe it. Instead, it is like gasoline to an open flame: consuming in it’s burn. Three small infants is enough of a worry, will slow them down. It is a risk to their lives but it is a risk that Arturo is willing to take. Olive and Dakarai have brought this risk upon their children themselves and casting them out was useless. Blackfeather Woods was a percieved threat by the Fearghal monarch and as far as the suspicious gangster cared to see Olive and Dakarai had already dragged Teaghlaigh down into their sinking ship.

Arturo turns his thoughts away from the heavy burden of worry he carries knowing that he will likely not rest nor relax until they settle in the Strath. He puts his restless energy into his patrol. He has never liked patrolling the borders, and this holds true even though his paternal instincts demand it of him (as does his title). It is his duty, a con of being the patriarch of The Family. He catches the scent of the man before he sees him but as the other comes into view, close to the borders, lingering, the gangster’s hackles bristle along his spine as he shrugs through the foliage, his side drawing against a bleeding seqouia as he makes his own presence known. He has no red herring anymore, though he assumes the role to protect Lotte. He has become her red herring, out of vow, out of love. The queen of Teaghlaigh does not necessarily need his protection for he does not doubt she can hold her own in a fight but he believes she is vulnerable with their children slumbering within her womb still.

“You are treading close to Teaghlaigh’s borders, stranger.” Ceannsach addresses him his deep, smoky timbre breaking the silence of the forest around them. Blazing, red-orange gaze takes him in with cold indifference. He is given a small measure of ease that he does not smell Blackfeather upon the stranger’s coat but it does little to ease Arturo’s natural suspicion. Not bearing a scent means little. Had Hemlock not offered to be Teaghlaigh’s mole? Unassociated with The Family to anyone who did not know that she was apart of The Family? Arturo's lips pull into a terse line as he looks at the male expectantly, silent questions in the inferno of his gaze: why are you here? What do you want?

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When he was discovered, it was not by a guard, but someone with a much stronger swagger. The man was deeply colored (almost like mud, but Pendragon kept this to himself); there were hints of gold and tan throughout the stranger's pelt that gave it a subtle complexity. The most intriguing gaze stared back at him, and for the first few seconds Pendragon thought he would be assaulted, for the look upon the stranger's face was hard and almost cruel. It is after the stranger speaks that Pendragon realizes who this is — not by name, but by scent. The columbines, the somber shadows, the reedy grasses surrounding him, all hold the scent of this man; he is the dominant force here, and Pendragon is swift to bow his head to a more respectable angle.

The name of the kingdom — Teaghlaigh — rolls through the man's mind; it is foreign, but vaguely familiar in the way it resembled the conventions of his home turf's naming schemes. He wondered, then, if this was a kingdom filled with druids too — maybe his island was not such an oddity after all? Pendragon does not feel confident in asking. The look upon the stranger's face is enough to warrant a response, and he has let the moment begin to grow stale with all his considerations.

What would he, as a knight and guardian, wish to know from a stranger upon the fringe of the Vale? Having never asked himself this question before, the man wasn't sure what to say — but he couldn't wait forever, and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind: the truth.

I do not mean any harm, I am merely searching for a friend. A woman by the name of Rhona — I thought perhaps she had come this way after we parted. If that turned out to be a false assumption, he would of course feel a great sorrow for having lost her; yet there was an opportunity here that could not be passed up. Pendragon was intensely curious of this place now that he was meeting face-to-face with one of the inhabitants, and thus he added without thinking: You have chosen a wonderful location for your settlement, if I may say so, my liege. There was no doubt in his mind that he was, in some capacity or another, meeting someone of importance, and thus he had to include some sort of title.

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The respectable bow of the other’s head is enough to appease the gangster. Since there is no trespassing Cennasach does not require full submission. Arturo’s suspicion and caution remains, however. He is not a man to easily let his guard down and if anything the transgressions between Teaghlaigh and Blackfeather Woods have reinforced this within him. “I have no wolf by that name,” Arturo offers the stranger the information freely. Your friend isn’t here. “Nor have I ever met a Rhona.” But as to where his friend went, Arturo could not offer any help. His borders had been quiet since Hemlock’s return, which is not something he puts much stock in. He is not soothed by the quiet. It only heightens his suspicion and his desire to get the hell out of the Coast. He does not want to live here anymore. He is ready to head South, ready to be rid of the Forest that had once been his sanctuary. It is no longer his sanctuary but a nightmare.

A nightmare he wants to be rid of. A nightmare he wouldn’t be upset to see burn to the ground.

The stranger’s words clash with Arturo’s own thoughts of his once beloved Forest. It is a death trap for the wolves of Teaghlaigh at the actions of two and he is not sure which he resents more: the ones at fault or Ravensblood. They are an easy target, their location is known here. It is not safe. Not anymore. Dakarai and Olive had seen to that. “It was, once,” Arturo speaks grimly, but conveying his feelings of truth in his grim statement. He is not so sure he enjoys being called liege. He is a gangster and such a high and pure title does not truly fit him but he does not say anything against it. Arturo may be a kingpin but he is no regal king…or in this case liege. Ceannasach does not elaborate. Family business is Family business and not meant for strangers though Arturo supposes in time that all will know Teaghlaigh does not reside there and they will know it soon. “It no longer holds the safety it once did. It is no longer a sanctuary.” He explains, though he is vague. Whatever the stranger’s intentions are, whether it is to join Teaghlaigh because he needs a pack or he simply fancies the territory Arturo suspects will be made clear. If the stranger wants Ravensblood he can have it when Teaghlaigh abandons it. He could have it and the death it will bring with it.

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To learn that Rhona was not here was of little comfort to him. Indeed, Pendragon was bereft for a few minutes as he thought of all the different avenues she could have taken from point a to point b, and when he realized how prolific that list would be, he promptly gave up hope. 

Before the man could say anything, react in any way, his new companion was already warning him away from the forest. This piqued Pendragon's interest. The manner in which the dark man spoke of his home was forbidding, and Pendragon wasn't sure what to make of the ominous tone. His brow furrowed softly. If this place truly was dangerous, he was therefore glad that Rhona was not here — but simultaneously, he had to wonder exactly where she had gone, and if they would ever reunite.

It was entirely possible that Rhona was offended by his previous departure and did not wish to see him, but Pendragon was hopeful and naive when it came to women; she was a friend and he had made a vow. Surely she was somewhere safe?

I'm sorry, he finally blurted, empathizing with the morose stranger. Losing the safety of one's home is never a welcome experience. But it didn't matter what Pendragon said, or did, at this point. He wished to comfort the stranger but knew deep down that the opinions of a vagrant meant little to a king. 

Me, a vagrant. How things have changed! He thought suddenly, and breathed a deep sigh. Still his curiosity would not be abated, and he probed despite feeling intensely uneasy about the turn in the conversation: If I may ask — why are you unhappy with your home? It is none of my business, of course, sir. I only ask out of necessity, in case the woman I search for is in peril. His head tilted slightly, a worried look within his bright eyes.

this post is small & poopy. :-(

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While Arturo appreciates the empathy he doesn’t add to the stranger’s words. Instead, the gangster accepts them with a sage nod of his head. The question that comes from the stranger hangs uneasily in the air between them. Arturo Fearghal has old fancied himself old fashioned in the traditions of The Family and in that Family business remained Family business. He could speak of their relocation on very vague terms because it would be found out eventually when they were no longer present in Ravensblood. But the details? They would not be shared. No one needs to know it was two within his own ranks that caused the damage, caused the danger. No one needs to know where they intend to go: only that they intend to leave. “There’s been some trouble.” Arturo tells him truthfully but vaguely. Ceannasach does not give him any more information than the gangster thinks he needs. “As for your lady,” Arturo speaks, “as this trouble does not involve her I am sure she is fine.” The gangster attempts to soothe the other man’s concerns but understands if he is not soothing or reassuring at all with his refusal to give details.

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The vagaries with which his questions were answered made him frown, for he did not like what he heard. But it was the man's perogative to deny him answers, and Pendragon wasn't about to push him. Besides the fact this was not his home, this was a king, at least to some degree. It was not right to question anything that came from his mouth.

I do hope so, he said in reference to Arturo's final comment. If Rhona was around, she was surely capable of defending herself and keeping out of trouble. Perhaps she hadn't even gotten this far? There were many roads open to her - to both of them - and just because they left the coast together did not mean she had remained on the same trajectory that he traveled. A flash of worry spread through his gaze but Pendragon's brow relaxed as he contemplated things.

If it is so troublesome here, you must be thinking of leaving. It was a simple statement, an observation anyone could make. Before hearing a response he continued. If I may... The woman I search for, she could have gone anywhere. For all I know she has left this forest too. I would... I would be honored to aid your escape, if you would permit me, sir. He had no idea how to phrase things, and sounded sincere enough. Please sir - I wish to find my friend, but if I can be of use to you, or anyone, I would be so glad to have a purpose.

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Arturo can promise nothing, does not idle words of comfort when the truth is that he has no idea what has become of the stranger’s lady friend. Regardless, he is not so grim that he would not offer some sliver of reassurance. It is about all the coywolf can offer: tentative reassurance. “Leaving is inevtible,” Ceannasach speaks to the stranger as he states that he must be thinking of leaving. The thinking is done. He has no time to idle and not necessarily because of the Blackfeather wolves. He has no time to idle because Lotte is due to give birth soon and every day later they made to execute the move is another day he potentially is the death of his children. He hopes that they will be safe within her womb. He hopes but he does not know; but the gangster will not allow them to come into a world where he has no control. He has been too soft, too kind. He has allowed this mess to happen with blinders over his eyes and his iron fist had slacked. Now it would tighten: it would tighten like a fist around a throat with the intent of suffocation. It was clear he could not balance leader and friend so he would be the Ceannasach first, now. Friendship got him a dagger in the back.

Arturo’s suspicion flares and his red-orange gaze blazes as it takes in the stranger when he puts out his offer. “If you help it will be as apart of Teaghlaigh,” That is the only way Arturo will let anyone aid, otherwise the risk was too high. How was he to know this stranger wasn’t a spy for Blackfeather? The paranoia he feels deeply unsettles Ceannasach, reminds him too much of Riptide and a metallic taste fills his mouth as he draws his tongue across the backs of his teeth. “but it will be as Comhlach. They are considered outside of The Family until they earn their place among our official ranks. They are kept in the dark of Family Business as much as possible,” Obvious situation notwithstanding. It wasn’t as if Arturo could hide the move from them. “In Teaghlaigh, we only have two rules: The Ceannasach’s Word is Law and The Family before Everything Else.” Simple rules that apparently not everyone is capable of grasping. It didn’t matter. He was done giving chances. He was a man pushed off the edge, forced to be as cruel as his reputation had once painted him as.

“If you can follow them and pledge yourself to Teaghlaigh, you are welcome. If not, I suggest you be on your way.” The choice is up to the stranger. The offer is kind but Arturo is not in the business of taking help from strangers and he no longer trusts kind.

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The man's response is sharp and blunt at the same time; or perhaps it is only the look of him that is sharp, for he does not go in to much detail, and yet the tone is abrasive and the words themselves hold many secrets of which Pendragon is not privy. He accepts this with a slight furrow of his brow again, the fanning of his ears to and fro — but he is silent, listening to the ruler speak with great conviction about the nature of his kingdom. That it is called the family is a fact that eludes Pendragon; he does not recognize the inflection put upon the phrases used, but he values the power of kings and the sanctity of their kin, as the world he comes from is much the same.

If he must join with this king, serve him and travel with the migrant kingdom, then so be it. It would give Pendragon the chance to adjust to his new life - give him a purpose, as previously stated - learn the lay of the land, and perhaps even find Rhona. There is nothing wrong with serving. It is what he has always wished for, as a knight.

As king, your rules are to be followed without question, he stated in a way that was both matter-of-fact and filled with stern conviction. I, Pendragon son of Caliburn, humbly pledge my service to you, sir, and your family. Your laws will be enforced, and your family will be kept safe, as is my duty as a knight of this realm. With that said, the man dipped his chin and performed a small bow of his head, his eyes closing for a heartbeat only, before he returned to a more casual posture.

Although if you are to be my king - I would request to know the name of the man I pledge my service. He added this after a moment, realizing that he'd successfully achieved his dream of becoming a knight and serving a lord, but also.. That he'd been hasty, and hadn't done the proper thing and introduced himself nor learned of the man he was to obey.

last post from me & turo. feel free to reply once more or archive as is. <3

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The stranger speaks well and his response appeases the gangster. Pendragon, he introduces himself as, pledges himself formally to him and Teaghlaigh and Ceannasach gives a sage nod of his head before he moves towards the other male to brush against him and leave his scent upon him so the others would know that he is a Comhlach despite that he is new to them. Ceannasach puts space between them once more when he is asked for his name. “I am Arturo,” He offers his name with a small twitch of his lips upwards. The gesture is small but it is amiable nevertheless. “I reign as Ceannasach, officially,” Though Sovereign and King were one in the same, he supposes, he has always favored sovereign over king as far as titles went. “I will take you to meet my wife, Teaghlaigh’s Banríon, Lotte after the tour.” He lays out the plan to Pendragon seconds before he gestures for the Comhlach to follow him with his muzzle. “And on the way I’ll fill you in on the details of your rank and what is expected of Comhlach’s to earn an official rank among The Family.” He tells him as he follows the mental map of Ravensblood Forest he has memorized from his months of calling it home. Soon, it would not be his home any longer but for now, in this moment, it is his even if it no longer holds the hope and content it once had for him.

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