Blackfeather Woods the brewing storm
Ghost
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All Welcome 
100th post!! bb is growing up. AW. located just in the Woods in general

Her relationship with Mephala seemed to have soured, since her fateful encounter with Potema at the Temple. The priestess had lobbed at her the implication Meldresi would have murdered her, as a babe. . .and if Meldresi, the Night Mother, did not want her, then what mother would? There seemed no room in her life for mother-figures.

Thus, on the eve of a great war, the girl had turned to Sithis.

"Sithis, Bless us for your cause
Make ready your wrath,
For our purpose we have no pause,
For we battle for his wrath."


Her voice was a quiet, menacing presence in the silent Woods. It was a prayer she had been recently taught, and it was quite apropos under the circumstances. Blackfeather was headed to battle, soon. Talk of it echoed through the territory, escaping no one's ears.

Who would fight? Who would die? Fate would play a large role, but so would preparedness. They had strong wolves, but she had heard they were outnumbered. Then again, they held the home advantage. . .

"Sithis, Bless us for your cause
Make ready your wrath
With bared fangs we have no pause,
For in battle we know his wrath."


Death was near. The Dread Father waited, waited, to bring his loyal servants into his fold, the Void. Would her own father fall? Her mother? Her brothers, sisters, friends?

She walked through the Woods a silent wraith, chanting. Chanting, so that they may all live.
Atâtak Atsanik
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It was not with deaf ears that her chants went unheard, her voice clear and ringing throughout the woods. The northerner heard her, was drawn to her, following the lure that was her prayer without resistance. And when his eyes landed on her he became a ghost, moving with practised silence as he fell into step alongside her. He kept his steps measured, pace controlled to neither take him beyond her nor fall behind; he was the phantom of the woods, watchful and patient, allowing her voice to fade out before he filled the air with his own.

“When we met, you called out to Mephala, but now your prayers favour Sithis,” he noted, keeping his gaze on the path before them. “What happened, nukadlik?” It was not uncommon to send prayers out to both, as the Night Mother and Dead Father existed together; for the belief in one to die out, the other would shortly follow. Still, he was concerned—concerned about the upcoming bloodshed and how many lives might be lost, concerned for the outcome of the war, but mostly he was concerned for the children. They could not fight, not yet, but they also could not be sent away somewhere. They were trapped in a war that they had no business being apart of, and for that, he worried.
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She had come to accept Kove slipping soundlessly out of the woods beside her, merely flinching almost infinitesimally as his white form appeared and drew close. His words slipped through her ears, a soothing touch to the anxious feelings inside. She, too, kept her eyes ahead as she spoke.

"I spoke with my mother," Maegi replied, her voice cold. "She said she hates me, that Meldresi would have hated me. No mother wants me. . .but maybe a father will." She thought of Miraak, of Kove, of Vaati, of Cicero. . .that despite her flaws, had stuck around, taught her, guided her, loved her. No woman had shown her the same level of kindness.

"Nukadlik?" she echoed, glancing at Kove. "That's not Daedric, is it?" It didn't sound like it, at least; the inflection was different. She knew Kove wasn't a Melonii, but she never had wondered until this moment where he really came from. Was he already here, when Meldresi settled the Woods? Or had he, too, come from someplace different?
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Around the child, Kove allowed for his emotions to be seen. He found no reason to take from her the experience of something positive, and so he allowed her to see his joy when he felt it, as well as everything else. Yet, what furrowed his brow was neither positive nor negative, but confusion birthed from neutrality, which easily morphed into anger; it was nothing greater than a brief flicker, a fire in his eyes that was smothered by reason. Of course Potema hated her, and of course, she would put that same declaration of hatred in Meldresi’s mouth—these things, however appalling they were, were not surprising. But he did not want for the child to believe them, he wanted to ensure that she never let go of hope.

Picking up his pace, he drew himself several steps ahead of her, where he stopped and fixed her with a stern gaze. “Do not let her words alter your views. No matter how anyone feels towards you, you cannot let their words define you. You have to stick to what you feel inside your heart,” he stated, tone absent of warmth. But she was not left to face his hardened expression for very long, as his eyes gradually soften whilst looking at her. “Besides,” he began again. “If no mortal mother will take you, then shouldn’t that make you favour the Night Mother even more? She does not turn away any that serve her.” Because their taboos meant nothing to the gods.

The ghost’s ears swiveled forward as a smile tugged at the corners of his maw, her parroting of the word and the question that followed sparking a memory of Nanook’s interest in the language so long ago. “It isn’t,” he answered. “It’s Inuttut, a language of the north that belongs to my people.” To his family, to his home—he adored the language, often longing for the days when he could speak it freely and still be understood. Nukadlik doesn’t have an exact translation into the common tongue,” he explained further, assuming she might be curious as to what he’d called her. “It is… well, you are younger than me, so that is what I would refer to you as.” Perhaps there was a word to associate with it that she might recognise but, at the moment, he could think of none.
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She drew to a stuttering halt as he paced ahead, fixing her with a gimlet stare. For an instant, she thought his anger was directed at her, and shrunk slightly, like a flower in late fall. How odd it was, for a child to respect a man not even her relation, but stand up to her mother like it was nothing! Yet, in this world, it made perfect sense. Kove had given her hope, knowledge; Potema would never give her anything, save, perhaps, the satisfaction of her death at Maegi's teeth.

Maegi nodded, but then shook her head slightly at his question, not so much out of denial as confusion. "I thought so," she murmured. "I don't know, anymore. The last moon has been really confusing, and kind of scary." Her bicolored eyes fixed on the priest's face. "There's a war coming. I want to know more about Sithis. . .about the Void."

Something slightly resembling a smile made its way to her face once more as he explained his foreign word. So he really was from someplace different. Why had he come here? Where was the rest of his family? "Innutut," she repeated, the smile growing bigger. "That's cool--you know three languages. Innutut, Daedric, and. . .well, whatever we're speaking now."

Her face grew solemn as she continued. "Kove, what's going to happen? Why are we going to war?" Vaati had given her a simplified explanation, but she knew it was possible--likely, even--that her brother was sheltering her from the grisly, boring details. Kove might not sugarcoat things as much.
Atâtak Atsanik
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As the child shrunk beneath his stare his features softened. He had not meant to frighten her in any way, he merely intended to make a point and ensure that it was neither ignored nor misunderstood. The continuation of her speech told him that whatever hesitance she might have had was gone, his approach not leaving behind any lasting effects. But her words were still worrisome, and he fixed her with a stare that showed just how great his concern for her was. He wondered what it was that scared her but, with war on the horizon, he suspected he had an answer and bothered not with asking. His words, instead, went towards a promise: “I will teach you about Sithis and the Void after the war has ended. You do not need to worry about those things right now.” For teaching her now might place over her head the threat of death, which he could not permit to happen. The northerner was her teacher, as well as cared for her quite deeply—he would not allow her death to come before his own.

The hints of a smile tugged at her lips, making the entirety of her face light up before his very eyes; she was pretty, a bright light existing with the purpose of creating paths where there were previously none, and leaving a great mark on the world around them. “I’m not nearly as skilled with the Daedric language as I should be,” he admitted. Truthfully, he knew only that which was meant to be spoken in prayer, having not the means to actually carry out a conversation with it—or teach it, for that matter, which was why he did not offer to teach her. “If you’re ever interested in learning, I could teach you Inuttut,” he offered instead. “It is not spoken by many around here but, if you ever decide to visit the north, you will find many that speak it—and some that only speak it.” He was reminded of some of his family members, both distant and elderly—likely having passed by now—who had never learned the common tongue; being where they were, and often having no intentions of leaving home, they’d never had any need for it. “My children, too,” he continued. “Not my daughter here, she never learned, but my son and daughters that live beyond this place speak it. If ever you were to meet them in your travels, I am sure the language alone would earn you their assistance—from my son, especially.” He knew not if any of his daughters even remembered the language, but he was certain that Alexander had never forgotten it; the boy had always been so keen to it, to imagine him having forgotten was like a work of pure fiction.

There came a question that he was not too interested in answering, but he could not let his own feelings cloud that which she was permitted to hear. “You do not need to worry about what happens,” he assured her. “No matter the outcome, I will make sure you are not harmed. Even if that means taking you far away from Blackfeather.” The only alternative was to let her die, and that he was not the least bit okay with. “I do not know the specifics,” he continued. “I know only that members of this pack did something that our enemies could not forgive.” And for the actions of few, they all would pay the price.
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Her shoulders sank as he spoke, disappointed. So much had Sithis and his Void plagued her over these past dim days and darker nights that she felt bereft without the knowledge of them, and wished so much to know more. That Kove wouldn't teach her quite yet put a damper on her enthusiasm--but she was sure he had his reasons. Probably simply to protect her from things she shouldn't know yet, but perhaps there was more.

Her smile grew as he admitted his deficiency in Daedric but offered to teach her Inuttut. "Okay," she agreed, voice chipper. "And then I can help you with Daedric. Uncle Miraak has been teaching me." Had she had known Miraak was not long for this world, she would have run straight to him for all the lessons in the world. Alas. . .

Maegi's eyes widened as Kove described the motives for the war. Vaati had led her to believe the conflict was justified, but the words tumbling from her teacher's mouth--and the tone of voice he delivered them in--painted a different picture. Would they all suffer for this? Maegi hadn't even been involved, yet they were coming for her blood and the blood of all the Blackfeather wolves. She peered up at Kove, hoping against hope he wasn't one of the perpetrators of violence that led their enemies to the borders soon.

"I don't want to leave!" she exclaimed, her voice a half-whine. She shuffled her feet awkwardly. "I've never even left the trees," she admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed over the fact. "Euron and Ramsay have done it a lot. I've just. . ."

Never felt the drive to do so. It was dark and cozy here, her first home, her forever home. The bright light beyond their borders was as distasteful to her as she knew Namira's Mire or the poisoned willow would be to wolves that came from outside their lands. She had no desire to leave, to see the world. Everything she wanted was right here.
Atâtak Atsanik
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You can go ahead and wrap this up ♥

The way her shoulder sank was caught immediately by the aging male, her disappointment clear. Someday, he would make sure that she learned of everything that she must know in order to become the Priestess that she was destined to be, but not now. Those days would come eventually, after the war and they have all settled once more; he did not speak in response to her reaction, not a sound leaving his mouth until the subject was changed—a change that brought a smile to his own lips, her eagerness contagious. “We will teach and learn together, then,” he decided. That Miraak was teaching her came as no surprise, yet the news was something he was glad to hear; all that could teach her should do so, he felt, so that she might be guided towards the greatest version of herself—for this reason, he wished to keep her away from his daughter, whose mind had been altered greatly, he felt, by the past disorder of the woods.

As she refused him, he frowned, though the expression was quick to soften just moments later. “There may come a day that you have to,” he stated. “I will be there to help you through the journey, you don’t have to worry. The lands beyond these woods… they are not as bad as some of those here make them out to be.” Just as the shadows were not as bad as those on the outside believed—it was all a matter of perspective. “If we ever have to leave, I will take you to the north.” There, she would be able to live as a child should, without worries or fears of what beasts might be lurking around the corner, waiting to take a life.

With a slow shake of his head, he made his dismissal of the topic apparent, giving her time to think instead of piling on more problems. “But you don’t need to worry about any of that now,” the Inuk voiced, turning whilst using his muzzle to motion for her to follow. “Let’s walk and you can clear your head.” Should she follow, Kove would begin moving at a pace slow enough for her to keep up with, with ease; he would remain silent unless addressed, giving her time to think on her own.
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She gave him a watery smile. Maegi couldn't imagine leaving this place. It was all she'd ever known. How would she cope, out in the bright sunlight of the rest of the world?

But Kove was right, she knew. It couldn't be as bad as she'd heard. After all, he'd come from outside these Woods, right? And if there were wolves out there like him, then it might be all right. It wouldn't do anything to relieve the homesickness she would surely feel. . .but it would be okay.

Nodding, Maegi followed awkwardly along, taking three strides to his one. He was silent, and for that she was grateful--because for all the questions bouncing off the walls of her skull, she did not have the words to articulate them.

Nor the fear she still felt.