Wolf RPG

Not long after his foray to the east, Peregrine returned home and found himself the victim of another headache. This one was different from the others, with no pain localized behind his eyes. In fact, it felt like a run-of-the-mill headache after spending the morning out in the hot July sun. Still, he realized he should probably consult with someone about it. Sebastian, Magpie and even Finley knew a bit about medicine, he knew. But he quickly realized there was another, much more fitting candidate: @Raven.

The Alpha lifted his swarthy muzzle into the air and howled for her. He knew there was a chance she wouldn't hear or would hear but avoid coming. Their relationship had been distant since the incident. But the tall, leggy young lady surprised him by showing up promptly. Peregrine regarded her with a surprised look on his face, then wagged his tail and smiled at his youngest child.

"That was fast. Were you close by?" he wondered.

"Yeah, I was looking at finding some seeds for Wifi," Raven admitted meekly.

"Oh, that's cool. Hey, speaking of plants, do you know of something that might help a headache?" Perhaps his headaches, if an inconvenience, would help the two of them bridge the gap that had widened between them ever since his unavoidable execution of her half-sister.

Raven perked up immediately, validating his decision. "Yeah. I'll go grab it. Be right back," the young medic said, hastening away and leaving her father to take a seat near the borders to await her return.

Her dark lips hid the stain of fermented berries, but they did nothing for her wavering gait or the sour-sweet scent on her breath and fur. Magpie's path was aimless, but her luck was not— her staggered movements led her to the borders, away from the caldera, away from her failure, away from death. She hiccuped, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, as she stumbled near a dark figure. A meter or so spanned between them, and she looked up blearily. The yearling could make out nothing but a silhouette, a dark figure. Raven, or Peregrine.

Her reaction was immediate, a struggling backpedal— she wanted to see neither of them. Peregrine would have another reason to loathe her, and Raven would be disappointed by her.

Both would be crushing, and she already couldn't breath.

Magpie struggled to scramble away without notice, but her binge on fermented berries had made her anything but graceful. She should have gone for mushroom or herb; rotten fruit only made her feel, well, rotten.

The Alpha's ears twitched when he heard footfalls coming toward him. Back already? he thought quizzically, turning toward the sound only for his eyes to clap upon the familiar figure of Magpie. His face remained expressionless for a moment, then his brows knitted together when she suddenly noticed him and began to retreat. It wasn't just the fact that she turned away from him that raised a red flag; she was stumbling and staggering.

"Magpie?" he called out to her, sweeping to his feet and taking a few steps toward her. "Are you all right?" He sniffed the air, wondering if she was sick, but all he detected was a fruity scent, nothing that indicated an illness. Drunkenness didn't exactly come to mind, as he wasn't a particularly knowledgeable wolf when it came to that sort of thing.

"HIC—!" she erupted loudly, unintentionally. It felt like her legs were attempting to move through molasses, or tripwire; her attempts at a smooth getaway weren't going very well for the yearling. Truth be told, she had never been drunk before, and in the morning she would severely regret ever trying it. Magpie had only heard stories of fermented berries, how wolves and other creatures would sometimes use them to forget their sorrows. What she didn't hear was how stupid it made you, particularly if you did feel sorrow already.

"'M fine," she whimpered. "Sorr—hic!" she attempted to excuse herself, but her traitor legs kept getting tangled amongst themselves and in the terrain. Magpie finally sat, defeated. She gazed at Peregrine, her eyes sweeping back and forth as she attempted to focus on his face— but her entire world was spinning. She didn't even know what to say at this point, doubtful she could convince herself (let alone her alpha) that she was fine, but not wanting to lay her heart bare to him either.

Something about her behavior struck him as weirdly familiar, though he couldn't put a finger on it. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded, both alarmed and slightly annoyed by her inability to explain herself... or walk, for that matter. "Are you sick?" She was an aspiring Healer, so hopefully she would realize if she was suddenly coming down with something, especially something contagious.

And then a very old memory resurfaced: Atticus came stumbling back to the meadow, giggling to himself. He smelled like ripe fruit... and sex. Peregrine teased him about his girly laugh and wanted to know, "The hell's up with you, man? And why do you smell like snatch?!" Atticus hiccuped as he described a pretty she-wolf by the name of... well, shit, he couldn't remember right at the moment. But they had 'gotten drunk' together, which evidently involved eating rotting fruit. "We banged a bunch," Atticus reported with another giggle before collapsing in a heap at his brother's paws.

The next morning, Peregrine recollected, his brother had felt like garbage and he could only remember bits and pieces of the prior day's events. He had therefore never been interested in pursuing this "get drunk" business, even if Atticus's night had sounded like a whole lot of fun... funny to think back on it now and realize that that was the night when Bones et al had been conceived...

Blinking back to present day, Peregrine asked sharply, "Are you wasted right now?"

"Noth— nothing," she mumbled, hiccuping softly, turning her head away as her eyes began to burn with tears. Her jaw firmly set, and she refused to say anything; which, for a moment, seemed to be fine with the dark male. For a second time, she regretted her choice in fermented berries to soothe the ache of loss. Herbs would have been better, she should have known that; she wasn't yet sober, but Magpie decided that this would be the first and last time that she'd ever get drunk.

"I—" she struggled to answer at Peregrine's final question, not really understanding what "wasted" meant, nor wanting to admit that she had purposefully put herself into this state. "I th—think I ate some— HIC!— some bad berries," the yearling finally slurred, tears spilling from her eyes as she turned her head back to face him.

She didn't answer him directly, though she supplied an explanation at least. Peregrine's features softened a little, as he believed it to be an honest mistake. It actually might have been funny if not for the stricken look on her face. And though the yearling turned from him and tried to hide her face, he could see the wetness in her eyes and knew she was crying.

"Is there anything I can do? Rave is fetching me some headache medicine right now. When she gets back, maybe she can give you something to help... sober you up?" the Alpha guessed, not really sure if or how any of that might work. "In the meantime, I suggest you lie down. You might hurt yourself otherwise," he added, gently but firmly, making it clear it was more a demand than a request.

Fortunately, she did as she was told. She didn't say much more. As a matter of fact, she started to snore. Peregrine was tempted to leave her there to sleep it off. Instead, he remained seated nearby. When Raven came back a little while later, he asked her to keep an eye on Magpie and provide whatever remedy she might require, then accepted his treatment from his daughter, thanked her, and headed to the rendezvous site to find Fox and/or Pan and rest a while himself.