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Blackfeather Woods the war at home - Printable Version

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the war at home - Titmouse (Ghost) - November 20, 2018

The forest was too quiet, but maybe that was because of the change in the season. He reasoned that, yes, it was the light dusting of snow that suffocated all the sound from betwixt the trees. It was the absence of the birds - the crows, ravens, and whatever little Blue was - that brought a preternatural quiet upon them. It helped that Titmouse was high out of his mind.

Yeah, the poppies really numbed a lot of things; the sounds of the forest, the memories that still flit through his mind since his (what would you even call it?) awakening, the pain in his face from where Maegi's teeth had -- had -- h --

Maegi. He blurted as he woke from a deep state of - not quite sleep, not quite anything else - in Wolfskull Cave. The boy had been frequently visiting this place of late, bearing witness to the gradual evaporation of Fire's scent from the catacombs. It was gone now. All traces of the Redhawk were gone, of Tegan's interference too, and Redshank — it was all gone. He was alone and he was numb and it was exactly how it should be.

But that was his depression talking; how could anyone go through all of this, every bit of his life and his splitting self, and not end up in pieces?


RE: the war at home - Tundra - November 20, 2018

things had been....strange for lack of a better word. on one hand, it felt pretty damn good to be under the shelter of the thickly packed trees after spending so much time in a constant state of paranoia out in the overly exposed flatlands. however the whole pledging herself to a group of wolves thing had left her completely on edge. she was left constantly expecting something, waiting for what had to be an inevitable bad to catch up like it always did. the silence had become utterly deafening. 

it didn't help that the quiet she spoke of was not only metaphorical for you could taste the oncoming winter on the sharper breezes and it had sent what brave critters that had remained around this long off into hiding. if it was not for the rustle of the bare branches reaching to the heavy skies- just waiting for the signal to drop their burden down onto the wolves in bitter flurries, she could have been trapped in her own little bubble of nothingness. a shiver races down the length of her spine and she isn't sure if it's called on by the cold itself. 

aimless wandering leads her to a cave- decorated quite like the border itself had been where she'd orginally been escorted to. for honestly no reason in particular her paws guide her carefully through the entrance and into the darkness beyond. her gaze narrows in an attempt to adjust to the dim lighting after the harsh contrast of the bright snow dusted forest. shapes were only starting to make sense when a voice sounds behind the pale woman- causing her to whip around in the direction of its source. muscles tense under a thick creamy pelt as lips lift slightly- revealing prepared rows of creamy fangs..waiting to do what they did best. the reaction was a bit much even for her but she hadn't been lying about the whole being even more on edge than usual but after a couple moments she realises that what is before her doesn't seem to exactly be an immediate threat. 

it was a boy and he'd spoken a name. a quick sweep of her gaze along with the twitch of her nose confirmed that they were alone so he hadn't been directly addressing another. unless he'd mistaken her for whoever 'maegi' was? "no" is the soft reponse given, she can't truly tell but he doesn't seem to be in a good way. however not wanting to intrude if she's not welcome she steps back to put a bit more space between the two. "i can leave?" part of her almost wants to- she'd had no desire to bump into another wolf of her pack today but something holds her in place as she watches the boy. for some aboslutely unexplainable reason she waits.



RE: the war at home - Titmouse (Ghost) - November 20, 2018

The ache in his face isn't so bad. Its been a few days since the incident where the orbiting ghost intervened his two friends' battle, and the more time spent lounging in the comfort of the drugs really did help him. There were occasions where he'd be more lucid and he'd swear Maegi was tending to him; he could hear the drone of the tide cresting the beach, hear the call of gulls instead of the ravens in the trees, and he would sleep. In reality she was not here at all — had not been here since his intervention of the scuffle — and all of that, the sea and the sounds and the familiarity that resembled Undersea, it was all a dream.

He was awake now and much more confused. His mind was drifting through the fog of the poppies, and it had become so hard to tell reality apart from his dreams... So when the stranger slipped in to the cave and found him, spoke to him, was stuck in a self-imposed confinement with him, Titmouse wasn't really aware. He heard their voice but it was like — well, like being under water. Or like putting your ear against the small-end of a glass and trying to listen through a closed door. He wasn't sure if his ears were working, or maybe he just didn't want them to work. The voice wasn't familiar and he got that far before the movement of the stranger drew his eye.

It should've hurt to turn his head. It was more like - that throbbing of his bloody, raw cheekbone was sharp enough that it kept him from drifting too far from the present moment, it rooted him. His good eye fixed on the stranger's silhouette in the dark and lazily traced the contours of their face; in the dark her hazel eyes looked more blue, her buttery coat looked greycast. He couldn't see the usual scars that indicated it would be Maegi but since she was already on his mind, that's who the stranger became.

Titmouse watched her for a moment, speechless (at least for a few moments), and then drawled in his mess of a voice (dulled as it was by the drugs), Hmm, you.. You godt preddy. Hhh-ou you do det?


RE: the war at home - Tundra - November 24, 2018

the shadows wrapped around the boy as if trying to hide him from prying eyes such as her own. but did they truly mean to shelter or did they hold him captive down here, driving their way into his mind and leaving him paralysed. it's no secret that she's seen a lot but fuck he looked rough for it was only as dark eyes pierced the equally dark gloom that she could truly make out what was before her. he resembled a literal ghost was it not for the unique splash of colour covering his ribs and the pale fur did little to hide the assortment of scars scattering his body. of course it wasn't an unfamiliar sight and when one would usually cringe or wince at such a sight, tundra had always felt an odd respect for those who's bodies painted a story. much like the feeling upon meeting the listener she felt an equal dull but present interest towards the brute before her due to that one simple thing. but what she noticed now was how a rather brutal looking one across his cheek appeared fresher than the rest which obviously meant he'd been injured and recently enough.

her jaw clenches slightly as she feels her gaze once again flit to the entrace, visible only due to the grey light filtering in very weakly and failing to penetrate the darkness after a few pawlengths. it would be so easy to just turn and leave, sure she was used to those in a medical state but she never dealt one on one with them, that was the healers job she had simply been a fellow soldier who'd have to move past stone faced as ever. for to let it get to you was to lose it all apparently. and now for who knew why she'd happened to find herself in a desolate cave with a packmate that clearly wasn't doing all that well. 

she exhales lowly, keeping in the 'fuck sake' that echoes around her mind as she turns back to meet the gaze that bears into her relentlessly. it wasn't the fact that he was injured that had her on edge, it was the evident state of his mind. she'd seen wolves behave....differently...when pain caught them in its cruel grip. however upon closer inspection she frowns at the sluggishness to the movement of his eye alone. it was a guess but she had the feeling it was right, he had to have taken something. it was growing rather awkward as he gazed speechlessly for a number of moments and just as she was preparing to speak- although she'd had absolutely no clue what words were waiting to escape her jaws- he spoke. 

"oh gosh" is all she muttered, just about managing to make out the words that spilled messily from his jaws. so he still thought she was someone else then, fantastic. she moves forward now, no longer taking into consideration his personal space as she crouches down so that they're level. "i am not maegi" hopefully that made sense and she wasn't throwing him into a further state of confusion, she was really just guessing based on the name he'd announced upon her initial arrival. "i'm tundra" maybe giving herself a name for him to call her by would help? she really didn't have a fucking clue she was just grasping for strings here. "what's your name?" best to start simple she...guessed? it would definitely have been handy if she'd known who maegi was, was it a wolf in the pack now? a wolf from the past? someone already dead? if he truly was under the influence of something it could really be anything.



RE: the war at home - Titmouse (Ghost) - November 25, 2018

It didn't matter what she said, he could not be swayed to the contrary. She was Maegi, because he needed to see her and there was no way his mind could undo what it had created in that moment. She refused him, called herself something else — bringing to mind the oncoming winter, images of snow, a chill that stole its way through the numbness; the lid of his good eye fluttered and he tried to focus, but for a split second all Titmouse could see was white. A flash of the ice cave from when he was new to the world, the scent of urine stinging at his nose — and he was back again, in the blackness of the cave with Tundra.

What's your name? She said, with Maegi's voice. He could only smile in the addled manner of an addict, weaker than intended but to be fair it was difficult for him to feel his face muscles, and the slightest movement caused the wound of his cheek to burn. Many names, he murmured, which was true. He'd been called so many things and at this point, which one was true? Was he Titmouse, child of the dead Fox and Peregrine? Was he Screech, the useless, angry, corrupted little shit? Or was he Mou, the sweet boy without a clue -- ?

Hmmm, good question. But that wasn't much of an answer now, was it.


RE: the war at home - Tundra - December 06, 2018

well her trying to sway his belief as to who stood before him did not seem to earn her a reaction. or perhaps somewhere within that glassy gaze it had but it definitely was not going to be protrayed for her to see. sighing, the pale woman leans back on her haunches- letting her tail lie limp on the cool floor. 

at least he seemed to be present enough to hear her to some degree as her questioning of his name brought what seemed to be an attempted smile to his features albeit it resembled more of a grimace. many names. fucking great, her dark eyes once again are drawn to the dimly lit entrance however her paws remained rooted to where she sat. she snorts slightly as he continues to add that it was a good question. "thanks" she can't resist muttering although it's spoken more for herself than he. what the fuck is she supposed to do now? he was both injured and in a state, from what she can see it's not anything life threatening but the whole drugged situation wasn't exactly the best. why don't you just leave? now that was the good question, what was stopping her? no one would know sure even he seemed to think she was someone else. and yet there she remained, watching the boy as the stupid silence continued to make her ears ring.

eventually she lays down, letting her body meet the cool, smooth surface. there's still decent space between them and her tail tip twitches in a tense manner. she sighs softly, ears pinning back against her head as her gaze focuses on the wall between the boy and the escape- not willing to commit her focus to either. "the silence is deafening" she eventually exhales in a barely even whisper. it's not really spoken to him, for she's come to the conclusion that she may as well be alone with the state he was in. more just a statement that she needed to confirm to herself by letting it be spoken aloud. it too was quite quickly swallowed by the thick, oh so silent air until all that was left to disturb it was their simple breathing.