Stone Circle alive in quiet destruction and unmoving

cyron spent his first week back in easthollow keeping to the confines of his parent’s den. it feels a bit cramped with the two adults and one very nearly adult sized child but he is too tired to care. it makes him feel claustrophobic from time to time — when he is awake and coherent enough to actually notice — but he dutifully eats the meals they bring him glad that he is eating and keeping the food down and spends much time sleeping as he instinctively does what his body needs him to do in an attempt to heal. when he awakes as dawn breaks in the sky he slips from the den, suddenly feeling trapped and reminded of wolf skull cave with violent flashbacks that leaves him gasping for air as if he can no longer find his lungs. the frigid winter air whips against and through his sterling fur and for once he is grateful that the chill does not bring numbness with it. he feels it sting where it touches the shorter fur of his muzzle and he becomes aware of the sting of pain on the right side of his muzzle where the flesh is marred with a long, jagged wound that is in the processes of scarring beneath the tearing scabbing and some sort of paste that covers it though who has been tending to it cyron is not aware aside from that he knows he hasn’t been doing it himself. cyron is not sure whether he did it to himself in the blur and chaos of his escape, if it came form his journey back home or if one of the blackfeather wolves were responsible. it was impossible to tell and cyron had been in no psychological state to clearly say; or to evidently even realize he was injured at all. even now, it remains a mystery as he habitually tries to block out the trauma he’s suffered, tries to build up from the ruins blackfeather has unarguably left him in.

this is the first time that he has begun to feel better. not healed for there are no miracles for the sterling garbed saefyn. he isn’t sure he can ever be fully healed but he knows that regardless he will never be the same. cyron might still be alive but blackfeather woods had killed the boy they’d captured and built something else within him. it was a slow process and though he wants nothing to do with them they have undeniably left their mark on him. he pads away from the mouth of the den and ventures into the forested area of stone circle wanting to stretch his stiff muscles and remind himself that he’s not a captive and that he never will be again.

He had been travelling around for a while in circles of a general area. He entered the Flatlands a few times and re-entered the valley once more. Occasionally he has thought he'd caught a trace of Olive and the fainter scent of someone else familiar to him that had taken him some time to realize was Cassiopeia. Once again he had passed the general area of blackfeather on his travels, being a prick by pissing dangerously close to their borders as a sort of half assed "fuck you".  At the borders he had thought once again he smelled Cassi, but only the quickest whiff. What did scare the piss out of him was that he smelled Aries. His son was there, in the pack that had caused the family so much grief in the first place , even before the star children were born.

this thought was fresh on his mind when he shockingly realized that he was about to enter a pack's territory. Quickly he halted and sniffed around not smelling anyone familiar there but when he lifted his head he caught a flash of grey between the trees. Chuffing softly to grab the wolf's attention he prayed the other would turn around and be friendly.

cue panicking cyron. :o

in the end, cyron does not stay close to the stone circle. his paws take him towards the further reaches of the pack's territory, closer to their scent borders. he has thus deemed it unsafe to venture outside of them and yet if he does not push against the boundaries of protection they offer then they, too, will begin to feel like a prison just as the den he had once seen as a safe haven. his parents and the wolves of easthollow do not intend for it to be this way — it simply is for cyron. his perception of pack and things that had once brought him safety are mutilated and altered and he can't help but look at these things as negative. he had been a captive during the most important point in his young life: when the influences of what was happening around him would shape him, when he was the most vulnerable to the intake of information and what was happening to him. he should have been playing with his siblings and learning how to establish hierarchy and all the other things that pups were taught to do during that time of learning. instead, he was tortured and starved, kept imprisoned in a terrible and dark place. surely, his inability to see the things that keep him safe as positive ( though he knows they should be ) can be understood — or perhaps it isn't. perhaps no one would understand him and what he's suffered. it's hard to say and he's not been very forward ( at all ) about what happened during his time in captivity.

cyron's ears push forth, alert, atop his skull as the soft chuff grabs his attention. the sterling garbed saefyn turns sharply, ignoring the smart from his wound as his upper lip curls back from his sharp, pearly teeth as the fur of his nape bristles with unease. there is a stranger at the borders — large, swarthy, with blue eyes of ice. he bears no pack scent other than the faintest whiffs of blackfeather woods and this triggers panic alarms in cyron's mind. they've found him. they've followed him and now they've came to take him back again. no. never again, his body goes taunt and his posture is hostile as his fur along his spine bristles and his curled tail rises. the scent of blackfeather is very faint — hardly enough to paint this man as one of their own — but cyron knows they are manipulative, and does not put it past them to mask their scent. and it occurs to cyron vaguely that it seems unlikely blackfeather wolves would be so courteous as to chuff at the borders but in his mind, it's easier to assume and be safe then end up being sorry. shoot first, ask questions later.

"you are not welcome here blackfeather scum," cyron breaks his rule of silence towards outsiders — when he speaks he wants blackfeather to hear ( thus there is exceptions to this rule ) — "this is your only warning to leave." the sterling saefyn commands with body language as well as tone. he knows better than to show mercy to those who are the target of his future retribution but he likes to believe he is the bigger man even though it is hard to keep himself from launching at the swarthy man lingering close to easthollow's borders. there is just enough doubt lingering in the back of his mind to still his instincts all screaming to attack, to defend himself without first being sure.

The does turn around and notice him but the reaction to his presence was not friendly in the least. The kids hackles rose and he snarled and bristled at him causing Dakarai to back up a step or two. Almost choosing to just say fuck it and run away he hung around until the boy spoke and then Dakarai balked.

Suddenly he began to laugh quite loudly until his sides hurt and he had to sit down "Fuck kid, out of all the things you could've called me, a blackfeather fucker was the worst. Do I really smell like them?" He asked and lowered his nose to sniff at himself wrinkling his muzzle when he did catch the faint scent of their putrid stench. "I suppose I do. I guess I pissed a bit too close to their borders.." he murmured loud enough for Cyron to catch. "Kid I hate them. With all of my ability. They caused me and my ex wife hell and in turn our children. I smell like them because I took a piss a few feet away from their borders as a way to say fuck you" he exained but in the case his words didn't work he proceeded to lower himself to the ground and tuck his tail, pressing his face to the dirt. A blackfeather wolf wouldn't submit themself to anyone much less a child, and if this boy knew them as well as he seemed he would know that.

cyron is untrained and living in the moment, in the high of adrenaline, the pounding of his heart keeping him grounded as he pivots in the between of fight or flight though he is erring naturally towards fight. though the borders feel like prison fence to him easthollow is his home and he won't let blackfeather woods terrorize it. more importantly, he would not let them terrorize him ever again. he is still rawboned, still weak but a man with nothing to lose is the most dangerous, he's heard. the ebony man backs up a step or two and cyron advances on instinct, encouraged by the other man's actions. it makes him feel in control, something that cyron has been desperately trying to gain, something that had been stolen from him. he could not control his thoughts, his worries, his nightmares. he could not control that how he perceives everything around him so he looks for things that he can assert control over. this, in this moment, this is his. it's a discovery of power that had been ripped away from him — not that cyron thinks he's in any state to take the ebony man and win ...because he's not. a low growl rips itself from cyron's curled lips as the ebony man begins to laugh. laugh to your grave. it stokes cyron's aggression, the gall of this nameless man.

the game changes abruptly. confusion quickly rushes in to stifle the sterling garbed saefyn's aggression as the man speaks of 'blackfeather fuckers' and that it was the worst thing he could have called the stranger. the stranger goes on to say that he hates the blackfeather wolves, that he smells like them because he was pissing too close to their borders. the only sets cyron more on edge. that this audacious man was suicidal and would lead them right here if they were of the mind to stamp down his arrogance. "then you are a fool." cyron speaks without affliction. they will not simply brush such a transgression beneath the rug, especially if what he says is true about causing him and his ex-wife hell. it implies that he is not a stranger to them. cyron stubbornly believes that no one could hate them anymore than he could but even being a bit callow cyron knows better than to antagonize them. it was akin to waking up a den of bears in hibernation and cyron doubts this audacious and foolish man is ready to face down the entire pack — even if he was, he wouldn't win.

cyron hadn't escaped just to let some fool lead them right to easthollow's doorstep. cyron knows they will smell him and he thinks that they would not let him go for his ...'crime' of escape.

"you would endanger us by leading them here?" it was ...arrogance? cyron doesn't know. he just knows it makes him incredibly uneasy. "it is one thing to hate them but why stoke their ire? why paint a target on your back when you are free?" cyron cannot make sense of it. he knows he should chase this man from their borders but first he seeks to understand because they are not connections that he can make on his own. he watches the man slip into submission coolly. he acknowledges it with a slight lift of his muzzle but it's not what he seeks.

Dakarai narrows his eyes as the boy calls him a fool. Rolling from his submissive posture he sat back up and stared at the kid. So young yet obviously he thought he was the one in charge here, or at least that is what Dakarai got from this scenario. Without Olive here there was little to keep his temper from flaring but even so he reminded himself that the poor kid was obviously traumatized and from the way he acted it had something to do with blackfeather.

"Relax child, I've made the mistake of not covering my tracks before. They won't be able to follow me" he grunted trying to pretend that this boy's attitude wasn't ruffling his fur a bit. The boy next asked some logical questions and Dakarai smiled slightly. "I wanted them to know that despite everything they have done to me, I am still alive and kicking and I don't fear them. Now my son is apparently one of them, but I can't say I didn't see it coming"  He spoke in an eerily calm way and it was obvious he really didn't fear the blackfeather wolves. 

"Kid. They are wolves that have a major god complex. They think theyre better and badder than everyone. To show them you don't fear them or don't hold them to high esteem is a way to beat them without needing to actually face them." His voice held a disgusted edge to it as he spoke of them and suddenly he shook his pelt and then slowly his head.

"But there are two types of people. Ones who will fear and despise and cower from whoever did them wrong, and ones who will despise the wrongdoer yet not allow them to ruin their life permanently. I am the latter. I will never ever let that pack have the satisfaction of wrecking my life permanently. Even now I can fix my life, move on and have a good rest of my days. Which one are you going to be kid? You have spirit. I see it. Are you gonna let the blackfeather fuckers leave you a beaten down and broken man?" He asked the question as bluntly as he could, electric blue eyes staring straight at the greyish boy intently.

in cyron's mind: he's understandably weary and cautious. he knows what the blackfeather wolves are capable of in full capacity. he's been the bearer of their cruelty and frankly, he's not inclined to trust this man. blackfeather woods have taken his innocence from him and mangled it until cyron is left feeling a distinct lapse of identity. he does not know who he is, yet, and his road to recovery is going to be long and arduous. he does not have the luxury of magically recovering in the blink of an eye. perhaps it means he's not strong. perhaps he will always be weak ...but his courage was not his absence of fear but it was his triumph over it. however, he still harbored a fear of them. cyron readily imagined that anyone who had once been their captive but managed to escape with their life would say the same.

cyron disagrees strongly with the ebony garbed male before him. "you can never truly beat them if you do not face them. they will not go away because you piss on their borders. you will only anger them." evidently, their experiences with blackfeather woods were vastly different and the man's shake of his head causes cyron's nostrils to flare. he is growing agitated and is trying to respect the older man's experiences with the wolves of blackfeather and his speeches but the sterling garbed saefyn does not find them inspiring. he does not want to talk about what he had to endure while in captivity, does not wish to relive it all in the telling of it. it is his burden to bear, but he does not appreciate being told that he's a coward because he cannot magically make it all go away, because he cannot pretend that it didn't happen until it's convenient to remember. "then by your terms, i am a coward." cyron snaps, harsher than he meant to, his hackles bristling once more along his nape. he still bears the physical evidence of it: he is still rawboned, his muzzle still injured ( though it's origins and creation are still undetermined, it could have easily been cyron's own doing in his haste to escape ) and the scars upon his psyche will likely linger with him his entire life. he doesn't expect the man to understand but he does not expect to be ...disrespected. he does not want to bemoan and compare their experiences. he wants to be left alone. "i'd rather be a coward then a fool."

"you should leave." it was less of a suggestion and more of a command. if dakarai does not heed it cyron is prepared to call for valette to assist him. she is the leader, he knows, and while the ebony man may disrespect the lowly sigma with challenging body language and words, cyron does not think he would apply the same lack of courtesy to the alpha. regardless, cyron will be telling his alpha about this encounter when it is over, thinking she has the right to know about the lone man should he return for whatever reason.

He was getting nowhere with this conversation and the boy was getting more angry and annoying by the second. Dakarai narrowed his eyes and stared at the child his temper flaring. He had lost Olive, Lost his family,Suffered through more than this kid could ever have. This boy still had a pack and what he assumed was a family within but instead he was moping and bitter and absolutely rude. "I'll go. But heed this, you cannot take them down by yourself. Even a full grown wolf can't do it. If you ever want to get revenge on them, find me. My name is Dakarai, I'll help you to truly get revenge in whatever way I can." He turned at that and began to head away before softening a bit and turning around.

"Whatever they did to you...I'm sorry. They took everything from me son..you still have this pack and what I assume is a family within. Don't...let the bitterness and anger they made you feel take over, please trust me...those feelings only cause trouble" he said remembering how it was anger and pain and bitterness that had made him run from Moonspear that one night. With a dip of his head to the boy he turned tail and ran off again before he could see what else the kid wanted to get angry over.

there was no comparison to be made and it wasn't fair for either of them to claim their experiences were worse than the other's. cyron is not sure what 'hell' that they'd put the stranger, his ex-wife and children through ... cyron only knows what hell he lived. what hell he still lives. the man tells him that he has easthollow and family; in a sense it's true. but cyron still feels just as alone as he had in wolfskull cave. it's like a soldier returning from war: he can't describe what he went through, he can't tell anyone because he does not want to burden them, because he knows they won't understand, not really. when the walls of home feel like prison and his family's den feels like a cage ...it's not anything he can ever explain unless someone went through something similar.

it's utterly unfair for the strange man to basically say that he should be all better because he has home and hearth. cyron knows that's not how it works. his words don't leave cyron feeling inspired. they leave him feeling insulted, attacked, insignificant and distanced. like there is a bubble where everyone else resides in and he has his own bubble floating outside of theirs, gravitating close like the moon does the earth but never touching. "our experiences aren't comparable. stop acting superior, like you suffered worse than me, stop trying to make it sound like what i went through doesn't matter and isn't that bad because i have easthollow and family. you have no idea." cyron snaps at his retreating form. "you have no idea..." and likewise, cyron has no idea what the extent of suffering the ebony man went through, in all fairness. but he does know what it's like to lose everything and to still feel like it's lost to him even though, in some sense, he has it back.

cyron watches the stranger tuck tail and run and he lets out a low snarl at the man's retreating form. get lost and don't come back the sterling saefyn's body language communicates though the man is already out of sight. he waits, salmon pink tongue swiping across his jowls, wincing as he draws it across his wound just to be sure the foolish man does not double back before he sets off in search of valette.