Wolf RPG

A haze in the morning sky cast a sunless day over Swiftcurrent as only a soft light bathed the creek, unlike its usual chiaroscuro. The forest was quiet, still shaken by the violent bloodshed that dampened its ground days prior. The foul stench of rotting lion kept the woodland creatures squirreled away, knowing that something quite terrible had passed. Even the birds refused to sing; perhaps in protest of the predators' dance.

Death had visited more than one creature that day, and toyed with the rest. Njal had suffered a terrible blow to the head that had sent him into fits of fever and unrest. Tuwawi had been an attentive nurse, but still his health was low; burdened by the deep gash above the temple. His status had steadied, however, and slowly Tuwawi felt more comfortable to leave him sleeping for short bouts of time. Her thoughts turned to the other warriors of Swiftcurrent, specifically Jinx who had been encumbered by the weight of an unimaginable tragedy. Tuwawi could not know the pallid woman's consumptive intent — that her young were meant for Sos in the end — but she shared her loss emphatically.

These thoughts roused the flickering ember from her watch and spurred her to ford the creek, plucking a fat trout from the water along the way (as it was the only prey who hadn't temporarily resigned from the forest). Jinx's lair was an enigmatic thing, but the Mambo's odor was strong in these parts. Tuwawi searched, hoping to find her resting here... but willing to travel farther if she was not. Something had shifted the secular creature's sentiments, unaware that slowly she would come to terms with the practices of her kin in time.

Tuwawi's stance remained hunched as she cautiously trekked through the dense undergrowth, tail cupped tight against her belly. Her posture did not think of rank at this moment, but only of the crippling burden Jinx endured. Tuwawi and she were the only two in the pack who could truly say that they embraced their womanhood, grown and fertile; and in that similarity there was something to share. The fish had grown tepid now as it sat in her jaws, and so she hurried to seek the demure ex-mother, sensitive to her plight.

If Jinx could not be found, it was intentional. The mambo sought solitude, shying away from company whenever it drew near. A slow week or so had passed, and in that time, the Kesuk warrior had wandered the territory in a state very unlike her usual self. With what had happened with Haunter tucked away in the dark recesses of her mind where she dare not consult it, her thoughts turned inward once more, reflecting on the lives lost to the cougar that day.

But as hours stretched into days, and days passed uneventfully, Jinx began the slow process of healing. The fevered delirium brought on by the state of her wounds had long since faded with Lecter's previous tending, which was part of the reason she had locked any memory of what Haunter had done into her mind where she couldn't see it. It had been a fever-dream of the shaman that had got her into that situation... That, and an unyielding desperation. The desperation was gone, the fever was gone, and even the sharp edge of grief had dulled its blade ever so slightly. She was able to peek out from her mental prison, so that Tuwawi would find her in a rare moment of clarity.

Even before the assault on the mountain lion, Jinx had been partial to sleeping outdoors, but she had dug a hidden den in preparation for the birthing. That den served no purpose now, but despite being an outdoor creature at heart, she had taken to hiding in its darkness to escape the worry of her pack mates. She lay outside it today, its entrance blocked by her body. She was unmoving, still not ready to resume any of her usual activity what with her injuries, both internal and external, but she noticed Tuwawi drawing near and her head lifted to acknowledge the Zeta. It was the first non-delirious encounter since the miscarriage.

But she didn't say anything, in part because she knew not what to say, and in part because she expected more pity and didn't know how she would react to it. Although the unsteadiness of her sanity the past few days had begun to correct itself, she was nevertheless still volatile. This would become very evident in days to come. For right now, the Kesuk was calm, collected, and lucid, but still distant and unpredictable.

The search for the sea-born wolf did not last long, as she laid where Tuwawi expected her to be. Like a moon set against a dark sky, Jinx's pale figure contrasted its drab backdrop, a season still ensnared by winter's lingering touch, yet to be decorated by blooms and greenery. She appeared reclined and serene, lost in thought but with a steady gaze of a creature living in the mortal realm, draped in apathy. A sun bleached gargoyle surveying her underling's approaching form. Tuwawi's eyes scanned the Mambo's healing, but still ugly, wounds, tracing the long gashes from her neck to her thighs. They appeared to be stitching well, though it was possible the plush coat Jinx always carried hid other injuries as well.

As she entered the vicinity, Tuwawi became cautious, moving slowly like a gentle wave. It wasn't wise to stir anyone after such a loss, and the ember knew she could potentially be trifling with a danger worse than that of the lion's that they had slain. Yet something instinctual drove her to Jinx, pulled at her strings and ebbed her forward. Not even the Kesuk's heritage could drive her away, for it was if Jinx had been transformed. Tuwawi's eyes met the mother's face, but only for a brief millisecond before deferring away to an icy shoulder, attempting to get a better read on the state she was in. The nearer she became, the lower she sank; red tail slowly beating against her inner thighs as it curled tight against her belly. Even Tuwawi's rusty lobes were pinned backwards, deep into her mane. At that moment she became the epitome of submission, low to the ground in a near-crawl, all the while with fish in mouth.

It wasn't pity she offered... no... it was something else entirely. Some sort of emotion mixed with empathy and compassion, but ripened by a deep pathos. Only a few feet separated the women now, Tuwawi down at Jinx's level. She placed the gift on the ground, hoping it to not be too trivial, and nosed it towards her snowy superior. Few words came to mind now as she tested the waters, "Jinx...," she whispered encompassed by the Mambo's energy, but uncertain whether it would remain calm for much longer.

Tuwawi's approach evoked in her something she hadn't felt for a long time: compassion. It had been her trait as a child, the one thing that set her apart from her ruthless sister, her aloof brother, and the other brother, the paranormal one who had lost his sanity too early. She had felt intense guilt when she asserted herself, and shared a deep empathy with her age mates. It had been Jinx, the compassionate Kesuk, who had commanded the Adepts of the pack. That compassion had since been lost, but she felt it now.

It was a strange thing. She had lost more than she ever expected to lose with the abortion of her cubs. She had never planned to care for them, or think twice that their lives might be worth living. In short, she had known they would die, had accepted it... But nonetheless had been deeply afflicted by it. Tuwawi's approach was able to soothe the volatility in her and compel her to socialize. They might not have had the greatest impressions of one another at first, but that wasn't to say Jinx didn't respect the red-furred woman.

The fish was ignored, at least for now. She hadn't had any appetite since the cougar attack, evidenced in the weight she had lost already. Instead, she began to crawl forward herself, mimicking Tuwawi even as the woman said her name, until she was unbearably close to the other woman... And then, seeking something she could not name, she pushed her snout into her visitor's cheek, meeting the others gaze quite uninvinted with a strange uncertainty and loss in her own eyes.

A quiet stillness encircled ice and fire as they both laid prone opposite one another, the last sounds of the Mambo's name lingering on Tuwawi's tongue as she watched the listless almost-mother with a cautious gaze. She half expected Jinx to snap or turn away, refusing her audience in favor of privacy, and so the young wife could not help but flinch when Jinx pulled herself close. The cold leather of the Kesuk's nose pressed firmly into her thin cheek as their gaze became magnetized, and the Sveijarn found herself deep in pools of old amber, devoid of spirit or life. A sensation washed over the smaller woman then, spurring her hair to prickle and heart to wrench as they stole a moment together.

Though the pallid seawolf was a pious woman, natural law maintained control of her mortal husk. Where she had been strong and devout, she was now atropied by deep seated despair; indefinably present in every way. She could not grasp the chemicals that warred in her mind, compelling her to feel these emotions. Her only concourse was to be wracked by them, like a reed in the ocean, until it all passed. Even her body scrambled and scraped to explain its phantom pregnancy, wanting so badly to nurture but having no means to do so; womb hollowed. The depression was perceptible to Jinx's guest, who wished she could bend the earth's order to take back what had been lost... but lacking all power necessary.

A low, warbling whine eeked from Tuwawi's throat at her comrade's touch, dotted brows pinched in understanding. Slowly her maw rubbed against the Mambo's taut jaw as her tongue began to wash over her face with long, repetitive laps. The eyes, the cheeks, the crown... no piece was left untouched by the Svejarn's careful grooming; cleansing... baptizing the other woman in her own way. Closer she drew, back twisting, wanting to coax Jinx nearer to cradle her, and cocoon her entirety. Anything to make known that she was cared for, and loved.

She had never craved closeness before. Claustrophobia had been present in Jinx from the moment she was old enough to walk, and her sister was old enough to sit on her. She hated being confined almost as much as she hated being unable to move. Her bearing was at all times suspicious, for she had adopted from her unknown father a keen distrust in all outsiders. Yet she welcomed Tuwawi's embrace, finding comfort in the other woman... Perhaps because Tuwawi closely resembled Fox, and Jinx trusted Fox as a friend. The subconscious projection of her wish that Fox would come to comfort her for her loss painted itself on Tuwawi, and opened Jinx to interaction.

The loa blinded her still, but this time, it was not ill-purposed. Having passed their test, they now gave her a semblance of comfort that she was unaware of.

She sighed gently, expelling negativity as though it were a tangible mist, and feeling a weight lifting just slightly. The crushing guilt and grief slackened for an instant when Tuwawi groomed her. The Kesuk did not return the ministrations, for now. She selfishly hoarded the attention, basking in it and curling herself closer to Njal's wife. She would return the favour eventually, if not today then another day, but presently she just wanted to enjoy it. The curtains of her misery had parted for a fleeting moment, coaxed apart by this red-furred woman, and she meant to prolong that sense of freedom as long as possible.

At times, love was a selfless thing; and where Jinx soaked up the favors wantonly, Tuwawi doled them unconditionally. Her body wrapped the paler woman entirely, as a mother swathed its child, when Jinx crawled closer to find comfort. It was a maternal thing... and it was a sisterly thing... to provide a peaceful touch which transcended any brews or potions concocted by healers. Sometimes the most potent antidotes were invisible. Intangible medicine to cure intangible wounds; holding despair's hand and helping it pass with haste.

But some heartache would have to be endured.

Tuwawi crooned as Jinx exhaled. Bad karma expelled from the Kesuk's body as she struggled to release the deeper emotions which plagued her still. Jinx's subordinate was careful with her movements, gentle will her caresses, as she gingerly combed though Jinx's alabaster mane; attempting her best to put the lost mother at ease. No motion was executed without grace, from the tiniest preening to the gentlest of nudges, and eventually Tuwawi's neck draped across the bear woman's shoulders like a cowl. A soft coo, mixed by a baritone purr and a soprano whine, lulled the grieving wolf to better places in her mind's eye, and truly... it was a sound of pure serenity.