as it turned out crushing a bone to near nothingness did, in fact, hurt.

the intensely pulsating ache from her foot had begun to leave her lightheaded as the half-day trek ensued, sure that if she did not treat it as soon as possible she would not get the chance to do so. what is your name? the girl inquired to the man who accompanied her through gritted teeth. a disraction from the pain -- should he oblige her conversational efforts.

every muscle in her body seemed to tense up with each step forward, and it took all the willpower within her not to yelp at each mere movement. the dark-haired girl was not weak. the offspring of a warlord; a fact she reminds herself in an effort not to submit to the lingering desire to rest. 

scylla casts her eyes ahead as the treeline begins to thin and with that, the indication that the lake lied not too far away. but there was still to garner the supplies she required to treat the wound, another feat left unaccomplished. with a low, frustrated growl did she continue to hobble against the direction of the rivers current.

urias. scylla. she returned, opting to leave out the rest for as long as she could. if she must, she would, but disclosing an identity that tied her to many who were largely distrusted or even loathed was something scylla was hesitant to do. no matter how far from her roots she came.

don't be so goddamn stubborn.

the words light a slow burning flame that boils her blood; a phrase she took to be unjustly condescending. i do not need you to tell me what to do. narrowed brow and a venomous hiss retaliated, snapping half-heartedly at the man’s shoulder. she is nothing if not strong-willed. but the girl cannot afford to abandon his supports, and continues to rest a portion of her weight upon his frame. do not bite the hand that feeds you, scylla -- she checks herself. 

her naturally levelled head realigns itself and focuses, bright yellow. the marigold flower is bright yellow. yet if it was not to be found, another issue presented itself. the dark woods -- just beyond the lake -- it would likely have all that i need if there is none here. there is a slight tinge of anxiousness riddled within her tone, but she is careful to mask it with a stoic expression. to have to return there after so long… it was preferable not to.

she likely should have focused a portion of her time on finding the poppyseed plant, but it was only pain -- fleeting. more important was the marigold to ward against infection which could very well take her life. as urias splinters off in search, the girl creeps towards the waters edge.

placing the mangled bloody thing counteracted the heat rising from the wound almost immediately and she winces, swirling the paw around in the icy depths as much as she can. what remains is barely there -- mostly stump and bits of flesh. it was perhaps a clean break, one she likely could have set right if the beast had not smothered it into the ground. only half of it appears to be missing to which her balance could let out a sigh of relief. walking without it would be manageable.

luckily enough, the lake was home to spiders. nasty large ones that strung their webs between the cattail and fallen logs. it would serve as a wrap for the wound, for however long it would last. her eyes search for urias, wondering if he had found it or simply abandoned her. scylla could not exactly blame him if he did. she was not his responsibility -- and there was no telling if she would have done the same should the roles have been reversed.

it begs her to ponder his motives for aiding her in the first place.

he returns, flowers in hand, a thankful glance is all she is able to offer before ingesting what she can from the loot. a bitter, unwelcoming taste unlike the savory meal that had caused her injury and the girl finds a certian irony in that. as she settles upon her haunches, urias inquires upon a subject she had considered herself.

not revealing the true extent of what she knew to answer his question in full, if it is still standing, there is only one i know of. the girl returns with slight apprehension.

but one not many would want to pledge their allegiance to. blackfeather woods had a long, long history of violence with a rap sheet of enemies longer than anyone could keep track of. trouble did not escape the dark woods; for as ominous as it was, cursed was a more suitable description. or so her father had said.

scylla herself had not been alive to witness the majority of its bloody chronicles but had been told enough to know that an easy life was not guarenteed under the shadowy canopy of the dark woods.

a pack... is that what you are looking for? her head tilts curiously in his direction. scylla could not say she was searching for the same. if such an opportunity presented itself perhaps, but she had not known a true pack dynamic beyond that of her family. the idea of being obligated to oblige others she did not know, or even risk her life for the hide of someone who was not her own kin did not sound desireable in the slightest.

while under vastly different circumstances, it is interesting to learn that the man also intended to locate a missing sibling. daedric teachings would have told her that such a coincidence foretold more to come, but she was hesitant to believe such a sign. not just yet, at least.

i am also searching for a sister. but if she ever betrayed my love for her in such a way, scylla looks to the gash that tore across his face like a lightning bolt that severed the sky, i would slit her throat. she speaks plainly. scylla cared deeply for her sister. the twin had at one time been her ferocious partner in crime. but even hela would understand that blood was not safe from retribution and the wiry, dark girl was not a forgiving individual.

do you intend to do the same? scylla's eyes twinge with a devilish intriuge, breaking the intensely vacant stare that regularily occupied her optics. on urias' features rests a look she was all too familiar with; a vengeful intensity boiling beneath the skin of a man prepared to abandon god and submit to sin. 

it is interesting to learn that these siblings held no love for each other. she wonders why but bites her tongue for the time being -- overstepping is not an interest of hers. but a question is asked to her and moments pass before she is able to formulate an answer.

i don't know. i haven't spoken to her since i was very young. but she liked to bite. i don't think it is something she would have grown out of. a slight frown develops on her lips, entertaining the question if her littermate was even alive. why? the girl looks intently to the other. surely such a thing could not have been unprompted. nobody just attacked another (much less a sibling) without reason -- no matter how irrational that reason was. there must have been a reason for her actions. insanity? anger? rage? jealousy... she thinks. a disease that made even sane individuals mad.

scylla listens, ears pinned forward with true intrique. perhaps if it had been any other soapy tale, she would not have been as interested. but this was a true dramatic tragedy riddled with love (or a lack of it) and murderous deceit -- but it was subject matter of the latter that kept her attention. jealousy is a beast in slumber. maybe what you percieved as jealousy was her version of restraint. she can somewhat empathize with the unnamed sister, if not, understand how being cast as the underdog could easily clash with the instinct to survive. to many, a recipe for rash actions. 

anyways, i would call someone with the gall to maim their own brother weak. violence can be cowardly... illogical... but not weak. many might disagree but it was a belief she formulated based upon the observations of her own father. he had been violent, often stupid and brash, but never weak. however scylla did not want to assume she knew what intent ran through his sister's mind. it was not her place. just a theory. the girl concludes with a light shrugging motion. perhaps you can ask her why before serving your revenge.

hmm. but that weak girl had brought you to your knees.

but she does not say it, it is merely a thought as if she was in the place of the sister. scylla reminds herself that indulging the mind of some woman who harmed a man who was perhaps the only thing she had close to a friend was not productive. it was simply that to her -- logic and weakness existed on two different spectrums. men could be strong in spirit and muscle but still be foolish. so many were, but to deprive them from the distinction of strong was only unfair. alas, it did not matter so much and she moves on from the thought. 

i don't even know if she is alive, not much point in determining what i'll say to her just yet. the girl speaks plainly. it is unfortunate, but she is not one to ignore the very real possibility that hela is dead. i might never find her even if she is. the teekon is vast; could she even travel the whole thing to begin with? scylla raises her paw, and this, she shakes it lightly, isn't exactly helping. 

scylla contemplated his question for a moment with a hmm, letting a comfortable silence hang in the balance before answering. it was not a simple question for in truth, she lacked the credibility to assign any labels. however, the young melonii knew enough. some would call them bad. most, actually.

i suppose very later in their history they were quite neutral, but i think that was probably a consquence of how cruelly and immorally they lived all those generations before. how different she would have been if she existed in the times of blackfeather woods' more sinister days. who would she have been? my father once said either our bloodline or the land itself was cursed. she thought that maybe it had been hypocritical of him to say. from what she had gathered from his stories, many of their downfalls had come at his own hands. but cursed? it wasn't something she could believe. scylla had not seen that theory in motion. perhaps if she had... she would have absolutely believed it.

if there was something off about urias -- scylla did not take it into account. the girl had lived with off all her life. as soon as the idea would have slithered into that calculating mind of hers, immediately would it have been cast aside. ignoring aspects of another she could not control was second nature. in any case, he had done nothing to hurt her. therefore nothing of his character caused her to become apprehensive or alarmed.

his retort about her father causes a brief, airy laugh to escape her throat. and he would have killed you for saying so. perhaps you're right. well, he was more than perhaps right, but that wasn't something either of them would know. at urias' decision to avoid the dark woods, scylla shrugs, do what you wish even she had no desire to immerse herself among their ranks again, but that was more on account of her belief that they lied in her past. if vacant, however, the territory was prime real estate. it served as very advantageous if one was looking for somewhere to escape to, for navigating it blindly was near deadly. 

but scylla had a feeling their encounter was coming to an end soon enough, and she wonders aloud, where will you go now? and what will you do if you don't find what you're looking for? but she does not add that on, not wanting to sound doubtful. perhaps they would cross paths again. perhaps not.