Wolf RPG - Sea without a Shore

The golden sun rose in the blood red sky. Its brilliant color filling up the darkness that once consumed the atmosphere. Diluculo awoke just in time to see the sky light up in a beautiful array of colors, red, orange, yellow, a dash of purple, and a mix of blue began to dance in her eyes. The fog left over from last night's rain made the earth look like a canvas, and the sky the brush, the sun was the paint. It was the perfect picture of serenity and paradise.

On this morning the chocolate wolf couldn't sense any rain in the few hours ahead, which was a blessing. She did sense one thing in her future, prey. The midnight pelted wolf began her little search for small mammals that she could wrangle. Her tracking skills toned themselves quickly once she had became a lone wolf. Lone wolf's survival relied on just one thing, and that was the wolf. In the pack survival was easier, if you couldn't hunt or track or kill your packmates would for you. If you were alone, you were dead. When a wolf became a loner they took over all responsibility. They were the diplomat, the alpha, the scapegoat, the hunter, the tracker, the killer, and the defender.

Soon after traveling along the forest floor Diluculo picked up the scent of a hare. It had just recently pasted through the same dirt she was standing on. Slowly the wolf trailed the scent that danced around her nose. Just before the sun was half way through the sky her eyes caught the small hare. Crouching slowly the wolf watched as the brown hare ate silently, unsuspecting of the danger that lurked near. Just before the hare could sense her the chocolate wolf pounced landing a killing bite swifty. With pride in her eyes Diluculo picked up the blood soaked hare by her jaws and began to swallow it.

It was beneath the sky - as crimson as fresh life blood spilled across the sky like an open wound that spread as far as the eye could see - that Ragnar watched the sun rise, spreading a golden fire over canvas of trees in Ravensblood Forest as Ragnar stood high upon the actual ridge itself using the landslide as an easy climbing path to give him the view of Huginn and Muinnin. So this is what it is like to see what Odinn does, The Viking wondered peaceably, as enjoyed the rise of the sun admitting that it was a shame wolves were not granted hollow bones and wings as well. If Ragnar had not been concerned for the Thistle and the babes - given her recent drop in energy and increase in exhaustion - he would have invited her to share in the view with him. What held the potential to be romantic if the savage possessed a single romantic bone in his body (he didn’t) was tainted by his thought of carnage and gore in his wife’s absence of presence. It was just Ragnar, his memories that stretched from his very first raid up to the night under the silver moonlight, upon Odinn’s consecrated ground and beneath the Allfather’s watchful eye when he had claimed a part of Thistle that could not be unclaimed. Varied as they were they held no real sense of purpose other than to remind him though for what for he did not know.

After a few more minutes of watching - a silent and scarred sentry lingering above the land enjoying his bird’s eye view - he reluctantly began his careful descent down the ridge using the same path he had followed to get to it’s top, finding it somehow more treacherous going down than up. Heights did not scare the Viking, in fact very little did, besides his growing affection for Thistle and his inherent lack of knowledge of what to do with his falling love because he had never loved any of his wives or even, remotely, been falling in love with them. He was still a falling morning star within him that had yet to crash into him. He feared burying a second litter and he feared the anger that it would bring within him at Odin (as it had the very time) with the potential of firing onto Thistle as it had Dagmar. But, so far, thanks be given to Freya and Frigg (which reminded Tokio she should do a sacrifice thread for that) things seemed to be going rather well and so Ragnar did not allow himself to dwell upon what could go wrong because the mental image of tiny little bodies covered in blood, absolutely devoid of the life they should have had was enough to make the Viking see red (similar to the rage he felt when he had consumed the drugged mushrooms for raids when he had led them as a Berserker).

It was on Ragnar’s way to the borders to pick up where he had left off that he caught sight of Diluculo, hackles bristling as he assumed a dominate posture watching as she began to swallow her catch what appeared to him to be whole. Bewildered, the savage watched her the word Viper screaming through his head without restraint. Indeed, her method of consuming her hare was rather snake like. A viper suited her, Ragnar thought with a soft snort. His words of warning spoken to Pump in regards to their newest member we hardly forgotten as Ragnar moved closer to her. He would teach her to respect him as her superior (because Thistle and him were the highest ranking wolves under Pump) and he was willing to push her past her breaking point to do it. “You eat like a viper.” The Viking spoke his observation to her with disinterest, eyes watching her for her reaction certain she had something smart to speak to him.

Spin your satirical words all you want, Viper, I will break you, The Viking thought whilst his expression remained stoic.

Before the hungry she wolf could consume the rest of her kill none other than Ragnar, the pale Viking with a temper shorter than a newborn rat (and as appealing as such), appeared. With a quick remark he noted how she ate like a viper in his disinterest voice. The chocolate wolf bit off the piece of the hare that was outside of her jaws causing blood to splatter her fur surround her mouth. After spitting out the bones of the freshly caught hare the female swallowed the pieces of muscle left over.

The female was spewing up sarcasm as she spoke with posion in her voice. "And you smell like shit. Anything else you want to point out captain obvious of the perceptive ship? I heard recently that the sky is indeed blue, the grass is surely green and you are still an asswipe! Huh, curious isn't it?" Diluculo finished waiting to see what the snowy pelted male would retort with.

Of course it came as little to surprise to the savage when her words lashed out at him across the distance between them spewing with the intent of venom but sounding childish and irrelevant to his ears. Here and now, knowing she was a member of the pack and not some stranger at the borders that he, as the Warden, had sworn to protect before Pump and Odinn both, he was able to take it with a much cooler temperament then before. They were petty words of petty attempts at insults that Ragnar found no more than annoying - like a horse fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing by his ear no matter how many times he attempted to show it away. For a moment, Ragnar got a sadistic sort of pleasure from imagining exactly how he would crush the life from her body, how he would sacrifice her to Thor but he was sure Pump would not be very pleased with him if he did such a thing; and just like that there it was: the damned Beta rank hovering over his head and the leash he had put himself on to see to it that he got the rank reminding him that he had to obey Pump, for now at least and curb his more ruthless tendencies.

Without any truth behind her sarcastic comments they held no weight upon him and Ragnar found it was almost too easy to ignore them and keep himself from retorting back. If she was going to act like a child towards him then he would treat her as he would treat a child. It was obvious she had yet to learn how the wolf hierarchy worked that he was above her in rank and Ragnar wondered what it would take to make her realize she was just a bug under his paw. Insignificant to him. “I can’t decide if you are stupid or just reckless,” Ragnar spoke softly with a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. “Perhaps you need someone to teach you how the ranks work in a pack.” He suggested to her with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I am not going to trade petty insults with you, Diluculo. I will not follow in your steps and resort to acting like an ignorant child.” Though, he had to admit she was doing a rather good job of it. In his opinion, Pump had gone far too easy on her and he was still angry with their hybrid leader for it but it seemed if he wanted things done his way he would have to take matters into his own hands. Consequences be damned, if Pump wanted to kick him out he would not plead for her to stop him. He would make his own pack as Odinn had wished him to do in the first place and he would take Thistle and their babes with him.

With that being said, the Viking intended to leave beginning to take steps with her, though his ears were alert to catch if she was willing to show him she was going to be an asset to the pack by acting like the adult Ragnar assumed she was or prove him right by resorting to more petty attacks at him.

The coffee colored wolf finally figured out why the male had a stick up his ass, he wanted dominance over her. Spoken like a true noble wolf the male stated that he wanted to show her dominance and how ranks work. Diluculo smirked as the male carried on with his insults wrapped in simple spoken word. The hypocritical nature of Ragnar's statements rang out to the female, "Trading petty insults? The bitch started throwing names at me in the first place." The list of adjectives that the female had for the male was too long to even start on. Although cunt, bitch, pretty boy, and pup were in the top positions with asshat, motherfucker, and bastard following in a close second.

The female smiled when the male (finally) finished his statements. Taking one of the half crushed bones from the stack of flesh in front of her the female chewed slowly on it, leaving the male with just the sounds of bones scraping against teeth.

After a few moments the female placed the bone back on the ground and glanced up at the male. Gracefully the female rose from her position on the dirt. Standing a half a foot shorter than the male, and constiterably smaller in body makeup, she looked like a child next to him. Her icy eyes showed no fear for the male. "Teach me the ranks? What are you going to do? Kill me?" The female spoke her last words with frozen acid, letting it slowly seep off her tongue. The she wolf was ready for death but was the male stupid enough to grant her that wish.

Maybe it was Ragnar’s instinct and feral driven desire to dominate Diluculo that caused him to dislike her so because she refused to acknowledge that he was her superior in Rank, if nothing else. In Odinn’s Cove she would have found herself a corpse at the Jarl’s paws …but there was little sense in comparing the Cove to the Ridge. They were vastly different. Ragnar did not lead the Ridge, and it did not appear that he would ever see the Beta rank as far as he could see - and he did not have the freedom to execute as he would have. Pump lingered above him, her superiority over him keeping him in check, keeping the leash the Viking had foolishly he saw now, put himself on choking him back when he made to lunge. The chain that bound him would not break, would not rust and corrode. No, the only way he would be free of it was when he was allowed the freedoms he desired which didn’t seem like it would be any time soon. It was all amount of Ragnar’s outstanding will power and perhaps just dumb luck that he had yet to make good on what everything in his body was telling him to do. There was silence for a bit, interrupted only by the sound of her teeth scraping across the bones she worried, reminiscent to the Viking of how it sounded to crush such feeble things to splinters beneath the power of his jaw.

Ragnar watched as she rose - smaller than him, humorously, though he was used to looking down at others - Thistle particularly who was smaller than Diluculo as it was. While her pregnancy did not give his wife height it gave her weight (not that, Gods above he would ever tell her that) and he was positive if she could have gotten him to the ground Thistle could have pinned him with relative ease for multiple reasons. A soft, amused snort escaped Ragnar’s black, leathery nostrils when the female all but challenged him to kill her. As much as I would like too, There was no lesson in death. “No,” Ragnar responded stoically, simply. “That would be too easy and there is no lesson in that.” Death, for him was something to be celebrated and Ragnar meant to teach her not reward her with the ultimate end. “I plan to test you, to push you beyond your boundries. You will prove to me that you deserve your rank in this pack just as I had to earn mine. We are not equals, not even my wife and I are equals.” Thistle held the rank above him making her his superior and while the lines of their ranks often became blurred when they were together in private, they were not something he blurred when in the public eye.

Diluculo was somewhat disappointed, apart of the swarthy female wanted that release only death provide. The male did just what the ebony female expected, to shy away from killing. This to Diluculo proved that Ragnar's bark was worst than his bite. Diluculo was raised under the rule of males. When you were born a female you were automatically placed under every male. This lead to an ultimate dislike for males, especially those that believed Siluculo was under them, even though in Ragnar's case it was logical. The she wolf doesn't have a logical force behind all her actions.

"See the thing is Ragnar, you don't know what drives me. You won't find what pushes me over the edge you overconfident wolf. What makes you think you deserve what rank you have?" Diluculo retorted. Even the female didn't know what drove her, sure the simple fact of wanting to survive was a factor-but even that simple goal was becoming too much for the female. She had no close family left, no mate nor children or parents. She did have siblings back in her old Sarcina but she just presumed them dead.

Maybe Ragnar was overconfident, there was certainly no shortage arrogance, but he also recognized his own arrogance and confidence as stupidity (at least when it came to anything that regarded the safety of his family); but he was skilled at using it to his own advantage. For everything about him that was to others so “bad” his love and loyalty to his family was probably his one redeeming thing. Ragnar was not a villain but he certainly wasn’t a hero, and he understood this and frankly, had never tried to paint himself as something he was not. He felt no shame in his culture or his actions and would never apologize for them. If they wanted rid of him Pump knew exactly how to do it, in which case Ragnar would take his with him when he left. It was as simple as that. “I don’t need to know,” He contradicted her, smirking at her in wicked amusement. “Do you not think there are others ways to break you?” There were many. He could break her physically too, though it was not as lasting as an emotional break it was still painful.

“Do you honestly think Pump would have given it to me if I had not worked for it?” Ragnar had no qualms earning his place as he had likely proven to Pump on numerous occasions. Sure, he had asked for the Beta rank but he thought it was fair that he earned it, working himself restlessly to do so. He found the fact that she continued to hold him at bay annoying but until she gave him a solid and definite answer there was little he could do. He only wished if she intended to give it to someone over him she would tell him so he could put his preparations into action.

Diluculo was confident there was no way the male could break her besides death. She had no family, no pups, no mate, no wolf that stood out to her as even a close friend. Her old pack had done away with all that. The leaders were vicious creatures in the simplest terms. They had already broken her, taking away almost all her family besides her siblings whom she figured now were dead. You can’t break something that never was whole in the first place. The two years she spent on her own made sure of that fact. While the she wolf had morals, simple ones like killing as only a last resort, she still had no empathy for any wolves. Some would say it is odd, having no empathy for a fellow being but not wanting to kill them. The swarthy female had very few emotions that she would show to other wolves. Diluculo almost guaranteed that the pretty boy could break her in any way besides physically.

Whatever rank the male held the she wolf knew it was towards the top of the chain. While he wasn’t second in command he was still in the upper level. Just below his mate although, which was curious. Why would a wolf that fornicated with another pack’s male be put above this creature? The creature that seems to think he is above every abiotic and biotic factor that ever walked this earth. It was something that struck curiosity in the female. ”Why is it that your mate, who commited treason, is above you? From what you seem to think about yourself you are the ‘bees knees.’ How could a wolf so seemingly loyal to the alpha be placed below a wolf who fornicated with another male. Curious, isn't it Ragnar?” The she wolf spoke in a questioning but sarcastic tone hoping to insight some type of emotion within the male wolf. She was almost certain he would keep a level head even though her taunting remarks were disrespectful.

Death was not on the proverbial table for the ways in which Ragnar was allowed to break her - despite that in Ragnar’s life death was not typically seen as a punishment. It was the punishment for committing crimes if proven guilty, admittedly and only was it a true punishment if one was cursed from going to Valhalla. It had happened before, once. Mostly, however, that was off limits to him because of Pump. Ragnar was a little tired of laying down to her rules, ignoring his true nature and ways for the sake of his own ambition and her ability to keep what he wanted just, infuriatingly, out of his grasp. When Diluculo spoke she held his attention if only out of custom and nothing else, but her words were laced with curiosity - something that he could relate to her about even if he was unhappy with the subject of her curiosity. He did not like her speaking about Thistle (in fact he would probably be quite unhappy if he were to find out about their meeting and flirtations). As it was, the Viking was a little confused as to how Diluculo knew that because he knew he had never told her but then figured that she probably had spoken to Thistle, if only because Ragnar could not imagine anyone else really telling what was no longer necessary. The children were Ragnar’s - why did there have to be anything more to that?

Only Thistle would feel guilt and feel like she had to explain it all of it (maybe not all of it, it seemed that she was able to keep their night of shared passion while she was still in her season their secret) to everyone who asked.

Ragnar did not advocate lying as a general rule of thumb, however, he was cunning and wasn’t afraid to craft the truth to fit his own needs. He did not ask her how she knew of Thistle’s apparent ‘treason’, and despite that she had fornicated with Crete before Ragnar (he was denying what was obvious the children were Crete’s by blood) he did not really see it as treason. In Odinn’s Cove illegitimate children were rather common among Viking men and slave women, and sometimes even, slave men and free women/shield maidens. Ragnar’s own father: Eitri had a bastard son, Ragnar’s half brother, Dagrún through a slave girl. In the following moments of her questions, no doubt meant to dig and writhe beneath his skin, Ragnar simply stared at her. In truth, he had never really thought about it and never before in the way Diluculo stated it. In the rare times he considered Thistle his superior he had always assumed it was because she had been in the Ridge longer than him, was a valuable asset as the pack’s only Healer and had worked nothing less of miracles upon them when the landslide had nearly extinguished the life of their small pack. He did not need Diluculo digging into the fact that Ragnar was not Pump’s second in command a fact that already had dug beneath his skin and perversely itched and irritated him. “No,” Ragnar said simply. “Thistle has done much for this pack and earned her rank above me. Her punishment was sorted in other ways.” The Viking explained before he fell into a stoic silence, waiting with the exasperated patience of a parent looking after his over zealous child, as Ragnar wondered what she would throw at him next.

Treason wasn't a grey matter in Diluculo's mind. It was black and white. If a wolf did something to jeopardized the pack's well-being, it was treason. What Thistle did before the female joined was treason. She brought bastard children into the mix. That was more mouths to feed, more wolves to protect, and the possibility of another pack wanting the pups. What would happen if the father's pack wanted the pups, that was a battle Diluculo didn't want to fight on behave the of the pretty boy's promiscuous mate. "Treason is treason. If I worked miracles and brought back a wolf from the dead that doesn't excuse me from an act of treason. Treason is punishable by death." The she wolf spoke honesty. While the male in her eyes shouldn't have a high rank, he technically deserved on above his mate.

Ragnar would never be able to understand what was so horrible about the fact that likely (he was still holding onto the errant hope that the babes would be his by blood) the babes were Crete’s -- at least from everyone else’s point of view. From his own, yes, he could, if they turned out to belong to Thistle’s one night lover, be threats to him and by all rights Ragnar could kill them. But, he didn’t consider them Crete’s - no, they were his and his babes alone, whether they were borne of his seed or not. They were his sons acknowledged and accepted by his Gods and for whatever it was worth, Ragnar loved the mysterious children in Thistle’s womb, anxious to know them and teach them the ways of their true people. From a general, detached perspective, while Ragnar understood the terms of her ‘treason’ he did not understand what the fuss regarding the babes was all about. As it was, ~~Vikings had threesomes all the time~~ he was tired of going around in regards to his babes and their conception. It didn’t matter anymore, and frankly as far as the Viking was concerned she had no say in it because it had been before her acceptance into the pack.

“If you have a problem with how Pump handled it, talk to her about it,” Ragnar told her stiffly. He did not need to verbally make the threat that if she touched his mate or came near his children he would rip her lungs out of her body. It would be unnecessary and redundant because it was there without him needing to say it, anyway. “I do not know how Pump decides our ranks,” Since the obvious way that he could think of seemed to be thrown out the window decidedly. Ragnar would have handled the ranks starkly different than Pump but while they were similar, they were also vastly different. “The punishment has been dealt, and you do not need to concern yourself with my children.” Ragnar told her with finality, abruptly closing off that topic of discussion. He did not want to keep going in the circle of how Thistle was a higher rank than him despite what she had done that technically, by Ragnar’s own standards as well, would have earned her a demotion. Rather, Ragnar had a suspicion as to why that was, feeling that Pump was suspicious of him and would rather Thistle be between him and her in the hierarchy because if he wanted higher than Thistle, as it currently stood, he would have to challenge her for the rank and she would be, realistically, in no shape to handle a rank challenge …and Thistle worked as an effective deterrent.

For now.

Diluculo had no plans of coming near any of the pups that came from Thistle's womb, nor any other she wolf's. The midnight female had never enjoyed puppies in the first place. In all honesty it wasn't the brown females problem if his she wolf was unfaithful or not, unless it had something to do with her. Diluculo as of recently had decided the best way to insult the pretty boy wolf was to mess with his mate. She was an easy thing to flirt with, she was beautiful, but the ebony she wolf wouldn't let out any information about their meeting until significant damage was dealt. The simple flirting would hopefully in the she wolf's eyes go much further. Not far enough to break the pair apart but just far enough to wound the male.

"I have no plans of being around your wife's children, I mean your children. I have no doubt they will be as beautiful as their father is." The she wolf spoke alluding to Ragnar as the father, while he wasn't the true biological father Diluculo gave him the courtesy of acting like he was.

By all rights Thistle had not been unfaithful to him, though Ragnar’s lie to the Plateau wolves had made it seem that way but Ragnar had only spun the deception because he wanted to see Crete pay for it, and since he could not track down the mute and slaughter him himself Ragnar had to do what he could with what he had to work with. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. Diluculo spoke again confirming she didn’t want to go near the babes and for some reason - perhaps the slight edge in her voice that eluded to her dislike of them - Ragnar believed her. “Our babes, hers and mine,” Ragnar corrected her with the narrowing of his icy, Caribbean blue eyes at Diluculo’s words. She insinuated that the babes were his, though he had a high suspicion that she was being sarcastic about the matter if only because that was what the Viking had come to expect from her. Nothing but sarcasm, which to her disadvantage, would make it hard to take her seriously when that time came. Given that Ragnar had taken Thistle before their mateship, during her heat season but after Crete (obviously) they could have, in all fairness of Ragnar’s delusions been his by flesh and blood. Of course, Thistle and him had kept their shared night hush, hush - no one but the two of them knew of it.

Again, Ragnar took her last words to be sarcasm, no doubt eluding to the disjointed raven that marred the flesh on the left side of his face and ear, to the smaller scars on his muzzle. Ragnar had been handsome, once. Maybe he still was, if no one looked at scarred half of his face though each of those marks done by Floki in honor of Odinn had been intentional and wanted by the Viking. Merely to humor her the Viking spoke with a slow and lazy smirk, “We shall see.” Who his babes looked like didn’t matter to him - so long as they were strong and healthy. That was all that truly mattered to Ragnar.

"We shall see" The male spoke in a slow manner. He was right, we all shall see. The male would see one day, what Diluculo had done with his mate, and what she planned to do. She was ready to wreak havoc upon the young pale wolf's life. So long as the midnight pelted wolf was around the male wouldn't sleep easy. She would start with his mate, then in time after the pups had grown she would move onto them. While she had no intention of seeing them while they were young when they grew older she would try and plant a seed in their minds. They were easier to manipulate when they are young but they also would be watched closely. Planting a seed in their rebellious years would be much simpler, and to Diluculo's liking.

"You're right Ragnar." The dirt colored wolf looked down at the pile of half eaten hare then glancing back up at the male. "We shall see." With that the female gathered up her prey and trotted away leaving only the bones that she has gnawed on earlier. To her that was a gift, a future telling fortune for the male. Nothing would be left after the female had her way. One day (she hoped) the venom of her mouth would slowly consume Ragnar and his family leaving only bones and teeth marks.

But then again, only time would tell.

I'll have this archived. <3

Ragnar did not pin Thistle for the cheating type, given how adamant she had been about making it absolutely clear that she would not tolerate him sleeping with another woman - going so far as to even promising him that she would kill him. Slowly. Painfully. Silently. It was terms he had agreed too the day they had become husband and wife, agreeing that it was only fair. It was the fact that she saw adultery to be an abomination (or rather this was how Ragnar assumed Thistle saw it) that the thought that she might cheat had never once, and still did not, enter his mind. Diluculo could spin her plans but Ragnar bestowed faith that Thistle would not fall for them, nor her, in hindsight; and further that his overbearing personality would shield his children from falling prey to a culture he did not want them to know. They were Vikings and if Ragnar were to ever catch her spinning things into his children’s ears there would be trouble and his regard for Pump and her superiority over him would be thrown out the window. The only reason it had not been disregarded yet was because she held something he wanted over his head how a child taunted a dog with a treat.

Even then Ragnar would only take so much taunting with patience learned during his time as Jarl. It would wan thin, eventually. If it was not already beginning to do so.

He watched her leave with clear disdain upon his face, lip curling back as he regarded the Viper’s left over bones with an equal amount of disdain that he bestowed to her. After assuring she wasn’t going to double back for another round of insults at him he turned and headed back to his patrols.