Sleepy Fox Hollow icarus

set during this thread

The General's illness has not slipped past Antha — nor has his absence today, though she lurks like a ghost at the edges of the dying pack. @Julien has been much the same, and more than once they have shared words of doubt, feelings of not belonging here at all. It is difficult to find reasons to stay in the midst of their isolation. Winter is setting in, the land is withering, and Diaspora and its General seem to be following suit. Discouraged, her nightly dreams have become consumed by various scenes of departure, of freedom — in short, Antha has become miserable here.
She lingers along the borders silently, her last conversation with Julien turning over and over in her head. Part of her regrets confessing her desire to him, more because he'd agreed than in spite of it. There is guilt, after all — yet the pack is not her responsibility, nor Mahler. Her only obligation is to herself, surely, and to her own blood.
Her ears perk, thoughts suddenly interrupted by a nagging feeling that she is not alone. Her gaze searches the distance until it lands on a familiar fiery figure; @Annaliese. A smile tugs at her lips despite the turmoil of her thoughts, and she moves to greet the woman. Annaliese, She says, dipping her head slightly in greeting. Her smile fades with her next words. Mahler is not here. If you're seeking him — well, I wouldn't. The General is ill, and quite corpse-like already when I last caught a glimpse of him; perhaps he won't come back at all. A dark thought. She glances away, unknowingly toward the mountain Mahler had wandered to.
Either his illness is incurable, or he is not the healer he claimed to be when my brother and I joined. Either way, I would not want his sickness if I were you; perhaps it can be treated, but not by Diaspora's lead healer. And I'm not certain I will be here for much longer.

Finally she crests the peak, below the Hollow is nestled. Much has changed already in the time Annaliese has been gone. Her absence unfortunately stretched longer than desired, partly due to the injury on her leg. Nothing serious and able to heal soon enough—the wound clean and in the process of it—but she is no fool and would rather take longer than risk it all.

Lips parted as she exhales and allows her tongue to roll free, she feels the heaviness of her limbs now that her goal is finally in reach. ‘Just a bit longer.’ she tells herself, donning the strength to push onward. Her eyes lit, head lifting with genuine surprise.

Antha! Such warm welcomes, as she approaches with a smile of her own. Her cream tipped tail wags briefly behind her. Fitting that this journey begins and ends with an encounter with Antha.

Alas, Antha comes not to congratulate her, but baring news Annaliese is uncertain at first how to wrap her mind around. Since her departure, apparently the dear General stumbled down the very mountain he wished to rule. A corpse could not survive winter, let alone lead a pack elsewhere.

You are… leaving? Where are you going? The rest about Mahler slips from mind for now.

She is, truthfully, as surprised by the warmth of Annaliese's greeting as the other is by hers; though she'd taken a liking to the woman quickly, she somehow hadn't expected her to return that feeling. It catches her off-guard just enough to draw an honest answer to her packmate's question, though she might have been more vague under different circumstances. I... am not certain, She admits quietly, gaze returning to Annaliese. Her tone is slightly sardonic as she continues, though her sour attitude is not directed toward the other. Perhaps another faltering pack with a dying leader — or perhaps Julien and I will make our own home.

Annaliese understand the frustration; it is not what she expected Diaspora to be. The embodiment of strength starts at the top, and if the General crumbles, certainly Diaspora is soon to follow. A frown tugs upon the red woman’s lips.

I take it you believe Diaspora will not follow you then? She whispers. Icy blue eyes glancing beyond the fox, towards the thick of the Hollow, as if expecting an angry mob to storm from the shadows at the mere hint of treason.

Surprise lights her expression for a moment, but she shakes her head quickly, voice dropping almost as low as Annaliese's. They have no reason to — the adults do not know me, reclusive as they are, and the young ones are no doubt loyal to those who have raised them, She pauses, following the other's glance around the Hollow to be sure that they are still alone. And there is still the Kapitän — Takiyok. Mahler is weak, but she is not; I could not help noticing a queer tension between them, but I suspect her loyalty to him runs rather deep, or she would already be our new General.

She speaks the truth; even if Annaliese felt the urge to tackle the challenge herself, there is no reason for them to bow when she is new, barely spending time within Diaspora in favor of risking her life to find them a home. Unfair, in numerous ways.

Annaliese nods her head. It is obvious that Antha does not want to wait to see what happens if the reaper does come for the General. This wounds me, she pauses, eyebrows furrowing. It has been my goal to find a home, and start a family of my own… to see it fall before my eyes would be heartbreaking.

I’ve risked so much for Diaspora already…

She cannot help feeling a stab of sympathy for Annaliese, who smells of travel and exhaustion, tinged with the raw scent of a healing wound. Guilt lances through her, a feeling of responsibility for the crushing of her packmate's hopes, though she knows she'd only been the messenger. Come with me, She says abruptly, searching the woman's face for her first reaction. With us — Julien and I. We can find a place for you to raise your family — make one, if we must. Her heart aches suddenly for her own family, left so far behind on this seemingly endless quest of hers. The miles between them are countless, yet she fears the weeks separating them will stretch even further before it is done. Perhaps she will find some peace in this for now, if Annaliese accepts her offer.

The news is a slap to the face the longer it sinks in. All the work she’s done for this past month for nothing; Diaspora cannot move with an ill leader. A rank in a faltering pack—as the fox had described—will satisfy little of Annaliese’s hunger.

She swats her tail and grits her teeth. Part of her screams to move her feet, to charge up to the General and attempt to put him in his place. But Antha is right. Her words come to Annaliese like a splash of cold water. Instantly the fire releases into smoulder and smoke.

Why? Why do this for her?

She does not fault Annaliese for the question, knowing she would say the same in the fiery woman's position. I have a terrible weakness for pretty faces, She quips first, lips curving briefly, but a more serious answer follows quickly. You've already proven that you are reliable, and driven; it could not have been easy to travel the land alone, wounded and in the middle of a famine, with winter looming. And clearly, you have ambitions. That is what I sought in Diaspora's leaders when I came here, yet they've proven disappointing. Truth be told, I would sooner follow you, if you've a mind to lead; you are less a stranger to me than Mahler or Takiyok. She knows she cannot lead herself. She has already committed herself to something, and she distrusts her youth far too much to make such important decisions anyway. Annaliese, however, seems to tick all the boxes so far: ambitious, dependable, and full of charisma. But perhaps she does not want it; perhaps she only seeks a stable home, Antha reminds herself, shuttering the line of thought before it can go too far.

You have good taste, she counters, in jest and automatic. It is far from the first time she has been called a “pretty face”, yet it seems Antha has more underneath her sleeve than others. Annaliese is not simply a pretty face in the crowd in the fox’s eyes, and that makes her pause.

Each of her strengths—and the hardship she went through—are validated. Bit by bit, Annaliese stands taller. At her core, the red woman knew it would eventually come to this; it is everything she wants, after all, and her mind long ago made up. Yet, so soon, and with winter on the horizon?

Risky.

But it seems Annaliese is the type to gamble in these Wilds. Just enough to get her way. At first, these travels did not prove their worth. But she survived, and someone… Antha has seen her worth.

You are right, she pauses, nodding her head and locking eyes with her companion. I will lead. I will not disappoint you as they have, and we will create a family of our own.

Far stronger, far stable. Her heart hums with the imagination of redhead pups running amok.

It almost seems too simple to be the right decision, but Antha is coming to realize that all the most important decisions always feel that way once they've finally been made. She nods, feeling a flutter in her chest at "a family of our own." She hadn't expected that, but the single word — our — suddenly makes all the difference in the world. A surge of confidence follows, and she feels foolish for ever having felt inferior to the wolves of Diaspora.
Then I am yours, She tells Annaliese, dipping her head. I'm not sure if Julien will want to follow or make his own way, but I'll speak to him tonight. A pause. When will you leave? And where will we meet next, and where will we go, and, and, and — so many questions to ask, now! She knows she cannot look to Annaliese for all of these answers, not yet, but the words linger at the tip of her tongue anyway.

She felt this feeling before, when she joined Diaspora and inspired for it to be hers—in it’s own way. Greedy and ambitious she seeks to sink her teeth into anything she is a part of to leave an everlasting mark. The Wilds will be marked soon enough.

The surge of energy and excitement leave Annaliese grinning at her first follower—Antha will do well to advise her in the coming future, that much the red woman is certain. They are both young, but their knowledge and perspective may lead to an interesting creation.

Her ears twitch at the mention of Julien again—her silver brother Annaliese has met in passing, not long enough to gain a decent impression of. She nods her head.

I will meet with Diaspora’s General first, to reveal what information I have, Annaliese says, because she will complete her end of the deal. After that, we will head out.

Do you want to stay nearby for now? It will not take long.