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+--- Thread: Gyrfalcon's Keep one evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning (/showthread.php?tid=21092)
one evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning - Lotte - March 20, 2017
All welcome!
NOTE: Each of the traveling threads is a day apart. ♥ This is day one, March 21, 2017.
NOTE: Each of the traveling threads is a day apart. ♥ This is day one, March 21, 2017.
By the time a sliver of citrine light limned the horizon, Ravenblood Forest was empty.
Lotte and Arturo had taken it upon themselves to ready Teaghlaigh for travel days ago; instructions had been given the moment Ceannasach had returned from his trek with Chusi and Dakarai. The black-masked gangster had spoken of a faraway forest tucked in the shadow of a forbidding mountain chain and bisected by a river — it sounded idyllic, but Lotte found she was displeased by two things: one, the fact that they had to move at all; two, the fact that she had not been invited on the scouting journey. Though her face was a mask of Solene’s unruffled serenity, inwardly, her emotions were hurricane-wild, whipping madly about.
Banríon knew that the journey would be hardest on Olive, Dakarai, and their three little ones. Driven by a desire to provide for and protect her Family, she offered what help she could and said little else, but beneath her competent and confident mien there existed a lurking worry about her own welfare and the lives of her cubs. The changes in her body she’d been so impatient to see were happening at what felt like breakneck speed now, and she didn’t have time for the pain and the cramping and the nausea that she’d missed during the first trimester. The fur on her abdomen had thinned considerably and her appetite was nigh insatiable. She’d always appeared thick-waisted due to her plush fur, but now her sides swelled in an unmistakably convex manner. She felt ungainly, unattractive, and uncomfortable.
Lotte had attempted to locate the sheepdog — she still harbored the distant hope that Coelacanth would relinquish custody of Julep, Isengrim, and Moorhen so they could be sheltered somewhere safe, and she hadn’t been able to brief the inky ingénue about the visit from Blackfeather Woods — but no amount of singing or calling had summoned the tiny Groenendael. It was with a heavy heart that the songbird turned away from the coast and turned her attention to the current task: finding somewhere to settle for another hour or so while the cubs and Olive rested. Turning to face the pack, a smile she did not feel settling warmly and peacefully upon her dark features, Lotte said simply, “Next sentries.”
For her part — since she had served as a sentry last shift despite Arturo’s misgivings — Lotte hunkered down beside Olive and leaned forth to gently bathe the woman’s face with a tender tongue. Then she lay her head heavily on her paws, singing so softly that her voice did not carry further than their group:
“One evening as the sun went down
and the jungle fires were burning,
down the track came a hobo hiking,
And he said, ‘Boys, I'm not turning;
I’m headed for a land that’s far away,
beside the crystal fountains.
So come with me, we’ll go and see
the Big Rock Candy Mountains.’”
Lotte and Arturo had taken it upon themselves to ready Teaghlaigh for travel days ago; instructions had been given the moment Ceannasach had returned from his trek with Chusi and Dakarai. The black-masked gangster had spoken of a faraway forest tucked in the shadow of a forbidding mountain chain and bisected by a river — it sounded idyllic, but Lotte found she was displeased by two things: one, the fact that they had to move at all; two, the fact that she had not been invited on the scouting journey. Though her face was a mask of Solene’s unruffled serenity, inwardly, her emotions were hurricane-wild, whipping madly about.
Banríon knew that the journey would be hardest on Olive, Dakarai, and their three little ones. Driven by a desire to provide for and protect her Family, she offered what help she could and said little else, but beneath her competent and confident mien there existed a lurking worry about her own welfare and the lives of her cubs. The changes in her body she’d been so impatient to see were happening at what felt like breakneck speed now, and she didn’t have time for the pain and the cramping and the nausea that she’d missed during the first trimester. The fur on her abdomen had thinned considerably and her appetite was nigh insatiable. She’d always appeared thick-waisted due to her plush fur, but now her sides swelled in an unmistakably convex manner. She felt ungainly, unattractive, and uncomfortable.
Lotte had attempted to locate the sheepdog — she still harbored the distant hope that Coelacanth would relinquish custody of Julep, Isengrim, and Moorhen so they could be sheltered somewhere safe, and she hadn’t been able to brief the inky ingénue about the visit from Blackfeather Woods — but no amount of singing or calling had summoned the tiny Groenendael. It was with a heavy heart that the songbird turned away from the coast and turned her attention to the current task: finding somewhere to settle for another hour or so while the cubs and Olive rested. Turning to face the pack, a smile she did not feel settling warmly and peacefully upon her dark features, Lotte said simply, “Next sentries.”
For her part — since she had served as a sentry last shift despite Arturo’s misgivings — Lotte hunkered down beside Olive and leaned forth to gently bathe the woman’s face with a tender tongue. Then she lay her head heavily on her paws, singing so softly that her voice did not carry further than their group:
“One evening as the sun went down
and the jungle fires were burning,
down the track came a hobo hiking,
And he said, ‘Boys, I'm not turning;
I’m headed for a land that’s far away,
beside the crystal fountains.
So come with me, we’ll go and see
the Big Rock Candy Mountains.’”
RE: one evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning - Hemlock - March 20, 2017
She found herself with a panging in her heart and a fear seized deep in her bones. Leaving the Family to kill the hellcat was one thing. Leaving the forest and Palisander's final resting place was another. Her heart clamored loudly in her chest as the distance grew and Isley - Hemlock, she mentally corrected herself for the millionth time that day - tried to keep a vigil from her place a few yards away. She kept her scent from the main of the pack, leaving her more open to doing the work of Arturo and Lotte freely, and she wanted to avoid the sensation that rippled through her every time she spotted Olive and the cubs.
She felt robbed, but it wasn't the fault of anyone but herself really, if she'd gone into season earlier, if she'd been more aware of the scents around the borders, if she'd somehow done anything she might have been able to keep Palisander safe. The obsessive thoughts did little to temper the flames of the red wolf and Hemlock lashed about not unlike the cat she'd stalked. She had brought the skull with her, like some morbid marker, a promise that despite her size she was not limited to the things she could do. When they made came the Banrion called for the next batch of sentries and Hemlock rose to the occasion.
The skull left to sit and mark the edge of what she considered safe, she began to check the outlying perimeter.
RE: one evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning - Olive - March 20, 2017
During Teaghlaigh’s trip to their new territory, Olive will be experiencing the 7 stages of grief — grief over the pain of Dakarai losing (and regaining his memory), BFW, being demoted and abandoning Ravensblood Forest… and a little bit of postpartum depression. Each thread will represent a different stage of grief, dated in order (albeit, a little expedited). This thread represents stage one: shock and denial. Of course, feel free to skip Olive! I’ll bring her in when she is needed and/or addressed.
[table width=85%][tr][td]
The nightmare would not stop, not even in the face of some of the most beautiful moments life had to offer. It was not long after Blackfeather Woods showed up on their doorstep that Olive and Dakarai lost their positions of power within Teaghlaigh’s ranks — her title and authority had never meant much to the girl, but the fact that Arturo’s trust had been so decimated absolutely ruined her. She couldn’t understand why Ceannasach was blind to her unending dedication to the family — it was why she did everything she did.What was best for her had to be best for the family; what was best for Dakarai was best for the family. How had it come that Teaghlaigh’s inner circle included everyone but the two dark and light lovers?
The family’s decision to move had been made without her. Dakarai had attended the scouting mission with Ceannasach and his wily heir — something that Olive protested immensely, not wishing her beloved to leave her side and the sides of his newborn, mewling children. When the scouting party returned with news of an oasis far away from the coast and they were preparing to leave forthwith, Olive simply refused to believe it. It didn’t make sense that her actions would result in the entirety of the family being uprooted from their home: the bleeding sequoias that she loved so much. She was the reason that her queen had to travel while nurturing pups within her womb, that Isley [or was it Hemlock?] had to leave the forest and had just returned to. Somehow it made sense to leave [for the safety of all within, she was told], but such a perception refused to take root in her shellshocked brain. The alacrity of the decision, and the need to protect the babes who depended upon her and Dakarai for life, left her spinning.
It had been barely a week and a half after the delivery that Olive was roused from her birthing bed and forced to travel. Traveling, an act that once gave her so much pleasure, now made her feel threatened and vulnerable. Her body was weak and still recovering from the labors of motherhood; her waifsh frame tired easily and needed to stop ever hour of so to rest and nurse their three babes. More than herself, Olive was overwrought with worry for the little ones who, at that very moment, suckled at her breast. The three were so nascent and so small that the mother worried such rigorous travel would break them. The druid worried that they would become too cold being carried in the mouth of the family and not nestled against the furnace of her body, worried that the stress of such a trip would cause her milk to dry up and leave them hungry, worried that exhaustion would overtake their infantile hearts and souls and the worst would occur. These thoughts plagued her daily, hourly, every minute and she withdrew from talking, from Dakarai to Lotte to Chusi to each and every one of the newcomers. The lamb felt their hot stares and their fiery impatience every time they needed to take an intermission and knew they blamed her for such upheaval. It wasn’t real, this all couldn’t real — yet it was. Olive wanted to pull away and leave, to flee from the intensity of their arraignment, but she could not. Her life was no longer for her. She must stay.
Lotte called for the next sentries and Isley [Hemlock!] answered the call. The queen settled down next to her side, kissed the velveteen fur of her cheek and sang a small ditty. It soothed the ragged Olive for the moment and she reached down to her belly to nudge her hungry babes closer, kissing each @Sirius @Aries and @Cassiopeia on their tiny crowns. They ate hungrily, grunting softly with the effort, and she urged them to suckle to their full capacity, not entirely sure when they would find their next sanctuary.
[/td][/tr][/table]
The family’s decision to move had been made without her. Dakarai had attended the scouting mission with Ceannasach and his wily heir — something that Olive protested immensely, not wishing her beloved to leave her side and the sides of his newborn, mewling children. When the scouting party returned with news of an oasis far away from the coast and they were preparing to leave forthwith, Olive simply refused to believe it. It didn’t make sense that her actions would result in the entirety of the family being uprooted from their home: the bleeding sequoias that she loved so much. She was the reason that her queen had to travel while nurturing pups within her womb, that Isley [or was it Hemlock?] had to leave the forest and had just returned to. Somehow it made sense to leave [for the safety of all within, she was told], but such a perception refused to take root in her shellshocked brain. The alacrity of the decision, and the need to protect the babes who depended upon her and Dakarai for life, left her spinning.
It had been barely a week and a half after the delivery that Olive was roused from her birthing bed and forced to travel. Traveling, an act that once gave her so much pleasure, now made her feel threatened and vulnerable. Her body was weak and still recovering from the labors of motherhood; her waifsh frame tired easily and needed to stop ever hour of so to rest and nurse their three babes. More than herself, Olive was overwrought with worry for the little ones who, at that very moment, suckled at her breast. The three were so nascent and so small that the mother worried such rigorous travel would break them. The druid worried that they would become too cold being carried in the mouth of the family and not nestled against the furnace of her body, worried that the stress of such a trip would cause her milk to dry up and leave them hungry, worried that exhaustion would overtake their infantile hearts and souls and the worst would occur. These thoughts plagued her daily, hourly, every minute and she withdrew from talking, from Dakarai to Lotte to Chusi to each and every one of the newcomers. The lamb felt their hot stares and their fiery impatience every time they needed to take an intermission and knew they blamed her for such upheaval. It wasn’t real, this all couldn’t real — yet it was. Olive wanted to pull away and leave, to flee from the intensity of their arraignment, but she could not. Her life was no longer for her. She must stay.
Lotte called for the next sentries and Isley [Hemlock!] answered the call. The queen settled down next to her side, kissed the velveteen fur of her cheek and sang a small ditty. It soothed the ragged Olive for the moment and she reached down to her belly to nudge her hungry babes closer, kissing each @Sirius @Aries and @Cassiopeia on their tiny crowns. They ate hungrily, grunting softly with the effort, and she urged them to suckle to their full capacity, not entirely sure when they would find their next sanctuary.
RE: one evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning - RIP Pendragon - March 26, 2017
He had not been settled for long within the forest of Teaghlaigh before things began to change. While Pendragon had decided for himself that learning the layout of the territory was an obsolete goal, he wished to remain vigilant upon the boders; thus he patrolled them while the many others of this family began their preparations for moving. He did not speak to anyone over the course of the next few days, not for lack of trying. They were busy — grieving their loss, he assumed — and the wannabe knight felt more out-of-place here than he did upon the beach where he had been discovered.
The days passed. He learned of the secretive nature of this kingdom and its people, for he could not listen to any conversation for long before the participants became tight-lipped, busy, or outright suspicious of him. Finding it wrong to eavesdrop, he would depart for another area and get to work protecting it. Pendragon was unsettled by the level of scrutiny he felt he was under, but could not question it. This place was foreign, but it was also on edge and its populace was wary of everything. He could not blame them for this, given what Arturo had (vaguely) told him.
When they set out, Pendragon took the rear. Aside from sensing it was his place for the time being, he was unsure of where to place himself while the rest of the pack gathered and began their migration. At the head was Arturo the king — followed closely by a woman, someone who Pendragon could only assume was the queen. There were children too, but they were further back and well guarded by more than just a set of parents; however, the man was nervous about them too, for it seemed odd that anyone outside the leader of the patriarchy should breed.
Again, he did not openly question things. He marched, kept his attention tuned in to the world around them, and -- was quickly distracted by the sound of singing which came from the head of the group. Intrigued by this, Pendragon picked up his speed and worked his way through the outskirts of the travelling band until he set his sights on Lotte — and in silence, he found himself enthralled by her. But he passed on by, and chose to rest after his shift had ended in a place that was defensively sound, but otherwise apart from everyone else.
RE: one evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning - Lotte - April 07, 2017
Meanwhile, Lotte is a weird creepy stalker.
[align=justify]@Hemlock and @Pendragon were curiosities to the soot-stockinged Banríon, who knew of them but did not truly know them. Her attention was drawn to both of them in turn as they moved in the relative quiet, argent eyes keenly settling upon the skull that Hemlock left behind before straining to catch the living flame’s retreating figure. Her attention fell then to Pendragon — she had noticed him looking upon her, and she rose from Olive’s side with a brief flicker of discomfort tautening her lips before Arturo’s children settled within her at last. Still singing softly, she made her way nearer to the dusky, earth-toned wolf:
“In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
there’s a land that’s fair and bright,
where the handouts grow on bushes
and you sleep out every night —
where the boxcars all are empty
and the sun shines every day
on the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees,
the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.”
Lotte was interested in him, but she was loathe to disturb his rest; as such, she softened her voice the nearer she drew to him in an attempt to keep him from hearing any variation in the sound. She couldn’t fully control that, though — as good as she was at throwing her voice and adjusting her pitch and volume, if he was awake he’d most certainly notice the difference in tone. She paused when she was still a respectful distance away from him, still humming the melody, and changed the lyrics to suit her situation:
“In the shadows are you sleeping
or instead are you awake?
I have wandered here to talk with you
though it could be a mistake…”
RE: one evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning - Hemlock - April 23, 2017
The notes of the Banrion carried through the clearing and Hemlock fretted that they would be heard and found. She was loathe to throw herself into a fight again, given that she was not skilled in the slightest more than the common tooth and nail of survival. She was not made for such a thing, if the healer was honest with herself. She doubled back, passing Declan and Rollo, wolves she did not know, only to hear the dying song of the Banrion more clearly.
With a tilt of her head she stopped a few yards away. "Where did your song come from?" She asked, curiously, her green gaze focused only on her leader. She was curious about who she was - who she had been. She knew the name from before she had left but now she had come home to a heavily pregnant leader and Arturo's heart literally outside his body. Her protective nature over him extended to this female, just by her honor-bound promise to the masked male.
RE: one evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning - Lotte - April 23, 2017
Pendragon appeared to be truly sleeping, so Lotte withdrew — but not without a tinge of disappointment. She knew little to nothing about the golden-eyed male, but it seemed she wouldn’t be learning anything today. She turned from his prone form only to be confronted by Arturo’s Leifteanant. Lotte could lay no claim on the viridian-eyed dryad, and for a moment this irritated the possessive smoke-and-shadow bitch. Her fur bristled instinctively as she gathered in Hemlock’s scent, but what she found intrigued her — even pleased her. Hemlock was female, healthy, and just a little older than Lotte — but despite her petite frame and almost vulpine appearance, she possessed a strength and vitality the Banríon was beginning to fear did not exist in the Teekons. “Peace,” Lotte murmured cryptically. “We will be allies, you and I.” She had no quarrel with the rust-and-flame female whose scars told a story the songbird was not yet privy to. “I learned it from a traveling trio of bards — it is a human traveling song.”
Lotte paused as her husband began rousing the other wolves, rallying them for the next leg of their journey, but returned her attention to Hemlock with pointed alacrity. “Run with us,” she suggested. “I understand better than most your desire to keep your scent free of the pack — but we have lost our chance at subterfuge. If you distance yourself for your own reasons, I will not push you — but if you are doing it for Teaghlaigh, stop.” Her words were brusque, but her alto was as warm as she could make it. Blithely she crossed the distance between Hemlock and herself, and with a smile that could have been considered flirtatious, she butted the air alongside one russet shoulder with a sweep of her broad muzzle — not near enough to touch the Lionsbane, but certainly near enough to make her longing plain.
“Another traveling song to rouse the troops,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows comically as she danced away with a saucy flick of her coal-colored tail, “taught to me by Brontide Corten.”
“Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
The world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!”
Lotte paused as her husband began rousing the other wolves, rallying them for the next leg of their journey, but returned her attention to Hemlock with pointed alacrity. “Run with us,” she suggested. “I understand better than most your desire to keep your scent free of the pack — but we have lost our chance at subterfuge. If you distance yourself for your own reasons, I will not push you — but if you are doing it for Teaghlaigh, stop.” Her words were brusque, but her alto was as warm as she could make it. Blithely she crossed the distance between Hemlock and herself, and with a smile that could have been considered flirtatious, she butted the air alongside one russet shoulder with a sweep of her broad muzzle — not near enough to touch the Lionsbane, but certainly near enough to make her longing plain.
“Another traveling song to rouse the troops,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows comically as she danced away with a saucy flick of her coal-colored tail, “taught to me by Brontide Corten.”
“Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
The world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!”