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+--- Thread: Altar of Twilight i painted you a picture, but it never looked right (/showthread.php?tid=21973)
i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Olive - May 26, 2017
dated for may 30th — figured i’d go ahead and get this shindig started so that people can post over the long weekend if they wanna. calling @Dakarai @Aries @Cassiopeia @Sirius @Arturo and any other chaperones from tgl! tagging @Charon @Amekaze @Hemlock @Lotte for awareness. also there’s a ton of pp here so just holler at me if you want it changed :)
The svartell family moved along once more, this time urged on by the possibility of reconciliation; a veritable tabula rasa! Of course, it was unlikely that the slate between the small band of Svartells and the wolves of the Teaghlaigh family — such a relationship had been smashed to nothingness ‘neath the heaviness of Arturo’s justice. It could never be wiped clean, not when she was made to love then and then was forsaken when she needed, her family needed them most. Like a broken mirror, there was no fixing that.
But there was still hope yet for the small cub, left behind. It was difficult to believe that two months had passed since the happening — the pace of which was lightening fast, yet so slow, and the contrast was dizzying. The mother had trusted her oppressors [the wolves who seemed to wish ruinment upon her] with the life of her firstborn. It sickened her when she thought about it, and yet — it gave the seraph a semblance of relief. Perhaps he was safer with them, for she was a wild card and was not sure she could protect him as well as she once had believed. These wilds were rife with danger, whether she could see it or not; and it was those invisible dangers that seemed to snag her in their traps.
Still the druid stayed out every night, laying her mental map of the stars atop the spread of the night sky to find the boy’s namesake constellation. It was no coincidence that the stars shaped a wolf in the sky — canis majora — and every night she beseeched the stars to ensure the boy was hale and healthy with his fireborn guardian. Sometimes the heavens would grant her with the sight, and the shrouded sylph would feel a sudden rush of contentedness, and knew her son was well — more often than not the stars remained tightlipped and would not reveal collective insights, but it would never stopped Olive from trying.
So two moons had been born, waxed, stood full, then waned only to be reborn again — and the family began their small journey to the agreed upon rendezvous site. It was a short journey, but it had been the most far-reaching journey her two cubs had [consciously] experience upon their own four paws. As far the mother knew, this was their first descent from the mountain and she prepared them excessively. The night before, they each were groomed and their fur combed through with their mother’s teeth, they had yet again been instructed on packhood politesse [like hell would Teaghlaigh know she was raising heathens] and told stories about their brother. There were so few stories to pull from — so little was their time together! — that Olive found herself embellishing some tales and coming to believe them herself. It was them that the druid knew so little about her own child, besides what she could scry from the stars.
With a final call to Amekaze and Charon to announce their departure, the troupe of Svartells moved out. Olive found it much easier to make merriment with Dakarai, now that they were not newborns and the veil of postpartum depression had lifted. There was little pressure other than the presence of Arturo [she assumed] and whoever else had betrayed her two months prior. But Olive firmly held onto the belief that only good could come from this.
only good.
only good.
only good.
So she cavorted with her ash and ebon childs and the man who once was her husband, transforming their travels into a series of games and races. The quicksilver fae’s form had filled out and energy, life, was restored within her. Moonspear was good to her — she had since come to terms with this — and such stability had allowed the woman to return to her formed self; albeit without a mate and without the liberty of her preferred state: vagrancy. She gave chase to the cubs and nipped at their heels with featherlight clips, listening to them squeal with excitement and rush forward; but when they approached the alter of twilight, the family slowed and suspended their games. This area was familiar, and not in a good way.
Suddenly, the realness of their situation set in. A clear look of apprehension was shared with the dark knight, wishing he could embrace her and eviscerate any sense of doubt harbored in her delicate heart, but knew he couldn't, so she turned her lips skyward and sang. It was a small call, light and air and slow, meant to draw forth her son and whoever else chaperoned him. And then, with bated breath, they waited.
But there was still hope yet for the small cub, left behind. It was difficult to believe that two months had passed since the happening — the pace of which was lightening fast, yet so slow, and the contrast was dizzying. The mother had trusted her oppressors [the wolves who seemed to wish ruinment upon her] with the life of her firstborn. It sickened her when she thought about it, and yet — it gave the seraph a semblance of relief. Perhaps he was safer with them, for she was a wild card and was not sure she could protect him as well as she once had believed. These wilds were rife with danger, whether she could see it or not; and it was those invisible dangers that seemed to snag her in their traps.
Still the druid stayed out every night, laying her mental map of the stars atop the spread of the night sky to find the boy’s namesake constellation. It was no coincidence that the stars shaped a wolf in the sky — canis majora — and every night she beseeched the stars to ensure the boy was hale and healthy with his fireborn guardian. Sometimes the heavens would grant her with the sight, and the shrouded sylph would feel a sudden rush of contentedness, and knew her son was well — more often than not the stars remained tightlipped and would not reveal collective insights, but it would never stopped Olive from trying.
So two moons had been born, waxed, stood full, then waned only to be reborn again — and the family began their small journey to the agreed upon rendezvous site. It was a short journey, but it had been the most far-reaching journey her two cubs had [consciously] experience upon their own four paws. As far the mother knew, this was their first descent from the mountain and she prepared them excessively. The night before, they each were groomed and their fur combed through with their mother’s teeth, they had yet again been instructed on packhood politesse [like hell would Teaghlaigh know she was raising heathens] and told stories about their brother. There were so few stories to pull from — so little was their time together! — that Olive found herself embellishing some tales and coming to believe them herself. It was them that the druid knew so little about her own child, besides what she could scry from the stars.
With a final call to Amekaze and Charon to announce their departure, the troupe of Svartells moved out. Olive found it much easier to make merriment with Dakarai, now that they were not newborns and the veil of postpartum depression had lifted. There was little pressure other than the presence of Arturo [she assumed] and whoever else had betrayed her two months prior. But Olive firmly held onto the belief that only good could come from this.
only good.
only good.
only good.
So she cavorted with her ash and ebon childs and the man who once was her husband, transforming their travels into a series of games and races. The quicksilver fae’s form had filled out and energy, life, was restored within her. Moonspear was good to her — she had since come to terms with this — and such stability had allowed the woman to return to her formed self; albeit without a mate and without the liberty of her preferred state: vagrancy. She gave chase to the cubs and nipped at their heels with featherlight clips, listening to them squeal with excitement and rush forward; but when they approached the alter of twilight, the family slowed and suspended their games. This area was familiar, and not in a good way.
Suddenly, the realness of their situation set in. A clear look of apprehension was shared with the dark knight, wishing he could embrace her and eviscerate any sense of doubt harbored in her delicate heart, but knew he couldn't, so she turned her lips skyward and sang. It was a small call, light and air and slow, meant to draw forth her son and whoever else chaperoned him. And then, with bated breath, they waited.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Dakarai - May 26, 2017
Dakarai found his somber mood lifting as they left Moonspear's grounds and headed off on the long trek toward Teaghlaigh, to see the son they had been made to leave behind. It was easier now that the babies were no longer reliant on their parents to carry them or feed them every couple of hours or so, and they could walk farther before resting now as well. The atmosphere around Dakarai and Olive was more relaxed and lighthearted as well, and as Olive tried to play around he even found himself smiling in earnest. He had missed this feeling of being out in the open by Olive's side, breathing in the unfamiliar scents. On one point in the journey he even gave a playful nip to Olive's hindquarters and then pranced away in light leaps, chuckling softly while he shot her a devilish grin. The games they played together as a family brought him sweet relief from the pain and grief that he had been feeling, the bitterness and despair and loss of hope was gone on this journey.
Then they arrived close to the Straith and it was like he had been dropped into a pond of ice cold water, his happiness turned to anxiety and apprehension. He tucked the children between his and Olive's sides and told them to stay quiet before placing a few reassuring licks to their still downy foreheads. His muzzle lifted to the sky and his own call joined Olive's summoning the man once called Ceannasach and anyone else who could hear their call. They were here to see their boy. This place held their son. The reminder put a damper on Dakarai's mood for sure. What if Sirius no longer knew who they were, or worse what if he had been taught to hate them all. What if he only knew that Dakarai and Olive, his mother and father, were traitorous fools in the eyes of Teaghlaigh?
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Aries - May 26, 2017
Aries followed behind, occasionally letting out a squeak of excitement. After the original rush of childish curiousity again, however, he settled down and became his usual sullen, silent self again. Though that did not diminish the small glint of wonder in his eyes as they travelled. He'd never been so far from home! Had he? He didn't think so, but then again, he didn't remember much from before Moonspear.
"There yet?" He waddled forward a bit so he was in line with his parents, and looked up at them as he spoke. He gazed back at Cass for a moment, watching her as she walked, then fell back too so that he did not have to stay between his parents for too long. As he did so, the young boy peered at his surroundings. He halted after another few minutes, watching as his mother and father also stopped, raising their muzzles in a call.
Aries had heard howling before, but never this close. He felt drawn to it, and couldn't shake the feeling off. Finally the pull was too strong, and the ash grey child lifted his head and let out his own call. It was much less tuneful than his parents, but it was his first real howl and he did not care. He simply let the feeling wash over him.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Arturo - May 26, 2017
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Not for the first time during the trio’s journey from the Strath to the Altar of Twilight Ceannasach has considered turning back, of ripping this privilege that the star-crossed and disillusioned pair does not deserve. He does not want to do this; but for everything that makes him a bad man Arturo Fearghal is a man of his word. He craves the consistency. When he speaks, he means what he says and he will back them with action each and every time. It pushes him forward with @Hemlock and @Sirius at his side. He does not expect them to be gone long but he knows Teaghlaigh is in good paws in his absence from the Strath and he expects the pack’s guard to be up for the duration of their absence. As the howls rise up into the sky, giving the waiting Svartell’s location to the trio. There is a sharp click of the Ceannasach’s teeth in his own apprehension at this meeting. There are deep wounds in his back that will never heal from their crimes but he would not let Hemlock go alone with her young ward and as Ceannasach, as the jury, judge and executioner he feels it is his solemn duty to accompany them for each of these visits. His expression is stoic and unapologetic as the silhouettes come into view, his posture stiff and militaristic as the trio approach.
His steps halt suddenly, leaving plenty of room between the parties. Gaze of twin suns burn into each one of them: Olive, Dakarai and their children. The gangster regards them all with indifference and speaks, “A visit as promised,” the smoky reticence of his deep, accented voice concise. How this visit went would determine if the broken family would receive any in the future. He allows this only because he is a father and he knows what it is like to be separated from his children. It creates a hollow feeling that never will be filled, a worry that never truly ceases to fester and the acknowledgement that they could be gone from this world accompanies the horror that he’d never know. There is no amount of puppies that can eradicate those concerns for the elder children; but everyone gathered knows that Ceannasach’s generosity and mercy towards those whom he feels do not truly deserve it can be quickly retracted.
“Sirius,” The masked coywolf turns his fiery gaze to the boy and offers him a soft, affectionate smile. “This is Olive and Dakarai, your mother and father,” The gangster gestures to the pair with his sleek muzzle. “and your brothers and sisters, Cassiopeia and Aries.” Arturo gestures then to the two children who stand with the star-crossed pair. Arturo knows that Hemlock has spoken, at the very least, of his parents to him but what Sirius does with the knowledge and their presence is entirely up to him.
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His steps halt suddenly, leaving plenty of room between the parties. Gaze of twin suns burn into each one of them: Olive, Dakarai and their children. The gangster regards them all with indifference and speaks, “A visit as promised,” the smoky reticence of his deep, accented voice concise. How this visit went would determine if the broken family would receive any in the future. He allows this only because he is a father and he knows what it is like to be separated from his children. It creates a hollow feeling that never will be filled, a worry that never truly ceases to fester and the acknowledgement that they could be gone from this world accompanies the horror that he’d never know. There is no amount of puppies that can eradicate those concerns for the elder children; but everyone gathered knows that Ceannasach’s generosity and mercy towards those whom he feels do not truly deserve it can be quickly retracted.
“Sirius,” The masked coywolf turns his fiery gaze to the boy and offers him a soft, affectionate smile. “This is Olive and Dakarai, your mother and father,” The gangster gestures to the pair with his sleek muzzle. “and your brothers and sisters, Cassiopeia and Aries.” Arturo gestures then to the two children who stand with the star-crossed pair. Arturo knows that Hemlock has spoken, at the very least, of his parents to him but what Sirius does with the knowledge and their presence is entirely up to him.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Hemlock - May 26, 2017
She can feel many things all at once. Hemlock has always been a passionate wolf - even when her name had been her mother's gift to her. That much has not changed. Hemlock may be more guarded (if it was possible) and more determined but she is still a Kali and the Kali line has never shied away from what felt right. Although she did not want to take Sirius to meet his parents still she had dutifully roused the boy in the early morning and promised him an adventure. She had pressed her kisses to the brows of her godchildren, nuzzling sweetly into her Banrion's soft fur, and had solemnly set trail with her Ceannasach with her young ward between them.
Though she was mostly quiet, she had told Sirius of the meeting along the way - that she expected to see his siblings there, too, and that his parents would be waiting for them. His questions were met with vague, quiet answers, the wolf apologetically distracted by what might come. This was to be the first of many, after all, and she could only imagine what a meeting like this would mean for the shape of her own little life tucked deep in the Strath. At the call to announce their location Hemlock felt her lips curl, hackles shifting a bit but she bid herself to relax and calm down lest she scare her little boy.
When they found the area she gave a reassuring nuzzle to the boy - if her emotions were so scattered, she could only imagine what he must be feeling. What a lofty duty they had given to such a small boy, to uphold two families on his little shoulders. Still, she truly did not believe he would have survived if not in her care and she is fiercely proud of him. "I believe you are bigger than they are," Hemlock said, whispering near his ear so that only he would hear with a slight smile to try and ease his emotions - maybe it would make it easier to go forward if he was in good spirits. She was careful near the other pair; never truly relaxing. But then again - she had not relaxed since coming home, placing a great amount of her own guilt and sorrow in the visible affirmation of what could have been that the duo represented to her. Arturo had offered the introductions, saving Hemlock from needing to actually address the pair outright.
Now, it was all up to waiting for the first move; letting Sirius do what was comfortable for himself. Should the parents try and push him or rush things, Hemlock would have felt no qualms about stepping in to make sure they went at the boy's pace.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Cassiopeia - June 04, 2017
the girl followed willingly, finding to be the journey one of great amusement. Cass knew that they were going to see a brother, but who or why this was she did not know. She did not know any brother other than Aries, and the knowledge that there existed another both excited and vexed her. she conveyed this by occasionally leaping at an inviting tail, mostly belonging to Dakarai, and attempting to fasten her not-so-tiny fangs in its plushness. But the occasional attacks and wanderings aside, she made for a rather obedient girl as the family made the long journey.
Finally did they stop, and her mother let a howl slip from her muzzle. Aries followed with a weaker howl of his own, and Cass, not one to miss out on anything, pitched in with a scream. They met the others after a length of time had passed, Cass twisting to look at her parents to make sure that this was all alright. But she hardly waited for any sort of sign, for her gaze soon fell on the boy between the two stranger, and realised that he was simply another stranger. Words reaffirmed that this was, indeed, her brother, and still there was an emptiness, his face unfamiliar. She marched forward, intending to meet the boy head-on, her maw delivering a " you bro'dr? don no you." She didn't know who this was, only that he was small like she and apparently her brother. But that was false. Aries was the brother she could always touch and see and feel, not this stranger.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Sirius - June 09, 2017
Sorry for the wait, loves!
The tension during their journey was palpable. Sirius forgot about it sometimes, falling easily to the distractions of newness all around him, but each time his eyes returned to Hemlock, he was reminded of the situation. The boy didn't much care for it. He had no reason to think badly about his "real" parents, except for the way their air changed each time either of them came up in conversation. The tension thickened immensely when the howls lifted above them, and suddenly Sirius began to focus on what was ahead of them. He stopped chasing crickets and pausing at every hoot he heard; now picking his way through the grass while maintaining a position between his stiff-legged surrogate and their poker-faced king.
He didn't know what to look at first when they finally arrived. There were two adults and as many other pups -- and Sirius was stalled at Hemlock's ankle. The Ceannasach's words were the only thing that prompted the boy forward. He stole a few pawsteps closer, nose out and ears forward as he examined what his senses would allow given the space between them. His eyes naturally went to the largest figure, Dakarai, first. He blinked, quickly becoming distracted by the pale figure at his side... Olive.
He knew her name -- Arturo had just told him, and Hemlock mentioned it all the time -- but he knew more than that too. She'd been but a blurry figure last he remembered, and a white wisp dripping neon emeralds in his dreams, but he knew her on a level deeper than that. On a base he could not stand on or comprehend. The confusion struck him first, and his ears folded back at their eyes met. "Mama?" he said out loud, his gaze fleeing to find Hemlock.
He was ready to leave at that point. He didn't like this feeling. Panicked eyes found the family he actually knew, but before he could make a move to return to them, he felt another puppy before him. Whipping his head around, he looked at his dark sister, finding no familiarity or friendliness in her face. Sirius was dumbstruck as she spoke, his limbs seized up and his tail poking out defensively. Hemlock was right, he was bigger than them, but this didn't necessarily make him feel any better about his siblings. If anything, it only made him more self-conscious. Swallowing thickly, his tail wagged stiffly. "Well, I don' know you ei'der but tha's a'cause I never meeted you b'fore."
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Olive - June 12, 2017
Those moments before the Teaghlaigh wolves arrived with her progeny were the longest moments of her life. There was a sense of unknowingness that plagued her; and even though her bones told her that little Sirius was alive and well, there was so much that she did not know about him. Aries and Cassiopeia, they were real and she could touch them and smell them and kiss them; but Sirius? Even his scent, once a perfume so strong that she wore it as her own, was fading from memory.
To settle her nerves, the pale woman took to preening the fuzz of her son’s head, kissing him even though the growing boy abhorred her corporeal expressions of a mother’s love. His squeakish howl had not gone unnoticed and though she was riddled with anxiety, pride in her two intact children bloomed as did the grass under the summer sun. She would never miss a chance to let her babies know how strongly she felt about them— she could not afford their father such intimacy, so she channeled such energy into the love she bore their children; the only thing she had left to lose.
The little, dark girl — a striking replica of her shadowed sire — did not escape the wrath of their mother’s tongue. Neither did Dakarai, and she stole away to place several sweet kisses upon his velveteen cheek; but just as she withdrew her caresses that the wolves of Teaghlaigh incarnated from the silvered mist.
It was at that moment that the druid realized how little she wanted to see Ceannasach and Isley; how much she loathed to look upon their callous facades and know that nothing of substance laid beneath. The woman gave an incredulous lash of her tail, somewhat surprised [and even more surprised that she was capable of such a gentle wrath]. But as the form of the coy wolf and his firetouched henchwoman moved closer, she decided she would not submit. Arturo stole her child; they had paid their dues a thousandfold. The shrouded fae would not teach her children to respect creatures such as these.
They could no longer hurt her.
Olive’s heart lurched in her throat as all of her and Dakarai’s lessons on decorum fled her mind; and, thankfully, her maw stayed clasped shut. She was silent and brooding as they approached ever closer, her eyes cut like emeralds in the dazzling sun. Her breath came in short, rapid, anxious puffs and the edges of her lips twitched in agitation — but all of this apprehension in the face of her oppressors fell away when her gaze found the heather tangle at Isley’s feet. Her breath stilled.
How was it that he was so small? He was no bigger than his twin, Aries, but something about his presence made her yearn and pine and die over the distance still between them. He was beautiful; a vision, and she dared not blink incase he spirited away, as he did so often in her dream. Sirius was pushed forward by his caretaker; a woman who Olive would eventually come to respect, but was currently held in complete disregard. Her dazzling daughter approached and he responded to her, and oh! That voice!
Breathless, she stumbled forward — but only made it several feet before she shimmied herself down and upon the ground, laying upon her stomach and crawling towards him. There was no such thing as debasement when it came to the bond between mother and child — and at that moment, Olive wanted nothing more than to be on the same level, vis-à-vis her sweet firstborn. “Hello, stardust” the sylph cooed, voice held like spun silk; cool and smooth. She could reach out and touch him if she so wished; but she would not, and would let the boy come to them on his own terms. This all was so much to place upon shoulders so small.
To settle her nerves, the pale woman took to preening the fuzz of her son’s head, kissing him even though the growing boy abhorred her corporeal expressions of a mother’s love. His squeakish howl had not gone unnoticed and though she was riddled with anxiety, pride in her two intact children bloomed as did the grass under the summer sun. She would never miss a chance to let her babies know how strongly she felt about them— she could not afford their father such intimacy, so she channeled such energy into the love she bore their children; the only thing she had left to lose.
The little, dark girl — a striking replica of her shadowed sire — did not escape the wrath of their mother’s tongue. Neither did Dakarai, and she stole away to place several sweet kisses upon his velveteen cheek; but just as she withdrew her caresses that the wolves of Teaghlaigh incarnated from the silvered mist.
It was at that moment that the druid realized how little she wanted to see Ceannasach and Isley; how much she loathed to look upon their callous facades and know that nothing of substance laid beneath. The woman gave an incredulous lash of her tail, somewhat surprised [and even more surprised that she was capable of such a gentle wrath]. But as the form of the coy wolf and his firetouched henchwoman moved closer, she decided she would not submit. Arturo stole her child; they had paid their dues a thousandfold. The shrouded fae would not teach her children to respect creatures such as these.
They could no longer hurt her.
Olive’s heart lurched in her throat as all of her and Dakarai’s lessons on decorum fled her mind; and, thankfully, her maw stayed clasped shut. She was silent and brooding as they approached ever closer, her eyes cut like emeralds in the dazzling sun. Her breath came in short, rapid, anxious puffs and the edges of her lips twitched in agitation — but all of this apprehension in the face of her oppressors fell away when her gaze found the heather tangle at Isley’s feet. Her breath stilled.
How was it that he was so small? He was no bigger than his twin, Aries, but something about his presence made her yearn and pine and die over the distance still between them. He was beautiful; a vision, and she dared not blink incase he spirited away, as he did so often in her dream. Sirius was pushed forward by his caretaker; a woman who Olive would eventually come to respect, but was currently held in complete disregard. Her dazzling daughter approached and he responded to her, and oh! That voice!
Breathless, she stumbled forward — but only made it several feet before she shimmied herself down and upon the ground, laying upon her stomach and crawling towards him. There was no such thing as debasement when it came to the bond between mother and child — and at that moment, Olive wanted nothing more than to be on the same level, vis-à-vis her sweet firstborn. “Hello, stardust” the sylph cooed, voice held like spun silk; cool and smooth. She could reach out and touch him if she so wished; but she would not, and would let the boy come to them on his own terms. This all was so much to place upon shoulders so small.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Dakarai - June 13, 2017
The ceannasach and surrogate mother strode forward from the shadows,bringing with them the estranged child they had to leave behind. Dakarai felt his ears flicked backward as he stared at the man in power here, the one who placed all the name on them and ruined their lives. His eyes turned icy as they continued to stare at Arturo, though for not too much longer.
The tenseness in the air was horrible and he stepped closer to Olive, lifting his chin up as she placed kisses on his cheek. He turned his muzzle to press his nose against her shoulder "it will be alright" he murmured. Finally he could see his son, and all bitter thoughts left his mind. He boy was healthy and strong, though he looked frightened. Dakarai's eyes softened as he ran his gaze over the smal form of his son. Cassiopeia moved forward and he tensed up, wary of how the interaction would go. When they both spoke to each other he felt himself relax and even gave a small thump of his tail.
Nudging Aries forward with an encouraging lick to the head he sat down beside Olive and smiled at Sirius "this is Cassiopeia and Aries, your brother and sister." His deep baritone rumbled with sad affection. No matter how happy he was in this moment he was still plagued by the anguish of not knowing his boy, of not seeing him grow. "You have grown into a strong boy Sirius" he murmured and looked up at Isley. While he didn't like her or teaghlaigh at all, she had taken in and cared for his son. His blue eyes still looking at the red furred woman, he dipped his head to her and mouthed the words "Thank you" even though he knew what she had done was for the innocent child and not him or Olive.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Aries - June 13, 2017
Aries waited in silence with his small family, quite unsure of what to expect. He knew that the one they had come to see was - or he had been told was - his brother. The memory of Sirius was very much faded and perhaps forgotten, so when the Teaghlaigh wolves finally approached, the boy did not recognise the appearance of the pup. Even so, his eyes searched the boy, looking for anything he might remember. Nothing he could dig up from his mind right now, but perhaps something mind trigger his memory later.
Cass was the first to approach - she marched forward and met the boy head-on, claiming that she did not know him. It seemed that she too had very little, if any, memory of the strange boy. Mother and father spoke a few words of their own, and it was clear that they cared for him. Aries observed for a few more moments when there was a little pause of silence, and then he stepped forward. He shared no words, instead simply reaching out his muzzle to sniff Sirius. The scent, too, was not recognisable to him. "I Aries." He said, lacking much emotion but still a greeting of sorts. "You Sirius?" He tilted his head, though he already knew the answer. This was, apparently, his brother. At least he seemed to be as confused as his littermates.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Arturo - June 14, 2017
Arturo does not like this, does not want to be here. He has no desire to every lay eyes on the betrayers ever again but this is not a weighty task he will let Hemlock bear alone. And it goes without saying that there is few he trusts to go in his place. He feels the accusing stares of the two that have done much, almost causing the death of his children and he feels nothing but cold indifference and a complete lack of apathy towards them. The only reason this meeting is still happening is because Arturo is letting it and Ceannasach has thought many times to severe the chord for once and for all. It is not as if the gangster would lose sleep over it.
Yet, it is not fair to punish Sirius of whom Arturo has no issue with; and Cennasach knows this. The child is an innocent child left to suffer for his parent’s misdeeds. This is all for Sirius; and as far as Arturo is aware Teaghlaigh is doing their part. They are raising Sirius. The boy is healthy, he is loved, and he has not been made to think villains of his parents. When he is old enough to understand their banishment, when he is old enough to make his stance upon it his own he will know of it — for no doubt he will ask — but for now he is a child and he is treated as such.
As Sirius moves forward to greet them Arturo watches the exchange with sharp, fiery gaze of twin sun eyes, lingering close to Hemlock though whether it is a silent offer of support for her or because he needs to feel her close to him to remind him that this exchange is meant to be civil — and oh how he desires to be anything but! — Ceannasach is not sure.
Yet, it is not fair to punish Sirius of whom Arturo has no issue with; and Cennasach knows this. The child is an innocent child left to suffer for his parent’s misdeeds. This is all for Sirius; and as far as Arturo is aware Teaghlaigh is doing their part. They are raising Sirius. The boy is healthy, he is loved, and he has not been made to think villains of his parents. When he is old enough to understand their banishment, when he is old enough to make his stance upon it his own he will know of it — for no doubt he will ask — but for now he is a child and he is treated as such.
As Sirius moves forward to greet them Arturo watches the exchange with sharp, fiery gaze of twin sun eyes, lingering close to Hemlock though whether it is a silent offer of support for her or because he needs to feel her close to him to remind him that this exchange is meant to be civil — and oh how he desires to be anything but! — Ceannasach is not sure.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Hemlock - June 15, 2017
Surely her heart would burst. Surely there would be a moment where the frantic sensation would overwhelm her and take her under. She held her breath as the moment spread among them all, the burden no greater on any of their shoulders than on that of Sirius'. She wanted to rush forward and take him to her breast, protect him from the horrid reality that they had forced upon them but she could not. Providing her strength would be greater than anything else she could do for him and so she watched. She waited. She could feel the tension in Sirius, knowing him as well as she did, and when he said Mama and looked to her she reached down to press a little kiss to his brow in encouragement.
She had not breathed, it felt, since they had arrived and she could not manage her words or thoughts save for watching intently. Cassiopeia stepped forward to do what the adults could scarcely do and bridged the space between them. Sirius was not deterred, and her heart soared, but her little cherub was not afraid. Not of this at least. Even as Dakarai met her eyes Hemlock scarcely paid him attention, even in his gratitude. She was watching the children, swallowing thickly. Had Arturo not been there Hemlock could not have imagined the strength it would have taken. She only was aware that he was closer to her, and she relished the support that they provided each other. There were few things that she had not found herself an aligned unit with when it came to Arturo and in this they were exceptionally aligned.
Hemlock would have lost no sleep keeping Sirius safe and sound in Teaghlaigh, not when it would provide him a safe haven and protection against the folly of his parents. Hemlock moved a slight bit closer to the warmth Arturo provided, their coats mingling a bit but still save for a glance, her green eyes were solely on Sirius.
She had not breathed, it felt, since they had arrived and she could not manage her words or thoughts save for watching intently. Cassiopeia stepped forward to do what the adults could scarcely do and bridged the space between them. Sirius was not deterred, and her heart soared, but her little cherub was not afraid. Not of this at least. Even as Dakarai met her eyes Hemlock scarcely paid him attention, even in his gratitude. She was watching the children, swallowing thickly. Had Arturo not been there Hemlock could not have imagined the strength it would have taken. She only was aware that he was closer to her, and she relished the support that they provided each other. There were few things that she had not found herself an aligned unit with when it came to Arturo and in this they were exceptionally aligned.
Hemlock would have lost no sleep keeping Sirius safe and sound in Teaghlaigh, not when it would provide him a safe haven and protection against the folly of his parents. Hemlock moved a slight bit closer to the warmth Arturo provided, their coats mingling a bit but still save for a glance, her green eyes were solely on Sirius.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Cassiopeia - June 17, 2017
"Why?" she asked, observing the boy, then twisting back to look at her parents. she repeated the word, brow furrowed. she was ignorant, completely ignorant, to the tension, the past scars and wounds that had been inflicted, the reason her brother was here, and she there. "Why 'ere no t'ere?" she questioned again, fixing the father with an unflinching gaze, then her mother. her hawkish optics were quick to turn back to the brother before her, the new one. then voice soft, and gestures gentle, she poked her muzzle to his shoulder, carefully, should he allow her, sniffing the scent that was like a dream, a memory. "like you." she stated, the matter of fact tone stifled by the slight softness in her words.
her worm of a tail whipped about, an echo of his own movements, and she offered a smile, deciding that this brother was hardly bad. with a quick glance to the impassive and stiff Aries, she decided that this boy indeed seemed a good brother.
her worm of a tail whipped about, an echo of his own movements, and she offered a smile, deciding that this brother was hardly bad. with a quick glance to the impassive and stiff Aries, she decided that this boy indeed seemed a good brother.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Sirius - July 06, 2017
*flays self for holding this up*
Unlike his dark sister, Sirius is affected deeply by the tension of the adults. He doesn't understand why, but he wants everyone in the vicinity to be happy and yet instinctively knows that things are not all fine here. Fortunately, he's distracted by all the stimulation -- all the newness of discovering his other family -- so he doesn't react to the thickness in the air, but focuses instead on learning what he could about these strangers.
He freezes up slightly when Olive comes closer. She's the angel in his dreams but an unknown variable in the waking world. He swallows a dry lump in his throat as she buckles before him, and Sirius finds himself oddly delighted by the sight of her on his level. She was in no way frightening -- her countenance too gentle, her scent too sweet to be such a thing -- but he hesitated still. Until she spoke. "'m not stardust!" he giggled, delighted and eager now. "I'm Sirius," he enunciated in the same chiding tone all confident children take up at some point. His smile broadened as he lost the last of his nerves and moved closed to meet Olive. He stretched out a small foot, and batted gently at her nose. "Didn' you gaved me my name? My mama tolded me you did. Don'chu 'member you gaved me my name?"
He certainly talked more than either of his siblings, and an onlooker might wonder if it had to do with their separate upbringings. Sirius glanced up at Dakarai as he spoke. This wolf was certainly much more intimidating than Olive. Sirius did not make to approach him, but he listened to the softly authoritative voice all the same, and his tail wagged at the praise he was given. "Yeah'm so stronger! I'm so stronger, I'm bigger dan Roarke, an' Molly, an' Cella, an' Eirly an' alla dem! So dat means I'm stronger," he told the dark male matter-of-factly, clearly not understanding that his age played a big part in his idea of "strong."
His attention turned suddenly to Aries, and because he had seen himself in the water before, he felt suddenly like he was doing that now -- looking into a mirror. "Yeah, you Aries -- 'm Sirius! We... we're brudders?" He turned to look at Hemlock and Arturo questioningly. Was that right? Were brothers supposed to look alike? Cassiopeia piped up again, drawing Sirius' attention like a moth to a flame. For all the words he spewed, and for all the deeper voices that surrounded them, Sirius felt most drawn to his sister's uncultivated authority. Had things been different, he and Aries might have acted as left and right hand to a queen.
He let her question to their parents hang in the air. He wanted to know too, but when the girl of midnight addressed him again, Sirius returned her affection by sniffling playfully into the side of her neck. He looked over his own shoulder, and stared wide-eyed and hopefully at Hemlock. "You tolded me dey'd like me, mama! You did, you did," he nodded enthusiastically. "That means e'rrbody can come home wit' me right? Can I take Aries an' Casshopeia an' we all play an' be siblin's wit' Lotte's kids?" He looked at Arturo then -- for surely the man wanted more children to play with his.
RE: i painted you a picture, but it never looked right - Olive - July 16, 2017
a few characters have gone inactive/ppc, so hope nobody minds if I tack a generalized ending onto this.
As Olive gazed upon her firstborn, Dakarai took to introducing the rest of the family; Sirius’s own brothers and sisters, all of whom did not know each other. It made Olive sad to think about that fact, but almost everything about the situation make Olive sad so that emotion no longer shocked her. Her eldest babe did not know his father and did not know her… instead, he even called another his mama. It broke her heart a thousand times, but to look upon Sirius — living, breathing, simply existing — stitched the woman back together and made a whole out of so many little shattered pieces.
Indignantly, Sirius rebuffed her affectionate moniker and provided a substitute; the name her and her husband, once so in love and filled with reckless abandon, had given him. Named after the thing she loved most, the star and the heavens themselves… all of their children were, of course, and each name held a very dear place in her heart. It was not the only thing that all three of her babes had in common — they all hated her tender nicknames. Their youthful annoyance was always entertaining, it was all in good fun.
“Of course I remember, Sirius… my boy…”
He then batted her nose and Olive felt a small electric shock! at his touch. The touch did not seem to shake the small boy as it shook her, as he quickly turned his attention to the other children that milled about in the space between the two sets of adults — between whom flowed such deep animosity. But Olive penchant for producing this emotion shocked her, and she did not enjoy it, so she thought perhaps it would be best to make nice with the self-elected caretakers of her and Dakarai’s progeny.
When Sirius mentioned the names of several others, memory rushed to the pale fae. Lotte! The queen had been heavily pregnant during the trial; ominously so, and suffering quite visibly from premature labor pains. In the face of her own tragedies, Olive had neglected to pay the silvered queen’s woes any attention. In fact, the other woman’s litter had been forgotten almost entirely — it had been a tumultuous two months, after all. ”Yours?” Olive questioned Arturo, breaking her silence towards the two Teaghlaigh wolves. Once, her family. Once, she might have known the names of these children… might have been their caretaker.
— but when Sirius questioned his ability to play with both families, in their entirety, the shrouded mother did not know what to say. Her lips parted, as if ready to say so many words — but none would come out. Her gaze darted from, not wanted to make any promises she wouldn’t be able to keep. She would not longer disappoint her family, if she could help it. But she could not deny she son what he wanted.
"Stardust, I pray for that to be our realities one day. We will work towards it... yes?"
Again, her eyes flitted to the adults gathered around the circle. The Teaghlaigh wolves were her enemy, but Olive could make nice for the sake of her family's wholeness. Her mind rooted around their stances and facial features, but she could derive no emotions from them that indicated their complicity. In the end, the two families parts and drew back to their individual oases [no worse for wear] to wait out the time until their next fated reunion.