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+--- Thread: Bearclaw Valley i. philosophia (/showthread.php?tid=27074)
i. philosophia - Reigi - May 06, 2018
❝ I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone. ❞
― Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon
― Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon
As the weeks passed and Annasiak was left with just her thoughts and her offspring for company, a bitterness had placed itself upon her shoulders and rooted in her chest. One such day as she fussed over the sleeping forms of her babes, Annasiak also labored over her emotional failures.
She had loved Blondine, but Blondine had been more taken by Indra. Nunataq's chest rose and fell in a slow sleepy rythm. She had loved Tadec and his hain, but Tadec had loved Indra more. Yakone's small paws reached out and traced the fading curve of her mother's teat as she rocked fitfully in her sleep. She had loved Alexander, but even he had favored the Redleaf girls more than his wife. It did not matter to her what he said — his intentions were evident in the way the girls were allowed to behave. Marten mewled in defiance of the tiredness that that weighed his limbs.
She curled a leg around her son and continued to dwell. Had he really ever stood up for his wife? Even when the girls had cornered Annasiak and her children in their own whelping den, what had her mate been concerned with? It was them — not his wife, or the children who she felt had been in danger. Was Laurel okay? The further back she reached in her memory, the more it seemed had been that way as long as she could recall.
When Annasiak had guarded Xan during her heat and he had promised her so he would stay true, had he not bedded down with Laurel? When Indra had cornered her at the mouth of the valley after her return when she had been swollen from abuse and seeping with infection, had Alexander not also punished his wife? When she had made an attempt to eat alongside her packmates at the hunt, had she not been met with both of their white-hot fangs?
It struck her that she did not want a husband who only stood up for her in private where he could shush her with false promises and punish her when things went wrong. She wanted to be loved like Indra was — Indra who had a sister who was wholeheartedly devoted; Indra, who despite her unbridled ferocity was able to steal the heart of every wolf in the valley except for its former matriarch. Indra, who had ensnared everyone that the raven had ever loved.
What was so different between herself and Indra, anyway? Why was it that wolves did not look down on those with physical disability — like Indra's dock-tail — but did not have to think twice about taking advantage of the no-named wolf of poor intelligence? The world had been laughing at her for things she had done when she had known no better. Alexander had stolen the wild from her bones and seduced her instead with whispered promises of home; he had spun her a fantasy of silk and foolishly she had believed him until each one of his promises crumbled before her. The realization had crept upon her slowly but now it crashed on her full-force. This cursed valley had systematically cut off every sense of security that she'd one held for herself. Each day that passed between Bearclaw's walls choked off a little more of her breathing room — she had not realized it until she was suffocating.
The next few hours were spent pacing, brooding, grieving.
She had reached a conclusion, but the fruits of her labors were not so sweet.
Her form bent over her children and she smoothed her tongue over each of them, gentle enough to not rouse them from their juvenile slumber. She was so proud of how they had grown. Already they were so big and independent, and they were almost weaned. They would do fine without her here.
She stood and choked before she turned from the den that held everything she'd ever built. She took one moment to allow her eyes to linger over her babies, the den she'd carved with Xan before she made her way out.
Once more, she was a wolf with no name. She could no longer think of herself as Annasiak, a name that had once enchanted her as Alexander taught her how to shape her mouth to make the sounds came out right. There was something to be cherished in each name she coaxed from every intrigued stranger. Maybe her guardian angel and her snowbear would give her one, too.
She fled North. To the coast, she would be born again.
She had loved Blondine, but Blondine had been more taken by Indra. Nunataq's chest rose and fell in a slow sleepy rythm. She had loved Tadec and his hain, but Tadec had loved Indra more. Yakone's small paws reached out and traced the fading curve of her mother's teat as she rocked fitfully in her sleep. She had loved Alexander, but even he had favored the Redleaf girls more than his wife. It did not matter to her what he said — his intentions were evident in the way the girls were allowed to behave. Marten mewled in defiance of the tiredness that that weighed his limbs.
She curled a leg around her son and continued to dwell. Had he really ever stood up for his wife? Even when the girls had cornered Annasiak and her children in their own whelping den, what had her mate been concerned with? It was them — not his wife, or the children who she felt had been in danger. Was Laurel okay? The further back she reached in her memory, the more it seemed had been that way as long as she could recall.
When Annasiak had guarded Xan during her heat and he had promised her so he would stay true, had he not bedded down with Laurel? When Indra had cornered her at the mouth of the valley after her return when she had been swollen from abuse and seeping with infection, had Alexander not also punished his wife? When she had made an attempt to eat alongside her packmates at the hunt, had she not been met with both of their white-hot fangs?
It struck her that she did not want a husband who only stood up for her in private where he could shush her with false promises and punish her when things went wrong. She wanted to be loved like Indra was — Indra who had a sister who was wholeheartedly devoted; Indra, who despite her unbridled ferocity was able to steal the heart of every wolf in the valley except for its former matriarch. Indra, who had ensnared everyone that the raven had ever loved.
What was so different between herself and Indra, anyway? Why was it that wolves did not look down on those with physical disability — like Indra's dock-tail — but did not have to think twice about taking advantage of the no-named wolf of poor intelligence? The world had been laughing at her for things she had done when she had known no better.
She had never doubted her self worth until now.
The next few hours were spent pacing, brooding, grieving.
❝ I am not only a thing, but also a way of being — one of many ways — and knowing the paths I have followed and the ones left to take will help me understand what I am becoming. ❞
― Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon
― Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon
Her form bent over her children and she smoothed her tongue over each of them, gentle enough to not rouse them from their juvenile slumber. She was so proud of how they had grown. Already they were so big and independent, and they were almost weaned. They would do fine without her here.
She stood and choked before she turned from the den that held everything she'd ever built. She took one moment to allow her eyes to linger over her babies, the den she'd carved with Xan before she made her way out.
Once more, she was a wolf with no name. She could no longer think of herself as Annasiak, a name that had once enchanted her as Alexander taught her how to shape her mouth to make the sounds came out right. There was something to be cherished in each name she coaxed from every intrigued stranger. Maybe her guardian angel and her snowbear would give her one, too.
She fled North. To the coast, she would be born again.
The time has come! @Nunataq and @Marten are welcome to follow Mommy to Undersea given @Xan's permission; @Yakone will be coming with Mom. Feel free to post in this thread, but Reigi is already gone and won't be responding. I will archive in one week if there are no replies. :)
RE: i. philosophia - Indra - May 06, 2018
indra's only post. keeping the amount of puppies she sees vague in case more than one go with reigi.
indra sat by a bushel of fresh-sprouted redfern, her amber gaze transfixed on the distant mouth of the den. it had not been her intention to linger, but she had trailed an elusive hind through the woods. when it panned past the den laurel had given birth in, indra had been compelled to pause and reflect on the life that had been birthed inside that narrow channel. she felt no fear as she silently observed reigi's abode-- partially because it had been nearly two weeks since reigi's demotion in the ranks, and partially because the den-site held a strange sanctity for her. laurel's puppies had been born here -- whatever strife and turmoil transpired thereafter, it did not dull indra's reverence for the spot in which lucas, piper and wyatt had all taken their first rattling breath.
she told herself she would stay only long enough to see a puppy or two -- instead, she saw reigi's form break over the shadowed egress with a puppy in tow. incorrectly, indra assumed reigi was simply moving them to the den-site -- but why not all of them at once? a crease appeared along her forehead as she peered between the reeds in quiet but engrossed confusion.
she half-expected to see the woman turn inward, towards the valley's many lush fields -- instead, the tawny wolf marched resolutely out of bearclaw valley.
indra didn't know what to make of such a clipped exit; it would be a few days before she pieced together it was truly a departure. for now, her brow furrowed in slight confusion as she glanced back towards the den, which was presumably still occupied by the puppies left behind.
unwilling to intervene (particularly if xan was around the corner) indra slunk off to mull over what had just transpired.
RE: i. philosophia - Maegi - May 06, 2018
one-post cameo
She didn't talk. That was the one thing Maegi had pieced together, about the lanky woman with pups.
Everyone else had words a-plenty, chattering here and there. They all seemed close. She'd kept to the shadows after Indra had invited her in, accepting whatever help she was offered and eating whatever scraps she could find. Even as her wound healed, and she became more lively, she still did not feel comfortable, here. It was not home. Everyone else called it home.
But the mother was different. She didn't speak, save in hushed, wordless murmurs to her babes, words she just barely caught on the wind from the den. In a way, she reminded Maegi of Relmyna, or even Shivali, with her limited grasp on the common tongue. Wolves without words had undoubtedly given her more kindness than anyone else, and for this, she felt drawn to the woman--but afraid to approach.
It was with curiosity, then, that she watched the nameless, wordless mother leave the valley, one of her pups in tow. Out of the mouth of the valley and into the wilds. As always, she lurked in the shadows, watching, waiting. . .but for what?
Home was farther away than she could comprehend, and the quiet woman seemed kind. With a confidence that wasn't altogether grounded, nor settled in her mind, Maegi rose to her feet and followed at a distance.
Wherever she went, the girl would follow. And maybe. . .just maybe. . .she would find home again.
Everyone else had words a-plenty, chattering here and there. They all seemed close. She'd kept to the shadows after Indra had invited her in, accepting whatever help she was offered and eating whatever scraps she could find. Even as her wound healed, and she became more lively, she still did not feel comfortable, here. It was not home. Everyone else called it home.
But the mother was different. She didn't speak, save in hushed, wordless murmurs to her babes, words she just barely caught on the wind from the den. In a way, she reminded Maegi of Relmyna, or even Shivali, with her limited grasp on the common tongue. Wolves without words had undoubtedly given her more kindness than anyone else, and for this, she felt drawn to the woman--but afraid to approach.
It was with curiosity, then, that she watched the nameless, wordless mother leave the valley, one of her pups in tow. Out of the mouth of the valley and into the wilds. As always, she lurked in the shadows, watching, waiting. . .but for what?
Home was farther away than she could comprehend, and the quiet woman seemed kind. With a confidence that wasn't altogether grounded, nor settled in her mind, Maegi rose to her feet and followed at a distance.
Wherever she went, the girl would follow. And maybe. . .just maybe. . .she would find home again.
RE: i. philosophia - Xan - May 11, 2018
Alexander was not there to see his wife leave, was not there to see the child that trailed along with her. He’d been away from the den, per his usual routine, making his rounds throughout the territory and ensuring the safety of his children and all those others that the valley housed—he was happy to do so, to watch over his family and pack mates both, feeling completed by doing so. Things were, for once in his life, seeming as if they were looking up; he had children to call his own, even if some of them he was not yet permitted to see regularly, a wife, a home—friends, even. It felt strange to admit it, really, that he was alone no longer. He’d let others in, allowed them to get friendly with him, and he, in turn, had given them his care; it would always feel peculiar and his heart might always ache but, for the first time since her passing, he felt as if he’d brought some semblance of honour to Kendra’s memory.
Satisfied with his doings, the albino carried on towards the whelping den, intending to spend some time with his wife and their children. Yet, upon arriving, she and Yakone were nowhere to be seen; their scents were recent, still, but led away from their little home. Curious, he trailed after the scents, though the closer he got to the valley’s exit, the more his heart sank. Panic set in and he sped up, seeking his wife and daughter, searching for something that might put his mind at ease—
—but to do so was not an easy task, for history would always repeat itself. There existed those in the world that simply weren’t meant to be happy, nor to have those they could trust at their side; some individuals existed just to be abandoned, time and time again.
It was a curse bestowed upon Alexander long before his birth, for never would he be great enough to hold those he cared for close enough to have them stay.