Ankyra Sound If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town.
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#1
Set the day after the thread with Thuringwethil, staying vague about injuries.

Following the scuffle with the Drageda bitch, Nyx had gone into hiding once more. Battered and bruised, she took a day to lick her lacerations and nurse her wounded pride before crossing Grimnismal borders with her tail between her legs. She considered turning away from the strand entirely, grasping at the opportunity that presented itself so willingly, but found that she could not. The golden Ostrega had come to the harsh realisation that she was, despite her ignorance of the changes in her body the past few weeks, carrying The Beta's pups.

She slunk through the sequoias, favouring her left forelimb slightly and appearing entirely defeated. Dried blood crusted around the re-opened scrapes that littered her frame and they ached with every stride, so she tread carefully - though her slowed pace was more reluctant than anything else. Nyx had made a decision to come clean to @Wylla of her suspected pregnancy and she paused at the edge of the forest to sweep her solemn yellow eyes across the grim, overcast beach. Without hesitating too long, she swallowed her anxiety and canted her muzzle skyward to send forth a request for the presence of both @Lycaon and her unsuspecting Alphess.
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eta: if she's not actually covered in blood lmk lol

hunger fussed the stomach of grimnismal’s beta, and his mind had been occupied with intent to cadge a baby squirrel from its drey when the canvassing call of Nyx implored his attention. he looked between the general direction of the call with pricked ears, then back at the temptation of the nest (just out of his reach) with a dithering whine--hunger babbled convincingly in his gut--before his legs made up his mind for him and his paws jettisoned off the tree, leaving the forest behind to find the autumn-leaved girl. 

dread welled the empty space of his belly and the hunger was replaced with an orderless bricolage of concerned emotion when his eyes laid upon her. she looked like she’d gotten into a fight with a goddamn lawnmower. "shit!" quickening his pace to a dead-on bolt, Lycaon raced to join up alongside his was-amour, amber eyes now smoldering embers of confused ire and solicitude. 

his teeth worked through tussocks of fur encrusted with blood, washing the metallic taste off his tongue with a harsh swallow. it definitely didn't taste like she'd just gone ham on some kill, this blood was warm and distinctly belonged to her.  ”what the fuck happened to you? why are you covered in.. in blood, and all these scrapes!” he said, ignorant to the growing fullness of her belly as he cleaned her up and checked her thoroughly for serious injury. "did you piss off a mountain goat? jesus christ. what happened?"
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#3
Putting this after Kierke/Caiaphas argument in my personal timeline but before she formally leaves, since it makes more sense for Wylla vs. having two different threads like this, you guys can decide where it falls in actual fact. <3

From the strand where she'd hoped to cow Kierkegaard, Wylla stormed south along the strand, seeking the path to the forest above. She couldn't believe how ungrateful they were for her putting herself into the difficult role of leading a pack, but she shouldn't have been surprised. She'd known from Lusca's stories the kind of wicked witch she was dealing with. It was only a matter of time.
At least she knew, or at least believed, that most of Grimnismal was loyal to her and wouldn't stick around when they found out the dark-faced hybrid was to lead them. Wylla would have the last laugh, she believed, when Caiaphas watched the kingdom she thought she owned crumble around her without the support of the Luschyons. That thought consumed her as she headed south, hoping to encounter one or both of her brothers on the way. Ingram was nowhere to be found, but she knew Lycaon haunted the woods, so she mounted the thin path with rapid steps and spared the beach one last thin, hateful glare. After all she'd done!
The call from Nyx had her hastening her steps even though she'd thrust her position upon those who sought to constantly undermine her; it was hard to change her tendencies, and she arrived shortly after Lycaon, only realizing upon seeing them that actually, this wasn't her problem anymore. "You're calling the wrong wolf," she spat, bristling inexplicably as she stalked past them, still wholly ruffled from her encounter. Her eyes appraised Nyx's injuries with some level of concern, but she passed it off as aloofness despite the spark of uncertainty in her eyes as she snorted, "can't help you with that anymore, sorry, but I'm sure your superior new coyote overlord will take great care of you," without any thought to the fact she was talking about Lycaon's adoptive mother.
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Lycaon was the first on the scene and Nyx, thankful that the fiery Wylla hadn't gotten to her first, let herself sag noticeably as he made his way toward her. She lowered herself to her haunches, allowing her muscles to slacken and she finally felt that she could breathe again. The pallid Beta's approach hastened when he got a better look at her rather sorry state and, upon arrival at her side, he set about preening her matted fur and prodding at her wounds as though she might bleed to death at any moment.

"Hey!" Nyx hissed, wincing away when he pressed his tongue to a particularly tender scratch. Her yellow eyes narrowed in silent warning - be gentle! - and willed him to continue with more control, though she was quick to realise that her sharpness might be interpreted as a demand that he let her be. Softening then, the golden Ostrega tilted her raven-tipped lobes back in a quiet apology, and she breathed a soft whine to accompany it.

She considered admitting her suspicions of pregnancy then and there, suddenly guilted into the belief that she owed it to him to break the news as gently as possible in privacy as she watched him ramble on with words she barely registered. Before Nyx could even make sense of her muddied thoughts, however, Wylla stalked into her line of sight and her anxiety skyrocketed. The tiny Alpha strode right by them with a bark about some "coyote overlord" and Nyx' concentration promptly shifted from managing her rapid heartrate to trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Puzzled, she made to exchange a glance with Lycaon, choosing to remain silent in her confusion.
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her scold and wince was met with an apologetic shrinking of his posture—”sorry, sorry,” he drew his ears askance, noting to be more mindful of the lacerations in his cleansing. 

in the interim, there was a hush between them—Lycaon, focused on scouring her for more wounds, and Nyx, unbeknownst to him, mulling over revealing the extent of fertility. 

it was amidst that moment that Wylla strode up, resembling an imperially pissed-off porcupine the way her hackles flared to their ends and anger flushed her gills. Lycaon turned to address her, mouth parted to speak, when she cut him off. you’re calling the wrong wolf, she seethed.

”…..wrong––” he sputtered, lids narrowing to confounded slits as his sister scavenged past with some blethering about coyote overlords hot on her tongue. his brain was, in its present state and with its present knowledge of things, an addled mess; far too much stimuli going in and not enough answers supplied for him to make sense of anything unfurling before his eyes. he shifted his gaze to meet Nyx’s dumbstruck glance.

[Image: giphy.gif]

after a beat he shook his head. ”stop fucking around! i mean it. Nyx is hurt.” Lyc asserted. ”and recently she’s been sick, so help me clean her up.” he said, not taking his sister’s weird remark as being in earnest.
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Ooc — Chelsie
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Nyx said nothing. In her furious state, she thought acerbically that that was par for the course—when had Nyx really ever said anything to her? Most often they were silent around one another, or Wylla was talking and Nyx was silent. Lycaon, on the other hand, insisted that Nyx was hurt and that Wylla had to help her. She was beyond angry with her current situation and wanted nothing more than to just keep on going and not look back.
But he was her brother. And, temperamental and hormonal and hateful or not, Wylla wasn't heartless. For all her blunders and failures, she did care about her pack mates. Or, well, did before.
She turned in a huff and took a few strides back in their direction, squinting harshly. "Okay, fine," she snorted, "but then I'm leaving for a while. And I'm not leading anymore." She snatched back her dark ears as she crowded near to Nyx, surveying her injuries as she added, "apparently I'm not good enough for the respect of those crusty bastards making my shore their home, so fuck 'em, they can have it. Worthless pieces of shit. They both deserve the heart attack it'll cause them for screwing with me." And she? Well, she would live out her days in the way she'd always intended—getting fat off their efforts without lifting a finger to help them, much like Kierkegaard and Caiaphas had, without repaying her at all in her ever-so-unbiased opinion, taken advantage of her kindness in letting them stay.
Damn it all. She should have wrung those kids' necks the second they were born. She should have run them out of the Sound for defying her by getting knocked up. She should have held them captive and not let them have their way all this time. She should have... should have...
"What happened to you?" she asked Nyx, voice clipped but softening slightly.
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#7
Her eyes met Lycaon's, and he seemed as puzzled as she was. After blinking dumbly at one another for a moment, Nyx followed the Beta's chestnut gaze to look upon his mottled sister again, and made a mental note to keep her mouth shut for the forseeable future. She recalled the way she'd barked at her upon Reef's interception at the borders and with it, the memory of how swiftly pissed off the little Alpha could become.

She regretted summoning them both. Had she not been feeling pitiful after the scuffle with the cliff-dweller freaked out upon acknowledgement of her possible pregnancy, Nyx probably would've hunted down her paramour to discuss it with him and work out a plan to inform Wylla together. She wasn't used to having to think of others, not since she'd parted ways with Dirge and Saor. And so while the pale Beta attempted to draw attention away from his sister's bitching and onto herself, her wild yellow eyes darted to his face to gawk at him as he voiced her mysterious illness. Don't, she wished to plead silently, but it was too late. Wylla begrudgingly stopped her ranting and asked her, pointedly, what happened.

"Someone Drageda bitch," the wounded she-wolf said, trying to feign how collected she wanted to be but revealing her nervousness in the curling of her peppered tail. "She attacked me - unprovoked - on the fields."
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#8
hello. i’m terrible

Wylla’s rants hustled through his auditory processing; he was so distracted by the current sorry state of Nyx that the clodpate failed to connect any dots that would illustrate the meaning behind his sister’s words. again, what are you talking about?!” he said with exasperation stressing his voice. 

though, not expecting a meaningful follow-up to the question (and not being able to discern normal strung-out Wylla from this advanced version of strung-out Wylla), the obtuse marshmallow turned and shouldered Nyx with flattened ears as she recalled the encounter that left her in her present condition. he’d missed the tacit alarm she expressed amidst his reveal that prior to this incident she’d been unwell, but caught the tail-end of some distress flicker across her face.

”Drageda?” he echoed with a bemused expression, head canting. the name itself had never touched his ears, but to his unknowing, it was the very same pack that had came down upon he and Ingram those many weeks ago. 

the boy turned to Wylla. ”wuuh... do you know what that is?” he asked, a giant ? plastered on his face for a moment before the light-bulb scintillated dimly—wait—Nyx had mentioned them by name, she was the questionee. he turned to face her again. ”wait, do you? why would she attack you in the fields? i was just there the other day. there's no pack.

.....do you think she had rabies?!”
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Nyx didn't verbally respond to her outburst and Lycaon expressed only confusion. Wylla's ears flattened and she scowled at the ground. Were they both completely stupid? Nevermind that it had only just happened, word hadn't got around yet about Caiaphas and Kierkegaard both completely disregarding, stomping and spitting on her authority as the pack's leader. The news about Wylla thrusting the responsibility on Caiaphas and wishing the sea witch luck in securing the respect of her peers—she! a wolf who hardly left her dark hole in the ground to do anything!—couldn't have circulated yet.

It didn't matter. Wylla was leaving after this regardless if her brother and other subordinates understood or not. She vengefully hoped that the pack suffered in her absence, if only so the two members who had proved the most useless (in her eyes, that is) would regret their actions that day.

When Lycaon turned to her she shrugged wordlessly. She had no idea what Drageda was, but assumed it was the cliff pack or some variation. She wasn't surprised to learn that one of their wolves had attacked unprovoked. The first attack had been unprovoked as well. Wylla might have mustered up the willpower to bring her wolves to bear against the other pack's borders for this second transgression, but, well. That wouldn't be happening now.

At length, after giving time for Nyx to better explain, she answered Lycaon: "Your bitch of a mana doesn't seem to think she or her corpse of a mate deserve to be punished for having babies without even asking," she snorted disdainfully, "so she's your new leader and I'm not staying where I'm treated like shit. I'd have gone up to pay this Drageda a stern visit for this," she confided to Nyx, "but that's not my call anymore so you'll need to bring it to her. I'm sure she won't do anything, selfish cow that she is."