@Ingram
The recent cold-spell in the wilds had came after many weeks of moderate cold and infrequent snow-falls. To Dwin it felt as if it had happened overnight. Now, whenever she needed to go anywhere, she planned her routes carefully and tried to cover the distance as fast as possible. Her winter pelt was thick enough to keep her body warm, but her paws were freezing. Often she would stop to gnaw at one or the other foot, where the snow between her fingers had melted into a tiny block of ice that was painful and uncomfortable to tread with. The rest of the time she spent cooped up in her den, sleeping for long stretches of time, dreaming of warm summer days.
One such dream, where she found herself in the Akashingo's wedding again, gave her an inspiration to do something about the current situation. Dwin did not have the power to change the weather, but, what if she could move elsewhere for the time being? Such as that alien land just east of the wilderness? If it was more bearable there, surely, she could try and convince others to move, until the spring? After telling Maia and Teya about her scouting mission and absence for a few days, off the Blackthorn girl went. While on her way, she remembered the time she had taken Frolic here and wondered, how her younger sibling was doing in this weather now. It was entirely possible that at least part of her time she would feel just as lonely, hungry and miserable as Dwin herself had been then. Or maybe the entire trip was a complete joyride. In either case - she neither envied, nor wished her bad.
The barren land met her with cold gusts of wind at first and ground frozen solid, however, the further south she went, the warmer it got. And at one point the thick cover of clouds parted and she could see the sun peeking down at her. For the first time in God only knew, how long. Glad to have made this far, Dwin sat down to enjoy the rare gift of sunlight. For a moment winter had grown a little more bearable.
the reckless thoughts that it would be easy to slip from kvarshiem's borders and not return; slipping out like the hellish phantom he was, was growing more and more tempting. to the point that ingram had even relocated his threadbones to a hiding place outside the territory. a gathering of his morbidly most prized possessions that he could not bear to leave behind.
the idea begins to consume him as he wanders, letting his intuition decide his path.
it consumes him until he crosses a familiar scent path and it offers him a refreshingly needed break from that relentless train of thought.
ingram follows it without preamble, offering a honeyed hello,
in greeting as the familiar form of the freckled blackthorn that has spent equal time making herself home in his thoughts come into his view.
Dwin had not spent too much time dwelling on the handsome dark stranger she had met at the coronation. Sending off Frolic and maintaining law and order inside caldera had filled her days, at the end of which very little time was left for her imagination to wander. She had felt a little embarrassed by her behaviour afterwards and considered that she may have given the invitation too hastily, too soon. But - in the end - how many empty promises she had made or such had been made for her in the past? From what she had understood - they lived on the opposite sides of the world.
Therefore his sudden appearance here came as a surprise. For a split second she was inclined to believe that instead of being that crazy man with voices inside his head, he really possessed some magical abilities. Of course, that was not true, but it would fit. "Well, Mr Dark Cloud, what brings you out in this sunny afternoon?" she asked him smiling. "Any more princesses to rescue? Any ominous premonitions sending you to the rescue?" she guessed. "Or you along with many other lovesick fools have felt the spring in our veins respond to the siren songs of the girls beyond the mountains?" she teased.
not this time,
a twinkle of decided mischief can be found in his seaglass gaze, and in the twitch of his lips in a sly grin.
ingram gives a playfully dramatic pause, well,
he drawls theatrically. i cannot entirely claim the last one to be false. though i do not intentionally seek the company of sirens, i am still a man.
and instinct was a powerful, otherworldly force that ingram was helpless to just as his fellow ilk.
truthfully, i've been thinking of leaving kvarshiem.
he admits in the following breath, the truth sobering the playful mood he'd taken with her.
and what of you?
he asks then, diverting attention from himself.
"Well, you could have lied to impress me," Dwin laughed, finding it funny that this came from her, who valued honesty above anything else. Yet she set different standards for Darkling. He was crazy. He was a bit of an alien. And you made allowances to specimens of yor research, when you did not consider the other being stemming quite from the same tree you were. Something like that.
"So the valley will be over-run by your out-of-wedlock spawn that will never know their father?" she asked half-serious, half-teasing. It would also occur to her later that, while she had no intention of having children now, she would have objections to any would-be partner, who would claim to sleep around, forget names of mothers and never know names of his children.
"Don't you fear that one day you may dalliance with your daughter or grand-daughter and not even realize it?" a hard question really, but there was no hint of judgement in her tone. Just curiousity about a person, whose life experience and world-view was so vastly different from hers. "Come to think of it... it is kind of unfair that only the mom knows for sure that the children are hers. Fathers have to believe the story they are told," she grinned.
"Leaving - in the middle of winter - that sounds kind of suicidal, don't you think?" she asked. "Though, I have to admit, that it would make a great story, were you to survive," she mused and was so entertained by the galore of interesting subjects to think about that she forgot to answer his inquiry about herself.
i could've,
ingram agrees quietly; with a sly grin. but i don't see the point in lying.
he was many things, and many of them terrible, but a liar was not one of them.
hardly,
ingram scoffs. i'm rather celibate. i take pleasure in intellect over flesh.
now, when both ex-wives approached him: he was unable to say no. but there was history. muddied and bloodied and messy but history all the same.
she calls his bold choice a bit suicidal and ingram frowns, seaglass gaze studying her. suicidal seems a bit dramatic, don't you think?
the hellhound can't help but tease. don't fret. i will survive.
he assures her; confidently.
"I value honesty. In general. I am not so confident about your particular brand of honesty," Dwin pointed out, responding to his sly grin with one of her own. It was odd really - most of the times people she did not trust, she did not like. The darkling was different - she did not trust him as far as she could throw him. Yet because she did not need or want anything from him, he was an entertaining distraction for her, she would not mind him spinning the wildest yarns.
"Well, that "rather" beats the definition of "celibate", don't you think?" she pulled his leg, because she did not believe him at all. He was an attractive guy and he knew it. There was a cheeky confidence in the manner he acted around people and spoke. She wanted to call him out on it, to see that carefully collected facade just show a hint of confusion or loss for words. "And yet you claimed earlier to "still being a man", which implies that, when "man" comes to the forefront, intellect goes out to the hills. Which makes me wonder, when you are inclined to satisfy your needs intelectually, what are you then?" she spun a riddle for him to guess.
"I would say pragmatic. Practical," she replied, laughing. "Well, if you have a deathwish, do my pack a favour and die on our doorstep. I promise you I will remember you with a good word, when I devour your earthly shell for my own survival," she smiled.
ceridwin asks him questions, as her per usual, spinning his words until they are dissected and turned back 'round to face him and it is his turn to study them.
ah,
ingram drawls, seaglass gaze focusing on something over her head for a moment. it would make me helpless to primal, base instinct perhaps.
i'll do my best to perish on your doorstep.
he promises with a teasingly dramatic sigh.
"Any particular wishes regarding your eulogy?" Dwin asked. "Brecheliant wolves are known for their story-telling skills. We could cook up something, before devouring your mortal shell," she went on.
"A select guest list could also be chosen," she wove the thought further. "But perhaps of your enemies and people you may have wronged in their lives. I think loved ones could have issues with you being eaten," she said.
"Though - all jokes aside - if you were to die tomorrow, what would you want to do today?" she asked.
ingram contemplates her words of his wishes for an eulogy but he ends up shrugging and offering a dismissive wave of his paw. not particularly,
murmurs the hellhound. just make sure it's good.
he grins, canines glinting in the sunlight for a moment.
left ear twitches, scarred muzzle rising upwards to sniff at the air for a moment.
i have no loved ones.
he speak it with sadness, nor remorse. only a flat acceptance.
i don't know,
ingram admits. i don't fear death, thus i do not live with regrets.
"Alright," Dwin nodded. Him telling her that he had no loved ones, made her briefly raise eyebrows in surprise and then she let it pass. She did not know much about him, but from the scraps of veiled facts he had revealed about himself, she had conjured an image of a devil incarnate. Yet - one thing was such a person living inside a story. It was completely different thing to experience reality. Or miss that experience altogether. She could not help but pity him just a little bit. Or rather that nearly imperceptible dot of light in that dark heart of his.
"Isn't it so that you should more fear life unlived?" Dwin asked. During idle musings she too did not fear death. Neither as a being, nor as a concept. Yet there had been some situations - especially during larger hunts - where it had come close and the unwillingness to let go of the life she had had been very strong. "What do you want to be remembered by? What stories you want people to tell about you?" she asked.
hmm,
ingram drawls, considering her take on it. i do not fear death nor life.
he amends with a wily grin.
i've written my own stories enough that i will be remembered as dreadfather. as a hellhound.
a soft breath in precedes the soft exhale. perhaps the truth, in it's whole?
ingram suggests with a soft and slight tilt of his head as he regards her.
"Never heard either of those names in my life," Dwin pointed out, omitting the fact that she herself had not been out too much and therefore her knowledge in the affairs of the world was very limited. Maybe Prince Dreadful was persona non grata in every single pack he had been part of. Which was exciting in a way - not that she had any inclination of causing trouble in her life - but for the potential stories of a person, who dared to live according of their own rules.
She felt very keenly that her imaginative mind was building castles in the sky from the bits and pieces of details the man provided to her. Had she been a naive fool, she would have fallen in love with him either because he represented a life she would never dare to live or because she would consider it her mission to save him. Fool she may have been and will always be in some capacity, but naive she was not. Ingram was an interesting person to be with owing to the fact that he was self-aware and he even took pride in being flawed.
"How did you earn that name - both of them. What is the story of your life?" she asked him.
her inquisitive nature harkens ingram to her, softening his eyes. it is small, this change but notable to anyone who knows him well. which, is not many.
i expect not,
drawls the hellhound on a lofty breath; playing up the theatrics of the moment.
it is only then, a few moments later, that he offers a small grin. charming, perhaps, in a way that could confuse villain with antihero.
well,
ingram begins, dreadfather,
he speaks it lower this time, as if speaking it aloud might evoke whatever remained of the god of the void within him to reawaken. i received when i was him. after the ritual i'd performed with my first wife.
it was complicated and long winded and gory. though perhaps, ingram considered, it had happened further back than that, when he'd ended his own mother's life and boasted about it.
hellhound is just something i've adopted lately. more of an affectionate term for myself, really.
this time, there was nothing godly associated with it.
Huh, how cool was that - the god that Ingram claimed to live in his brain-folds had a cool name. Dreadfather. Dwin was tempted to tease him by asking if that ritual of his and late wife's had been along the lines of a simple dalliance in parsley beds, but decided not to. You had to treat mad people with care and respect. You did not make fun of people's beliefs right straight up in their faces. After all to him that Dreadfather was just as real as God Almighty was to others.
"Because Sir Fluffy Lovecheeks Bunnybottom, which reflects your affectionate and caring personality so well, would simply not make the right impression, would it?" she laughed cheerfully.
wrapping up threads to take him out of game for a bit. thank you so much for the thread. <3
no,
ingram breathes with a wiry tug of his lips; a teasing ghost of a smile.
it would not.
and that was the truth of it.
still, he snorts, unable to keep all of his amusement at bay.
alas,
he drawls on a solemn breath.
i must get going.
to where, he couldn't say. wasn't sure. but he feels the familiar tug in the marrow of his bones all the same.
it was good to see you again.
he speaks this earnestly with a dip of his head before shrugging into the shadows that are all too eager to welcome him.