Wolf RPG

Soon the hunters would begin preparations, and Inkalorë would be tasked with watching over their children. @Vairë's children would be among them — their nephews, though their niece seemed busy under Kukutux's guidance. The existence of these children had sparked a new contemplation within Inkalorë, one they had not yet shared with their sister.

The two had not shared many words at all yet, busy as they'd each been. Ink looked for her now, dodging faces both familiar and unfamiliar on their way. Moonglow had thrived in their absence; this was a blessing, but there was sorrow in it, too. They'd missed so much.

She was deep in her own head.

Her stride was long as she paced circles around the camp, ostensibly checking on each of the Moonglow wolves she passed, but really she was thinking.

A thousand things on a mental checklist, none checked off.

Then, she near ran smack into one of the items on that checklist, slamming on the breaks just in time to avoid a collision with her littermate.

Inkalorë! She shoved the mental turmoil under a mental rug, and put on a smile.

A lot of wolves out, hm? Totally not awkward conversation to have with your sibling.

Vairë was not difficult to find. Ink greeted her with a bright smile, aware that too much time and distance had passed between them for true familiarity but wanting it nonetheless. More than I've ever seen in one place! They agreed easily, pulling her into a brief hug.

I've been gone for too long. I hardly know anyone here, Ink commented as they pulled away, glancing around at all of the strangers. Their gaze found Vairë again. Are you truly the only one who stayed? Lomi and Wil - they never came back? Inkalorë did not ask after their mother. They didn't need to. Of course she hadn't come back.

The hug was brief, but Vairë savored it all the same. She pulled away at the same time as Inkalorë, resting her paws on their shoulders.

It is good to see you. She murmured, voice soft. The question spun her head a little, trying to remember.

No, not to my knowledge. Then, that bitter old snake that lived in her gut, bitter and emerald green, rose up in a pose to strike.

Fjall is. He lives with Ariadne, in village Moonsong. Apparently, she spoke of us. As if she had any right to! And wasn’t that a hurt she hadn’t quite prodded yet, the fact Ariadne knew of Fjall. But she couldn’t blame their sister, the blame rested all on the woman who bore them all.

She came back. Briefly, just after my wedding. Asked after me, once. Then left again.

Fjall. And — their mother. Inkalorë hadn't wanted to speak of her, but did not fault Vairë for her words. Their mouth set into a thin line of displeasure.

That's more than I expected from her, They commented when Vairë finished, but there was sympathy in their eyes. Still, I'm sorry, Vairë. And I'm sorry I wasn't here, too. I - A deep breath.

I needed time. Time away from - this, all of this, Time away from Moonglow, much as it pained them to admit it. Inkalorë's eyes darkened with shame. Moonglow has always been a place of love. Happiness. I tried so hard to keep up, be that ray of sunshine. But I had so much bitterness in my heart. Because of her.

They let out the breath, finally. I think I'm in a better place now. Smiling doesn't feel so much like wearing a mask, Ink's gaze turned searching. Does it still bother you? When you think about what she did?

Yes.

It was easy to answer.

Even thinking of her makes me angry. I want to understand why. Her face soured.

But even thinking of her speaking to me makes me sick. The bitterness stewed into rage, and she felt her teeth scrape against each other when her jaw clenched.

It isn’t fair. What she did to us. Then, she raised her head high.

That is why I have severed all my ties to Lótë. She is nothing to me beyond the blood in my veins, and even that I claim as my own. She is not my mother.

Ink nodded, thinking that Vairë was far stronger than they could ever hope to be. She still held so much anger, yet she went on. She forged a life for herself. All Inkalorë had ever been able to do was flee the weight of it until they no longer felt it looming over their shoulders.

Freedom was a strange and exhilarating thing, but won at the cost of their life within Moonglow. A potential future they would never know. This was their reality now.

Not mine, either, They murmured, though they couldn't quite muster the same outrage. Not anymore. But she's gone now. She won't come back. She was always good at that - staying away.

And now you're a mother, Their eyes brightened as they said it. A better one than she ever was, I'm sure.