Wolf RPG

In tumultuous times as ever, he had come to carve out his new routine—here in the aftermath, with so many pieces missing from the picture he had come to know. So far, progress was had as ever because if nothing else, he was great at perseverance in many of its forms, but he was uneasy deep down. Neighbors encroaching was one thing, prisoners another. Even having his young offspring among their warriors, front and center, he had even coped with that when they carried home their wounds for them to tend because at least they were not natrona, not like all the others.

It was all to be expected, but the death of his mate at practically the very same time of it all had him struggling to find his balance again. Even when physical injuries knit themselves together, scabs began to slough.. he still did not feel right. Too much, too fast, he wondered. He worried he wasn't going to be enough, that Dacio and Opalia would suffer, somehow, and that the heartbreak could span never-ending.. lonesome and cold.

And so, the restless nights were long and tonight it had him pressing for the cliffs. Since the beach, and since laying her to rest.. he had kept his distance from here, and even below. Maybe he could tie his loose ends, or maybe only make it worse, but went on anyway thinking he had little to lose in any attempts, or short stops by.

The wocha simply prowled along delicately enough, but it was because he came in no hurry. These were well-worn routes in his head, and well en-trenched in Drageda scent, nothing spurred him along quicker, yet. Even his route came largely unspecific, until in the dim glow of the eve, her pale coat drew his eyes. However he did not see any of what had came before; none of her outrage, or otherwise. To him, as he strode closer with ears towards her, here she was curiously splayed, where much of her entire presence was a large unknown to him even before—beside her name, and that she was relatively new, but accepted into their fold by Heda nevertheless. Her exact place here yet a mystery to him for now. He had been caught up in much of his own despair, he reasoned, but worry was swift beginning to extend to her too when he doesn't know what else to feel. A lot had happened, a lot still was happening. Had she suffered?

Though the sound could have very well been lost to the winds and waves alike, the guardian said only a low chuff to announce himself for now. Maybe she was busy, and maybe he should simply move on.

With a subdued silence about himself (one inspired by the weight of all his sorrows lately) he watched as she rose, and he toyed with the idea that maybe he was interrupting something more private and peaceful than he realized at first glance. However she did greet him with a name, and he would return that with a soft nod as he matched her to the calling, from appearances to scent. I'm Dio, he said, referencing his own self then clearly with a gesture to say so. If I'm interrupting anything, tell me. he said, attempting to force his stony features to soften. He meant well enough.

Yet his ears answered with a subtle splay, because of course, he did not know her face either—and hers, from how stark white her coat shone, to the marks on her features, was not one easily forgotten. Maybe he had noted her scent in passing. or maybe she had met Dacio and Opalia, but never had he felt compelled to seek her out before here and now.

I've been keeping busy, he said, a distant look in his eyes. Busy mourning, busy defending. Or maybe I should say.. distracted.. he rumbled softly. For the time, he would not unpack why. Not on a stranger, and definitely not unprompted, even if it seemed to make up his every breath how badly he ailed for the lost loved ones, each worse than the last. So it is probably well overdue that we meet, he said. He had frankly not made great effort to mingle.. especially lately. If it was not business that drove his motives, little else had. How has Drageda been for you? he inquired, opting to start there. She had come among the Drageda wolves at a strange time for him thanks to everything that had gone on, and consequentially, gone wrong. While the pack balanced, grew, strengthened.. he knew they were all better for it in the big picture; it was just that his was vastly different these days.

While knowing he did not interrupt was some shade of relief, the mention of rumination brought a new nod forth, and though he had plenty he could ask about how, why, and so on, he held his tongue for now. Without understanding the depths of what weighed on her, maybe he understood the sentiment, and how similar it could be at the end of it all--when hurt, misfortune, bad luck, and whatever else simply piled up, compounded, and strangled one out. When not on guard, or at work, rumination was swift becoming one of his most frequent doings since the turn-coat of his daughter, and death of her mother, too.

And, very true, Aure had come at a delicate time.. the golden-furred wocha had to commend her for standing among them still. She had not been daunted by their tumultuous times (which was simply their style here, so this would not be their last--he could believe so with certainty), not enough so to turn-tail and leave them behind before truly coming to know them. Maybe that alone spoke more volumes that she could give herself credit for, and her exhaustion? Understandable, quite frankly, he replied alongside a knowing shake of his head and a tired look about him. His had long since manifested and hardened his muscles down to an old, ancient ache he didn't bother to feel most days--which he had accepted, without any choice otherwise, because what else in life did he have to truly fight for besides these cliffs and every Drakru upon them? A worthy cause enough for him.

When he pieced it together that she served as healer, something greater fell into place oh so subtly that he could only exhale a slow, measured sigh through his nose. His ears swung up, maybe finding some familiarity in hearing out the struggles of a healer. While never one himself, his last couple years had placed him close to one often kept busy by Drageda's tendency for not only trouble, but tenacity. They were never the sorts to turn from a fight, be it wolves, bears, or any other nature itself. Maybe it gets easier, or maybe not.. to find that proper balance. All you can do, though.. is appreciated, he said, quiet as he considered how to go next. My mate--she is gone now, but was fisa, and skayona before that. She saw to many in her times, always, with no shortage of something to tend here. He measured his words carefully, wondering if this would be enough insight into his life to say, without saying so, that he understood somewhat from the point of view he had.

Perhaps more intimately than many, he had seen Portia stress about her stores, her gardens, and whatever new ugly wound someone brought back for her to patch all at once--and when healing did not go accordingly, the toll that could take. He sympathized thanks to this. His mate's disposition had granted her ability to weather it, he supposed, and thus his draw to the warm sunshine she had been for many made sense. He had needed that light once, and time again. We do keep our healers busy, and it just seems to be our way. Has been for a long time, he said, almost sound apologetic but his words were steeped in experience. He had seen Drageda grow, struggle, suffer, change, and rise up, strong, steadfast, and imposing. But, hopefully we can help keep the rewards bountiful, too. He couldn't quite muster a true upturn to his expression then, but through only his own fault.

He knew, undoubtedly so, that if only Portia were still among the living, her guidance may be of real use to Aure here and now. His praise and fond tellings about her is only one thing, but an experienced healer, one steeped in Drageda's tendencies, surely would have known what else to say to her and what to help her learn--to help guide her growth among them and understand how best to carry the weight of warriors. Gently, he nodded his head. She was, and I'm sure she would have better words of wisdom for your plight as Drageda's healer--ones besides, it simply takes time, he said, his humor still chilly despite the undertone of sympathy he shared, but he wanted to believe that Portia would have liked her very much and her company--what with their interests overlapping enough. She would have plenty to share with her thanks to that, he knew.

But, he found he could relate, down to the wry curvature that came with her words. I feel that, too, he said, knowing it came in a different way for him. He could go for a good, long sleep, and the feeling resonated deep in his bones. The solidarity of the feeling wasn't lost on him. Maybe one day, he scoffed softly, though there was little hope for it truly. Instead they would adapt, overcome, and learn.

When she offered her insight into the lands she had known before here, this Rhaesuial, he listened, always a quiet fondness for the histories others brought before them, and how it would factor into their integration of Drageda. Hers differed greatly, it seemed.. but such was the beauty of life and she seemed to understand that the learning was a work in progress. For having come from some place so different, then in that case, she was holding herself above the waters well from the looks of it. He couldn't blame her for feeling that exhaustion--a special sort reserved for the healers in a pack inclined to warfare. Truly, never a dull moment here.. he shook his head softly. It had been true for years, he knew. I think you are well on your way, he said, his tone low but sincere. He had only truly just met her, but he sensed a goodness in her, and a drive that not all could carry with them.

Even in such assumptions, there would never be any guarantee. As with all things, time would tell, and he'd find out sooner or later if his first impression of her would stand true but enough years on him had told him patience was key, too. Should she remain with them, he trusted all would be favorable for her, should she be able to stand among them. She would either succeed, or not, and then none of it would have anything to do with him, or Drageda; she'd just be another one of the many that faded far too soon.. although he hoped that perhaps not, and that the niches here would suit her, let her grow, and foster a strong wolf alongside them--mind and body alike. Drageda had done well for him in the grand scheme. He had purpose here, and as he gave for it, it returned the favor.

And, with all that said, eventually, given a few simple parting notes, he was on her way to let her to be introspection while he took his own elsewhere--and hopefully a well-deserved rest soon. She ought to do the same..