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+--- Thread: Dawnlark Plains The silver apples of the moon (/showthread.php?tid=18779)
The silver apples of the moon - Saēna - November 04, 2016
Saena loathed to leave Warbone, the secluded valley, and the mountains, but as she strode aimlessly through the wind-flattened grass of the plains, her mind was not on those who called the vale home. It was on the other reason she remained in the area: @Indra and Laurel. While she was with Warbone, and while she ran with those of the fledgling Duskvale pack, Saena was wild and free. Her emotions were thrown to the wind, and while she certainly still experienced emotions, the weight of sadness and the baggage of the past were things shed. Out here, she was reminded of her failures, and while she no longer sank into self-loathing and anger at the thought of it because the animal within was not something she could turn off now that she'd embraced it, she was not as free as she felt in the vale. Nevertheless, she pressed into the taiga primarily in search of any signs that her daughters had left the grotto at last.
She kept careful stock of her surroundings as she roamed through the grasslands, searching for indications that Indra or Laurel had come through here. Part of her wanted to abandon this task, turn away and seek out Stark's pack, that she might update him on her inability to retrieve her daughters from Reek, but she thought better of it. With no intended ties to Marauder's Keep, and no way of knowing exactly where it was, it would be a waste of time. She'd wanted to bring her girls to meet Tam, but that was impossible, and there was simply no other reason to go there but to engage her erratic emotions, which she didn't want to do. Her time was better spent investigating, and then returning to her claim.
Saena stooped to lap at a puddle, then continued her aimless wandering, heading loosely in the direction of Redtail Rise. She wouldn't go there, either. The memories would knock the reckless emotions and irrationality right back into her, she feared, and she so loved the freedom that Warbone and his lifestyle offered her.
RE: The silver apples of the moon - Indra - November 16, 2016
blindly the red child fumbled through the twisted thicket, her eyes shut and tongue lolling in a panic. she felt frenzied, she felt sick: twice now she had stopped and thrown up in excess a white bitter foam that scalded her throat and settled in frothy bubbles on the forest floor.
she couldn't make sense -- she tried to -- every time a thought slipped coherent and tangible in her head it escaped, and somehow her feet were running without her willing them to. she was aware of her surroundings enough to know she was not home, and aware enough to know she had done something horrible -- but every time she tried to recall what it was, she was overcome with a new wave of sickness. she did not know how potent the jimson weed was as she carried it: how could she? and now, she was tasting the bitternest of her own medicine.
for the third time she felt her body seize and rebel, and for the third time she felt a thin strand of vomit dryly heave from her throat; she was thirsty -- so thirsty -- with a stumbling and somewhat neurological gait she made for the puddle, completely unaware of the adult that had just risen from it. she threw herself into the dirt and started to lap wildly, a dirty smear of rime and foam flecking her muzzle as she did so. when she was done she tried to stand and could not, and it was then she was made aware of saena: but it was not saena, not to her -- it was the white bear she had seen a month earlier. the child froze, feeling her heart sink deep into her chest. this was the end; this was the resolution for her crime, the payment for her actions. she squeezed her eyes shut and accepted it.
RE: The silver apples of the moon - Saēna - November 16, 2016
It was a stumble and a splash that drew Saena's attention away from the distant mount and back to the puddle she'd just vacated. Her ears swung forward as she turned in place, catching only a glimpse of the red-haired wolf that flung themselves to the ground. Puzzled, the she-wolf swept her tongue across her jowls nervously and stepped nearer. She held herself loosely, that she could spring away at any moment if the opposing wolf proved to be a dangerous one, and the fur on her nape stood on end as she leaned close enough to smell a myriad smells: stone, water, a sharp and acrid plant smell, vomit, and Reek principle among them.
She drew her head back, her expression laced with equal parts concern and distaste. This was without a doubt one of Reek's followers, judging by the heavy aroma, and she was loathe to help any wolf that aligned themselves with that piece of trash. On the other hand, it was clear from how the wolf huddled fearfully to the ground that something was amiss. Saena was not a protector of the weak by any means—in her new state she was more likely to dispatch them than to save them—but something stayed her from seeking revenge against her ex-mate, and she was glad it did. Only when she drew close enough did she recognize the sick, disoriented wolf for who she was, and Saena sought to close the gap instantly when she did.
"Indra!" she breathed in a tone coloured sick with worry, but caution—and cold mistrust for the child who had shunned her as surely as had Laurel, even without words—held her back from making contact. Instead, she lowered her head to a less threatening level, allowing her ears to press back submissively, and asked, "what happened to you? What has he done?" She could not recognize the poison in her daughter's system for what it was, but she knew something was very wrong. She could only assume it was Reek's doing in some way or another, as she assumed every bad thing in this world was.
RE: The silver apples of the moon - Indra - November 22, 2016
the small child felt a wrench in her body and involuntarily heaved forward, a dry eruption of gagging noises contorting her little body. she couldn't think -- she could only feel -- but all of the sudden she was distinctly aware of a presence and a noise.
she tried to chase away the disorientation with a clumsy shake of her head and couldn't clear the miasma that clouded her senses. as the 'stranger' hunkered down next to her indra tried to reel back but could not coordinate her legs underneath her and simply fell once more into the puddle. for a moment she came too and she thought she saw her mother: "m-mom?" she choked, incoherent and confused. her eyes rolled up as if to hold saena in their view -- but then her eyelids sunk from exhaustion and she saw no more.
RE: The silver apples of the moon - Saēna - November 24, 2016
Saena skittered backward as Indra lurched and gagged, but within moments she swept forward again. What the hell? was the pervading thought of the moment as she sniffed and inspected her heaving daughter, but she was at a total loss for what might be ailing Indra. She'd never shown an interest in plants, so their effects were well beyond Saena's ability to understand. Helplessness gripped her as her daughter sagged, and she pressed near in an effort to keep her coherent, but she failed. Indra mumbled and Saena said, "yes, baby, yes," but before she could ask again what happened, Indra passed out cold.
"No, no, no," moaned Saena as she lapped at her daughter's face, utterly heedless of the danger to her own self. If Indra's affliction was a disease, she would be guaranteed to catch it. Luckily for her it was not. "Indra," she breathed into her daughter's ear as she jostled her, attempting to rouse her. When it didn't work, Saena rose to her feet and did the only thing she could think to do: she snagged the red-haired child's nape in her teeth and began to drag her away from the puddle, away from the plains, and away from Larksong Grotto.
She was helpless to do anything for Indra right now unless the girl woke up again, but she knew she wanted Indra in the safety and security of Duskvale. If she had to drag her the entire way, so be it.
RE: The silver apples of the moon - Indra - November 25, 2016
as her eyes closed she thought she heard a croon, a soothing voice come to lift her from the rolling darkness. in that moment saena's voice became a lingering song in the void - carried softly as indra sank into the darkness.
she was no longer aware of her surroundings, no longer cognizant. she was a limp form as saena closed around her like a shroud of comfort, and was limp still as she was lifted from the ground as a listless, floppy sodden heap. she would not regain consciousness for a long while -- certainly not today.